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 Eight - Indecent Indiscretions
filthy and improper behaviours

'It's far too quiet,' was the most prominent thought of the many that currently coursed through Elizabeth's mind as she watched the unconscious pirate from her chair. Uneventful hours had stretched since she and Jack had been locked up in the small, dank cabin within the bowels of the Wasp Arrow. Though she couldn't see through the blackened portholes, as a fat tallow candle provided the only illumination, she figured that it must have been nearing nightfall, and she was beginning to worry. Somewhat about her father's whereabouts and what had happened to the Navy men after their ship had been blown to bits, but mostly about her current predicament. At first, she had thought that she had only been brought along because she happened to be near Jack at the time of his…kidnapping, was it? But now, she wasn't so sure.

"Anythin' ye need at all, simply ask it, Miss Swann," the words of their captor came back to her.

It wasn't the fact that he had been so kind to offer such a thing, treating her as any other ship captain might treat a woman of her station or that he wasn't at all concerned by her captain's condition that he'd brought on. Instead, it was his use of her name, a name that she hadn't given him, which made her question his true intent.

Surely, she had no idea what his true intent was, but she had come up with a few interesting possibilities. The most likely of those seemed to be that Jack had somehow wronged their "Leige," who was now out for some kind of revenge. But what kind of revenge could be gotten out of forcing him to drink what may be his death? And why bother with her? Why were they offering her any necessities rather than throwing her overboard?

Her thoughts were interrupted when Jack suddenly started to go into a coughing fit, and she rushed to the cot that he lay on, lifting his head and turning it quickly in order to angle a small bowl by his mouth so that it caught most of the vomit.

When he had finished, she took the bowl to the door and knocked, waiting for the guard to retrieve it. Instead of a tall, scraggly man opening the door, the leader entered, allowing two men who followed to set a small basin and pitcher of water on the tiny table in the center of the cabin before leaving and closing the door behind them.

Garren faced her. "Ha's the Captain?"

She handed the vomit off to him and glared. "As well as can be expected, I presume."

He nodded, ignoring her outright belligerence. "Ordered some food to be brought up to yeh." And, cuedly, another man entered, bringing in a wooden board with half a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine on it and setting it on the table as well. He left as quickly as the others.

"And is this to put me in the same condition as Captain Sparrow, or shall it bring about a much swifter death?"

He laughed lightly. "Yeh've nothin' to fret about, Miss Swann. Though 'tis surely meager and less th'n appetizin', 'tis ne'ther taint'd."

She eyed him for a moment, his accent suddenly stronger and reminding her that this man who seemed to be kind enough to her had also been ready to strike her a blow upon their first meeting. Deciding against any further verbal provoking, she crossed her arms and nodded sharply. "Thank you, Captain."

A hoard of emotions appeared to cross him, and with a pained face, he said, "Just Garren, if you please, Miss."

"Mr. Garren," she amended quietly, curious at the request and its delivery.

"I be leavin' yeh to yer Captain, th'n. Keep 'im cool," he instructed before making his exit.

She turned from the door to glance at Jack before going over to the table and pouring some water into the basin. She had found earlier that the single cabinet located on one wall held a few dingy rags and swiped one before dowsing it in the water and returning to the cot. She removed his bandana and wrung the wet cloth over his forehead, jolting a bit when he unexpectedly jerked and moaned, his eyes slitting.

"Jack, are you awake?"

His eyes opened a bit wider, and his mouth looked to be readying itself to work. He rose, making to sit up.

She made an attempt to restrain the movement by placing her hands on his shoulders. "No, waitâ€""

But it was too late as he spewed, catching part of her dress and a shoe as well as many of the nearby planks.

She swallowed thickly to keep her bile down and eased him back onto the bed when he dead-weighted momentarily.

He blinked at her a few times and made a face at the mess.

