Disclaimer:  I own a muse who can't decide if he wants to be dead or not . . .can muses be vampirical in nature?  That's all that I own, though . . .except for Brian, the little kiddies that Jack's corrupting, the bad guys, and any other random people who creep in . . .

AN:  My dad's brother was just diagnosed with liver cancer, only his has metastasized and they're fairly certain that it's terminal.  Thing is, this was the good brother, the one who never drank or smoked or did any of the stupid things that other male members of my dad's family, him included, were doing . . .Life has no sense of fairness.  Really, it doesn't.  I don't know if this will affect how much time I get to write, but it might.  If I decide to drop the story entirely, I'll inform people and pass it off.  This chapter is absurdly long, and I answer reviews at the end of it.

To Love and Protect

Part 10

"How is he?"  Elizabeth placed a comforting hand on the female pirate's shoulder as they all moved to sit, trying to imagine what she would feel like if it was Will who was hurt and what kind of comfort would ease the pain and what would only exacerbate it.

"I don't know."  There was a hollowness to the other woman's voice that worried Elizabeth.  "Just when he seems to be getting better, to finally be shaking everything off, something like this happens . . ."

"How exactly did the Pearl sink, Ana-Maria?"  Will asked gently.

Ana-Maria closed her eyes and laughed softly, the sound oddly close to a sob.  "Traitor.  Bloody traitor, just one bloody traitor, coupled with some high-handed British naval men, and Jack never saw it coming.  Michael drugged the crew, apparently knowing that the British ship was following us, then set the Pearl on fire.  He left enough time for himself to get off, but along the way, he spared a few seconds to cut Jack.  The coward had poison on his blade . . .Jack still made it off the Pearl, though.  He kept his promise.  I was in the water with him when they started shooting the crew . . .None of them stood a chance.  It was a slaughter at sea."  Ana-Maria balled her hands into fists and shoved them below the table to disguise their trembling.

"And you and Jack?"

"I was grazed by a ball, but that's it, and it's healing decently.  Jack wasn't far enough away when the ship went . . .he took a piece of debris to the head, tore him up pretty badly.  He was unconscious by the time I got to him . . .I think he inhaled sea water.  I managed to get us into the boat, but after that . . .all I could do was try to give him a ground.  Then Brian found us, we had food and water and I stitched his head up and he seemed to be all right, at least relatively speaking, but now . . .I don't know."

Elizabeth clasped Ana-Maria's shoulder in unspoken acknowledgment.  She had felt the same helplessness, the same fear and anger and near hopelessness, as they had trailed the Brotherhood and Will.  When she finally had Will back, injured and tormented by nightmares, all she had been able to do was offer a ground and hope it would be enough.

For Will, it had been.  His family was his life, his entire reason for living, and he had them all back intact, adopted and blood alike.

For Jack . . .Elizabeth wasn't certain what, exactly, the pirate lived for, but it wasn't to be locked up, even if the guards were friends.  Jack Sparrow valued his freedom, and without a ship, that was something that the pirate was going to find incredibly hard to maintain.

"His head hurts . . ."  Will tilted his head slightly, as though listening to something that the two women couldn't hear.

Ana-Maria stared suspiciously at the blacksmith, wondering what was wrong with him.  "Aye, I thought that was fairly obvious given what happened and the fact that he's doing his best to create a deep, dark, quiet hole in your daughter's bed to curl up and die in at the moment."

"I've never felt anything like this before, though . . ."  Will's eyes were unfocused, and the corners of his mouth twitched downward in a slight frown.

"What do you mean you've never felt anything like it before?  What were you talking about when he was—"  Ana-Maria never got to finish her sentence, as the door rattled once, as though someone had attempted to open it and walk in without checking to see if it was locked, and a muffled curse was heard.  A loud knock sounded through the room.

Ana-Maria quickly stood and dropped back towards the door to Ana's room, hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her sword, as Will moved to open the door.

"Brian!  It's good to see you alive and well."  Will had the young captain through the door and was relocking it before he could answer.

Brian had changed out of his uniform and into a white shirt and gray trousers, his blond hair pulled back into a ponytail.  To Will's eyes, he looked even younger than he really was when not in uniform, scar or no scar, and that youthful look brought home the absurdity of what was happening at the garrison.

The captain's first words weren't all that reminiscent of a great leader, either.

"You locked the door."  Brian rolled his left shoulder back, rubbing it with his right hand as he tilted his head first to one side and then the other.

"You sent me two wanted pirates and a much-corrupted son."

"Only minorly corrupted, and I had nothing to do with it.  I just watched and listened."  Brian grinned as he lowered his hand, but it quickly faded.  "You never lock the door.  Someone's going to notice if you start now."

"Aye, someone brilliant like you who just attempts to walk in."

"You said I was welcome at any time."

"Do most people honestly mean that when they say it?"

"Most people aren't you, Will Turner.  Seriously, if you're going to start locking the door, first off, warn me, and secondly, come up with a good reason if anybody else asks."  Brian turned to survey the room, grinning at Ana-Maria as she remembered to shift out of a fighting stance, frowning as he noticed that they were missing a member of their group.  "Where's Jack Sparrow?  He's only been here a few hours—even he couldn't get into too much trouble in that amount of time."  The worry on his face belayed his light tone.

Will shifted his gaze to the door behind Ana-Maria, his eyes again becoming slightly unfocused.  "He's in Ana's room . . .almost asleep.  He has a headache."

"A headache?  It must be one hell of headache to get him down before you've even broken out the rum.  You're sure . . .?"

Ana-Maria cut in before Will could answer again, her tone brooking no argument.  "Aye, he's fine.  He just needs to rest."  Brian nodded, moving to take a seat at the table, the others following.

"Did you already see Hallson, Brian?"  Will asked.

"Oh, aye, I did, got to hear a whole nice long completely fabricated tale of how he took the Pearl from a man who must have been Satan himself in disguise, he was so evil and terrible to behold in fury.  At first, there seemed no way to defeat him, and Hallson was fearful that he would lose his ship and, of course more importantly, his crew.  Still, Hallson didn't falter in his quest, and soon he had seen to it that the evil would never ride the waters again, at least not in this lifetime."  Brian sneered slightly, again reminding Will of his youth . . .not that Will was all that much older himself.  "Still, he's utterly convinced that Jack and all his crew are dead.  I'd dearly love to see the look on his face when Jack shows up again with another ship and starts pillaging.  He'll be an instantaneous believer in heaven, hell and curses.  So, what's been happening here while I was out saving pirates from extinction?"

