Author's Note: I know that this chapter is a bit shorter than some of the rest, but I wanted to get it out – help relieve some of the tension that the last chapter created.  Be looking for the next installment anywhere between tomorrow night and Tuesday night.

Sue to my lack of time at the moment, author's thanks will appear in the next chapter, but thank you to all who reviewed for chapter fourteen.

Here follows the story:

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She thought the pain was going to rip her apart.  Winn lost track of what was going on around her when she lost interest.  She couldn't see, she couldn't hear above the blood rushing in her ears, and she was having trouble breathing.  For all she knew she was about to be killed, and she didn't care – all that mattered was keeping her child safe. 

   She felt her body being moved, and she bit back the screams of pain this brought to her lips.  Her body wanted to jerk and dance on its own, but she focused what was left of her energy on staying curled around the life growing inside her.  She heard a faint and indistinct voice talking into her ear, but all she could understand was her own mind screaming denials that she couldn't lose this child.

   Her husband, where was her husband?  "Jack . . . ."  Had she said anything out loud, or had she merely thought her husband's name?

   That indistinct voice rang in her ears, and this time a pair of arms tightened around her, lending her the strength to keep the convulsions contained.  A pair of lips grazed her hairline – Winn decided that it was Jack holding her, although she couldn't be certain.  Why was everything bobbing?  Wasn't she having a hard enough time keeping her stomach in one place without this added complication.  Going to lose it.  Leaning forward she emptied what was left of her stomach contents overboard.  Catching her breath, she moaned and started dry heaving over the side from the pain.  Not the baby.  Not the baby, the refrain took up precedence in her mind.

Jack, as much as he would like to let go of Winn and stab Gandolfi directly in the chest with the knife she had smuggled aboard, didn't let go of his wife as they were ushered into the waiting dinghy.  At the moment concern for her outweighed any desire to kill the old merchant, albeit not by much.

   "Jack . . . ."  He barely heard the gasp his name became on his wife's lips, his mind too caught up in what was happening.  The small gasp had to fight its way to the front of his attention, and when it did, Jack tightened his arms around Winn, unsure if the pressure was helping or hurting her.  Winn leaned into his embrace, bracing her back against his chest and resting her head on his shoulder as she struggled with the pain the poison was causing.  Comforted by the fact that she wasn't fighting against him, Jack pressed his lips against her hairline as he kept one eye on Pige who was huddled in the bows stern of the small craft as she had been taught and the other on the ship and Gandolfi who was standing at the rail.

   "I suggest you make up you mind as to what your next action is, Captain Sparrow.  As you can see, you'll be able to reach that isle within the next hour or so if you start rowing now, and will be safely ashore before the English navy comes by.  Of course, should you decide to do that, your lover will lost her child and possibly bleed to death.  Or, you can sit there and wait for the ship that will be passing by in about two hours, and we both know what the consequences will be if you choose that."  The merchant vessel was slowly picking up speed as her sailors lowered the sails.  Winn surged forward in his arms and lost the fight against her belly again, thankfully throwing up over the side of the small boat.  Pige whined, Gandolfi smiled, and Jack felt the same ice that he'd felt the last time he'd looked into Barbossa's eyes before they'd marooned him.  He needn't worry about dying just yet – he had to live to kill Gandolfi.  Things were as simple as that.  Saluting the man with an impudent gesture and his trademark smirk, Jack focused his attention on his wife.  He had Gandolfi had both known what his choice would be – waiting for the English to come by and pick them up.  If Winn needed a doctor, he'd get her to one, no matter what the risks to himself were.

   Helping Winn sit up in the small boat once the dry heaves had abated, Jack sent up a prayer of thanks that Winn had been up part of the night doing this very thing.  Maybe she had managed to rid her body of enough of the poison to make some kind of difference.  "Winn, love, talk to me."  Her entire body was trembling, whether as a symptom of the poison or of her struggle against it, he wasn't sure.  Laying a gentle hand over her belly, he felt the short, powerful muscle contractions at work there.  A hand gripped his heart, but he fought against the fear.  He'd be of no use to Winn if he gave into the panic stalking him now.  Her own terror was enough to overwhelm them both – he didn't need to add his to the pot.  Still, it was all he could do to keep himself from moaning when he saw that Winn had bitten through her bottom lip in an effort to keep silent.  "Let it out, Winnie.  It's okay.  It's just you and me now.  You can let it out."  The head on his shoulder shook.  "Yes, you can.  It's okay, I'll hold you.  Let me help."

   " . . . can't . . . .  So sorry, Jack . . . ."

   "Shh.  It's alright."

