Disclaimer:  I own far too many classes . . .and a passed calculus test (first one I've passed . . .I'm so thrilled ;-) . . .) . . .but that's it . . .

AN:  *PLEASE READ*  I have found a way to mix school and writing!  One of my classes is doing a stats project, and when I went to work mine out with my teacher I brought four questions that could be answered with responses from reviewers of my work, which thereby gives me an excuse (albeit a small one) to write the next chapter.  I can't tell you what the questions I came up with are because they might affect your answer (if anyone wishes to know I'll tell after I get responses), but I need at least twenty (20) people to respond to the following prompts (otherwise I have to choose a different topic and don't have an excuse to write, which is sad).  You don't have to submit names/pen-names/anything but a response, and I'll be very grateful if I get the twenty I need.  Okay, so the prompts.  Take the "good guys" from both the original movie and my stories (Jack, Will, Elizabeth, Norrington, Ana-Maria, Jack Turner, Ana Turner, Brian, anyone else you remember and like but I haven't put here) and list them from the person you would be/were most upset to see die to the person you were/would be least upset to see die.  Take all the "bad guys" (Barbossa, Almorte, Marcus, Daniel, Michael, Hallson, anyone else you remember and dislike but I haven't put here) and place them in order from the one you were/will be most happy to see die to the ones you were/will be least happy to see die.  If you want to tack on a few reasons for why your list looks like it does, I would be greatly intrigued, but all I need for the assignment is the list.  Crossing my fingers and hoping you guys help out . . .

To Love and Protect

Part 13

"Robert!"  Will pounded again at the door, resisting the urge to glance around the darkened streets and see if anyone had noticed him.

When nearly a minute had passed and still no response seemed to be forthcoming, Will raised his fist to pound again.  "Robert, damn it, I need—"  Will pulled his fist back abruptly to keep from pounding the older blacksmith on the chest, his harsh whisper dying in his throat.

Robert only spared a quick glance at Elizabeth, who stood behind Will in fighting clothes holding Ana close, before dragging the trio inside his house and shutting the door.  "What's wrong, Will?"

"You were right.  I had him.  Hallson found out . . ."

"Where's your son?"

Will's fingers clenched into fists yet again.  "The bloody bastard took him.  He took all three of them, and he'll take us if he can.  You're in danger so long as you harbor me and my family."

"Not so much danger as the commodore is going to be when the men find out he took their captain into custody."

Will blinked.  "Brian didn't show up today.  He's safe at the fort."

"You said they took all three of them."

"They took my son and Jack Sparrow and Ana-Maria."

Robert stared patiently at him, the lamplight causing shadows to flicker over the other man's face.  "Who's Ana-Maria?"

"Jack Sparrow's . . ."  Will wasn't sure exactly how to describe the female pirate.  She wasn't Jack's wife, but to simply call them lovers was to diminish the truth of their relationship.  She had the pirate captain's faith and full trust and, Will was fairly certain, his fidelity, something that would have shocked him five years ago.  None of those gifts were lightly given.

"Whore?  Strumpet?"

"Bloody hell, no!  Why when people say female and pirate in the same breath do people automatically think whore?"

The other blacksmith chose not to comment, though his mouth twitched upward into a slight grin.

"I need somewhere to stay until I can find a way to get my son back."

"You have it, Will."

Will nodded, sighing.  "You realize what you're doing, don't you?  You're harboring fugitives.  You could hang for this."

"I'm not just planning on harboring fugitives.  I'm planning on assisting in the unlawful release of a criminal from jail and the formation of and execution of an uprising.  The day a man isn't safe to decide who he allows into his house is the day the leader has overstepped his boundaries, at least for me.  I've a spare room in the attic where you'll be relatively safe and unnoticeable, if a bit cramped."

"Thank you, Robert."

"Don't thank me yet, Will.  We haven't done anything yet.  Are any of you hurt?"

Will shook his head.  "Nothing serious.  Some scratches on Elizabeth and myself, and Ana had a bloody nose, but they were going after the pirates more than after us.  If you'll just let us get Ana to bed, I'll try to explain what I know."

It took a little over a half-hour to arrange the attic so that it was functional as temporary quarters and get an unnaturally submissive Ana to crawl into the mass of blankets, where she lay, blank-eyed and pale-faced.

"Ana?  Ana, honey, what's wrong?"  Elizabeth settled next to her daughter, hugging the girl and stroking her thumb along her cheek.

The girl's voice was a monotone whisper.  "They took Jack away."

"We'll get him back, Ana.  Trust your papa and I."

The girl turned her head away.  "He's scared."