Will laughed softly, his tone just as light as Brian's as he replied.  "Not much.  Your friend Andrew Jenkin came to tell me that the men are talking about rebelling, getting rid of Hallson and making you Commodore, and he wanted me to know that he wasn't going to stand in the way, no matter what you decide to do.  Seems that when Hallson used a mercenary to help sink the Pearl and ordered his soldiers to shoot helpless men in the water, they got an attack of conscience . . .one caught it so bad that he threw himself to his death.  Maybe you should lecture them on how you dealt with a guilty conscience."

Brian rubbed his right hand lightly up and down the scar on his face, his expression pure shock as he attempted to assimilate all he was being told.

"Me?"  He pointed at his own chest for emphasis.  "Commodore?"

Will nodded, his expression completely serious again.  "You.  Commodore."

"When . . .why . . .how do they . . .I never showed the slightest interest in an uprising of any kind!"

Elizabeth stopped watching Ana-Maria watch the door to Jack's room in order to meet Brian's gaze.  "That's exactly why, Brian.  You're a good, solid, honest man that they trust, trained by another good man that still has tales told of him, despite the fact that he actually played on the right side of the law.  That's what they want now."

Brian straightened, instinctively falling back into at least physical military decorum.  "This is insane!  I'm not a commodore!  I'm just a captain . . .still young for a captain, at that!"

"Don't tell us that, Brian.  Trust me, it wasn't my idea.  I never want to have to listen to a conversation like the one I sat through with Jenkin again."

Brian stared down at the ground, slouching again, his elbows on his knees and his hands hanging loosely down.  His voice was almost a whisper, conveying utter confusion . . .and fear.  "What am I supposed to do?"

Ana-Maria turned her full attention back to the young man, smiling slightly to take the sting out of her words.  "Definitely not what you're doing now, lad.  If they haven't approached you, don't go searching them out.  If, when, they do approach you, don't let them see you scared or confused.  You've already proven that you can lead, and they'll be watching to see if you can even in unexpected circumstances.  They'll expect you to be shocked at first, but take control quickly . . .and make a choice.  Will you accept a part in their plan?  That will influence what you have to do more than anything else."

"I don't want to be Commodore this way."

"Then tell them that, and be prepared to face the consequences.  They might still go through with their plan.  Would this Jenkin be willing to accept their proposition?"

"Possibly.  He's a decent man, but he's not getting any younger, and he's always said that if we both stay here he'll never get promoted."

"Is he ambitious?"

Brian sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.  "No more than any other man.  If I accept, it would make it much safer for you and Jack, much easier for you to get to Tortuga or wherever else you're planning on going."

Ana-Maria shook her head vigorously.  "Ye keep me and Jack out of this.  We're not the ones that look to you for protection, for leadership.  We're not the ones that would suffer if Hallson discovered what's being planned, or if word reaches the Crown that it was an uprising and not a natural death and succession of power.  Are you even in position to become commander of the garrison if Hallson disappears?"

"Jenkin has seniority, but everyone still says that it will be me anyway.  It's not supposed to happen like this, though.  Oh, God, James would kill me if he knew I was even thinking about doing something like this.  Hallson hasn't actually done anything legally wrong . . .hell, by the law, he's the better man."

"Decent men don't shoot people in the water when they can't defend themselves.  They don't use poison on their blades, and they use their own men, not traitors, to get the job done.  You are by far the better man, Brian Lanebridges, and don't ye ever doubt it.  Jack will tell ye the same, and James Norrington would if he were still able.  After all, he let a pirate captain just walk out from under his very nose . . .and he did it twice."

"We had protection in Port Royal.  Your father was there, Elizabeth, and he was on our side.  James was the commander by order of the Crown, and most of the men either respected or feared him, or some combination of the two.  All I have here is myself."  Brian clenched his hands into fists, looking up at Will.  "What would you do in my place, Will Turner?"

Will shook his head.  "It isn't my decision, and I can't tell you what I'd do.  I honestly don't know.  As for James, he would be proud of you, of what you've managed to do and become, and I don't think even he would know quite what to do with a situation like this.  What I do know is that I'll back you in whatever you decide, and so will the crew of the Intrepid, as well as a great many from the garrison.  You aren't alone, even if your friends aren't those in power anymore.  "

"I know that, Will.  I'm sorry."  Brian ran a hand through his hair before standing, unconsciously falling into an attention posture.  "If it's all right, I'll see the children and then I should be heading back to the fort.  If I don't make an appearance soon, someone might come looking for me, and most of the fort knows where I'm usually to be found when in port.  We don't want anyone else dislocating their shoulder."

"Most everyone else is intelligent enough to knock.  Tell us as soon as they contact you."  Will stood and gathered extra blankets before heading towards the room where his children were still talking . . .he really didn't want to think about what, exactly, Jack Sparrow might have told his son that could keep both children entertained for so long.  "It's time that Ana and Jack went to bed.  You can help me convince them of that fact."

*                                    *                                    *

"I just wish to speak to the Commodore for a few moments.  I swear that it will not take long."  Michael attempted to look as piteous as possible, seething inwardly that this . . .man . . .this common soldier . . .was standing between him and his means of protection.

Jack Sparrow was somehow still alive and apparently relatively well.  If Michael had believed in heaven and hell, he would have agreed that one or the other was guarding the pirate, as he had more lives than any cat the mercenary had ever known.

He was also very adept at taking lives when he wished to . . .and Michael knew better than to hope that Sparrow would simply fade out of the picture and leave him in peace.  This was the same man who had carried a pistol with a single shot for ten years . . .the man who had chased undead pirates and unkillable soldiers . . .

The man was vengeful to the point of obsession, though he had never allowed it to carry so far as to affect his will to live.  If the pirate captain ever found him . . .or even heard word of him . . .

Michael rather enjoyed living, thank you.  He had seriously considered simply taking what he had earned for his part in Hallson's complex scheme and leaving the other man to face Sparrow's wrath.  Once he got over the fear of suddenly finding a sword or a ball in his back, though, he had realized that running would only postpone the showdown, whereas his aiding Hallson again could actually prove to be quite lucrative in the end.

"You know, the commodore really would be pleased to see me.  I am a good friend of his."

The guard shook his head, staring hard and Michael.  "He's with Captain Lanebridges, and they aren't to be disturbed except in case of an emergency, and I would say that you hardly qualify as an emergency."