   "No."  Winn's voice was difficult to hear over the small waves lapping against the side of the hull.  Jack lowered his head so that that his ear rested nearly against her mouth, Jack listened to what she was trying to say.  ". . . my fault . . . . Should . . . shouldn't have come . . . ."  What was that wetness sinking into his breeches?  Tell me this boat doesn't have a bloody leak.  It suddenly struck him that if there was a leak, his rear would be wet, not his lap.

   "Don't worry about that now.  Save your strength," he murmured as he carefully shifted Winn on his lap.  He swallowed hard when he saw the small amount of blood staining his pants. 

   Winn opened her eyes as she felt herself being positioned so she could once again lean against Jack's chest, this time so her shoulder rested directly against him.  To her great relief and growing fear, the spots blocking out the majority of her vision were starting to fear, as was the burning throat she had taken as indigestion the night before.  She was glad to see again, but as these symptoms lessened, she knew the more serious ones would start to kick in.  She tensed as she felt . . . something in her belly.  No!  I will not lose this child! she thought wildly before realizing that it didn't hurt.  What? 

   Realizing what was happening, she grabbed Jack's hand and placed it over her womb.  "Winn, what is it?  What's wrong?"  Ignoring her husband and closing her eyes against the bright blue sky, she concentrated, willing for the sensation to come again.  There, that little punch.  Her baby, it was kicking.  Hope started to combat the fear, enough to let Winn breath a bit more steadily.

   "Winn?"  Jack didn't like how quiet she was being.  Her skin was cold and clammy, her forehead and chest damp with perspiration, her breathing still labored.  The hand holding his over her belly was quickly weakening.  And most importantly, he could feel her muscles jumping under his hand.  Was this it then?  Was she dying?  "Winn?"  God, please, don't do this.

   Hearing the trace of fear in her husband's voice, Winn tried to open her eyes and reassure him, but her eyelids were too heavy.  Settling for speaking in her breathless voice, Winn said, "No.  It's the baby.  It's kicking."  This wasn't good enough, she needed to open her eyes.  Fighting against her lids' stubborn refusal to open, hers slowly fluttered open.  "The baby's alright."  Why wasn't he looking more relieved? "What's wrong?"

   What's wrong?  Jack couldn't even begin to list all the things that were wrong.  "Winnie . . ."  She looked so peaceful at the moment, but the wig was going to have to go.  It had served its purpose, helping to conceal her identity.  Now it was a hindrance.  He busied himself with removing the pins that were keeping it on her head, avoiding the question in her eyes.

   Winn let him dodge the question for the time being, too tired to press the issue.  When he finally managed to get the wig off her head, she nearly sighed in contentment, not caring that her hair was more than likely messier than a bird's nest.  Funny, it was getting harder and harder to breathe, her lungs resisting the idea that she needed oxygen.  Why are they fighting?  Another spasm of pain came out of nowhere to make every muscle in her body cramp in agony.  She could now feel the blood that was seeping from between her clenched thighs.  No!

    Jack surveyed the horizon for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes.  If help didn't arrive soon, he wasn't sure Winn was going to make it.  Ever since her declaration that the baby was going to be okay, the premature contractions had been wracking her body with greater intensity and frequency.  Any words coming out of her mouth and long since stopped making any sense, a mixture of pleas, curses, and unknown mutterings in several different languages barely making it through her lips.  Each breath had become a struggle, and Jack could do nothing but sit by and watch.

   Blood stained both them and the bottom of the boat now, a grim reminder of what was happening – of what was at stake.  Jack felt torn between the hope that Winn would be able to keep the child and the hope that her agony would be stopped.  Ever since feeling the physical evidence of his child in her womb, he'd been fighting between the two.  He knew how much Winn wanted this, wanted this child that she wasn't supposed to have given life to, but he needed his wife.  If she died . . . then what he was about to do was going to be in vain.  Or perhaps not.  He wasn't sure how to face a future without Winn, and this would be one way to escape.

   "Jack . . . ."

   "What is it love?"

   "You need . . . need to start . . . rowing."  Her eyes inched open to meet his.  "Get to . . . to safety . . . .  Island."

   Jack shook his head.  "Just concentrate on keeping yourself alive, love.  Let me worry about the rest."  Raising his eyes, he once against swept his gaze over the horizon.  There.  Finally.  He'd started to think the ship was never going to show up.  Winn needed help, now.

   "Jack . . . I'll be fine."  Her words ended on a keening note, the pain becoming too much to handle again, but this time she fought to speak through it.  "I'm sorry.  I should have . . . have told you . . . before."

   "Told me what, love?"

   "That I'm sorry."

   "Sorry about what?"

   "The ones I lost."  Her hands were clinging to his, the nails biting into his calloused palms.  "I didn't mean to."  Her chest expanded laboriously as she sucked down enough air to keep talking.  "I didn't know . . . forgive me."

