Disclaimer: Any names dropped here and found in the movie aren't mine, and anyone who claims otherwise owes me a lot of money.

Notes:
This fic is currently being re-drafted, and the new chapters cannot be posted here until I've revised all of them. For the latest redone chapter, visit my profile, where you'll find a link. Feedback is still highly appreciated.

Also, please note that some author comments are embedded in the text since the brackets were taken out by TPB.


Forty-Six & 2, Chapter Seven - Pettish Paroxysms
ill-tempered outbursts

"Grab tha' fall fer me, will ya, Lass?"

Sending Marty a quick nod, Elizabeth seized a rope that hung only a few feet to her left and tugged hard. Two days had passed since their return to sea, and she had taken to helping out the night crew, as she had been claimed by a fresh bout of insomnia. Jack had said that they would make far better time if they could sail through both day and night, and by her rather rough estimates, they were. Likely, she would only see two more dawns aboard the Black Pearl.

She thought that she would be glad to see her home, to watch the Pearl once again set her rudder to Port Royal. She would be with her father, who would be overjoyed by her return, and she would move on from Will, who clearly wasn't gliding about the oceans in some pitiful search for her, if, in fact, he was still alive.

Shaking her head, she breathed the sea air deeply as a breeze swung about her. Yes, it would be good to get home, but looking around the dark decks of the ship, she knew she would miss them. After Cotton's death, she had expected that the crew might shun her due to their superstitions, but their reaction was quite the opposite. They all seemed to welcome her presence, even the three or four who had joined on after the adventure years ago. She suspected that the Captain had something to do with their behaviour.

The Captain…

She had yet to see him without his trusty rum bottle since…since the night he had kissed her and she had, once again, lost her control.

She sighed as the scene replayed through her mind. Her thoughts had been betraying her more often than not in the past few days. It was down right atrocious to think of the Captain taking advantage of her, attempting to ravage her as he had. She really should have walloped him, even if she wasn't quite sure how to go about it; she had a few inventive conjectures.

If she were to be put in the situation again…

She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the image to take over, and in her mind's eye, Jack stood before her, that damnable smirk gracing his lips as his body pressed against hers. A hand in her hair, an arm around her waist, a mouth on her own, and she—

"Wou'ja mind ter'bly comin' back down ta Pearl and securing that bit o' riggin'?"

She was interrupted.

Elizabeth's eyes blinked open to find the short sailor looking up at her. She gave a guilty smile and tossed him an apology before tugging again on the rope in her hand and wrapping it around the nearest post, knotting it easily.

She ran her hands through her tangled hair and wiped them over the skirt of her old olive dress before she brought them into her line of vision to inspect them. Washing dishes had done them little good; she had lost all hope of salvaging the appearance of her fingernails after the first day that she had started working in the galley. Doing actual crew work was mangling her soft palms and fingers. She supposed this was just as well, as she wouldn't have to worry about the pain of pricking herself while engrossed in future needlework for quite some time.

That thought made her freeze. Needlework was just what she would be going back to when she returned to Port Royal, to her home. After the busy days on the ship, she had been glad for the respite offered by Fort Brine, nasty as the place might be, but had grown antsy after the excitement of the first day. Perhaps having to give up on Will so suddenly after only just finding hope was taking a toll on her.

But the trail was cold, and she thought any prolonged contact with Jack Sparrow precarious, indeed.

If Will didn't want to be found, there was really nothing she could do, and after his letter…

Presently, she gulped away the tension that had mounted in her constricting throat and looked around for something to keep her busy. Her gaze settled on the helm and the man there who was illuminated by golden moonlight. For a few strained moments, she worried her lips before nodding in decision and making her way forward, towards the bow. yes, I know that forward is towards the bow, but I wanted to clarify that for those who didn't; no sense getting you guys more mixed up than I already have…

Once upon the forward deck, she stood at the prow, hands settling over its starboard bulwark. All in all, it was a quiet night: clear, yet dull with its stillness. The Pearl moved restlessly over the sea, her crew meandering about here and there to maintain course and sanity. The only illumination was provided by a few lanterns that swayed in tune with the ship; the half moon, which was swiftly receding to its normal size and pallor; and the innumerable stars. It was beautiful, serene, and utterly disappointing, as far as Elizabeth was concerned.