Michael fought the urge to shake the other man.  None of the soldiers in the fort had known him until he came aboard the Defender after the sinking of the Pearl, and yet now it seemed as though they all knew from personal experience that he was not to be trusted.  In fact, if he wasn't mistaken, this was one of young Lanebridges men, which meant the soldier had only been in port for about six hours.  Yet already he knew to put as many stumbling blocks as possible in Michael's way.

"Come back tomorrow morning, sir."  Michael opened his mouth to argue again, looked at the soldier again, and decided against it.  If he attempted to simply push past the soldier, it would more than likely only earn him a night in the brig.  He supposed that he could try to bribe the man, but if he was one of Lanebridges' men and his captain was with Hallson, that could prove to be hazardous to Michael's own health.  Lanebridges' men, like Sparrow's in some respects, were loyal to the point of death.

Dying for another man . . .a man who obviously considered himself your superior . . .that was something Michael had never understood.  He had lived aboard the Pearl for over eleven months, watched Sparrow weave his spell over the rest of the crew, and he had never understood it.  All he had seen was a slightly mad pirate who had lived far longer than he should have and outstayed his welcome.

"I'll be back tomorrow.  Hallson won't be pleased that you kept me waiting."  The soldier shrugged, still watching Michael as though he expected the mercenary to draw his sword and try to run him through then and there.

Michael merely turned and walked away, running through the taverns he had found in this port in his mind, trying to decide which was the least likely to attract the pirate captain.  He was a patient man.

He could wait until tomorrow.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"You need to tell her, Will."  Elizabeth's voice was a whisper in the blacksmith's ear as she wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling him closer to her in bed.

"I should tell him, first."

"I'm not sure if he's in any shape to understand at the moment."

"Understand what?  I don't understand at the moment, and I don't have a bloody head wound."

"There has to be a reason for the . . .link . . .forming now, for it getting stronger and working both ways."

"If there is a reason, I'm not seeing it.  Having an explanation to tell Jack would be helpful, though.  I don't know how he's going to react.  He always plays things so close . . .I don't think he's going to like the fact that I can see what he's feeling."

"It isn't like you asked to, Will.  It just happened."

"Why do things like this always 'just happen' to us?  This time there isn't even a mutinous first mate or a slightly insane immortal soldier or even a bloody talking sword to explain things, and there isn't a single pagan god in sight to take my complaints to."

"No, but then again, the pagan gods and you and Jack don't have a very good track record.  Maybe you should try asking our god."

Will remained silent, uncertain what to say.  Elizabeth had taken his rather bad attempt at humor and given him an answer that he didn't really want.  He had never been an exceptionally religious man, and after fighting a curse from an Aztec god and a possessed sword that was in league to the Hindu god and goddess of destruction, what faith he did have had worn thin.

Not that he denied that there was definitely something out there.  The fact that he was still alive told him as much.  The fact that Jack was alive spoke volumes more.  Will shuddered, remembering the heat and the coppery scent and the sticky feel of Jack's blood coating his body as the pirate bled out from the injury Nerla had inflicted.  It was a sensation that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Elizabeth's arms tightened around him, and he willed his body to relax.  "I'm not going to purposefully seek out any interference from any god, goddess, or group of gods, but if he wanted to lend a helping hand just this once because he was feeling especially kind . . ."

Will's whispered words earned him a kiss and a murmured reassurance.  Even after Elizabeth had drifted off to sleep, he continued to stare into the darkness, his mind running over the same facts again and again, never finding anything new or helpful.

He could sense what the pirate captain was feeling.  That feeling came and went, apparently depending on how strong a sensation or emotion it was that Jack was experiencing.  Jack could apparently sense what Will was feeling when he became agitated, and it had the power to knock him flat and nearly kill him, at least when the pirate's own body was already betraying him.

"Y'know, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, and if it wouldn't cost me my soul or someone's life or something like that, I'd really appreciate just a little bit of an explanation here.  I want to help him.  To help him, I need to understand what's happening, if this is a good thing or a bad thing . . .a curse or a blessing . . .my fault or his fault or my father's fault again . . ."

Will knew little of Jack's past before the incident with Barbossa, and what he did know was disjointed and nonsensical.  Jack had willingly told him very little.  Will had been forced to supplement what truths he did manage to wrest from the pirate with guesses based on the tales that Jack willingly wove for the children or even simply for Will and Elizabeth.  The blacksmith didn't even really know that much about what the pirate had been doing between his visits . . .

It was completely possible that the pirate captain had gotten himself into some other curse.

It was completely possible that something else William Turner, Sr. did had decided to wait for years before coming after his son.

It was also, in Will's own opinion, completely possible that none of them had done anything and that darkness was simply still chasing them, the prey that had so far eluded capture.  After all, he hadn't done anything but strive to protect his family, and it had earned him a cursed sword through the heart.

"Just an explanation . . ."  The darkness didn't respond to his whispers, and Will turned away, willing himself to sleep.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

The muffled sound brought Will's head up and his eyes fixed on the pirate captain, who was cursing furiously and rather incoherently as he tried to use his teeth and his right hand to tie a scrap of fabric around his left hand as a bandage.

The pirate had been granted relatively free reign of the ship, though Will knew that Norrington had someone watching him at all times.  Jack hadn't attempted to escape, though . . .not that he'd had much of a chance yet.  It had only been a little over four hours since they left the island, and Will was still reeling from everything that had happened.

He had rescued the love of his life, but where in the tales he would get to ride . . .well, sail . . .off into the sunset with her, instead he had to watch Norrington fawn over her.

Not that Will harbored an extreme dislike of the commodore, or that the commodore was being anything but gentlemanly and protective towards Elizabeth . . .but that was supposed to be his place, his reward for everything he had put himself through.  He loved Elizabeth, and Elizabeth loved him, but she would marry the fort commander while he would return to his 'apprenticeship' with the drunken Mr. Brown.  Will frowned in distaste at the picture of life awaiting him at Port Royal.

The sound of a snicker brought his mind back to his current situation and what he had been doing . . .well, watching.  What he had been doing was the same thing he had been doing and would more than likely continue to be doing until they reached Port Royal . . .wandering around uselessly, pretending to be properly subdued and shamed after the lecture that the governor had given him, which would have been much shorter if the man had merely said, "Thank you for saving my daughter's life, don't even think about saving the pirate, don't ever do anything stupid like this again, and you'll be pardoned of all offenses once we reach Port Royal."

The redcoat standing next to him laughed again, and Will glared at him.  Though they had been fairly kind to Will, one of them even helping him to bandage his own hand shortly after they arrived back at the ship, most of the soldiers and sailors either ignored the pirate, as though pretending he wasn't there would make him just disappear, or laughed at him.  After what Jack had been through, he deserved better than that.