   Jack had no idea what she was talking about.  What did he have to forgive her for?  What had she lost and not known about?  "Of course I forgive you."  The English ship was getting closer.  "You're going to get help soon, love."

   "What?"

   "I'm going to get you to a doctor."

   Her eyes once again inched open, and met his.  The purpose, the finality . . . the good-bye she found there scared her more than the pain moving in waves across her abdomen.  Jerking her eyes from his, she looked out to sea and saw the same thing he had; an English vessel, navy by its look.  "No . . . don't . . . not for me."

   "It's too late, love.  They've already seen us."  It was true.  Jack could hear the faint shouts rising from the deck as the officers called out the course corrections needed to keep the ship from crushing the small ship.  "You need a physician, and this is the only way to get one."

   "Don't want to . . . to pay that much.  Jack . . . they'll arrest you."

   "I think they've already done that once or twice, and I've come out alright."  Gently, Jack laid Winn down on the bottom of the small craft, and then went to stand in the stern, one booted foot propped up on the ship's edge so that should they recognize him (which someone was bound to do sooner or later) they would make all due haste to get him and his wife on board.  Not that he cared to share that bit of information – it'd only get Winn in trouble.

"Captain!  There seems to be a small vessel stranded ahead of us, sir!"

   Captain Marcus Morgan turned from the conversation he was having with his superior, prepared to deal with this small abnormality.  He and his crew were just completing a trial run in the newest addition to the English navy's fleet here in the Caribbean – HMS Redemption.  She was truly a beautiful ship, built for speed and little else.  In her, the navy would be better able to track down the pirates and smugglers that infested these waters.  Not that we can go after just any ships.  I know of several I would rather avoid.  Such as those belonging to his family.  And as long as the navy and his superior didn't catch on to the game he was running, all would be well.

   "Where is this ship, lieutenant?" he asked as he came to the helm.  Marcus followed the man's finger and found the small ship.  Feeling his eyes widen and his stomach drop, he pulled out the spyglass that always hung at his side.  Speak of the devil.  For a split second, he wondered if he dare ignore the small vessel and its inhabitant, but then the dog in the stern caught his attention.  Whatever Jack was doing, he wouldn't bring Winn's dog with him.  If Pigeon was there, so was Winn, and if Jack was making himself so visible instead of having taken refuge on the small island to the north, then she was in trouble.  Cursing to himself, he called out course corrections to his crew.  It was going to more than he could do to see that Jack reached port in one piece.

   "Go to my cabin and awaken Mrs. Morgan," he ordered the cabin boy at his elbow.  The boy took off running, responding to the urgency in his captain's voice.

   "What seems to be the problem, Captain?"  Marcus turned to his superior and wished that the man was anywhere but here.  "Surely it isn't anything that your men cannot handle without the help of your wife."

   "No, sir.  But there's a woman in that boat, and in my experience, a woman is always comforted by the presence of another when boarding a ship full of strange men.  That and I have the feeling that Mrs. Morgan would have my head if I did not inform her of this distraction." 

   Marcus watched with a sinking feeling as the man he was talking to glanced at the smaller ship and then focused on the man standing proud in the bows.  "Impossible," he murmured, motioning for Marcus to hand over his spyglass.  Marcus did and hid the wince that came when his superior barked, "Sparrow!"

   "You called for me, 'Captain'?"  Marcus turned to look at his wife, hearing her gentle mockery at the formality that was required before his commanding officer.  She was pale from being sea-sick, but it had been her decision to come, and he was now infinitely glad that he had allowed her to.  If something was wrong with Winn, he could think of no one better to care for her.

   Taking his wife by the elbow, he led her some distance off as his men maneuvered the large vessel up alongside the dinghy, avoiding swamping the smaller boat with the ease of long practice.  Under the cover of their shouts he whispered, "We've just managed to find Jack and Winn in the middle of the blasted Caribbean Sea."  Grace's eyes widened.  "I suspect that something may be wrong with Winn, or Jack would have found them shelter long ago.  There's nothing I can do to protect him, not with the commodore aboard.  Maybe, once we reach Port Royal . . ." Marcus ran an impatient hand through his hair.  "Never mind.  Right now I need you to take charge of Winn, find out what's wrong."  Hearing the commodore taking charge behind them, Marcus finished quickly.  "You know that we must pretend not to know Jack."  Grace nodded speechlessly, her eyes filling with purpose.  "Alright.  Let's see what we can make of this puzzle we've been given."