There had been a tempest during the previous night and a great fog the eve before. Nature had provided her enough distractions to occupy her mind, enough to allow plaguing and mocking thoughts to recess in the pools of Oblivion.

But tonight, it was she who was lost, not being able concern herself with practical, trivial matters, thereby forwarding all mental pains to Lethe. Mere moments passed before Will Turner was again center stage in her mind.

He had told her that he had loved her since setting eyes upon her. Was he merely than a liar? Had all their time together been nothing more than false glances, false kisses, false caresses…?

If the words of his letter were true (and she had no reason to believe them to be otherwise so), then it must have been.

I must leave Port Royal with the hope that you might someday forgive me.

And gladly would she forgive him now, if only she could find him. Initially, shock, anger, pain, and shame had taken over her being, but now things were different.

Still, it seemed the question was whether or not he could forgive her.

after what happened, I feel, I know that this is the best course for us both, Elizabeth.

Again, the words of his letter played through her mind, and she shook her head as her eyes became misty and blinked away another round of tears. In doing so, she caught sight of something on the figurehead. Leaning out farther, she made to examine the odd object and set a knee on the rail. In the very dim light, she was able to make out the shape of a feather and her right forefingers deftly plucked it from the figurehead. Retracting her hand, she tried to get a better look at it, stroking the forlorn thing. The smattering of blood at one of its tips did not go unnoticed.

She swallowed as she now fought against an onslaught of bile, and made to return fully to the deck, but as she did, something else about the figurehead seized her attention. Putting her other knee onto the bulwark, she maneuvered herself closer, managing press against the carved herald, its sought-after features being just out of view. Her searching fingers drifted over the feminine form, dipping into the empty crevice that had taunted her.

"Bloody savages knew what they were doin'."

Her body jumped slightly at the unexpected statement, and she turned to face the speaker.

"Best come away from there, Lass. Capt'n's still a shade from a state t' be reckoned wi'. 'is suspicions'll do ye nary a bit of good."

She nodded slowly and took the hand that Mr. Gibbs offered, leaving the figurehead behind and allowing her feet to find their way back onto the solid deck. Once settled, she said, "I thought you told Jack that the bird had flown away."

He shook his head slowly, looking down. "He needn't know th' frightful details. 'Ad Tearlach remove 't from the Lady's 'ead. Bastards stuck 'im to 'er with a dagger." He glanced back up. "Apologies, Miss Elizabeth." When she waved off the unnecessary consideration of her presence in light of the oath, he continued, "Rested 'im at Cotton's feet." He took a swig from his flask. "Found the black pearl not the Black Pearl; the black pearl that actually serves as one of the figurehead's eyes, incase you missed it… was missin' after the bird was taken care of. That, we had t' tell Jack."

Her head tilted slightly. "He plans to go after them."

He nodded curtly. "Once yer safe where ya belong and we r'plenish the Pearl's fittin's, no doubt. Someone must be wantin' ta have a showdown with 'im some'n terrible."

"Revenge," she realized.

"Aye."

"But wh—" She was cut off by the call of an opulently word abuse is not illegal…I hope resounding horn.

A small vessel, indeed smaller than Captain Curry's sloop, barely worthy of being called a ship, in her eyes, was approaching from the southeast.

With less light illuminating her decks than that on the Pearl, Elizabeth was scarcely capable of making out a few dark forms moving about and muffled orders being throw to and fro in the darkness.

On the deck below her, crewmen jumped to life and made ready for what was assumed a friendly ship. Gibbs waved for Elizabeth to follow him down onto the maindeck as he began issuing a few orders, himself.

She cleared her throat and quickly found herself repeating what Mr. Gibbs called as she scurried to assist in lowering the anchors.

