Disclaimer:  I have just been thinking and realized that I honestly do own charries in this story!  Maybe I should claim them (not that anyone else would want them, or like anyone is going to mistake them for a cannon character).  Brian, Robert, Rollin, the kids, Hallson, and Michael all belong to me.

AN:  Thank you all for the help on my stats project!  My questions are fairly simple, though there's a bunch of other stats stuff I have now discovered I have to do with the data (such fun).  Which character is most likely to have the author lynched if his death occurs?  The almost unanimous consensus is Jack Sparrow.  (You hear that, muse?!  If you kill him, they'll kill us!)  What is the distribution of cannon versus original characters for the 'good guys'?  Which character is most likely to have a party thrown on the anniversary of his death?  Almorte seems to have won that one, though the stats are a bit more confused on this one (I really should be working on this project instead of writing this chapter, but I wished to reward you kind people).  What is the distribution of cannon versus original characters for the bad guys?  (How on earth did I forget Jack the Monkey?  He seems to have a very devoted following of not-likers.)  The rest of the stats stuff shows other relationships, and if anyone wants a run-down of the results of my project, holler and I'll give it.  It's rather interesting, actually.

To Love and Protect

Part 14

"What is that supposed to be, demon?"

The boy looked down at his own hand and squinted, tilting his head to the side as he scrutinized the shape he had made, the fingers curled inward at the second knuckle but his hand otherwise straight.  Then he nodded once to himself before raising his gaze to meet the pirate's.

"That would be a hammer.  A hammer can break rock, bend scissors, and tear paper, so I win."

"Exceptin' the fact that there isn't any hammer in this version of the game . . .or any other version that I know of, actually."

"So?  I still win."

"No, you cheated, so I win."

"You cheat, too."

"So?  I don't get caught at it."

The boy sighed theatrically.  "All right, you win, Uncle Jack.  What happens now?"

"Well, now you would have to drink your glass of rum or brandy or grog or whatever we're playing with."

"We don't have any of those, though, and papa would be mad if I drank them."

"Your father has spent far too much time with your mother, lad.  If he isn't careful, she'll talk him out o' drinkin' altogether."

"I'm thirsty, Uncle Jack."

Jack sighed, reaching over from his seat against the bars of Ana-Maria's cell to pat the boy gently on the back.  "I know, lad.  Just try not to think about it."

"It's hard."

"The least they could have done was give the child something to eat and drink, even if they don't care for us."  Ana-Maria watched the pirate captain and the boy from her seat in the back corner of her cell, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped firmly around them.

The longer she waited for Hallson to come, the harder it was for her to think about anything but what he might be planning for her.

"He's just trying to keep you upset and guessing, love.  Don't let it get to you."

"I'm not letting it get to me."  Ana-Maria frowned, realizing that she sounded too defensive for him to believe she was telling the truth.  Jack didn't need anything more to worry about.

The pirate captain was silent for several minutes, and Ana-Maria thought that he might have fallen asleep before he spoke again.

"Scream."

The female pirate blinked, caught completely off guard.  "What?"

"When they hurt ye, scream.  Even the most sadistic bastards can only handle so much screamin' before they have to stop, and they'll think they're hurtin' ye more than they really are."

"Do ye scream?"  Ana-Maria spared a glance at the boy, seemingly frozen to his spot on the floor, his eyes wide and frightened.

"No.  I don't usually have to.  I can hide."  Ana-Maria nodded slowly.  Yes, Jack could hide.  She had seen him do it on more than one occasion.  There were places he could run to in his mind where nobody could reach him but himself.

The only problem usually being that he wasn't all that much kinder to himself than his enemies were.

"Don't ye try t' imitate me, love.  It isn't worth it.  If they hurt you, scream."

"And let them think they've won?  I don't break that easily, Jack."

"If you give him a challenge, he'll rise to it and enjoy himself in the process.  Don't make it harder on yourself than it has to be."

"So just quit before the game starts?  That's what you want me to do?  Any other gems of wisdom, captain?"  Her voice was again harsher and more sarcastic than she had meant it to be.

"Give them something.  Anything."

"I won't trade Brian.  The lad's been through more than enough in his young life, and I won't be adding on more problems for him.  He saved us, Jack."

"I didn't say trade the lad, love.  I'd say give them me, but they already have that.  I don't know.  Find something."  For the first time since he had told her to scream, a hint of emotion invaded his voice, just the barest tinge of desperation and exhaustion.

"Don't worry about me.  I'll be fine, Jack."  Ana-Maria moved forward until she could again wrap her arms around the pirate captain's chest, his right hand rising to rest on her clasped ones.

"Of course ye will be.  After all, we've still a traitor to kill and a ship to commandeer, and I won't be doin' it all by m'self, savvy?"

