DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Disney. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Come on, if it were mine, do you honestly think we would have gotten all the way through the movie without ever seeing Jack shirtless?
Posted By: Elspeth, AKA Elspethdixon
Author's Notes: The twelfth chapter is here, thanks to UCC's computer lab (and no thanks to my evil blue floppy disk, which nearly ate half of it). Future chapters will probably be out more quickly, as my laptop is due to arrive in Ireland shortly.
Ships: Will/Elizabeth, Jack/Elizabeth, eventual Jack/Will, eventual Norrington/OC. Probably a bit of unrequited Norrington/Elizabeth as well.
Warning: This story contains killing, stealing, lots of angst, an OC, and a non-evil Norrington. Sadly, it probably will not contain any hot, steamy sex scenes.

Chapter Twelve: In Which Norrington Returns Triumphant and Elizabeth and Will Face a Difficult Decision.

What hills, what hills are these, my love
these hills so fair and high?
These are the hills of heaven, my love,
and not for you and I.

Mary Rose had been on edge ever since the sound of the sea battle had become audible during breakfast, and when the fort's cannon sounded, announcing the arrival of a navy ship, she hurried down to the harbour faster than was perhaps seemly. Governor Swann just barely managed to catch the carriage before it left. She would have felt a bit guilty had he missed it—since it was, after all, his carriage, and not hers.

She wondered, as the wheels clattered jouncingly over the cobblestones—the suspension on Governor Swann's carriage wasn't quite up to London standards—where Elizabeth was. She would have expected the other woman to be first into the carriage, judging by her distraction during breakfast. Mrs. Turner had an even greater interest in the outcome of Commodore Norrington's expedition than she herself had, if Mary Rose's suspicions were right. Then again, perhaps she was worried that rushing down to the harbour to make sure that her pirate lover hadn't been caught would arouse suspicion.

Pirate lover. Everything kept circling back to that. Was it true? Had Elizabeth really… Mary Rose was decidedly not looking forward to Will Turner's return to Port Royal. She had kept silent before the governor about his daughter's possible affair, not wanting to stir up trouble in a household she was really only present in on sufferance, but she could not in good conscience keep the secret from the other woman's husband, once she met him.

Watching the governor's kind face from across the carriage, she wondered what his son-in-law would be like. She had heard that Elizabeth had married beneath her, to a tradesman, and had a suspicion that this Will Turner had been involved in something very scandalous prior to his marriage, if the bits of whispered comments she had heard were anything to go by. Exactly what it had been, she still wasn't sure.

Perhaps there was a trend here. Perhaps Elizabeth had a taste for low company. Perhaps it was none of her business.

Still, thinking about it diverted her mind from wondering whether the Commodore was all right and if he'd been successful.

Her worries clamoured all the louder when Governor Swann helped her down from the carriage and she looked up to see the Endeavour tying up at the dock, one mast gone and sails riddled with holes. The gold trim that had gleamed so brightly when the ship had sailed out had been splintered away, and the freshly painted hull was battered and scarred, as if a giant fist had slammed into her. It was eerily reminiscent of the Golden Dolphin's appearance a month ago.

Then she saw Commodore Norrington and several other naval officers standing on the dock and something inside her chest that had been tight eased. The young man at his side had a bandage on his face and one arm in a sling, but the Commodore himself was unharmed. She wasn't sure why that should be important to her, but it was. She had, in a way, been the one to send him out on this campaign? expedition? Whatever it was, if it had lead to his death, she would have felt partly responsible.

"Governor, Mrs. Swann," Commodore Norrington nodded respectfully to them, smiling slightly. "I believe I told you when I left that I intended to return with Sparrow and his crew in chains. His crew, I fear, fled rather than face us, but I was able to fulfil part of my promise." He indicated the gangplank of the Endeavour, down which two royal marines were hauling a third man, imprisoned between them with shackles hanging from his wrists. Dark hair fell in long elf-locks around his face, some of them strung with beads or bits of metal, giving him a wild, unkempt look.

"It's him." The words escaped before Mary Rose even felt them on her lips. "Oh merciful heavens, it's him." The pirate looked less fearsome now that he was safely chained and guarded, but he was unmistakably the same man she had seen aboard the Golden Dolphin. For a moment, she seemed to see again that sword sliding so smoothly into Robert's flesh, the blood staining his shirt and waistcoat. Then it was gone, and Sparrow was once more merely a rather grimy looking man in chains.