· § ·

"Sire, if you do not mind I would like to pose, how can you be sure that Captain Sparrow will come?" Garren asked as he followed his master through dry foliage. He thought it odd that half of the island looked to have been decimated by some great fire, but was not about to question his Lord's choice for docking.

The man before him stopped in his tracks, and a small smile passed across his lips as he slightly angled his head towards the ground, eyes slanting. "Ferratus, Sparrow will sacrifice his life for his Pearl, for his name. Of that, you can always be sure." He faced his underling completely. "You will go meet the good Captain. He's sure to turn about soon. When you take him, you'll administer the test."

Garren nodded. "And you, my Lord? Will you not be coming with us?"

He glanced at his surroundings, a whisper of reverence passing over his features. "I will remain here until your return." His gaze pinned the other. "Now be on your way. I've a feeling there will be…minor complications. Best be prepared."

He gave a slight bow. "Certainly." He started to go.

"No further harm is to come to the Black Pearl or her crew. Is that understood?"

"Of course, Sir. And what of the mistress?"

The face tightened for a brief instant. "His mistress," he repeated thoughtfully. "I have been waiting…her presence might serve for most interesting," he paused momentarily, seemingly to search for the proper word, and he smiled again slowly, "sport. Yes, you will bring the lovely lady along as well, Mei."

· § ·

Jack Sparrow delighted in having his way with women. He had lucked out, acquiring those rugged good looks that the ladies—well, perhaps not ladies in the technical sense—strumpets were far more likely. The strumpets adored him, and he had quite an extensive record in the wooing department.

Unfortunately, he had finally come to realize, he didn't have nearly as much luck with women outside of the bedroom. This led to him being on the receiving end of numerous verbal and physical attacks from those women (including the ladies), bedded or otherwise acquainted.

At current, it was one of the few unbedded women in his life who had flung her hand at him in a thorough attempt to knock his head off its hinges.

The pirate captain shook aforementioned head slightly, attempting to rid his ears of the droning bees that were now swarming in his addled mind. He pursed his lips in a semi-drunken fashion and swallowed before speaking. "Anamaria, Love," he held a beat to see if the furious woman standing before him would again send him reeling, but as she didn't poise for a post-strike, continued, "to what do I owe this…this unadulterated pleasure?"

"You stole my ship, Sparrow!" I have studied Ana's grammar, the bit available, and am going to try to portray her as I've seen in the flick, rather than from fanfic speculations.

"Yes. Yes, that I do recall, though it is rather sometime in the past now, and I also recall making good on my oath by getting you one from Barbados some three years back." He observed her for a minute, glancing up at the ship that she had just hailed the Black Pearl from. It was a small thing, a solid vessel, which donned a low-flying buccaneer's joli rouge and was sparsely crewed. Not the man-o-war that he had set her up with. This, apparently, proved that her ship had gone missing and that he was at the top of her suspects list.

Was there some unspoken agreement among women wherein they had collectively decided to blame him for all their lives' troubles?

"Don' you be getting cheeky with me, Jack Sparrow. I know bloody well 't'was you 'ho put the idea in the lad's head." She was shaking her finger at him, as was customary when she was given to chastising him, which had become quite the common occurrence in their crossings.

Just an hour or so earlier, the ship that was now fettered to Pearl's starboard had broken the horizon of the Windward Passage and later come to hail them. He hadn't recognized the vessel, but had decided that she looked easy enough to overpower, should the need arise, so he had ordered that the anchor be dropped, and anticipated the news carried by the passersby or engagement in a bartering session. Buccaneers carried the loveliest cuts of pork. too bad they didn't carry a decent season

Little had he known that the irate female pirate would be the one boarding.

He made a placating gesture towards her by holding up his hands, in a surrender of sorts, while arching a brow at her accusation. "I've had a bit of a…strenuous couple of weeks, Ana. Would you mind, tremendously, expunging a bit of that murk on my part?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Will Turner," she bit out in a soft, venomous manner.