Elizabeth smiled faintly, backing away somewhat. "Would you like to try some water?" At his tired nod, she went to the table and took a cup from the food tray, filling it with water before offering it to him. "Do you require assistance?"

He attempted to raise an eyebrow at the formality of the question, given the situation, but shook his head and managed to push himself up onto his elbows and take the cup. After ingesting some of the water, he straightened himself and scooted backwards so that he sat leaning against the aft wall of the ship. He cleared his throat, and after a few hacking coughs, spoke at nearly half his normal volume. "Persis…" He closed his eyes for a moment, then swallowed. When he looked at her again, some of the weariness had dissipated. "Persistent states such as these might…might give some men cause to call their," he took a staggering breath, holding off a cough, "captaining skills into question."

She gave him an odd look, unsure if he was still disoriented or actually trying to make sense.

He sighed and planted his fists into the mattress, pushing his weight onto them, "Seems I had a hand in bringing you into this current affair, though," he concentrated on swinging one foot over the edge of the bed as his speech became clearer, "I can imagine you might have altered your fate," he pulled the other leg over, so that both feet were together on the floor and let his gaze meet hers again, "if you were prone to consult a bit of foresight when faced with such," he waved a hand about carelessly, "inopportune circumstances."

She looked down for moment and took in a short breath, saying quietly, "Not now, Jack."

He nodded his agreement, then, when she looked for his reaction, gave, "Aye, other matters taking precedent." He glanced at her hands, finding the washcloth in one and his bandana in the other, sighing nearly in gratitude at the unvoiced proposal. "A fine idea, if I do say so myself, Miss Swann," a playful glint behind his sickly eyes. He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it over some of the vomit that decorated the floor.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she quickly turned away to offer him some privacy and hide a particular tinge that she hadn't had to deal with in days. She cleared her throat and thought she might have heard him chuckle quietly, but ignored it and asked, "How are you feeling?"

He allowed his boots to clunk to the floor before solemnly replying, "Horrible. Empty, numb, pained, hot, cold," he let a brief ghost of a grin pervert his fatigue, "and otherwise unable to properly enjoy having the ability to fluster a certain Governor's daughter at current."

She laughed softly. "You are a cad, Jack Sparrow." Movement and a grunt behind her indicated his rising as more clothes met the pile, and she swallowed as her imagination began webbing the possibilities.

"Among other things, Love, among other things." Pleased with his newly naked state, he slumped back down onto the cot. "Might I make use of that rag you're clenching there?"

Having forgotten that she was holding the thing, she brought it to her eyelevel the see that she was, indeed, 'clenching' it, and reached forward, drenching it in water again before thrusting her arm in his direction. She ignored the prickle that danced across her skin as his fingers took the rag, and inquired as to whether or not he would like some of the food that had been brought.

Doing his best to purge himself of the filth (though he maintained that his particularly notorious filth reached far too deeply into his black guts for any true "purging") with the tiny cloth, he declined her offer. "Not sure it'd be too wise an idea at the moment."

She nodded. "The leader says he shall get us anything we might request, within reason, of course."

"Don't suppose releasing us would be a 'reasonable' request, eh?" He sniffed the rag and jolted at its stench before continuing his cleaning. "You can ask them to freshen my clothes," he hissed when he brushed over a sore spot of which he was previously unaware, "and return my effects, if it's not too much trouble."

"I'll see what I can do."

His beads jingled as he tossed the rag aside and pulled himself the rest of the way onto the mattress.

"What will they do with us, Jack?" she posed, voice quiet and unsure.

"I wish I knew, Love," he began to fade as he lay back, "but until such time as they see fit to inform us," he paused for a moment of rest, his forearm covering his brow, the recent activity having taken its toll, "and I'm back to my…usual self…" he trailed off, groaning.

"Oh. I'm sorry. You need your rest."

"No worries, Darling. Don't concern yourself too much with old Jack here." Turning, he slowly brought the tattered quilt over his body. "Things'll look better in the morning, as always," he waningly assured her.