Her attention was wrenched away from the sinister figure of her husband's killer by the sound of hurried footsteps, and she turned to see Elizabeth emerging into the open from a side street, moving with an almost unseemly quickness.

"You are to be congratulated, Commodore…" Governor Swann's voice trailed off as he, too, turned to see Elizabeth, who had stopped dead several feet away, eyes wide and one hand at her throat as if her air had suddenly been snatched away. The skirts of her gown were damp about the hemline, pale green fabric darkened to emerald, and her hair, which had been swept up atop her head at breakfast, was beginning to slide down so that wisps of it hung about her face and trailed down her neck. "Elizabeth! What on earth…"

Elizabeth shook her head silently, less an answer to his question than a sort of mute denial of what lay before her. Then she seemed to master herself, summoning up a slightly lukewarm smile for her father. "I was on the beach when the cannon sounded, taking a morning walk. I came running when I heard it, and tripped." She smiled again, self-deprecatingly. "I should learn to be more careful." All the time she spoke, her eyes remained fixed on Sparrow, but the governor did not seem to notice. Perhaps Mary Rose only did because she was expecting it.

"My dear," the governor began, shaking his head slightly. He trailed off again and looked to Commodore Norrington. "The Commodore," he tried again, "has captured the captain of the ship that attacked the Golden Dolphin. I'm afraid you may be… rather upset… by the necessary sentence awaiting him, but I assure you, it is necessary."

Elizabeth nodded slightly, eyes still not leaving Sparrow. Mary Rose followed her gaze back to the man, trying to see what it was about him that the other woman could possibly find appealing. He didn't look very appealing at the moment, as he stood, swaying slightly, between the two marines, who appeared to have been chosen based on the fact that both were significantly larger than he was. His coat was faded, both his skin and his clothing were grimy, and was that a bone knotted into his hair on the right side of his face? She supposed the various ornaments provided a certain gaudy, magpie glitter, and those dark, painted eyes gave him what some might call an air of mystery (though rather less of one than usual at the moment, since one was currently encircled by bruises as well as kohl) but regardless of how pretty his eyes were or were not, he was still a vicious criminal, and Elizabeth a married woman.

"Mrs. Turner," Commodore Norrington had stepped forward now, "I'm afraid I have something rather unpleasant to tell you. You as well, governor." Some of the quiet pleasure of a moment ago seemed to go out of his face. "I'm afraid Mr. Turner was among the pirates aboard Mr. Sparrow's ship." He stared intently at Elizabeth as he said this, sounding both regretful and disapproving. "My first officer, Lieutenant Gillette, engaged him during the fight, though he was unfortunately unable to capture him. I have been forced to put out a warrant for his arrest, on the occasion of his ever returning to Port Royal."

Elizabeth stepped back a pace, face a perfect picture of shock and dismay. "Will would never…" she gasped out, then fell silent, eyes shining with unshed tears. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure. I'm sorry, ma'am."

Mary Rose could feel her eyebrows rising at the unexpected revelation. Elizabeth's husband, the absent Mr. Turner, was a pirate as well? The "unsuitable" young man whom everyone said was a blacksmith? And he had been sailing with Sparrow? No wonder Elizabeth had been so upset at the thought of the man and his crew being caught and hung. It occurred to her, suddenly, to wonder if Mr. Turner knew that he had been sailing with his wife's lover. Then her mind seized on the more important question of why on earth the governor's son-in-law would run off to join a pirate ship.

"He what?" Governor Swann demanded. "You told me he'd gone to Barbados to do some work on commission!" His face began to turn red. "Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth buried her face in her hands like the tragic heroine of a play and dissolved into tears. "He told me it was a job for a rich planter," she sobbed. "He, he told me…" she sobbed again, harder this time. "He lied to me!"

Commodore Norrington was regarding her with a decidedly odd expression, lips curving slightly, almost as if he were… amused? Mary Rose turned to look at him, eyes meeting his for a moment, and saw her own sudden suspicions echoed there. She's faking it. Either she wasn't really as grief-stricken over Mr. Turner's betrayal as she seemed, or she already knew something about it.

