A/N: At this time I feel I must apologize for my... absence. I have recently been swept up in Regency romance novels and things to do with Colin Firth. Anywhoo, I'm back for a while, at least, and must now bestow upon you chapter nine. I'm sorry it's not very long.

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He's crying. Oh, God, I made him cry. This was some bloody splendid idea you had! "Don't worry", you said! "I'm sure it'll do everyone a bit of good", you said! And, and now he's --- crying his bloody eyes out, and ---- and...

...Jack?

What can you want with me now?! I've done every damned thing you've said, and look where it's got me, you bumbling idiot -- Will's bawling like a newborn babe, his wife's at home planning our romantical disappearance, and I'm going completely, stark-raving mad. I could kill myself for listening to a voice inside my head in the firstplace; Anamaria always said it was horribly stupid...

Oh, gads, Jack. You're not going crazy.

How do you explain your presence then, eh? Pestiferous moron!

Jack Sparrow, many a person has had an argument with himself!

Yes, but not with such erratic speeches, eh? Don't think you can fool me. Because of you, I have just ruined a marriage, made a grown man cry -- which I never doubted of Will, but nonetheless it's quite disturbing -- and I've got the hopes of a deranged woman up higher than the sky, while I'm sure that I can't at all fulfill them...

And I'm doubting myself. Oh hell, I never doubted anything I'd ever done until stupid Will's mad wife made you show up, and you started telling me to do things that were highly unadvisable -- and now you've got me cautious! What am I going to do?!

Well. I suggest you calm Will sufficiently, and then go have a very long talk with Mrs. Turner.

Damned if I listen to you ever again...

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