Elizabeth involuntarily cut her eyes up to Will.  She had completely forgotten the twin's own 'link'.  While it was different from the one connecting Will and Jack, it was definitely strong enough to cause problems.

"I know he's scared, but he's with Uncle Jack and Aunt Ana-Maria.  They'll keep him safe, and we'll have him back before you know it.  Is that all that's troubling you?"

"The soldier . . .the one who hit Uncle Jack in the head . . .Jack and I . . .mama, we . . .we tried to keep him from hitting Uncle Jack again . . .I wasn't thinking, mama . . .I didn't mean to . . .but he didn't stop bleeding . . .and bleeding . . .mama, I don't want to go to hell!"  Elizabeth held her daughter close as the girl's rigid control broke and she sobbed, her head buried in her mother's shoulder, her small hands wrapping in Elizabeth's hair.  Elizabeth didn't bat an eye as the girl tightened her hold and a few strands separated from her scalp.

"It's all right, Ana.  You aren't going to go to hell, baby.  You're safe right here, with Papa and I, and you didn't do anything wrong.  They were the ones who did wrong, Ana, only them.  Hush, child."

"We . . .we k-k-killed him, mama!  We killed him, but people aren't supposed to kill each other, and the p-p-priest and everyone says that people who kill go to hell, they said even good people like Uncle Jack who kill go to h-h-hell, and . . ."  The girl stopped speaking as harsher sobs tore themselves from her small frame.

Elizabeth rocked back and forth with her daughter, rubbing her right hand in circles along the girl's back until the sobs had diminished to small sniffles.  Only then did she pull back and brush the hair away from the girl's tear-stained face, cupping it in her hands so that the child couldn't look away.

"Ana, no matter what any preacher tells you, no matter what anyone else tells you, you didn't do anything wrong.  You were protecting your family.  You were defending your home.  You shouldn't have had to, that's what your papa and I are supposed to do, but you saw the need and you responded.  Ana, are you listening to me?"

The girl gulped and sniffed as she nodded.

"Sometimes you have to kill, Ana.  Sometimes they don't leave you any other way out."

"But . . .but he's a soldier . . .like Goduncle Brian was . . .they're supposed to be . . .the good people . . ."

Elizabeth tore her gaze away from her daughter's searching one.  How did one go about explaining to a ten-year-old the differences between being lawful, being just, and being right?

"Ana, you know Uncle Jack and Aunt Ana-Maria are pirates."  The girl nodded.

"Do you think Uncle Jack is a bad man?"  The child shook her head vigorously.

"The preacher said that Uncle Jack was going to hell, right?"  Ana nodded again, her forehead creasing in bewilderment, clearly uncertain what her mother was driving at.

"Well, then, you know already that he's wrong.  God sent Uncle Jack back to us, after he and Papa broke free from the Brotherhood.  You remember that?  Is that something that God would do for a bad man, for a man that he was going to send to hell?  The preachers don't know everything, Ana, and they can't see your heart.  Your heart was in the right place, and God can see that, and that's what matters.  Do you understand?"

Ana tilted her head and bit at her lip, sniffing once more.  "Kind of."

"Think on it some more.  Do you think you can go to sleep now?"

"Yes, mama."  The girl settled down again into the blankets, pulling them directly up to her chin, taking comfort in every child's belief that if the covers are tight and they stay very still, the monsters won't be able to find them.

"Good night, Ana.  Papa and I will be here if you need us."

"Good night, mama.  Good night, papa.

Will and Elizabeth waited until Ana was obviously asleep before quickly and quietly making their way down the stairs.

"Jack doesn't have anything on me now.  If I get Hallson, the man is going to wish for a quick, clean death."

"You might have to stand behind me in line for that honor."  Elizabeth's voice displayed a cold rage that easily equaled that which Will was feeling.

Robert took one look at their faces and immediately broke out a bottle of brandy and three glasses before ushering them into the living room and settling them in upholstered chairs.

He waited until they had both taken a drink before speaking.  "Now, what happened?"

Will sighed.  "I'm not entirely certain.  Hallson just broke down my door, with a slew of soldiers.  We fought.  We lost.  He wasn't thinking, though, he sent most of his men away with Jack and Ana-Maria, probably to make sure they didn't regain consciousness before they were in the brig, and the bastard took my son.  I'll get them all back."

Robert nodded as Will downed the rest of the contents of his glass, grimacing slightly at the burn it made from his throat to his stomach.  Jack always made it look much easier.  "I know you'll get them back.  I'll help if I can.  I know the layout of the fort, and the doors for the cells are everyone's favorite when they're trying to break people out of jail."