Sparrow, meanwhile, was staring steadily at Elizabeth as if no one else around him—not Commodore Norrington, not the governor, not even the beefy royal marines flanking him—existed. He had quite obviously been listening to every word they said, and now he stepped forward a pace, pulling one shoulder from the left-hand marine's grasp. "Ah, actually, about Will," he began. The officer at Commodore Norrington's elbow wheeled on him.

"You keep your mouth shut, pirate." He pointed a threatening finger at the man, managing to look forceful despite the sling incapacitating his right arm. "You're going straight to jail, and there'll be no pardons or last minute escapes this time."

"I wasn't talkin' to you," Sparrow informed him. He turned back to Elizabeth and tried to take another step forward, but the two marines dragged him back, one hauling on his arm and the other grabbing him by the hair and yanking his head backwards. Mary Rose's palms crawled in sympathy. There was no telling how filthy those matted locks were.

Sparrow, face contorted with pain, sagged slightly in his guards' grasp. "Watch the head," he hissed, "Watch the head." Beside the governor, Elizabeth started forward a step, incapacitating grief apparently forgotten.

"Stop it!" Her voice was low but forceful, and tears glittered in her eyes. There were, however, a small part of Mary Rose's mind couldn't help but note, no tear tracks on her face. Until two drops of moisture slid from the corners of her narrowed eyes and began making their way down her cheeks.

"Mr. Billings," Commodore Norrington ordered, stepping into Elizabeth's line of sight and blocking off her view of Sparrow, "Have Johnson and Markham escort Mr. Sparrow to his cell. And make sure," he added, giving the young man a hard look, "that he doesn't 'fall down the steps' on the way there." He turned back to Elizabeth. "Mrs. Turner, I know you're upset. Perhaps your father should take you home." He looked questioningly at Governor Swann.

The Governor nodded. "I think the Commodore is right. We've all had a lot of shocks today, and perhaps the best thing to do would be to go somewhere quiet and rest."

The two royal marines, under the direction of Mr. Billings, began marching a protesting Sparrow forcibly in the direction of a sturdily built structure that must have been the town jail. "Would you pearls of the King's navy mind lettin' go of my hair?" he was wheedling as they dragged him off. "Please? I'll be good, on my honour as a gen'leman an' all that. Just let me talk to Elizabeth. Ow! Let go does not mean pull harder…"

Mary Rose could help sighing in relief as the heavy door slammed shut behind him, its loud thud echoing with a comforting finality. Elizabeth honestly was crying now, as she allowed her father to usher her into the carriage. Mary rose felt like tears herself for some reason. The intense emotional drama she had just played witness to had been captivating, in a horrible, embarrassing way, but now that it was mostly over, her own memories of Robert's death were bubbling up from the small, dark part of her mind where she had tried to lock them away. The sight of Jack Sparrow had set them loose again.

Commodore Norrington placed a tentative hand on her arm. "Mrs. Swann? Are you all right?"

She tried to smile up at him. "Oh, yes, quite all right. I just… seeing that man, it brings it all back."

Concerned blue eyes regarded her face intently. "Perhaps you had better go home as well," he suggested. "May I assist you into the carriage?"

She accepted his hand up, taking a sort of comfort in the touch even though she didn't really need the assistance. At times it seemed as if all stability had fled from the world upon Robert's death, and it was nice to have it back for a moment, if only in the form of some added balance mounting the steps to a carriage.

The Commodore saw her settled on the brocaded silk of the seat, then stepped away to exchange some low, hurried words with the governor, casting one brief glance back in her direction as he went. Beside Mary Rose, Elizabeth sniffed faintly, and rubbed at her eyes with one hand. Somehow, Mary Rose wasn't surprised to note that she didn't have a handkerchief. She pulled out her own and handed it over, not looking at the other woman.

"Which one are you crying for?" she asked. It came out sounding more accusing than she had initially meant. Shamelessly as she may have behaved, Elizabeth did have the right to cry, after learning that her husband had abandoned her and that her lover was now slated to be hung. Granted, she had been unfaithful to said husband, and said lover more than deserved his upcoming fate, but it still must have been a tremendous shock.

Elizabeth glared at her. "It's not what you think," she spat. "Jack and I, we never-" she cut herself off, looking away. "It's not like that."