The swish of the cover announced smells like personification to me that it was safe, and she faced him. She watched him lie there with his back to her, breathing already evening out. She turned away again and fetched another rag from the cabinet, deciding to clean her dress and shoe before having some of the bread. She opted for water rather than the wine, and once sustained, she returned to the bedside and swabbed at the mess on the floor with another rag. When done, she set it in an empty pail and moved his boots to the side before folding his soiled clothes.

After another look at the sleeping pirate, she straightened his blanket where it had drooped from over his shoulders. She smothered a yawn and eyed him for another prolonged moment before moving over to the table again.

"Thank you, Elizabeth." It was muffled by the mattress and quilt, but distinguishable, nonetheless, and for an instant, she wasn't even sure she had heard it.

Choosing not to acknowledge it, she pulled the chair from under the table. "Goodnight, Jack."

· § ·

"Missâ€""

"'S just Anamaria, Commodore," the lady pirate corrected sternly. Few hours had lapsed, and already, she was tiring of the demure military man.

When she and Gibbs had decided it was safe to return for Jack and his charge, they certainly hadn't been expecting to find the waters surrounding the Isla de Muerta to be infested with a decent portion of the Royal Navy loaded in longboats. Jack's quartermaster wouldn't let it rest until they had taken the men aboard. Damned seabees.

The Commodore made another pained face at her ordered request, but complied nonetheless, bobbing his head and muttering, "Anamaria." He regarded Joshamee with a nod as well, "Mr. Gibbs, I would like to again thank you for taking the men and myself aboard. Upon our return to Port Royal, you may rest, assured that I shan't make to incarcerate or execute you, and, in light of the Governor's absence, I shall see to it that the lot of you are pardoned of your…accused crimes."

Ana gave Gibbs a look, and he nodded, rising from his seat at Jack's parlay table. "'S very kind of yeh, Commodore, but 'm afraid th't 'ntil the Cap'n has been located, we be 'nable to accommodate ye by makin' another trip to Port Royal."

Easily flustered, Norrington rose as well. "Surely you do not mean to keep us captive on this-this pirate ship," he spat.

Anamaria shared another look with Gibbs, then he sat, and she stood.

"That's just what we have in mind, lest you cooperate."

"I have given nothing but my complete cooperation since you brought us on, M-Anamaria. What else would you have me do?"

"Order your men to aid the crew in search of Jack."

"He's a pirate!"

"As are we. Surely you would not forget your place, Norrington."

Resigning himself and straightening quickly, he said, "Miss Swann escaped with him as well. If I were to order the men to scour the area for her, no stone would be left unturned, and it's certain that he will be lurking about her."

She held a glare on him. "Do what you must. Just see that it's done."

Taking his dismissal, Commodore Norrington left the cabin.

"Holdin' yer own wi' th' Commodore; Jack'd be proud."

She turned her look on Joshamee, who wasn't at all put off by it, and allowed a small smile after a bit. "I've been captainin' my own ship for some time now. Someone has to see things get done."

He grinned. "I must admit, though, s'metimes yer loyalty t' Jack s'prises e'en me." At her raised brow, he explained, "Though'ched commandeered us."

"He's a good captain. Got me my prize." She paused for a moment, remembering when the ship in Barbados had first caught her eye, and then, it was clouded over with the last time she'd seen it. "I'll be needing him to get Turner."

He shook his head and laughed. "Aye, that Will Turner. Awful pop'lar for a blacksmith. 'Tween yehself and Miss Elizabeth, boy dun't stand much of a chance."

· § ·

Elizabeth wasn't sure what woke her from her light slumber, her body suddenly pulling taut and bringing her head up from the table where she had put down for the night. She stood, the chair screeching dully as she moved around the table to get a fuller view of the door. It was still shut up tightly, and through the narrow crack of dim light visible beneath it, she could see a pair of still boot heels. So the intrusion mustn't have come from the pirates outside.