The redcoat caught the glare and shrugged at Will before moving on, the look on his face saying more clearly than words what he thought of the situation.  Consciously forcing himself to unclench his fists, Will moved so that he was standing in front of the pirate, who was kneeling on the deck, still trying to get a decent knot in the bandage.

"Can I help?"

"Doneelp."  Will decided, given the glare that he was receiving, that the rough translation of the garbled words would have been "Don't need help".  Then again, if his lecture had consisted of, "Thank you for saving the boy and my daughter, but being a pirate is bad and I'm still going to allow the pirate-hunter to hang you", he probably wouldn't be in all that great a mood either.

"Are you certain?"  The pirate rolled his eyes, removing his teeth from the partial knot so that he could talk clearly, at which point the bandage promptly slipped away from the slash across his left palm.

"If ye really feel like tying it, be my guest.  It beats standing there and laughin' like that bloody soldier.  Not that it matters much."  The pirate extended his hand, and Will knelt down on the deck as well.

The blacksmith's eyes widened and he gasped slightly in shock.  The cut to the pirate's palm was significantly deeper than his had been, though it didn't look as though it was deep enough to cause any permanent damage.

Permanent damage?  What was he thinking?  He was talking to a man that would be dead within days.

"You certainly didn't take chances on getting blood."

Jack was staring at him, a defensive set to his shoulders.  "I couldn't feel it, and I knew we wouldn't get another chance.  Didn't mean to get m'self quite so well as I did, though."

Will nodded, quickly tying the fabric tightly around the injury.  Even if Jack hadn't felt the blood when he cut himself, Will had.  He had felt the pirate blood on the medallion, warm and wet and slightly sticky, and he had felt the sting of the blade as his own blood flowed over the second amulet, some of it mingling with the pirate's.  Jack's blood had been on his hand, on the cut, and a little bit was more likely than not flowing through his veins as he spoke.  More pirate blood . . .Will refused to let his mind to follow that path.

 "I'm sorry, Jack."

"For what?  Ye didn't do anythin' wrong, lad . . .'cept hitting me over the head and leavin' me behind.  That was downright piratical of you."  The pirate flashed that trademark grin of his, but Will refused to get pulled into the game.

"They're going to hang you when we get back to Port Royal."

"Oh, thank you so very much for reminding me of that fact.  I am acutely aware of what the governor and the commodore were telling me, young Turner.  Don't worry about it."

"You deserve better than what they're giving you."

"Maybe, maybe not.  What happened to 'I practice three hours a day so that when I meet a pirate I can kill him'?"

"I saw pirates die."

The grin faded.  "Ah, now that is a lesson.  Well, like you said, you'll soon get to see another pirate die, just in case you're thinking of forgetting it."

"Jack, isn't there something that we can do?  That I can do, that Elizabeth can do?"

"Not unless either you or the lovely Ms. Swann happen to have a spare ship hidden away somewhere, lad.  Just try not to think about, all right?"

"No, it isn't all right!  They're going to kill you!"

Jack lurched forward, his hands hovering barely a half-inch above Will's shirt, and Will could see small spots of blood on the pirate's bandaged palm.  "Key words, mate.  Me.  If I see a way out, I will take it and I will run like hell and I will find my ship and I will be the best damn pirate that your Commodore ever saw in his life.  If I don't get out, I'll die.  Either way, you are not to interfere.  I won't have two generations of fools' blood on my hands.  Savvy?"

Will didn't back away as the pirate leaned ever closer, using his physical presence as an intimidation tactic.  "No.  I don't savvy.  You may be a pirate and a cutthroat and a bloody scalawag, but apparently so was my father.  You risked your life for mine."

"I was after my ship."

"You would have had it anyway."


"Do you honestly think he would have given me the
Pearl to keep, Will Turner?  Besides, I sail under no other man's flag."

"And I won't answer to you on this, Jack Sparrow.  If I can help you escape, I will.  I owe you."

"Ye don't owe me, boy.  And if ye're going to be talking of escape plans, at least do it where no one else can overhear."  The pirate stood abruptly and walked away, leaving Will staring after him, not certain how he was going to keep his promise, but certain that he would.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Will?  Will, wake up."  The blacksmith twisted under the blankets, pressing himself closer to Elizabeth and murmuring something completely unintelligible.  "It's all right, Will.  You were dreaming and talking and moving, and I thought it might have been a nightmare.  Will?"

The blacksmith didn't answer, already lost again within the folds of memories.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Will gripped the pirate captain by both shoulders, practically sitting on him in an attempt to hold him still and keep him from hurting either himself or the blacksmith.

"Jack!  Jack, calm down, slow down, relax, it's all right, I'm here, Jack, just me, nobody else, Jack, Jack, damn you, listen to me!"  Will's voice increased in volume despite his best efforts to control himself, to remind himself that whatever Jack was fighting, he wasn't seeing Will.

The pirate writhed once more before finally stopping, his entire body shivering violently, tears streaming from his eyes.  Will could feel the heat rising off the other man in waves, the fever still raging despite their best efforts to help the pirate fight it off.

Will pulled back slowly, ready to restrain the pirate again if the need arose.  "Jack . . ."

The blacksmith attempted to lock his eyes on the pirate's glazed ones with no luck, listening to the stream of words tumbling from his mouth, hoping that something might be in English and deciding eventually that, if it was English, it was a version he had never heard before.

Wherever the pirate believed himself to be, it definitely wasn't in Port Royal.

A burning sensation drew his attention, and Will pulled his sleeve back from his wrist, displaying a long, bloody score that the pirate's fingernails had created during his desperate bid for freedom.

Will idly dabbed the blood off the cut with the wet cloth that he had been using to wash the pirate's fevered body.  He swirled the cloth in the basin of tepid water sitting next to him before reaching again for the pirate's face.  "It's all right, Jack.  Just stay calm."

As if on cue, Jack screamed, the sound ripping through Will's heart like a million pieces of glass, and attempted to lurch upright.  The blacksmith again restrained him, begging, pleading and praying that the pirate would recognize him.  When the pirate finally ceased his struggling again, Will found that he had somehow maneuvered behind the other man in an attempt to hold Jack's arms still and was now holding the pirate much as Ana-Maria had.