"Half-barrel hinges."  Will slumped visibly with relief as Robert nodded.  "It could theoretically work then, whether we can find the keys or not . . .except for the fact that we've nowhere to go, and nothing to go on."

"You could see if you could—Will!"

Both Elizabeth and Robert lunged at Will as he suddenly doubled over, moaning low in his throat.

Pain . . .pain and fear and confusion . . . no purpose . . .no understanding . . .pain and fear and confusion and disorientation . . .

"Will, it's all right, it's all right . . .Will, what is it?"  Elizabeth was stroking his hair, whispering in his ear, holding him tight and giving him a ground.

"Jack . . .he's conscious . . .or something . . ."  Will struggled to fight the staggeringly strong torrent, succeeding in slowly forcing it back, trying to send a sense of peace, of hope, of grounding, not certain if he was succeeding or if he was merely giving himself an opportunity to recover from the unexpected onslaught.

"It's all right, Jack.  Be calm.  We're coming for you."

As suddenly as they had come, the sensations faded, dropping to a barely-perceivable background murmur in his mind.

"Will . . .?"

"I'm all right, Elizabeth.  I'm sorry if I frightened you."  Will straightened slowly.  Yes, he was all right, but Jack?  Raising his eyes, Will met Robert's questioning stare.

"It's hard to explain . . ."

The other blacksmith shrugged.  "Did you sell your soul to the devil for it?  Sacrifice young children?"  Will felt a small smile twitch at the corners of his mouth as he shook his head.  "Didn't think so.  If it's hard to explain, then don't.  Just tell me if you figure out anything useful.  What I was saying before is word is that the Intrepid has been ordered back out tomorrow.  Now, I didn't see Brian down at the tavern, and he obviously wasn't with you, so I'd say he's at the fort and knows what's happening.  If we can find a way to ask him if he could take you all on the Intrepid . . ."

Elizabeth shook her head.  "We can't just walk into the fort in broad daylight, either to talk to Brian or to get everyone out, and tonight's too far gone to manage any real escape attempt."

Robert shrugged again and grinned.  "So I act as messenger.  I hunt Brian down in the fort, on pretense of a new sword or a spare part for his pistol, he manages to find a way to keep the Intrepid in port another day, we break everyone out of jail, and you all high-tail it with the young captain to wherever you think you can lie low until Hallson gets what's coming to him . . .or until you can plan a way to give him what's coming to him."  Will smiled at the latter idea.  He wanted Hallson's blood just as badly as Jack wanted Michael's.

"That sounds like a solid plan to me . . .at least, as solid a plan as we're going to get on our rather limited schedule.  Brian's men will respect his wishes, and if we can get out of port before anyone but him and anyone else he decides must know knows, we should be all right."  Will nodded at his own comment, trying to engender a solid faith in it himself.

Elizabeth seemed to hesitate before speaking.  "There's only one drawback to your plan."  Both men turned to her, Robert arching an eyebrow in silent question.

"You're both assuming that they'll all be in any condition to run from the fort to the Intrepid."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Hey, look, I got myself a flush!  Ace high, too!  Let's see what we're up against . . ."  Brian rotated his body and picked up the other set of cards.  "Oh, full house, pair of sevens, triple of jacks.  Well, it looks like the winner is . . .myself again!"

Brian grinned at Rollin, who merely stared back at him, still holding the cocked pistol.  It was beginning to make the young captain feel like a walking target.

"Not amused, mate?"  The other officer didn't answer, and Brian tossed the cards down on the table in frustration.  At least Jack could usually draw either amusement or disdain from his audience.  All Brian seemed able to do was bore the other man, first with his two-hour attempt at imitating Norrington's unflinching military demeanor and now with his attempt at humor.  At least it wasn't quite so boring dealing cards as it was standing ramrod straight and watching the barrel of the pistol meander over his body.  "Lieutenant, you have been standing there for over four hours now pointing that bloody pistol at my head, my heart, and other important regions, all of which I would like to have intact.  Could we please just agree that you win and I'm not going down to the Turners' tonight?"

"I don't want you doing anything foolish."

"Will you at least play a hand?  I'm getting rather tired of beating myself, you know."

"Lad, will you just stop it?  All I'm trying to do is keep you safe.  Why don't you go to sleep?  After all, you need to be in good condition to captain the Intrepid tomorrow."

Brian fought the urge to punch the other man, reminding himself firmly that he didn't need any more scars on his body.  "Why don't I go to sleep?  Let's see, for starters, I have a pistol pointed at me, and that, for some reason, makes me decidedly nervous.  For another, my friends are in danger and instead of helping them, I'm playing cards with myself because my captor, who I might add is a traitor, is pointing a bloody pistol at me!"