Jack slid his eyes to Elizabeth's form as she fussed with some ropes that were already in order. She appeared frozen by Ana's reply, and he was almost certain that he had heard a gasp from her direction. He drug his gaze back to that of Anamaria's fiery one. "The whelp?"

Her fists found their stay upon her hips and she made a bit of a face. "Aye, 'the whelp.'"

He nodded and gestured to his cabin doors. "Shall we continue in private, then?" His tossed his head in Elizabeth's direction.

Anamaria turned, seeming to notice the lady for the first time and furrowed her brows, nodding slowly. To the other ship, she shouted, "Sparrow'll be takin' me on, Cap'n Maynard!" gee, where did that come from?

"Aye, Anamaria!" the short man at the helm returned. The order to "sail ho" was given, and the ship was cut loose from the Pearl.

"Ladies first," Jack said, opening a door for Anamaria, who passed by him, jaw set and chest puffed out indignantly. He sent a pained look in the direction of the Nether Realm, which, it seemed, had also denied his application for smooth sailing, and decided that his luck with women had simply run out, before entering his cabins.

· § ·

"I'm afraid, Captain, that I do not follow your logic."

Curry sat up straighter at his dinner table and finished scratching a moldy spot off a stale biscuit; now that he thought about it, the Miseria's departure from Tortuga had been far too hasty, as they had practically forgotten about those fittings that they'd docked for after encountering the Governor. He tore off a piece of the bread and popped the morsel into his mouth, deciding that the need for a restocking was far greater than the new adventure he'd managed to get himself into.

He looked up at the Governor of Port Royal, who sat across from him, hands folded and resting respectfully on the edge of the old table, one set of fingers rapping daintily over the backside of the opposite palm serving as the only indication of any slight impatience. "A funny thing, my friend, logic, that is. Took me years to gain the wee bit I've, but 'tis up there," he said, tapping his forefinger at his temple. "As, I heartily suspect, is yours."

Swann seemed to consider this statement for a few moments, before nodding a request that the Captain continue with his explanation.

"Y' see, Governor, the last thing I need is for your local Commodore—Norrington, I believe it is—to be chasing my Misery and her crew about on charges of holding you for ransom. Seems he's famed for being all but hospitable towards gentlemen such as myself and the boys." He held a grin when the other man's nose scrunched at his referring to himself as a gentleman. "Though the most recent escapes of Captain Sparrow do call those peculiar manners of your Commodore into question, I find it hard to consider that, in the slight that we were to be captured by your man, we might be released by your word alone. Surely he would not want to be made a fool of by more than one pirate, and as to your possible interjections on our favor: what do a few bloody cutthroats matter—" he held up his hand when the Governor moved to interrupt, "—especially when one takes to value the orders of the crown?"

At this, Weatherby sank back into his chair, eyeing Curry.

"And my luck, as you'll soon find, no doubt, no where nears that of the good Captain.

"So, there you have it, Governor. We simply murk up the waters, as it were, for your Commodore, in hopes that he will follow the false trail to Sparrow, thereby acquiring us enough time to get to where we're going, unhampered, if you will."

"Ah."

Captain Curry smiled at the voiced comprehension and clasped his hands with glee. "Well then, now that we've that out of the way, why not let's get ourselves on with today's payment?"

· § ·

"We've changed course. Where are we going?" Elizabeth asked as she topped the port stairs to the weather deck.

Jack released a splenetic sigh as he readjusted his grip on the helm with his right hand and drew a nearly empty bottle of rum from its resting place by his feet. "Not to worry, Miss Swann. Your safe return home will not be deferred for more than a day, I assure you. Anamaria was quite pertinacious about our harkening ourselves in the direction of—" he glanced at her "—of a lost shipmate."

"Is it Will?"

He only focused on the horizon and took a draught of rum in reply.

"Jack, he is my betrothed. I've a right to know."

"Said betrothed also had a right to inform you, if he so wished, which he, it would seem, did not."