Elizabeth was sleeping in their bedroom, and Will knew that the cries wouldn't have woken her.  For the first four days of the pirate captain's stay in their house, every cry had brought them abruptly back to consciousness and to his side, but they had found, somewhat to their dismay, that the body could get used to anything, and exhaustion was a heavy task-master.  Will was only awake now because Rachel, the young maid, had come to fetch him when the pirate started showing signs of violence.  Now Rachel sat in his room, watching Elizabeth, waiting for Will to tell her that the trouble had passed.

"Jack, you're safe . . .everything's fine . . ."  A more violent shudder wracked the lean man's frame, and Will tightened his hold, the front of his body becoming slick with sweat as the heat from Jack's fevered body transmitted itself to him.

The pirate captain suddenly went limp in Will's arms, only the small vibrations caused by his shivering assuring the blacksmith that he hadn't succumbed at last to the fever and the injuries that crisscrossed his body.

"Jack?  Are you still here?"  Will regretted using the phrase even as he said it.  The pirate hadn't been 'here' in any real sense of the word since they found him in the old forge with Almorte.  Still, it should get some response if the pirate was still conscious.  If he wasn't conscious, then Will would go back to bed and see if he could catch a few more hours worth of sleep.

A shiver crawled along Will's back and the small hairs on his neck stood on end as the pirate captain laughed, the sound low and mirthless.  "Go 'head 'n' leave me . . .allus leave me . . ."

Will tightened his grip again, his heart dropping as he realized that the other man had lost a significant amount of weight.  It was hard enough getting him to drink in his semi-lucid moments . . .getting him to eat was going to be impossible.  "Jack?  Jack, I'm not going anywhere, not until you're better."

The pirate continued as though Will hadn't made a sound.  "Managed t' turn both generations on ye, ye did, Jack Sparrow . . .Jack bloody Sparrow . . .bloody, bloody Sparrow . . ."  The pirate cried out and twisted again in Will's arms, succeeding only in turning his head so that his fever-bright brown eyes could stare at Will.

"Turn both generations . . .both lef' you, Jack Sparrow . . .lef' ye t' die . . .should o' jus' acq . . .acquiesced . . .oh, God, 't flamin' hurts . . .hurts . . .bloody cold . . .cold-'earted bloody bastard Jack Sparrow should o' jus' died . . ."

Will fought the urge to weep as he finally managed to lock eyes with the badly injured man.  "No, Jack . . .you didn't turn anyone against you, and none of this is your fault, none of it, Jack . . .please, please just keep fighting . . ."

"Ye raised . . .good kid, Bill . . .damn good kid . . .better'n Jack bloody Sparrow could o' been t' ye . . .honor'ble . . .not too 'telligent, b't . . .honor'ble . . .not . . .bloody killer . . .bloody damned killer . . .damned bloody Sparrow . . .too young . . .too young 'n too stupid . . .turned ye and killed ye . . .should o' died . . .wi' San . . .earlier even . . .saved ye 'n . . .God th' trouble . . .hurts . . .so damn cold . . ."  The shivering increased in intensity until Will's own teeth were nearly vibrating with it, and the blacksmith attempted to grab the blanket and wrap it around the pirate without releasing him.  He could feel Jack's heartbeat despite the shivers, almost too fast for him to tell individual pulses apart, and it worried him.

"Jack, it's me, it's Will, and stop talking like that, Jack.  You're alive and you better damn well stay that way."

"Will . . ."  For a moment, the haze seemed to lift from the pirate's vision, but just as quickly as it left, it returned.  "Will Turner . . .lef' ye, Jack Sparrow . . .lef' th' killer t' die . . .lef' ye t' die . . .finish it, Jack Sparrow . . .feel it . . .cold . . .hurts . . .should o' died . . .goin' t' die . . .fini' 't . . .cold . . ."

Through the violent shudders that were wracking the pirate captain's body, Will could feel Jack's heartbeat, feel the throbbing that was almost too fast to follow, feel it falter, hesitate, stop . . .and continue, more erratic still, threatening to halt again and never resume.

This couldn't be happening.  He had not lived through seven days of hell on earth for the pirate to stop fighting now, to die thinking he had been abandoned by the man who was holding him as tightly as was humanly possible.

"Jack, don't you dare stop fighting!  I'm here, Jack, I'm right here, I have you and I'm not letting you go.  You just damn well keep fighting, Jack Sparrow.  If I could take back what I did I would, but I can't, and if I could trade my life for yours I would, but I can't, so you just damn well keep fighting for yourself, Jack, but know I'm here.  I'm always here, Jack, always here if you need me."

The shivering decreased in intensity.  "Not goin' t' leave me . . .don' hate me . . ."

Will restrained himself from crying with relief and gratitude that something he had said had apparently reached the pirate.  "I'm not going to leave you, Jack.  I'll always be here if you need me . . .you just have to call, Jack, and I'll come.  Do you think you can do something for me, Jack?"

The pirate shifted, pressing his still-trembling body closer to Will's.  "So damn cold . . .cold 'n' hot 'n' hurts . . ."

"I know, Jack.  Jack, I need you to drink this for me, all right?  Can you do that, Jack?"

Will used his left hand to slowly raise the cup to the pirate's mouth, managing to get the man to swallow almost two gulps before he choked and started struggling again against the hold that the blacksmith had on him with his free hand.  Will quickly set the cup down and enveloped the pirate in the same tight bear hug he had used before, relieved that the man's pulse had slowed to something closer to normal.

"It's all right, Jack.  I have you . . .it's Will and I have you and I'm not letting go and I'm not going to leave you . . .all you have to do is call, Jack . . ."

Will continued to rock and hold the injured man until the pirate lapsed back into unconsciousness.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Jack?  Jack, come on back now, captain."  Ana-Maria pulled her captain closer to her, worried about the shivers that were racing up and down his body.  Finding no other evidence of fever, she decided that he must really just be cold, despite the warmth of the night, and pressed her body still closer to his.  "Jack?  You with me?"

"Ana-Maria.  Hello, love."  The female pirate grinned, unable to see her captain in the dark but relieved just the same.  Relieved . . .and thrilled.  Though she tried not to let it show, she had been rather hurt that first a dead woman that she had never heard about and then Will were apparently of a higher priority in the pirate captain's psyche than she was.

"What did I miss, love?"  His voice was low, nearly dripping with exhaustion, and she almost regretted waking him despite the fact that he had been talking in his sleep, usually a sure sign that any rest he found wouldn't be truly restful.

"Just Brian finding out that promotions can come in more than one way.  Seems the men at the garrison want him to take over in Hallson's place.  You need to talk to him tomorrow, if you get the chance.  He idealized you and Norrington for a very long time, and now that James is dead, he just has you to turn to when he isn't sure what to do."