"I'm not putting the pistol away, sir.  I don't trust you."

"You don't trust me?  Lieutenant, I think you're a bit confused about who's supposed to be mistrustful in situations like these."

"Captain, I swear to you, we did everything we could to try to get warning to Turner, but we didn't have enough time!  I won't hurt you so long as you just remember that there's things more important than one man's life!"

"One man?  Hallson isn't going to be content with Sparrow's blood.  He'll take Will and Ana-Maria, possibly Elizabeth and the children . . .I don't find an uprising or a mutiny or whatever you feel like calling it to be more important than their lives!  Damn it, Rollin, they're my family."

The other officer blinked several times.  "You think he'll risk attacking Turner?  The man's well-known, well-respected . . ."

"Let me think . . .what was that charge that you said he was going to use against me . . .oh, yes, that's right . . .does treason ring a bell?"  Brian couldn't help the bitter sarcasm.  He had never felt so helpless, or so guilty for being so helpless . . .

Not true.  You felt like this before.

The young captain silently cursed the voice in his mind that threw that harsh truth out at him.  Yes, he had felt this sense of helplessness and guilt before, but at least James Norrington's fate . . .his mentor's fate . . .had been certain from the moment Will Turner and family set foot on the docks at Johnson.

Both men jumped as someone pounded on the door.

"Cap'n . . .sir . . .something's happened . . .sir . . .cap'n?"

It took Brian a moment to recognize the breathless voice as belonging to George Hardel, a redcoat that had been consistently stationed under his command for the last five years.

"Hardel, the door's unlocked.  Come in and report."

The man did as instructed, and Brian waited for his face to shift as he took in the pistol Rollin held.  Seeing nothing, he turned to face the other officer, only to find him empty-handed.  Given that there were two hands on the table, it would only be Brian's word that Rollin had drawn on him, and while that might be sufficient, it would cause more strife than it was worth.

The redcoat started talking the moment he was through the door.  Brian took some comfort from the fact that he was honestly somewhere between three and seven years older than the other man.  He was getting tired of being reminded of his young age.  "Cap'n, oh, God, I'm glad you're here, sir.  When we heard that they found the pirates at Turner's house and brought one of his kids in, well, sir, most of us feared the worst."

Brian's heart dropped to his feet.  "What did you say?"

"Word's just getting around.  Hallson took a group of men and he went to the Turner's house.  Jack Sparrow and a female were there with the Turner's.  They tried to take them by force.  Lorner and Palon didn't make it, and Reni got his shoulder torn up pretty bad.  The kids killed Lorner, sir, Turner's boy and girl, they were trying to protect the pirate, or that's what everyone's saying . . .sir, things are pretty precarious here.  I won't say that I'm not glad that we leave on the Intrepid tomorrow, cap'n."

The young captain spoke before he even really thought about his words.  "Hallson and I arranged it so that the Intrepid leaves the day after tomorrow.  I can't honestly say as I'll be sorry to be back at sea, either.  It seems to be somewhat safer there."  Brian glared at Rollin, but the other officer seemed completely unaware of it.  "What's Hallson planning on doing with everyone?"

"He's trying to organize a man-hunt for Turner, his wife, and his daughter, but he seems to be rather short on volunteers.  He's going to hang Sparrow and the woman and burn the bodies . . .he said something about people not being able to come back from the dead if you burned their bodies . . .but none of us know what he's going to do with the boy.  I'm sorry, sir.  We all know Turner's your friend, and we know how you got that scar."

"Is that everything you know, George?  Everything?"  The younger man furrowed his brow in concentration before nodding.  "Thank you for coming to find me.  You should return to your post now . . .you do have the night guard at the moment, correct?  I wouldn't want you to be caught away from your duty."

The redcoat recognized the words as both a gentle reprimand, a warning, and a dismissal.  "Aye, captain.  Take care of yourself, sir."

Brian waited until he couldn't hear footsteps anymore before turning back to Rollin, not excessively surprised to find that the other officer had again drawn his pistol.  There had been myriad opportunities for the young captain to draw his own sidearm, but he wasn't interested in a confrontation anymore.

"I'll deal.  Help me get Sparrow, the woman, and the boy out of jail and onto the Intrepid, and I give you my word that I will do whatever you feel necessary to safeguard the fort and the troops, even if that is something that could normally be construed as treasonous."  Brian extended his right hand.