Mary Rose blinked, caught off guard by this not entirely convincing denial. "You're not, not…" she faltered, searching for a word, "consorting, with him?"

Elizabeth continued to look away, past Mary Rose and through the window of the carriage at Governor Swann and Commodore Norrington. "Would it make any difference if I were?" she asked, her voice still angry but her face almost sad. "I mean, to anyone but us. Both of them," she added, reaching for the door on the other side of the compartment. "I'm crying for both of them. Excuse me, please. I think I need to be alone now." She opened the door and slipped out, leaving Commodore Norrington and the governor still conversing on the other side of the vehicle and Mary Rose staring after her in confusion.

If Elizabeth wasn't having an affair with Sparrow, why was she so concerned about the man? And if she wasn't betraying her husband with a depraved pirate, why had he left her? Then again, if he had been leaving her over an affair, why would he leave with the man she'd betrayed him with? Mary Rose desperately wished that someone would explain to her precisely what was going on here.

^_~



Will surveyed the rack of swords as he paced back and forth across the smithy's floor, wondering whether he should pick one up and try a few passes with it, or sharpen it, or polish it, or do something semi-useful to make the time until Elizabeth's return a little less maddening. In the end, he left the swords untouched and simply continued pacing. The feel of a blade in his hand in this particular place would only remind him of Jack, and Jack was what he was trying unsuccessfully not to think about.

He and the Black Pearl had to have gotten away. Of course they had gotten away. Anything else was unthinkable, and anyway, Jack always escaped. Except when he didn't, and was caught and put in chains and dragged up onto a scaffold to have a noose placed around his neck.

When Elizabeth finally returned, sliding through the door like a slightly bedraggled shadow, he knew instantly that something was wrong, and the vague, uneasy feeling that had been lurking in his gut became much less vague and more uneasy.

"What is it?" he demanded, starting towards her.

She turned suspiciously damp-looking eyes at him—she had been crying, which made some deep part of him very angry at whomever was responsible—and said the very thing he had been praying with all his soul that she wouldn't say.

"They've got Jack."

For one strange, endless half-second the floor seemed to drop out from under him, even as the bottom dropped out of his stomach and his breath seemed to stop. Then the floor was back, and he was taking Elizabeth by the shoulders and pulling her gently down onto the bench, saying, "We're going to get him out somehow," and ruthlessly squashing the little voice inside his head that clamoured desperately that it wasn't true, it couldn't be true, they couldn't possibly be going to hang Jack.

"Of course we are," Elizabeth nodded. "Of course we are." Then her entire face seemed to crumble, and her shoulders shook slightly. "How? I mean, last time was pure luck. Luck won't work twice."

"Ah…" Will's mind was frustratingly, disappointingly, scarily blank. What vengeful heathen god, he wondered suddenly, had cursed him to be forever forced to watch the people he loved be dragged off into mortal peril, leaving him behind to scramble about trying to save them? And why did this sort of thing keep happening to him? He had never stolen any Aztec gold.

Elizabeth drew a long, shuddering breath and scrubbed at her eyes with both hands. "I'm not going to cry," she announced, sounding as if she were issuing herself a command. "I've cried enough already." She drew another breath. "But I can't help feeling that it's all my fault."

Will slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She fit perfectly against him, head lying in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. "Elizabeth, how could it possibly be your fault? You weren't even there." But he had been. Maybe if he hadn't been busy clumsily falling off ships, he could have done something to prevent Jack's being captured.

"That's right, you don't know, do you?" Elizabeth murmured cryptically. "Remember those earrings Jack gave me, just before you two left?" she asked.

"With remarkable clarity," Will answered, feeling a faint smile at the memory lurking somewhere inside him even in the middle of this mess of problems and misery. He stoked Elizabeth's hair with one hand as he listened, absently pulling the rest of it free from it's complicated arrangement of twists and coils. It was soft under his fingers, smooth like a polished sword hilt.

"Remember that letter father got from my cousin Robert in England, saying that he was planning to emigrate out here?"

Will nodded, wondering where on earth this explanation was going. So far, it had a disconcertingly Jack-like nonsensicalness about it.

"Well, Robert did come, and he came on the Golden Dolphin, and halfway between here and Cuba the Black Pearl took her and Jack acquired my earrings. From my cousin-in-law, after killing Robert."