She winced slightly at the sharp words. "You're simply unbearable, Jack Sparrow!" she shouted, and seeing that she had gotten his attention, continued, "Since dragging me aboard, you've done nothing aside from demean me to the point of redundancy and provide ridiculously elusive answers to my questions and-and…" She braced herself with a rung of the helm as her voice broke, and he watched her outburst wide-eyed. "I'm tired."

"The rum helps," he offered, and she laughed softly when he pressed the neck of the bottle into her free hand, shrugging prior to taking a few tiny sips.

"Apparently," he began after a while, shifting, "apparently, she came upon him while on an excursion in Fort Brine. He joined her crew and courier service."

She looked up at him, having been calmed a bit by the fiery drink. "How long since she last saw him?" she pressed quietly.

"Says he sailed away with her Fury—her ship, that is—nearly three months back, but she has word of him that carries up to the last fortnight or so, along with a few ideas of her own, as far as his whereabouts are concerned."

"He's alive, then? Truly?"

"It would seem that way."

She gazed out at the blanketed sky of the early morning. "You're planning to continue the search? With Anamaria?" She hoped that he couldn't see how put-off she felt.

"Anamaria is under the impression that she's commandeering my ship. Clearly, she still recognizes me as the one in charge, but she has been insolently demanding. I find that pacifying her is the best course for us all."

"Where are we going?" she asked again.

"See for yourself," he invited with a hand.

She faced forward again, being able to see, for the first time this day, her surroundings illuminated by a red dawn. Decaying vessels and debris jutted out from the water, looking very much like the Graveyard of Ships that she had crept through only a few times in her life, all of those treks being more than four years ago. A shiver broke through her body, and she swung back to him. "The Isla de Muerta? That's where we're going?"

"Aye. Don't tell me that the particularly nasty spit of land still troubles you." He craned his neck curiously. "Would that be the cause of your lack of sleep, or is it, perhaps, something else?"

"It doesn't trouble me at all," she lied. "But you could have warned me. That would have been the proper course of action!" her voice rose, and she accented herself by slamming a small fist into his left shoulder, throwing herself balance. Her bottom crashed into the deck, and she groaned.

He looked down at her. "My lady, at some point, you are going to have to square with the fact that propriety holds no value amongst pirates, as I have reminded you countless times before," he offered a hand, which she accepted, and pulling her up, "even though some of us may be honed in those manners which you so adore and probably show favor where it isn't due."

She leaned back against the helm. "You've been showing me favor, Captain Sparrow?"

"Only returning it, Love, though," he fixed his grip on the helm and shuffled a bit, "I must admit that I find it rather hard to do so when forced to endure your persistent pettish paroxysms. I had assumed that you had cured such trifles, as you've been a tad scarce in these later days."

She began to slug her way from the helm, but as if sensing her intended escape, his left hand took its place on the other side of the wheel, effectively enclosing her in what could almost pass as an embrace. She rifled through her mind, trying to find something worthy of focus, and ended up taking stock of the beads in his hair as she replied to the unasked question, "I've been busy."

"Of that I am well aware, but I wonder if your constant preoccupation isn't due to the fact that, in truth, you don't really find me all that unbearable."

Thirteen. "I'm not sure where you came by that concept, Captain, but allow me to reassure you that I truly cannot bear you in the slightest," she lied again, his closeness assaulting her concentration and causing her mind to be flooded by a not-so-forgotten moment. Was that twenty-nine or thirty-one?

"I see." Elizabeth Swann could hold her own in the game; of that, he was sure. But where the whelp may have faltered, he conquered. He nudged closer, his measured breaths washing over her features.

"I'm glad we have that settled then," forty-one, "and I believe that the crew might benefit from my help before I go down to prepare breakfast."

He inched inward, not about to give, when she was so close to admitting that he affected her. "Elizabeth," he murmured tauntingly, but didn't get any farther. I'm debating further and farther there; technically, I think it could be either. Any input?

"Fifty-seven!" she exclaimed.

He pulled back, momentarily at a loss due to her most recent exercise. "What?"