Rollin hesitated a moment before nodding, setting down his pistol, and shaking the outstretched hand.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

It was still dark when Ana-Maria finally returned to full consciousness, reaching up gingerly to touch the pounding knot on the back of her head.

Why did they always have to go for the head?

Because hitting someone in the arm or the leg just means you get kicked or punched, respectively.

She sat up slowly, rubbing her ears to clear the buzzing from them, gradually becoming aware that at least part of the noise was in reality, not in her head.

"Jack . . ."  She lunged towards the sound, brought up short by the feel of cold iron against her hand.

Bars.  Someone had the damned nerve to put bars in her way.

"I'm all right.  'm not crying."  Ana-Maria waited as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, the only illumination moon- and star-light coming down in stripes through the barred windows that allowed air circulation.

The boy had obviously been crying, was still rubbing the remnants of tears from his face, but the female pirate knew better than to press the point.  He was curled next to her captain . . .and bare-chested.

"Jack, where's your shirt?"

The boy sniffed loudly, attempting to cover it with a small cough, before answering.  "I made bandages.  I tried just tightening yours, but it wasn't working.  He was bleeding really bad, Aunt Ana-Maria, and he didn't know who I was."

The female pirate bit back the curses that flooded her mind, determined not to scare the boy any more than he had already been scared.  "It's all right, Jack.  Are ye cold?"

She wasn't exactly keen on stripping at the moment, especially given what Michael had labeled her as, but if the boy needed a shirt, she would give him one.

"Uh-uh.  Uncle Jack's warm."

Ana-Maria couldn't help but curse lightly at that fact.  "How warm, Jack?"

"Not bad-warm.  Not fever-warm.  Just warm-warm."

The female pirate sighed in relief.  "What happened while I was out, lad?"

"They put us in here and they left us alone, but neither of you would wake up.  I was worried because Uncle Jack was bleeding, so I tried to bandage it, and he kind of woke up.  I think he was dem . . .den . . .delirious, that's what papa says.  He grabbed my hand and called me Thomas, and then he said 'they're coming' and passed out again.  Are you hurt?  I couldn't reach you to help.  I'm sorry."

"I'm not hurt, and ye've nothing to be sorry for, Jack.  Ye did really well, lad, really well.  Is there any way ye could move him over here so I can see?"

"I think so.  It might take me a while, though."

"That's all right.  Just be careful, Jack."

Ana-Maria could never say exactly how long it took the boy to maneuver the pirate captain's body over so that she could reach him through the bars, each minute seeming to stretch into a minor eternity as he pulled, pushed, and panted, always careful and gentle.  She supposed she had taught the boy quite a few more words to add to his vocabulary by the time the pirate captain was close enough to grab.  A few more minutes of combined work had the pirate propped against the cell bars, Ana-Maria steadying him with one hand as the other worked at carefully pulling the bandaging from around his head.  She smiled slightly as the boy gently settled himself in the pirate's lap, resting his head on the pirate's chest.

The boy had done a good job creating his improvised bandages.  He had torn the fabric off just below the sleeves, using that as a pad to absorb blood and tying the rest of his shirt around the pad.  Most of his shirt was soaked with blood, and she had to peel her original bandage away from the pirate captain's head, trying to ignore the fact that if she squeezed blood would drip out.  Head wounds always bled badly.  It was a fact of life.

It was impossible to make out the stitches against his blood-matted hair, so she simply allowed her fingers to do the work, closing her eyes and concentrating on what they felt, cursing softly.  The lowest stitch was still in place.  The rest of them had been torn out and the gash re-opened, maybe slightly longer than before.  She hastily reapplied the improvised bandage, using both hands now, content that he wouldn't shift with the boy's sleeping weight nestled against his chest.

Ana-Maria settled against the bars behind her captain, reaching both arms through and wrapping them as tightly as she could around his chest, maneuvering one slowly behind the sleeping boy's back.

It wasn't the most comfortable position she had ever tried to sleep in, but it would work.

The female pirate jolted back to full consciousness as Jack suddenly tensed beneath her hands, and for a moment she thought that he was going to leap to his feet before he sighed and relaxed, one of his hands rising to rest lightly on the boy's back.  Morning light was streaming in through the barred windows.

"Jack?  Are you all right?"

"I can think of many less pleasant ways to wake, love."  Both pirates whispered, hoping to keep from rousing the child.

"I can think of many more pleasant ways to wake than being in a cell with a boy cryin' and ye bleedin' all over the place.  Ye know, ye're supposed to keep the blood in yer body, not spill it all over any available surface."

"Oh?  Someone should have told me that a long time ago . . .saved a lot of people a lot of time . . ."