"Me 'n' mutinies don't mix very well, love.  Is the lad sure he wants me helpin' him decide how to act?"

"Yes, Jack.  He needs you.  Now go back to sleep."

"Sounds good."  Ana-Maria gently traced circles along the pirate's back, waiting until his breathing had become rhythmic and steady again before allowing herself to surrender to sleep.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Will wandered around another turn in the corridor, finally admitting that he was, indeed, completely and utterly lost as he came face-to-face with a solid rock wall.

This hadn't really been a part of his plan.

Hello?  You still awake?  Will didn't like asking the sword for help, but then again, he also didn't like wandering around like a fool, and if the sword would help him find his way back to his cell he wouldn't complain too strenuously.

I do not sleep.  I am not mortal.  Will couldn't help but grimace slightly as the words formed in his mind.

Well, I'm thrilled for you, really I am.  However, I also seem to be incredibly lost.

That is not my fault.  If you had waited for Marcus . . .

Will mentally cursed the sword, forgetting that it could still hear, brought back to awareness of the fact by a jolt of pain through his chest and head.  That was rather unnecessary.  All I want to do is find my way back.

You should have killed the girl.

Will felt his mouth turn up into a sneer as he again randomly began making turns, hoping that eventually he would find something that looked familiar.  She's my daughter.  I don't kill my family.

Oh, but you will, Will Turner.  You cannot escape it.  If I wished it, I could drive you to take the lives of not only your daughter, but your son and your wife and your mangy friends as well.  The sword hilt seemed to pulse faintly under Will's hand.

I will not kill my family, and Jack would take exception to being referred to as mangy.

The sword didn't respond immediately, and for a moment Will thought it might have a limit that it had crossed.  Instead, it continued, its 'voice' softer, more creative and more dangerous than Will would have believed possible for an inanimate object a week ago.  I think you will kill him, Will Turner.  He is too dangerous.

Will stopped dead in the middle of the corridor.  What do you mean?  Jack is a pirate, but a comparatively harmless one, at least to people like me.

Twice bound by blood and promise.  I do not wish to see a third time.  You belong to me and to me alone.

Will attempted to ignore for the moment the fact that he was talking in his head to a sword and that it was being more possessive about him than any human being he had ever known.  I have no idea what you're . . .talking . . .about.

No?  It's right there, buried and attempted to be forgotten, but still there.  Two promises, two bonds of blood . . .I will not lose you, Will Turner.  You belong to me.

I belong to myself, to my family, hell, even to Jack, more than I will ever belong to you.  Will waited for a response, but the sword was, for once, mute.

Its silence didn't last nearly long enough for Will's comfort as he paused at a fork in the corridor, deciding to go right simply because he had gone right last time and left felt too much like backtracking.

You really do not understand what I am telling you.

Will laughed softly, the sound echoing eerily through the deserted hallways.  I understand well enough.  You want me to kill my family, and when you've run out of those, you'll start on my friends.  Pirates aren't as easy to kill as helpless children, you know.

A sound echoed through his head that could only have been laughter.  Oh, aye, a pirate don' e'er let on tha' he c'n die, or tha' he c'n hurt.  The heavy accent quickly dropped away.  We own one pirate, Will Turner.  To kill or take another would not be that hard to do.

Why do you care?

Blood is a powerful bond.  A man's word is a powerful bond.  Three is a number heavy with power, Will Turner.  My goddess is one of three, the three who create, preserve, and destroy, only to begin the cycle again.  Brahma, Vishnu, Kali . . .my lords . . .so far away . . .

Will stopped again, blinking in surprise.  His sword was absolutely not mourning the fact that it was a fair distance from its homeland and its gods . . .it absolutely was not . . .

You yourself believe in the power of three . . .or you did, at one time.  I do not understand your concept of three beings in one . . .my Kali is not the same as Brahma, or Vishnu, or even Shiva, though they are lovers.  Yet still you recognize that three is a powerful number.  Blood and promises and three . . .

Will ignored the sword, hoping that if he didn't think an answer, it would stop talking.  All he had wanted was directions from it in the first place . . .if he was going to get into a deep philosophical discussion, he would rather have it be with Elizabeth, who made sense, or Jack, who didn't but could still lead him to see things in a new light.

If you meet him again, you will kill him.

I absolutely will not.

You will.  We will.  We are one, you and I, and we will kill every last one of them, all who strive to pull you from your destiny.  It is preordained.  Why not make it easier on yourself?

I.  Don't.  Kill.  My.  Family.  Or.  Friends.  Will emphasized each thought carefully, hoping to drive the point home with the sword and convince the small voice of self-doubt that was beginning to take root.

Why?  Will stopped dead again, unnerved by the question.  Why?  Because . . .because it was wrong.

Why is it wrong?  Your daughter will die anyway.  It will spare her pain.  Sparrow has no claim on you.

I thought you were just telling me that he has almost as much claim to me as you do.

I own you, Will Turner.  You are mine, and we are one.

Will kept his mind as blank as he could make it, hoping that the sword would take that as a hint that the conversation was over.  He sighed in frustration as another branch in the corridor confronted him.

Go left.

Will wasn't sure if he should trust the sword or not.  Why?

I wish to be near my brothers again, and if you follow my directions, you will find yours.

Will hesitated again before turning left, deciding not to taunt Nerla any further in the hopes that the sword would not taunt him.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Elizabeth closed the door to the small cabin, smiling at the young pirate . . .Edward, that was what she had called him . . .who was looking at Will's two children with something akin to fear in his eyes.  His wife had asked the man to watch them for a few minutes while she helped Will get cleaned up.

"Will . . .I've missed you so much . . ."  Elizabeth moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, temporarily heedless of the blood that was seeping off of his shirt and onto hers.

For a few seconds, Will kept still, his hands at his side and his eyes closed, waiting for the dream to dissolve and reality to reinstate itself . . .for the bloody damned sword to invade his thoughts again, urging him to kill her . . .

When nothing happened, he slowly raised his hands, pulling her against him in an embrace that must have made it hard for her to breath.  This was real . . .Elizabeth was real and she was in his arms and he was free . . .everything was real . . .

Everything.  There hadn't been a free moment to really process everything that was happening, had happened, and now that there was, he really didn't want to.

"Will, it's all right."  The blacksmith realized that he was shaking, his breath coming in shuddering hitches that couldn't possibly be sobs . . .