"Fifty-seven beads, six coins, and one bone. But I can't see what you've covered with the bandana." no, I have not counted, but if someone wants to volunteer…

He chuckled lowly, then moved farther away, dropping his left hand. She had resorted to appraising his hair in order to keep herself together this time. He had her right where he wanted her. "Sixty-three beads, to be exact, unless I lost a few. Again."

She nodded, glad to have broken up the moment, and stepped from the helm. A thought came suddenly, as she relived the situation and her slight triumph, and she grinned mischievously. "I'm curious, Captain. Did you happen to name the Fury yourself?"

He focused on the dark cliffs and fog before them, revelling in his own one-up, and answered nonchalantly, "Aye. She was called Vesta before I plundered her. Didn't quite suit Ana."

"I see. I wonder what Anamaria would give to know that you named her ship after the goddesses whose sheer purpose was to drive wicked men, not very unlike yourself, Mr. Sparrow, insane." She took another drink of rum before setting the empty bottle at his feet.

He cut his eyes in the direction of her rising form, picking up on what was, no doubt, soon to follow. "I wonder."

"Of course, she really doesn't need to know, does she?"

There it was. "Get on with it, Darling.," he prompted her demands, holding back his mirth at her conniving manner.

"I want to go ashore with you."

His immediate instinct was to refuse, but as she thought she had leverage, he entertained the idea. "Are you sure about that? After what happened last time?"

She swallowed, aware of all that "last time" entailed. "I'm sure," she said slowly.

"I won't be having to thwart any vain attempts at self-sacrifice?"

"You have my word." She certainly didn't want to relive the precarious incident that her last mistake had gotten her into.

"Then you'd best go help Ana ready the boat for our departure," he told her, indicating where Anamaria stood on the maindeck, working with the davits of the boat that once served as Elizabeth's roost.

She nodded her compliance. "Thank you." Then, as she turned, "But really, Jack, the Fury?"

He slid his impish gaze back to her. "It was either that, or Harpy."

· § ·

"I can see the both of you: that night by the fire. I heard all about it. I do wonder, Jack, why did you not take her that night? Did you believe her above you? Was it an act of chivalry or perhaps that bemoaned inebriation of yours? Did you do it for me, for him?"

The Master and yes, that would be dundundun! The Head Baddie lay back in the sand and placed his arms behind his head, grinning up at what was left of the waning moon and visible stars.

"Is she yours now, or does she still resist?"

He sat up as the sun broke over the horizon, announcing the morning.

"I have waited long enough. We'll be together again, Jack. All of us. Soon, everything will be as it should."

· § ·

Jack and his two feminine afflictions exited the boat, and he pulled it onto the shore.

"Best be quick about this; the crew'll wish to have their booty as soon as possible." He turned to find that they had already preceded him into the cavern. Sighing, he followed. "Just remember to keep yourselves from my treasure. You made quite a dent in it last time, Ana, and as for you, Miss Swann, don't think that you can pay me back with me own…" his sentence fell unended as he arrived at the mouth of the cave, only to be greeted with dozens of muskets and a very red sight.

"Good morning, Mr. Sparrow. I trust your night was ill-starred, as was your little plan."

"Commodore." He narrowed his eyes and gave a bit of a smile. "How have you been?" He found Elizabeth standing with a couple of soldiers and frowning, but there was no Anamaria to be seen.

"Only overjoyed to be hauling you in once and for all. We can conduct the hanging on the Dauntless. Gillette, the irons."

The lieutenant and two solders approached Jack.

"Now, Sparrow," Norrington continued, "I'm sure you're wondering how we managed to get ourselves out here to the Isla de Muerta."

"You had your men chart the bearings when I had to light your way to young master Turner," came the reply in a bored tone.

The other man was obviously unnerved and irked by this, but only smiled tightly in response. "I was certain that you would turn up here sooner or later before making your way to Port Royal to return the Governor and his daughter." He faced Elizabeth. "Are you well, Miss Swann? Has he…harmed you in any fashion?"