"Savvy."  The female pirate frowned, feeling her captain's heartbeat racing beneath her hands.  Blood loss more than likely explained it, but her own heart still constricted slightly with worry.  "Jack, you all right?"

"I'm getting rather tired of ye askin' that, love.  I'm as all right now as I was the last time ye asked, and before ye think of it, yes, the lad's still there, yes, he's still scared, and yes, he's still planning something stupid."  The playfulness in his tone offset the sting of the words.

The familiar sound of locks being opened echoed again through the brig, and Ana-Maria instinctively tightened her hold before releasing the pirate captain completely, her heart dropping to an anatomically impossible position somewhere below her feet as her breathing constricted suddenly.

Damn.  This was not a good way to start this.

It wasn't Hallson who pushed his way through the heavy door, though, and it didn't appear to be implements of torture that the officer was carrying.

Officer?  Since when did officers make personal visits to the brig without a guard?

And since when did they bring something that looked suspiciously like water and food?

"Hello there, mate.  Didn't expect to see any of Brian's men for quite a while.  What're you doing here?"

Ana-Maria frowned.  The man standing before them was, indeed, one of Brian's officers from the Intrepid, though she had only seen him up close when he led the group that pulled them from the water four days before.

"I'm Lieutenant Rollin.  The Captain wanted me to make sure that the boy was being well cared for, and to tell you that you won't be in here for very long."  The officer was fidgeting as he spoke, his gaze sweeping between the two pirates, barely pausing as he took in the boy that Jack again cradled to his chest.

When had the boy moved there?

"Tell Brian that we're grateful for his hospitality, as the commodore's seems to be rather lacking, and that he isn't to do anything stupid, but that Ana-Maria would appreciate a bit of a rush nonetheless."  Jack didn't move as he spoke, his eyes boring into the nervous officer's.

"Why?"

Did just the British attract fools to be officers, or was it an international plague?  Based on the French, Dutch and Spanish officers they had 'met' with using the Pearl as a means for opening negotiations, Ana-Maria would guess international.

"Take a guess why.  I'll not spell it out in front of the child, but the hospitality is becoming downright cold around here."  Ana-Maria frowned again.  Jack hadn't been averse to sharing information on how to survive torture with your mind relatively intact, but now he refused to spell out what Hallson was planning on doing?

The officer stared at her for a few seconds, and Ana-Maria unconsciously lifted her head slightly higher, daring him to say anything.  "I see.  I'll give your message to the Captain, then, Mr. Sparrow, and I suppose I'll be seeing you relatively soon."

Rollin quickly shoved the food and water through the bars of Jack's cell before turning and sprinting out of the brig, the sound of locks being set dictating in no uncertain terms that they were captives, victims of a power play that they had never meant to be involved with in the first place.

"It's Captain Sparrow, mate!"

Ana-Maria laughed, realizing that her entire body was shaking slightly.  "I think you're a bit late there, Jack."

"Oh well.  I attempted.  Go on, lad, eat your fill and take a drink.  A small drink, though.  We all need water."  Jack slowly maneuvered the boy off his chest and gave him a shove in the direction of the food.

Ana-Maria waited until the boy's attention was fixed on his breakfast before daring to even whisper to her captain.  "Why didn't you tell him what Hallson is going to do?"


"Because we don't rightly know, and his own mind will bring up plenty of options, all of them custom-made to fit his worst nightmares.  He might even start thinkin' you're with child or the like.  Giving a hint of doom is far better when it comes to scare tactics and gaining sympathy than actually spelling anything out."

Ana-Maria nodded before turning her attention to the child.  "How's he doing?"

"The demon?  Not too badly.  It was his first kill . . .shouldn't be any whelps makin' their first kill at ten.  Too young.  So long as I manage to keep him from thinkin' about what's happened and what's happening, he'll be all right.  I'm running out of games, though.  Think I could draw a noughts and crosses board in blood?"

"Not funny, Jack Sparrow.  Ye need all your blood in your body at the moment."

"Just for the moment?"

"Jack . . ."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Brian stalked along the fort corridor, acutely aware of all the other soldiers, officers, and servants skittering around, his mind subconsciously fitting each into one of two categories—for him, and against Hallson.

He didn't really know anyone who still liked Frederick Hallson.

He did know many who would rebel at the idea of ousting the man from power without the proper authority from the Crown and a real reason for doing so.

"Captain Lanebridges!  Captain Lanebridges, sir!"  Brian stopped and glanced around, locating the owner of the voice and honestly smiling for the first time all day.

"Robert.  It's good to see you, friend.  You can call me Brian, you know."

"Aye, I know, lad."  Robert paused as Brian frowned in distaste at the use of the term of affection.  The young captain was really starting to hate that word.  "I won't be calling you by your Christian name in front of your men, though.  It isn't proper.  Anyways, I just wanted to talk to you about the pistol you brought me two days ago, right after you made port."