Looking around, she came to the full realization of just where she was and whom she was with as her haze of sleep diminished. Another lamp had been placed on the table while she had been napping. She lifted it up and moved it so that it shinned on Jack's sleeping form. His brow was furrowed deeply and again slicked with sweat. He appeared to have not woken since earlier in the night, and she wondered exactly how long she had been sleeping.

She started when he suddenly grunted and tossed his head to one side.

"Don't you bloody dare, Turner," he grated in a loud but hoarse voice.

Each of her nerves zinged attentively. "Jack?" she asked hesitantly, wondering whether he was gamboling or only dreaming.

"Don't goon kudupa daith for me," he whispered in garbled words. "Ghve kamana wife and…boy kuwait in peru … home."

Elizabeth's own brow wrinkled in confusion. What was he going on about now? She'd managed to make out "wife" and "boy." Was he talking to Will in his sleep? A wife and child?

"Merenfrenta…Isle…treasure. Ketua opportune moment…barter…England…neroomie…Bill."

Bill? Her lips parted in realization. ever notice that Liz's lips part about as often as Jack narrows his eyes? Was it a memory or a dream?

"You hear me old man?" his voice had softened somewhat, managing another comprehensible sentence.

She watched him for a few minutes, as he seemed calm for a bit before he began struggling with the covers. Panicking to some degree, she rushed to retrieve a fresh rag and dowsed it before moving to swab at his forehead. "Jack, wake up."

He didn't comply with her order, but his body did relax, and she sighed, a bit relieved. She continued to mop at his face, softly humming the old pirate tune that she had learned so many years ago as a way of filling the silence.

The man moaned and began to kick at the quilt again without warning. She swallowed as she took in his uncovered chest, where his shoulders had barely been visible moments before. Why was he affecting her like this? It wasn't as if he was the first half-naked man she'd ever seen.

Was it because of the kiss?

Will Turner had given to her her first real kiss. It had been soft, sweet, and he had tasted like salt and cinders, just as she had always imagined, just as he did in every other kiss they had gone on to share.

Jack tasted like…

Had she ever conjured kissing Jack Sparrow, she would have thought that he tasted like rum or the sea, or a queer mix of the two.

In reality, he tasted like…

'Blast it all!' She didn't know. She couldn't remember! In her shock, she hadn't processed the taste of his sweet depredation. Sweet? Not sweet. Heinous! It was a heinous depredation against her person. By Jack Sparrow. Who lay before her in bed, all but naked. And she could care less how he tasted or which flavours were his.

Her eyes raked his face, settling on his lips, which were curled slightly in the semblance of a smile, as the tone of his dream must have changed, and that familiar draft of flame painted her face. She glared at him and his unconscious effect, and ignored the slight clench in her stomach.

Collecting herself, she went back to her humming and ran the rag over his neck roughly for good measure. The scoundrel.

"Love, not the rum," Jack urged softly.

Again startled, her gaze swept to his eyes, finding that they were still closed. She smiled as his features scrunched up in what appeared to be a desperate pout. She leaned down and whispered, "Not this time, Captain." She lingered for a second too long, studying him.

In the next moment, she found herself lying on her back with Jack on top of her, hands and knees braced on the planks on either side of her body as his arms and upper legs supported his body. She looked up at him in horror as he sent her a grin of sly satisfaction, the dim light somehow catching his gold teeth as his eyes flashed brilliantly at her.

"Good morning, Love. I told you things would look better," he proclaimed, though still a bit foggy from his rest. He had been having the loveliest dream about the Isle of Rum and a willing swan, only to wake up and find that he was actually still aboard the Dead Ship with the persistently unwilling lady, whose lips had been perched a whisper away from his skin. Clearly, the opportune moment had put forth itself.

She struggled, breath heaving, her back unhappy with its place upon the unyielding wood of the floor. "What are you doing?"