A whole collection of scattered comments made by the Black Pearl's crew suddenly fell together inside Will's head, meshing with Elizabeth's story like the lines of a fishing net. His hand halted on Elizabeth's hair, leaving the pin he had been about to pull out in place. "Your cousin shot Anamaria?" he blurted out. It was a phenomenally stupid question, but for some reason it was the only thing he could think of to say.

"He did?" Elizabeth looked almost relieved, for some odd reason. "So that's why Jack did it. I knew he had to have had a reason. She not dead, is she?"

"No, the bullet went through her shoulder." He looked down at her, no longer hiding her face in his shoulder but staring up at him seriously, brown eyes worried. "How do you know this?"

"The Golden Dolphin came into port about a week after you left, and Mary Rose—Robert's wife—told Norrington and my father all about it. And then she recognized my earrings, and went to Norrington, and he came to me." She looked down suddenly, hands twisting nervously in the fabric of his shirt. "I lied to him, of course, but he figured out that Jack had been here, and that you had left with him. He said that Jack would have to come back to bring you home eventually, and that he'd be waiting when he did. I should have lied better. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Will assured her. "If it's anybody's fault, it's Jack's." Only Jack could manage to give Elizabeth jewellery stolen from one her own relatives. Which didn't change the fact that they had to get him out of this somehow.

"Mary Rose thinks I'm having an affair with him behind your back," Elizabeth said, almost dryly. "Everyone else thinks you've run off with him and abandoned me for a life of piracy. We're two thirds of a buccaneering love triangle."

"She thinks what?" Will blinked at her, honestly blindsided. On closer consideration, he supposed it could look as if there were something between Jack and Elizabeth. She'd always been fascinated with pirates, and now suddenly this extraordinarily good-looking and seductive one came along and saved her from drowning, was trapped on an island with her overnight, was rescued from the scaffold by her and her husband, gave her earrings… No, it still didn't work. Elizabeth would never have an affair with Jack without telling him. "But of course, you're not. Jack wouldn't have made jokes about it if you were."

"No, but-" Elizabeth broke off suddenly, and looked down again, voice taking on a choked quality. "But, I think maybe part of me might have wanted to."

Will should have felt jealous or angry, hearing that. He knew he should have. And he did feel jealous, sort of, and maybe a bit betrayed, but mostly what he felt, as a sudden, uncomfortable, revelation began creeping into the corners of his mind, was left out.

The thought of Elizabeth and Jack sharing something so intimate, so personal, with each other without his knowledge was curiosly painful. He found that a part of him almost resented the idea, not because Elizabeth was his wife and belonged to him and no one else, which was what he should have been thinking, but because a secret relationship between the two of them would have left him shut out, excluded, never privy to the parts of themselves that Elizabeth and Jack were revealing to each other.

"Will," Elizabeth tried tentatively, "say something." She had pulled away from him and was sitting alone now, surrounded by a bubble of empty space.

"Well, it's understandable," he managed after a moment. "I mean, Jack's very, er, very..." he trailed off, searching for the proper adjective to describe Jack's aura of mystery and scatter-brained sulryness, and couldn't quite find one. "And I'm not nearly as interesting or jingly."

Elizabeth leaned forward again, reaching up to touch his hair, which had long ago come loose from its tie and was falling around his face in sticky, salt-water-encrusted tangles. "You're every bit as interesting," she said fiercely. "You're just a different kind of interesting."

Oddly reassured, Will nodded and leaned forward to kiss her. It was a brief kiss, a brush of lips only, but some of the invisible tension in the air dissolved away afterward. "Since you aren't sleeping with Jack, let's rescue him first and then decide which one of us is going to elope with him later." Wait, that hadn't sounded quite right. Will might have secretly nursed the desire to sail away aboard the Black Pearl and leave Port Royal and all its restrictions behind, but the phrase "elope with Jack" put a different and much more improper spin on things, and called up unhelpful memories of the way Jack's skin had gleamed darkly in the lamplight of his cabin, muscles shifting beneath it as he pulled his shirt over his head, of the warm weight of Jack's arm about his shoulders... Firmly, he shoved the distracting images out of his mind.