"Will, let's get you out of these clothes.  I brought clothing for you, from Port Royal."  Elizabeth's fingers started working at the buttons on his shirt, slipping on the blood that coated him.  His blood . . .Jack's blood . . .

"I killed him."  He was still trembling, but he was no longer crying, and that was an improvement.  Not having his voice break as he spoke would be the next step.

Elizabeth's fingers stopped, her eyes rising to meet his, full of sympathy and love.  "Who?"

"Jack."  The sympathy and the love didn't disappear, but concern and fear now warred on her face.

"Jack is still alive, Will."  She finished unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it gently off his arms, running one hand lightly over the healing slash across his chest before moving to find another bandage for his arm and water to help wash the blood away.

"He wasn't.  Where do you think all the blood came from?  On him, on me . . .it isn't just mine."

"Will, what happened to you?"

"Would you believe me if I told you they stabbed me through the heart with a possessed sword that tried to convince me to kill my family and succeeded in getting me to kill my . . .my friend?"  He wasn't ready yet to try to explain to her that Jack was family, as well.  He still had to explain to himself how and when it had happened . . .and he had a strange suspicion that Jack would want to know something about what he had said.

"You aren't a killer, Will.  What happened?"

"I was trying to kill him.  I was trying to kill him, and he disarmed himself, and I put my sword to his chest, and he was pushed, and then he was bleeding and couldn't breath and he died."

Elizabeth abandoned her search, again enveloping him in her arms.  "How did he come back from the dead?"

"I didn't get to choose . . .I claimed him and they didn't let me choose . . .so I got away, and the gods sent him back."

Elizabeth nodded emphatically, again moving away to grab a cloth, dipping it water and using it rub the bloody fingerprints off of his chin and from around his ear.  "Then that settles it.  You didn't kill him."

"What?"  Too much had happened in too short a time for him to even attempt to follow her logic.

"If it was about choosing, and they brought him back, then your choice was not to kill him.  If it had just been your right to choose that freed you, they would have left him dead."

"Since when did you become an expert on how gods think?"

Elizabeth shrugged.  "Jack disarmed himself?"

"He threw his sword at my feet and told me that if I wanted his life or his sanity, it was mine by right.  He said . . .he said he couldn't fight me . . .even when I was trying to kill him . . ."

"He trusts you, Will.  He trusts you and he cares for you and that's the closest you'll ever get to him actually saying the words.  That's as close as you'll get to a promise from him, and you repaid his trust and gave your own promise.  You value his life as highly as your own.  You chose not to kill."

"Promises . . ."  Will stared at Elizabeth, who simply stared back, a small frown appearing on her face as he looked down at the blood on his chest, trailing one finger through it.  "Blood and promises . . ."

"Will?"

"Nothing, Elizabeth."  He looked up, forcing a smile.  "Help me get cleaned up so we can go save the children."

She returned the smile.  "Save poor Edward, you mean."

Will allowed her to bandage his arm and help him change, content in her company, looking forward to time with his children, forcing himself to forget what the sword had said.

After all, only Elizabeth could see mutual unspoken promises in his killing the pirate captain.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Will woke with a start, the dim gray light of early morning on his eyelids, the feel of Elizabeth's arms around his chest extremely comforting.

Three times bound by blood and word . . .

Three times he had promised Jack that he would be there if the pirate needed him, and each time his blood and the pirate's had mixed, the first two times in small amounts, the last time in a tide of crimson that should have seen them both dead, with promises and blood shared both ways.

It was absurd . . .it was insane . . .it should have happened before now, if that was the case . . .

Then again, Jack hadn't gotten himself into any real trouble since they had defeated the Brotherhood, and though building a new life was stressful, it was hardly life threatening.

As for sanity and insanity . . .well, where Jack was concerned, it was best not to probe too deeply.

"Will?"

"I think I know what's happening . . .well, we knew that yesterday, I mean why it's happening . . .he called . . .he didn't even know what he was doing, but he called . . ."

Elizabeth laughed softly.  "You might want to try being more coherent when you tell Jack and Ana-Maria."

Will laughed, as well.  "It's morning.  I'm going to go to the shop, tell Robert that I can't be in today, and then I'll come back and try to explain to Jack . . .try to figure out exactly how it works, how well it works . . ."

"Would you be adverse to having breakfast first, giving Robert a chance to get to the shop, and letting poor Jack sleep as long as he needs to?"

Will grinned, already climbing out of bed and grabbing his clothes.  "Slightly, but I can see your point."

Elizabeth climbed out of bed as well, dressing quickly and quietly and making her way to the kitchen.  Will followed her, hesitating at the door to their bedroom, looking up and tilting his head to one side.

They were simply his memories, times he had tried his best to forget, looked at in a different way.  It was very possible that he would have remembered on his own, that having Jack actually under his roof and in need of his understanding would have pushed him to remember . . .

"Thank you."

Where the gods were concerned, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Responses to Reviews:

Pip3:  I'm glad you like the little psychic connection.  I was worried about it, considering it wasn't in the original plans, but it seems to be working out okay, so yea.  Yep, the closer they are and the stronger the emotion one of them is feeling, the better reception the other gets.

Rat:  Don't get retinal burns on my account.  ;-)  I didn't rewrite it, since most people seemed to like it the way it was.  I hope you enjoyed the update.

Endril McMerlyn:  I'm glad you think that the connection is believable.  As I've stated several times, I was worried about it, but if everyone thinks I'm handling it well, it can stay.  Glad you liked the last chapter.  Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

JackFan2:  Calc is cramping everything, and no matter how hard I study, it doesn't make any more sense.  My guy friend was right, I must be masochistic to be putting myself through calc and biology at the same time.  As for the muse, as this decidedly long chapter (which is actually two unfinished scenes shorter than the muse wanted) shows, he decided to wake up again for a little bit.  Glad you like the link.

Hollow-Ambitions:  What dictionary do you have?!  I swear I looked through all mine and couldn't find a definition . . .Well, thank ye for that, even if the definition makes about as much sense as my own half-formed idea of what angst is.  Glad you liked the last chapter, and I hope you enjoyed this one.

Ginny-Star:  Little ones have to learn eventually . . .and it is so very amusing to think of exactly how Jack would go about teaching them . . .he he . . .Glad you liked the last chapter, and I hope this one was enjoyable!

Erinya:  You've got it!  I hope this chapter helped to make sense of the link . . .I hope this chapter made sense at all.  Glad Brian ranks up there with 'Don't Kill Jack' (everyone always says that . . .), that's a big compliment for him!