"If I could and I didn't know you'd pass out on me again, I'd slap you, Jack Sparrow."

"Good thing for me there's bars in the way."

"Jack, you really all right?"

"Aye, love, really all right . . .feeling pretty good for a man who just about got his skull cracked by that bully-boy in red . . ."

"Ye tore out all my stitches, y'know.  Means I'll have to redo them."

"If ye really want to . . ."

Ana-Maria frowned.  That was definitely not an expected answer.  "Jack, you sure you're all right?  Soundin' a bit out of it, love, almost like you're drunk."

"Wish I was."

"I'm sure ye do.  Does it hurt too bad?"

"No . . .doesn't hurt much at all . . ."

"Don't ye lie t' me, Jack Sparrow."

"'m not . . .really doesn't hurt too bad . . .kind of feel like 'm drunk, actually . . ."

The female pirate cursed softly, shifting her numb arms in an attempt to feel for fever.  "Ye hurt anywhere but on yer head?"

"No.  You?"

"Nothing serious.  Jack . . .ye alone in that head of yours?"

Ana-Maria wished she could see his face as he replied, though she thought he would be grinning from the tone.  "No."

"How long has he been there?"

"All night.  Scared . . .thinks if he backs off I'm goin' t' go a-wanderin' on 'im . . ."

"Just scared?"

"No . . .bloody lad's plannin' somethin' stupid . . ."

"Forgive me, but that just doesn't seem to upset me overly much at the moment.  Is it him holding the boy like that, or you?"

The pirate captain shifted his head forward, seeming to just become aware of the young man cradled against his chest.

"Where's his shirt?"

Ana-Maria sighed.  "Wrapped around your sorry head."

"Oh.  That bleeding thing again . . .does fabric count as a surface not to be bled on?"

"Jack, you scared the hell out of the boy."

"Didn't mean to.  Don't remember."  The pirate captain's voice was barely audible.

"He was trying to bandage that sorry excuse of a head of yers, and ye came to, grabbed him, called him Thomas, said 'they're coming' and passed out again."

"The 'they're coming' part was not my fault.  His bloody father just about knocked me sideways with that one."

"So ye do remember."

"Not really . . .it hurt . . .'fore Will decided t' help with the pain . . ."

"Who was Thomas, Jack?  Ye mentioned him before."

"Not supposed to ask that, love . . .go to sea and the past is past . . ."

"Not when it's invading the present, it isn't.  Jack, trust me."

The silence stretched between them, building with tension, and Ana-Maria feared she might finally have pushed too far, too fast.  Just when she was about to apologize, he spoke.

"Named me Sparrow, she did.  Only nine years old, grabbin' up a bloodied street rat and takin' him home t' clean 'im up.  Said I was wild as a sparrow, jumpin' at everything.  Found more reasons later . . .someone told her that sparrows fly through storms, not above 'em or lyin' low like sane creatures, an' she said that was me, too.  That first day, though . . .first time . . .that was 'cause I was wild an' jumpy as a sparrow."

"How old were you?"  It was a safe enough prompt.

"Seven . . .least, that's what I think.  Whores ne'er were good at keepin' track o' years, and none of them would claim me.  Harder for a woman to lose a child, you know, especially if they wait for it to wean and walk so it can survive . . .well, partially walk.  None of 'em claimed Jack, though.  They all made sure I knew m' Christian name, and they'd 'elp me if it wasn't too much I was askin', but none of 'em would claim me.  Too dark-skinned to do any good for blackmail, too much trouble to keep, so she jus' left me somewhere, and I survived.  Always survived.  Good at survivin', even if I'd get m'self bloodied up."

The pirate captain stopped talking again.  He was apparently going to make this as hard for her as it was for him.  "Why were ye bloodied up when she found ye?"

"Went up against four lads bigger 'n' me.  Don't remember why.  Never stood a chance, though.  Sandra's family were the 'fallen angels' of the time, had money and fell on hard times that never got better.  San knew both sides of living, survivin' on the street and survivin' in a home, even if they had it pretty well for people in the area.  She took me to her house, bandaged me up, and asked how many people had I robbed and how long I'd been practicing.  I gave her back her necklace, properly penitent for all of about three minutes."

"And Thomas?"