Jack Sparrow cursed his luck.  Of all the navy ships to run into, he had to come across the one that was commanded by Port Royal's very own commodore.  He had suspected that he would have to face Norrington sooner or later, but he hadn't expected it to be this soon.  Just as he was about to give himself up as a dead man, Jack saw two people he hadn't expected to see, but who were much more welcome: his youngest brother-in-law and his wife.  Sagging inwardly in relief, he reinforced the self-assured smirk on his face and waited for someone to take action.

   Apparently it was above the commodore's dignity to shout down at the pirate, for Jack soon saw three armed redcoats descend in their own lifeboat, one baring the expected irons.  Truly, the commodore was much too predictable.

   "Jack Sparrow, you are under arrest!"

   Jack looked around him, pretending to see if he were surrounded or not.  "Actually, it looks as if I'm surrendering m'self, mates."  Winn groaned, and Jack fought the need to kneel down by her side.  "I'm sure the iron aren't necessary.  I just wanted to drop off the little lady and then I'll be on my way."  Military recruits must get dumber by the season, he thought as the men looked up to see what the commodore had made of this little speech.  "I don't think the gent up there is going to change his mind when it comes to making me your enforced guest.  I would appreciate it, however, if you would relieve me of this moaning bundle?"  He hoped that Winn couldn't hear what he was saying, or he was going to get an earful at any moment, which would not be a good thing.

   "What are you louts waiting for?  Get that pirate under control, then get that poor woman up here so I can look after her."  Praise all gods that be for Grace.  The men jumped to do her bidding.

   It was a heart-wrenching trip for Jack, climbing up the side of the ship as he watched his restless wife be hauled up in the soldier's launch.  More than anything he wanted to tell them to be more gentle, but couldn't.  The only piece of luck that came his way was that Pige had decided that these men were here to help and she didn't attack.

   Standing on the deck of the ship, keeping a careful eye on Winn as Norrington's, or perhaps Marcus' men fitted him with shackles, it was impossible for him to miss the expressions on his in-law's faces or that of the men around them.  Winn was a sight to disturb anyone with her lower half close to being covered in blood, her sightlessly staring eyes, wild hair, and incoherent mumbles.  Every once in awhile, she would let out an agonized moan and Jack's hair would stand on end in fear that he'd gotten her to help too late.  Com'on Winnie, just keep holding on, love.  Just a little bit longer, that's all I ask.

   Grace was holding a whispered conference with Marcus, apparently arguing with him over something.  Jack wanted to tell her to keep her mouth shut and focus on Winn, but when Grace's glance cut to him, he realized that she must need more information.

   "Captain Sparrow –"

   "I'm afraid that Mister Sparrow doesn't have time to answer any questions, Mrs. Morgan.  In fact, I while I believe that he could explain in detail what is wrong with the young lady, I think it would be best if we kept him away from her."

   "Commodore!  If I'm to help this woman I need more information about what is wrong with her.  Sparrow is the only one who can help me with that."

   Winn, inopportunely, chose that moment to speak up.  "Jack . . . Jack, no . . . don't.  I can't . . . . the baby . . ."

   Stunned silence fell upon the deck, Marcus and Grace staring first at Winn with wide, unbelieving eyes, and then at Jack.  He tried to step forward, forgetting the masquerade he had to hold up, when Norrington stepped between he and his wife.

   "Well, there you go.  The woman has admitting of her own will that she wants nothing to do with this ruffian.  If fact, it sounds as if she would be more likely to implicate him as the cause for her current condition."

  "I resent that implication.  I'm a gentleman of fortune," Jack said, hiding his fear for his wife and child.  If only this overdressed buffoon would get out of his way.

  "Yes," Norrington drawled.  "Unfortunately for you, you luck had never been good or abundant.  And now it's finally run out."  He nodded to two men, who grabbed Jack by the arms, ready to drag him down to the brig.

   "Wait."  Marcus' voice rang across the deck with authority.  "Whether or not this man is responsible is not the issue at the moment.  What's at stake is this woman's life and her survival is based on information, which this man has.  By all means, keep him under lock and guard, but let him give my wife the answers she needs to help her."  The men didn't budge from their places and the commodore didn't blink.  "Sir, I know that you are my commander, but this is my ship.  Until you choose to relieve me of command, I believe I am allowed to make such a decision."

   "Very well.  Men, take the woman –"

   "That won't be necessary.  I'll take her myself, sir."  With all the gentleness that Jack himself would have used, Marcus picked his sister up from the deck and carried her to his cabin, Grace and Jack following close behind.

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Author's Note 2:  if you're looking for something else to read, check out my new fic 'One Shot' – it's going to be a collection of short pieces that have absolutely nothing to do with anything else, but I hope they're enjoyable.  Also, there's the fic 'More Than Eyes Alone Can See' by my friend Neon Daisies in the OUATIM universe.