Cal:  Jack's reaction to the link, which was supposed to be in this chapter, is still unfinished and is in the next one, as I thought you guys would appreciate an update.  He'll be feeling better, too.  I'm sure that Jack was relatively gently when explaining things to his namesake . . .so maybe just a little bit scarred . . .and he gets to share the scarring with his sis, so that's even more fun!

Starzangel:  Thanks for the compliments, and as for where I'm going with this, I thank ye for the faith you have in me, and the muse is kind of giving me an answer, so it should work out all right.  *crosses fingers and hopes*

Zinnith:  I know, headaches are the worst possible kind of pain, because you can't ignore it, it's right there in your head and everything seems to make it hurt worse . . .*shivers* . . .definitely not fun.  Thanks for the mutant-hamster explanation, it makes such perfect sense and I was cracking up as I read it!

Liquidiamond:  Thanks for writing in, and I'm glad you liked the last chapter.  Hope that you liked this one as well.

Nikara:  I hope I explained the link in this chapter . . .I tried to work with what the muse grudgingly gave me.  Poor Brian is in trouble.

Saerry Snape:  Thanks for the explanation of Sandman, and where exactly can I find this cliff to throw RL over?  It really needs to take a fatal fall . . .maybe then it will understand what mortality is . . .

Szhismine:  Again, I hope this chapter helped explain the link thing, and I hope you enjoyed it.

Erin:  Thank ye for the compliment, and I hope I lived up to your expectations.

Lavender Wonder:  Of course Jack corrupted the little ones!  He couldn't resist the temptation . . .I'm really hoping this chapter explains the link to everyone's satisfaction . . .hopefully . . .maybe . . .

L'Morgan:  Thanks for the kind words!  I hope you liked the update.

Lunatic:  Me?  Like to torture Jack?  *looks innocent*  Others (you) like to read it?  *pretends to look horrified*  No!  I'm glad you like my humor.  Sometimes people in RL don't understand it, but at least in these stories everyone seems to understand.  As for where the story is going . . .sometimes I really wonder about that, too . . .

Camlost:  Thank you, and I'm sorry I upset you by killing the Pearl!  Thank you for forgiving me and continuing to read, and I hope you enjoyed the update.  As for Elizabeth . . .of the main charries that I have, I find her the hardest to write.  I try, and if I'm doing something wrong, just holler and I'll see what I can do.

Rinkufan:  I'm glad you're still 'hooked and hanging' . . .I should think of a tag-line for myself . . .Anyways, back on topic, the link has an important part to play now that my muse has finally convinced me that it should stay (for a bit) and attempted to provide me with a plausible explanation (which I attempted to relay to you wonderful folks in this chappie).

Snow-Angel222:  I'm sorry you're so lost!  I really try not to lose people.  *whimpers*  Hopefully, this last chapter will help to explain the link.  As for who San is, she's a girl from Jack's past.  He had a concussion.  He was hallucinating in the boat.  He still has a concussion, though it's slowly getting better, so he still hallucinates occasionally.

Kayden Eidyak:  Glad you think it was spiffy, and this last chapter hopefully explained the origin of the link (key word, hopefully).  As for things going as planned, in stories or in RL . . .maybe we should just stop planning . . .it would make it much easier to handle the plans getting ruined . . .

Lady Sandry:  The friendly fluff got booted to next chapter because A) this is already absurdly long and B) it isn't done quite yet and I thought you guys would like a chapter this weekend.  I'm glad you liked the sword scene in AToM . . .I'm rather partial to it, myself . . .;-)

BrokenSkye:  I understood the joke, it was just for the first split second after I read it I had a little paranoid stint before I started laughing.  Sandra and Jack's story is still a ways in the future . . .oh, man, this story is going to be so bloody long . . .As for not admitting it hurt, I've tried to hide that I have a migraine before and I have watched several friends and family members try to hide them as well, and once it's obvious to others that you're hurting you just give up and attempt to find the deepest, darkest, quietest corner you can to curl up and die in.  I guess Jack might have made a second go at hiding that he was hurting, though . . .he is Captain Jack Sparrow . . .

Eledhwen:  Glad you're enjoying yourself!  I hope you continue to do so . . .

Greenleaf-In-Bloom:  Glad you're happy and liking the kiddies.  I like the kiddies, too.  ;-)

ThePinkPanther:  *blushes*  Thanks for saying this is amazing.  Yes, school is stressful.  Hope you enjoyed the update!

Ryuu Angel:  I don't fall asleep during your reviews.  They're interesting, informative, amusing . . .I like your reviews.  Now to try to answer some of your questions.  "Savvy" is a Jack verbal tick, and they were purposefully quoting him.  Ana-Maria was just playing with him, and Brian was trying to make him feel more at ease, safer.  Besides, after spending enough time around someone, verbal tics have a tendency to start rubbing off.  A concussion is where a blow to the head causes the brain to slam against the skull and then swell.  This can lead to permanent brain damage.  Concussions are often accompanied by blurred vision, hallucinations, memory loss, lack of motor coordination (not that most people could tell in Jack, anyway), and other just not-fun things like that.  As for a lanyard, that's a lovely fun necklace-type thing (only much bigger and bulkier and more obnoxious than any necklace . . .rather like the chain on a soldier's dog tags, only made out of fabric) that we must wear our ID's from.  The ones they gave us were A) ugly and B) left red, raw patches on our necks, so I made my own that is A) captivating (to a bad extent . . .in Spanish class I often am watching lanyard, not teacher, not a good thing) and B) comfortable.  I don't like the idea of wearing my ID around my neck like a dog.  I've gone to the school for three years, and every single teacher knows me.  Oh well.  At least it's a good excuse to bring pictures of non-school-related things into school.  As for a senior, that means that this is my last year in high school.  This is the year that I apply to colleges and hope and pray that they A) admit me and B) provide some extensive financial aid.  As for the repeated phrase in chapter six . . .that's me typing late at night.  I have a tendency, when typing late, to repeat phrases two, three, four, or (only once) five times because I can't remember what comes next so my brain re-runs the sentence and types more of it than was really needed.  Thanks for pointing out the typo so that I can go and fix it.  I'm also sorry that the repeated killing of the hat bothers you.  Thanks for all the other kind comments, and I'm glad that you like my Jack.  This response is now getting exceedingly long.  I hope you can stay awake through it.  ;-)

Scanner-Cat-Scan:  Thanks for the vote of confidence on Jack and chapter nine.  As for it ending well . . .hmm . . .what's your definition of a good ending?  ;-)