"Real little one when I first saw 'im . . .only a bit over two years old . . .youngest one out o' the three o' them.  San was oldest, Anna the middle one, and Thomas the youngest.  Good kids, all o' 'em, even if they weren't the best at survivin'.  Good mum, too . . .tried t' teach 'em everything a nobleman would teach 'is kids, and she tried t' teach me whenever San dragged me along.  Never sat still long enough for her approval, but I did learn a bit of readin' and writin', picked up a bit of hist'ry an' the like.  Always escaped as soon as I could, but she knew it wasn't anythin' 'gainst her.  Real nice woman, San's mum . . .'nough problems with her own kids an' husband, an' still tried t' make sure that a street rat got fed and had a place t' call home.  Missed her when she died."

The pirate captain paused again, shifting slightly, and Ana-Maria wracked her mind for something else to ask.  "You said before that you supposed to protect them."

Jack laughed softly.  "You memorize everything I say, love?"

"Only when it doesn't make sense."

"Like I said, you memorize everything I say.  Can't tell ye any more now, love.  The lad's awake."

The sound of locks being undone echoed eerily through the room, and Ana-Maria finally turned her complete attention to their surroundings, at the same time pulling away from the bars and towards the center of her own cell, flexing her hands to get the circulation going again in her arms.

The brig was large, with five different cells on the outer side of the room and five more on the other.  A small window set high in each cell allowed the occasional breeze and light to enter the cells.  The pirates and young Jack seemed to be the only prisoners at the moment, a fact which shocked Ana-Maria.  Usually there was someone in the brig, a town drunk, a local ruffian, a soldier in for insubordination or the like, someone . . .

The door leading out of the brig was a heavy wood, and it swung inward slowly.  The female pirate snarled and cursed quietly as Hallson strode through the opening, in full dress uniform, flanked by four redcoats.

His eyes turned to Jack first, still leaning against the bars, one arm still wrapped around the wide-eyed boy who was clinging to him with both hands.  The commodore sneered.

"How touching.  Did you know the boy killed for you?"  The pirate involuntarily flicked his eyes down to the boy before turning his cold gaze back to Hallson.  "I'm not entirely sure what to do with a ten-year-old murderer.  Perhaps he should merely swing with the two of you."

"What do ye want with us?"  Hallson walked forward, stopping in front of Ana-Maria's cell, his left hand twitching at his side as he stared at her.

"What do I want with you?  Not much, really.  I want him to die and stay dead, so that the Crown will realize how indispensable I am.  As for you . . .a whore isn't much use to me at the moment.  I suppose I could be willing to deal with you.  Give me Lanebridges and I'll consider giving you your freedom."

Ana-Maria met the commodore's gaze with blatant surprise and confusion.  "What do you mean give you Lanebridges?  I don't know who he is."

"Like hell you don't.  He brought you into port and he was at the Turners' two nights ago when you were.  Testify to such and I'll consider reducing your sentence."

"First of all, I'm not a whore, secondly, I thought I was going free if I testified, and thirdly, I don't know any Lanebridges."

Hallson smiled.  "You're not a whore?  What are you, then, a pirate?"

"Ye have no proof that I'm anything but an honest woman.  I've no brand on me, and ye've no witness to say what I am."

"I have Michael.  As for not being marked . . .you'll regret not giving me Lanebridges, woman.  You'll scream for the right to give his name before I'm through."

The commodore turned and left, his guard following, and Ana-Maria felt her heart drop as the door slammed behind him.  Turning back to her captain and the boy, she found them both staring at her, the boy with overt fear in his eyes, her captain's eyes cloaked and hooded again.

"I'm the only one who's supposed to do stupid things like that, love."

Responses to Reviews:

Shadowfax:  Thank you for all the reviews of all my stories!  I'm glad that you like them.  Don't let me keep you from completing your homework . . .I have enough problems completing mine, without guilt for someone else not getting theirs done!  Glad you like Brian, and try to get some sleep (I've found three hours is enough to remain functional for quite a long time . . .).  ;-)

Pirate Gyrl:  I'm going to finish it, it just might take a while if I want to pass calc and biology (which I most certainly do).  I'll update as frequently as possible.

Yasha:  *blushing*  Thank you.  I'll try not to leave you guys hanging too long between updates.

Empress Ariana:  I don't have it out for Jack . . .well, I don't think I do . . .*whimper* . . .oh, well.  Glad you're enjoying yourself.

Khepri:  I didn't know much about poisons until Michael decided he was going to be fascinated by them.  He's quite a scary man.  As for Ana-Maria . . .are you psychic?  You're giving spoilers for my story!  ;-)  Yeah, Jack's stressed at the moment.  Glad you like the link.

Ginny-Star:  Liz and company all wish it was loaded, too.  I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope the poison thing wasn't too painfully educational.  Michael is such a strange person . . .