Elizabeth's lips quirked, a smile trembling there for an instant and then dissolving. "If we can get him out," she began, almost visibly resuming a business-like attitude, "no, when we get him out, all three of us have to leave. Norrington's put out an order for your arrest, just as you said he would, which means you'll have to go on the run as well, and I'm not staying behind this time."

"Of course you're not," Will told her. "I'd never leave you." Leave. The two of them would be leaving after this, wouldn't they? Leaving Port Royal and everything and everyone there behind, possibly forever. There would be no clemancy granted them for rescuing Jack from justice this time. Elizabeth would have to leave her father, he would have to leave his smithy, the forge he had learned his trade in, worked in for years. The first thing he had, after Mr. Brown's death this past fall, ever owned in his own right.

He had met Jack here, coming in one afternoon to find a disreputable hat sitting next to his anvil and a disreputable pirate hiding in his workshop, had forged dozens of blades here, making them and practicing with them until swords had become as narual in his hands as a hammer and tongs. He had made love to Elizabeth here, one day when she had come to find him finishing up his work, the reddish light from the forge fire turning her hair copper and her skin rose.

"We need a way to get off the island," he pointed out, pulling his attention away from th flood of memories. "To someplace safe, maybe Tortuga." The world was full of forges and smithies, of places where he could sparr with Jack and make love to Elizabeth. The forge he had used in Tortuga had been decent, albeit a bit run down, and there were surely others somewhere he could rent or buy. Or even build.

Elizabeth's face stilled as she thought, eyes staring past Will at something unseen. "There's Harry Kennedy's sloop," she said after a moment. "He's... well, they caught him smuggling rum and hung him, so he won't miss it. It's moored just below the fort. There was a sentry guarding it a couple of weeks ago, but it's small and not much use to the navy, so it's just sitting there now."

"So we steal this ship, after somehow breaking Jack out of jail, and the three of us sail it to Tortuga?" As plans went, there had probably been better ones. Jack, if he were here, could no doubt have come up with something far superior, though probably equally risky, if not more so. "All right. But how are we going to get Jack out of jail?"

That was a question neither of them had an answer for.

^_~



Elf-locks: As before, locks of tangled or matted hair (the word "dreadlocks" didn't exist in the eighteenth century). The implication is that hair could only get so messy if it were tangled by malicious elves.

Mr. Brown: is the name of Will's master, the drunk smith, according to the sign outside the shop in the movie.

Kennedy: No relation to the family of American politicians--though they did make their fortune as bootleggers during Prohibition, so there could be.

^_~

Thank you to all my reviewers!

Calendar & Diana: Thank you! I am cruel with cliffhangers only to be kind—wait, no I'm not.  I just find them convenient places to end chapters. 

kandra: Thank you!  Glad to know my story isn't too difficult to understand (and I wish I could point out some useful non-English research material, but I'm sadly mono-lingual). 

musegurl18 & Eledhwen:  Thank you!  I'm glad y'all are liking my story. 

Berne: Thank you!  I'm glad my Pirates fic makes the cut.  Jack's a difficult character to get ahold of, but I try my best.  About the research—I really didn't do that much, beyond check out a few books and websites.  I owe most of this knowledge to exstensive reading of historical fiction.

WCSPegasus:  Thank you!  Fangirl me all you want.  I've never been fangirled before. *squees excitedly at prospect *  About Will's swimming ability—congratulations.  You've spotted the fic's biggest plot hole.  My only excuse is that Jack was somewhat distracted at the time, and that it had been a few months since he'd seen Will escape the Interceptor. 

Beth Winter:  Thank you!  It reads like Rafael Sabatini?  Really? *is flattered *  I loved Captain Blood (which is possibly why this is rather adventure-novely).

^_~

This installment of self-righteous Mary Rose and semi-clueless Will has been brought to you by raisin scones, the UCC computer lab, and McVities Digestive Biscuits.


Next up, Chapter Thirteen: In Which Norrington Dines with the Governor and Jack Feels Sorry for Himself.

Elizabeth wants Jack's sexy, sexy body, Will probably wants Jack's sexy body, but does Jack want them in return, or does he just want freedom from jails, headaches, and sentences of death?  Stay tuned for the answer, as well as yet another serving of angst and melodrama, including a form of angst possibly never before seen in Pirates fanfic: Weatherby Swann!Angst.

God, this thing has turned into an absolute bloody soap opera, hasn't it?