"You and I have matters to discuss."

"I believe we are both quite capable of discussing any 'matters' without being in such close proximities. I would be obliged if you'd removed yourself from me, Mr. Sparrow." She tried to scoot from beneath himâ€"to no avail, as one might have expected.

"Actually, I find that things go much more smoothly when I've the upper hand against you, Darling. And unless you want your proximity farther encroached upon, I'd suggest you cease all that thrashing." Perhaps, in his sleep-addled state, he had hastened the moment; she was going to drive him mad before he was able to properly take advantage of having her ears (among other parts) at his disposal.

She froze and glanced down at his waist to find the blanket riding low about his hips and bunched up around his thighs. She gulped and returned her gaze to his.

"There, now. We'll start with your most recent attempt at owning up to a deed to which you have no claim." At her questioning look, he continued, "The very idea that you would even consider kidnapping me or raising a hand against a soldier of the fleet is atrociously ludicrous. Even your bloody Norrington could see through that one. I thought I had already made it painfully clear how poor your craft is."

'He must tire of lecturing me at some point,' she thought, readying herself to match against him once again. Glare tactfully in place, she spat, "I was attempting to save your neck. They were planning to string you up before we even returned to port."

"I'm fully aware of what the Commodore's intentions were, and appreciative as I might be for the thought, given that the stakes did not so fitfully parallel your other imprudent absurdities, offering up your own freedom is no way to go about extricating a pirateâ€"especially one who has survived many years without the futile aid of a pristine lady like yourself." He squared her firmly and marked his next words carefully, "I didn't ask for your help, Elizabeth."

She bit her lip in consideration. "But I do owe it to you."

He released a gush of air. Having been proclaimed a shyster and a devil countless times in any number of tongues, he truly was tiring of having to appeal to the lady's senses in order to quell her apparent lust for her own downfall while ignoring his own wont in the process.

Why should he be concerned? What matter of his was she?

Why should he not? Did he not owe William that much?

He numbed the feuding thoughts. "Self-incrimination, undue guilt, and other hindrances of progress are not methods of repayment that I'd prefer. Gold and other tangible booty are far easier to negotiate with, and acquire, for that matter."

She looked away. "That…that wasn't the debt that I was referring to."

"No?" He sterned. "Don't tell me you've made the mistake of robbing me again?"

She returned her gaze. "You've saved my life. More than once. And I have tried to return the favour, but it is a feat easier said and thought than followed through."

"There isn't a lick bfg of sense in you further distressing when we're already square. You must learn to first lay a solid foundation up here," he drew his index finger along her temple, "before letting into the construction." He let his thumb brush her lower lip, and his eyes briefly lingered on her mouth before reconnecting with hers. "You need give list to your words and actions, Milady, particularly when your father isn't about."

She took her lip back into her mouth to relieve it of his touch and nodded.

His hand dropped. "Good. Now about these…" His other hand lightly rubbed the skin underneath her eye.

She blinked, realizing that he was referring to the dark circles that had developed in recent nights aboard the Pearl. "It's none of your concern, Captain," she said in what she hoped was a firm tone.

He smirked. "Actually, as you're one of the crew, my crew, it is my concern."

"Jack, if you're going to do no more than chastise and hold your rank against me, then you can oblige us both by letting me up and occupying your thoughts with figuring out a way to escape."

He raised his head and readjusted himself as if readying to rise, then paused once he'd found a more accommodating position, and looked back down at her. "Lovely weather we've been having, aye?"

Having been given slightly more space and a shot of anger to duly fuel her, she pulled her arm up and pushed against his chest, ordering, "Off!"

Her outburst put an odd look on his face, and he slowly tilted his head so that he could eye the hand she had placed upon his bare skin, then lifted it again, his gaze waiting for hers as she, too, was staring at her poised palm.