Jack, too, set questioning eyes upon her.

She shook her head quickly, after giving it a moment's consideration. "Of course not, Commodore. I'm fine." She licked dry lips. "What of my father? Why should Jack be returning him?"

James gave her a look of bewilderment. "He's taken your father, Elizabeth, and is ransoming him. He threatened death in the letter!"

Her gaze snapped to Jack's.

He pressed his hands together, in yet another placating gesture for another accusing female. "Exceedingly flattered that you would think me capable of such while simultaneously conducting the search for the errant blacksmith, Love, but, I fear even the famed Captain," he eyed Norrington pointedly before returning to her, "Jack Sparrow cannot endure more than one Swann for any prolonged period in such close quarters."

She nodded slowly. "I have been with him for nearly the past two weeks, James. I hardly think that he could have hidden my father from me on the Black Pearl, as grand a ship as she may be."

"Yes, well, that brings us back to your kidnapping. He escaped, rendered a man unconscious, and intercepted you on your way to Havana."

Her brows furrowed when he mentioned Havana.

"Gillette, the irons!"

The man jumped and began securing Jack's wrists.

"Really, Gentlemen, is this all that necessary?" the pirate asked as the first cuff was locked.

"Most certainly. You will not be escaping this time, Sparrow."

"Commodore, your charges are groundless!" Elizabeth shouted, going over to him. "I was the one who kidnapped him. I freed him from the jail and forced him to take me aboard his ship."

Norrington sighed. "The man is still a pirate, Elizabeth. Don't contrive to throw your freedom away by yielding for him."

Jack rolled his eyes at the scene before him and happened to catch a glimpse of a moving shadow. Upon further speculation, he was able to decipher Anamaria. When his gaze caught hers, he jutted his head backwards ever so slightly, indicating the cavern's entrance. He saw her nod, and then she was gone. she'll be back; don't worry

"Is this his doing?" the Commodore was asking, indicating Elizabeth's hair. "And these?" He fingered a feathered earring. "Elizabeth, have you gone mad? Have you forgotten your station? You're the Governor's daughter!"

She flushed, the unsightly things having slipped her mind, and managed to glare at him and Jack simultaneously. "I know perfectly well whose daughter I am, Commodore, and I find it exceptionally rude for you to question the sanity of a lady of my station. Any changes you may note are merely the result of an expedient circumspection."

He looked about to say something, but instead only nodded. "It is still my duty to arrest Sparrow and yours not to place obstacle in my path." He saw that Jack was secured and called, "Come along, men. We must be on our way; ten days won't be long out on the sea. Miss Swann." He offered his arm, but she bowed her head and followed along as they led the prisoner out.

Once situated in the small boat, Jack eyed the Commodore's back, contemplating the latest happenings: the apparent kidnapping of Governor Swann by a man masking as himself, and yet another fruitless attempt at sacrifice on his daughter's part. He sincerely hoped that the old man was not nearly as impulsive as she. He rose up a bit. "A word, if I may, Commodore."

Norrington glanced back from his perch at the bow. "What is it, Sparrow?"

"Not that I would impart to call into question the lady's tact, but her inapt confession—"

"Rubbish, I know."

"As long we have that settled." He stole a look at Elizabeth, who sat astern in the boat closest to them, watching the jagged rocks of the island as the oarsmen began to propel the boats around them.

The Pearl was nowhere in sight, meaning that Anamaria must have taken his signal to heart. He'd just have to meet her later and hope that she wouldn't use the opportunity granted by his current absence to take his darling ship on any further excursions. For the meantime, he was rather stuck with this somber lot.

Luckily for Jack, the Fates, for once, were on his side, deciding to blow apart the daintily demure silence with a loud whistle.

His brows furrowed. "Are those—?"

"Cannons!" the Commodore shouted, finishing Jack's question.

Resonating thumps consistent with the return of fire charged the air, and the pirate stiffened. He would drain the life from Ana when he got his hands around her throat.