Greenleaf-In-Bloom:  *blinks*  Not conflicting at all.  I understand.  I think everything happened that you thought happened.  Hope you enjoyed the update.  ;-)

Merrie:  Hey, that's okay, reviews are nice but not necessary.  If ye could do me the favor of reviewing this one so I could do my project, though, I'd be grateful . . .Glad you're enjoying it, and hope you like the update!

Cal:  Glad you appreciate the research efforts.  I was kind of worried it would sound too . . .preachy and information-throwing . . .but Michael wanted to brag about what he did on the Pearl and show what he's planning on doing to someone in the near future.  Yes, he's a coward.  Cowards usually have good excuses worked out for themselves, though.  As for Hallson . . .wait and see.  Jack and fatherhood . . .was that a suggestion?  ;-)  The cavalry are rather mixed-up at the moment, but they're working on it.  Hope you enjoyed the update!

Lavender Wonder:  Either your brain works very well at midnight or I was overly obvious . . .maybe a combination of the two.  You have to fight Jack for the right to kill Michael, as he's rather possessive of it at the moment.  I can hear the theme song in my head—oh, the joys of being a certified (or certifiable) band geek.  Out of curiosity . . .where on earth did 'oh god, my leg' come from?  Hope you liked the update.

Rinkufan:  I like Nick and Warrick, too.  Watching CSI did make me feel better . . .though they let the girl die.  That was bad.  Only one kiddie was taken, Elizabeth managed to get to Ana after the guy backhanded her and she stumbled away from her brother and Jack Sparrow.

Tari Troi:  Wow . . .you're really very adamant.  ;-)  Um . . .don't hurt anyone too badly, hmm, as I need all the characters at the moment for the plot to move forward?

Hollow-Ambitions:  As if having someone pull their eye out of the socket with a fork stuck in it isn't gory . . .Don't kill Jack.  Right.  Forwarding that message to the muse and hoping he understands.  Silently threatened?  That's okay.  I once called my assistant principal a bastard (he was already walking away) because he said we couldn't play Speed at lunch because it was gambling.  My school is so messed up . . .Anyway, hope you like the update.  ;-)  As for this being on the big screen . . .I'm not sure what I'd do if it wound up on the big screen.  Probably some combination of ecstasy, terror, and dying of embarrassment . . .

Szhismine:  Glad you're now completely unconfused!  Yeah!  Will and Jack take turned getting hurt and killed?  Okay.  Besides, Michael said he wanted to use it on Jack.  The muse won't let me tell you who it'll be used on, but you should find out next chapter, which, advanced warning, the chapter where you find out will definitely be a cliffhanger.  Hope you enjoyed the update!

Erinya:  Okay, the villains can die.  I'll inform them of that.  ;-)  As for everyone being all right in the end . . .I can't lie to you.  Someone is most definitely not going to be all right in the end.  Actually, more than one someone.  Hope you like the update.

Starzangel:  Yeah, I decided I wouldn't seek counseling for the same reasons.  Michael most certainly is a very nasty person.  I hope you like the update.

Ryuu Angel:  Go ahead and keep babbling.  'Tis amusing and informative.  Glad you liked the poison bit, that took a bit of research.  As for how I do research . . .I'm not very efficient.  I just do repeated Google searches until I'm fairly certain I've a rough understanding of what I'm trying to understand.  *looks at last sentence*  If that made any sense, I'm grateful.  As for verbs . . .we just had a Spanish test.  One page of said test was doing all sorts of fun things with translating a bunch of different types of English sentences to Spanish.  One verb was used in all of them.  I couldn't remember what the Spanish was for that one verb.  Guess what that one verb was?  To write.  I have never felt so stupid in my life.  Oh well.  Glad you liked Brian.  I love his character, too, as he's completely mine, to do with as I will.  My high school makes plans involving us without telling us, the lanyard one being another recent fiasco of theirs.  The most recent one, and I love this, is we can't bring coats into the classrooms anymore (and our classrooms are freezing, as it is getting more and more wintry here).  Why?  Because the kids at Columbine used coats to hide guns in.  If I wanted to hide a bloody gun, I could hide in my bra or strap it to my ankle or in the waistband for my jeans without needing a coat (not that I'd ever do any of those  things).  I hate my school administration.  Yes, Hallson is very hateable.  Michael is . . .something else.  Glad you like Uncle Jacky.  *snicker*  Don't quit dreaming, either.  I bet one day you'll be sailing the seven seas and playing with the dolphins.  Just keep hoping.  As for me, here's hoping you liked the last chapter, too!

ScannerCatScat:  Sorry?  Hope ye like the update, and that it isn't too cliffhangerish for ye . . .;-)