Embarrassed, she battled the blood that was quickly rising (yet again) and glanced back up, only to become entranced by his darkened, mirth-laced eyes.

His hand covered over hers, holding it in place. "A lady of your state should have been better educated in the dangers of idle hands. You can never be sure what caliber of evil they might pursue." Slowly, his head descended, hair curtaining around him, as she arched upward, almost imperceptibly. But just before he could complete the task he'd set out to accomplish, he heard what sounded like a faint, "Will!"

His eyes narrowed, and he jerked his head back. "What?"

"I said you've been ill. I don't…want…" she let his gaze take hers again, forgetting her protest. One taste was awfully tempting. Especially when he was no longer showing any signs of his sickness. Maybe if he ate something first. She'd hate for her first registered taste to be polluted by his stomach's earlier…disagreements.

Perhaps the swan his Tree of Knowledge. He was well versed in both evil and good, most likely a bit more in the former. Surely the Divine didn't feel that Captain Jack Sparrow was in need of further edification in such respects. He knew the story of the Temptation of Man well, of its consequences and benefits. The Fall was inevitable. Too much Milton; couldn't resist…the Temptation; sorry, bad joke

"Sooner or later, Elizabethâ€""

He was interrupted by the door of the cabin as it was slammed open. In the frame stood Garren, looking sheepish but relieved. "You are awake, Captain Sparrow."

Jack faced the other man, making no other move from Elizabeth, save for dropping the hand that kept hers touching him. "Aye."

His stance changed. "We've arrived at 'ur destination. Make yerselves ready t' be escorted to maindeck." He dropped a bundle, which turned out to be Jack's clothes upon further inspection, just to the side of the frame inside the cabin.

Jack was obviously displeased as he grunted above Elizabeth and nodded sharply. The rumble of his chest made her realize where her hand still rested inappropriately on him, and she pulled it away quickly, while his attentions were focused elsewhere.

Garren returned a hasty nod and left, closing the door behind himself.

She swallowed when the pirate captain turned his gaze back on her, and she blurted quickly, "Clean clothes. You should get dressed."

He kept his eyes on her for a few thick seconds before gingerly moving off of her in order to rise and retrieve his clothing, keeping the quilt around his waist with one hand.

She stood and watched the door, only to realize that she was staring at himâ€"poised to dressâ€"when he arched an eyebrow at her and gave an impish grin. She whipped around and, having nothing else that would keep her thoughts from wandering to more…indecent indiscretions, she ran her fingers through her hair in an effort to make herself more presentable. To whom, she wasn't quite sure.

In those moments of peace, she realized that their captor had, in fact, just saved her from making what would have been a most regrettable mistake. Imagine, wanting Jack Sparrow's kiss.

Imagine…

"Shall we?"

She froze, wide-eyed and surprised by his return and closeness. How could a man who swaggered so move with such stealth? She dropped her hand from her hair and turned, brushing by him quickly to hurry to the door.

When she opened it, the guard was revealed. He eyed them both before jerking his head to indicate the stairs. She went forward, head high, vaguely aware of Jack and the other man following. Once above, however, she faltered upon seeing which "destination" was laid before them.

"Jack," she whispered in near-panic when he emerged from below and came to stand in front of her with his back to her.

"No worries, Love," he hushed her when Garren passed by them and waved a hand toward a waiting rowboat.

"Time to go," was all he said before he climbed over the bulwark and into the boat, waiting for the couple to join him.

The row to the isle where she and the Captain had once been marooned together was short and forebodingly quiet. Jack seemed unalarmed by the turn events, but his state of silence was again unsettling. Being stranded there another time was not a fate she would have wished. Especially if it were with the kohl-eyelined, hair-bejeweled pirate. Especially if there would be no rum to burn, nothing to occupy idle hands.

Too soon for her liking, they were ashore. Garren instructed them to head inland while he lagged back at the boat.