The rowers sped up, and soon, they could see a retreating Pearl, no longer under fire, making her way out to sea, while bright flames licked up the masts of the Dauntless.

"Abandon ship!" called one of the sailors, who had apparently been left behind. A few men were seen diving overboard before the ship was blown to bits in a massive explosion.

Jack took his chance at this distraction and pulled away from the grips of the dumbfounded soldiers who were guarding him before hurling himself into the water.

He made his way to shore quickly, dropping on his knees to rest when he got there. It wasn't until he heard extremely labored breathing behind him that he realized he was not alone, and turned to find none other than Miss Swann, herself. "Woman, have you not had your fill of me yet?" he asked incredulously.

Between heavy breaths, she said, "I decided that I wasn't quite ready to return home yet. We need to find my father, and Will…"

He squared her firmly. "Not bloody likely." He stood and headed towards the cove.

She followed. "Jack, we must!"

He faced her. "The altruistic Jack Sparrow has flown away," his hands portrayed a bird flying into the air, "perhaps to return someday, but not while certain stricken swans are on the prowl!" Pivoting, he practically marched over a small set of rocks in an attempt to rid himself of her, if only for a while.

"Altruistic! Stricken? Why that's positively…" She lost her words, as this time, she was the one to enter into unfriendly waters belatedly. Dropping off the rocks, she was surprised to find herself surrounded by an impressive array of cutlasses, pistols, and pirates. Familiar pirates.

"Cap'n Sparra', fancy meetin' ye here."

"I'm sure it is," he said, eyeing the three men, who had shoved him off a rather tall cliff not too long ago, and their large party, "but really, I must be on my way. You're welcome to the wench, though. I believe she's looking for passage." He made to leave, but was halted by an extended cutlass.

"Act'lly, we'd prefer yer comp'ny 's well." The man nodded to his crew, and Jack was relieved of his weapons before he and Elizabeth were encircled by the gaggle of pirates and ushered around the cove.

Moments later, a massive ship came into view. A hideously familiar galleon. Yes, it was, in fact, the very same upon which Jack had set foot only days ago, and her flag was flying correctly.

"Jack, isn't that the—"

"The Dead Ship. Or temporarily dead, as the case has proved."

"Not quite, Captain, but thin's'll be revealed soon enough," the man, who was obviously in charge, said.

Jack was pulled aboard by his irons, while the pirates seemed to take the utmost care with Elizabeth, carrying her over the side and binding her hands with rope.

"Welcome aboard the Wasp Arrow, Sir. We hope she'll serve to accommodate ye in yer accustomed manner."

"Who are you?"

"I'm called Garren. Nah if ye'll jus' drink this," he offered a goblet of what looked to be wine, "we c'n be on our way."

"No thanks. I never much cared for the stuff myself."

"I'm afraid I'm goin' ta hafte insist on the matter." Garren lifted a pistol and leveled it at Elizabeth's forehead.

Jack glared at her before hesitantly taking the drink and downing it. "Well, it's certainly not rum, but stout as a baby's bottom, in it's wake, that is. Horrible after taste. Now, mates, I believe we should be discussing the return…" he paused as his perception was knocked out of alignment, "...the return of an item you purged from…" He looked over at Elizabeth and saw three of her, forgetting his words. "Oh, you ladies haven't overlooked me, after all. I was wondering if you'd gone astray from your duties in light of my charms." He sent them what he thought to be a devilish grin.

"Jack, what are you going on about?" she whispered. "Are you well?" She looked to the men. "What have you given him?"

He saw moving mouths, but heard nothing, and assumed this to be part of the madness soon to be fully bestowed upon him, in his stupor. "I have to admit." He focused on the apparition in the center and cupped his mouth as his eyelids drooped, "Don't tell the others, but I had expected you furies to be quite hideous…little creatures…" he trailed off as he sank to the deck, unconscious.

"Jack!" Elizabeth pulled from the light grasp that one of the pirates had on her upper arm and rushed forward.


Original Content: 2003.12.30