Jack went right ahead, leaving her to follow behind slowly. And then she saw him, a man emerging from the very palms that she had burned years ago in an attempt to save her own life and go to Will's rescue. He wore faded navy blue pants held up by a belt, and a white shirt under a dark gray, unbuttoned vest that nearly reached his calves. He was barefoot, weaponless, and she would have known his face anywhereâ€"no matter how weathered it may have grown.

"Will!" she cried and ran forward, but an arm shot out, preventing her from advancing. She looked up at Jack, both perplexed and rapidly angering, but he only kept his gaze fixed on the man before them.

"Not quite," he said lowly, an edge to his voice.

She looked back at her fiancée. It was Will, the man she loved, the man who had left her. But he was alive, standing not too far away. A bit taller than she remembered, hair a bit shorter, curlier, with more brandings from the sun. Skin rougher, darker, with more lines, marking the years that they had been apart, his own stories. But eyes that were the same, that danced with tenderness and warm mirth; eyes that were still her Will.

But the pirate felt otherwise, as he still kept her at bay.

"Jackâ€"" she started levelly in protest, only to be interrupted by a dumbfounded,

"Bill…?" emerging from the aforementioned pirate captain's lips.

Bill? Bill Turner? Who Jack had been dreaming about only minutes ago? That couldn't be. Bill was dead, sent down to Davy Jones's. Will had told her that himself. No, it had to be Will who was alive. Her Will…

"It has been a while, hasn't it, Jack?" The man in question came closer. "And who is this lovely lady?" His eyes and direction favored her, and he stopped just in front of the pair.

How could Will not recognize her? Unless… Unless it truly wasn't him. She swallowed back a sob at the realization, and quickly put forth her well-bred façade as her hopes were again laid to rest. She stepped around Jack's arm and offered her hand. "Elizabeth Swann."

"William Turner…the First." He leaned forward and lifted her hand, pressing his lips to the smooth back. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said, looking up. When he did, she saw something dark flicker in his eyes. It was so quick that she was sure she must have imagined it, and she smiled, returning the pleasantry.

He released her and stood straight, eyes now fixed on Jack, who looked to be calculating the situation. "Let us take matters back to the ship, shall we?" Without awaiting an answer, he moved past the pair and towards the shoreline.

Disappointed and confused, she sent another forced smile to Jack and made her way to the boat, letting him follow her this time.


I dropped all of these notes for the present. They may return. That was like a lot of notes... I really AM long-winded.

2005.04.11
Hey, guys. This is a quick note to let you all know a few things. Firstly, I have not given up on this sucker. I know that might be hard to believe after a year without updates, but it's true. I think about this story all the time. I try to write it all the time. Not as dedicated as I could be, but you guys know how it is. One of the big problems has been this chapter. Every time I try to re-read it, I just get annoyed with its state. I really don't like it. So I'm trying to fix it, but in order to do that, I have to start with the source, chapter 5 and move up. Chapter 5, I can look at. It's just getting the time to split it the way it's supposed to be and then connect it properly.

Secondly, I really want to thank those of you who have sent encouraging emails and reviewed, especially those who are offering constructive criticism, something that I would love to get more of. For one thing, it helps to know that other people enjoy this as much as I do and see that it can still stand a lot of work. I am always looking to work the little kinks out of this stuff, so any input is greatly appreciated. Help me help you. I don't like everything I write, but sometimes it needs to go in there, and I can't think of the best way to get it. I'm always open to suggestions, and if you don't think it works, chances are that I might not either. And even if I do, that doesn't mean it can't be improved. The way I see it, whether you actually write or not, this probably isn't the first fic you've read, so you have some idea of what works. If you like something, that's great, but you may not; you don't have to offer a way to fix it, but if you let me know, I might be able to find something, and it might lead me to the break through I need for a few of these uncooperative scenes. Believe me, there are very few that I'm satisfied with.

And yeah, don't kill me for my neglect...