Pistol?  The only sidearm Brian owned was currently strapped at his side, along with his sword.

"I found the three parts for it that you needed.  A bit scratched up, but not too much the worse for wear, and they seem relatively eager to be joined to the other three parts of the pistol."

Did a pistol have six parts?

"I haven't gotten a good look at the other three parts, though.  You wouldn't happen to know what condition they're in?"

Brian nodded slowly, his blue eyes narrowing and his smile broadening as he figured out what the other man was babbling about.  "They should be in relatively good shape, or so I'm told, though I haven't actually had the opportunity to look at them."

"Well, when and where would you like the entire pistol back?  Or do you want the entire thing?"

"The Intrepid leaves tomorrow at dawn.  If you could drop the three parts that you have at your house off in my cabin, I'll see that they're reunited with the other three parts."

"There's one rather obnoxious part that insists on being brought back into contact with the most obnoxious part and the smallest part of the other trio as soon as possible.  I don't think it's going to manage to sit still all day and all night with only your promise that it'll be reunited soon."

Anyone listening to their conversation would think they were insane.  Still, it wouldn't be possible for anyone simply overhearing a stray part to make any intelligible use of it, and Brian was watching for anyone stopping and staring.

As for Will Turner . . .the man had an overactive sense of honor and commitment.  Then again, it was his son that was being held, and his skills when it came to combat and helping convicts escape from prison easily outstripped Brian's, through sheer bulk of experience if nothing else.

"If it truly is going to be impossible for the pieces to all wait in my cabin, go ahead and have the obnoxious one delivered to the fort tonight, around ten o'clock.  Given the smallest one's age and my most obnoxious one's damage, the presence of your piece might be deemed necessary.  Your part's uses when it comes to fighting wouldn't be sneered at tonight, either."

Rollin's report had been a relief in the fact that all three of the captives were alive and conscious, but his report on the pirate captain hadn't been especially encouraging.  'Half-coated with blood' just didn't help with optimism.

"Aye, Captain.  I have a funny suspicion I'll be seeing you at the fort entrance around ten tonight."  Robert turned to walk away.


"Robert . . ."  The blacksmith paused.  "Thank you.  For finding those three pistol parts.  I was worried I'd never get the whole thing back together again."

"You're welcome, Brian.  You're very welcome."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Will?"

"Mmmm."

"Will, did you hear a thing that Robert said?"

"Fort.  Ten o'clock.  Save our son and the pirates and maybe get a chance to run Hallson through.  I was paying attention, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth smiled as she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest.  "I know you were trying to pay attention, but you seemed to be a bit . . .distracted.  I just wanted to make sure that you really heard everything.  Also, the running Hallson through part, I don't think Robert ever mentioned anything about that happening tonight."

"Shoot a man for a bit of wishful thinking, is that how it works?"

"Never.  Maybe slap him to put his feet back in reality . . .or maybe just kiss him.  I think that would work, too."  Will didn't respond, and Elizabeth gently raised one hand to his cheek, bringing his gaze into contact with her own.  "Will, what do you see?"

"I can't see anything, Elizabeth.  It might be better to see . . .all I get are emotions, feelings, though sometimes . . .sometimes they're combined in such a way that I can almost hear words, but not really . . .Elizabeth, it's like trying to swim through a storm.  Up and down and around and . . .keeping him grounded is like trying to keep the sea from rising with the tide.  It's just . . ."

"Just what, Will?"

"He must have seen hell, Elizabeth.  There's so many layers, and in between there's so much pain and anger and . . .numbness.  He can run from everything, if he wants to.  I never thought that he was really crazy . . .even after Almorte, I thought he might have broken, but not that he was really crazy."

"Why do you think he's crazy?"

"There's darkness, all through his mind, and sometimes . . .sometimes it seems like it could have voices in it, though I can't tell.  Darkness and numbness . . ."

"Everyone has darkness in them.  You do, I do, our children do, now . . .it's not the presence of darkness, but how you deal with it that makes you sane or insane, a good man or not."

"He hides, Elizabeth.  He hides and he cloaks it with his glib tongue and his bloody infernal humor, but it's still there.  I can still see it, for lack of a better description."

"Could you see it before you started trying to ground him?"

"No, not really . . .not nearly so clearly . . .There was grief then, but also affection and . . .an ironic humor . . .but now . . ."

"Maybe it's being caged and hurt, Will."

"Maybe . . ."  Will's eyes were unfocused as he stared at the ground, a frown tugging more and more strongly at his lips.

"What is it?"

"For the last few minutes, he's just been . . .completely off the wall.  Angry to furious to depressed to scared to angry . . .something's happening, or is going to happen."

"Do you have any idea what?"

"No."  Will shrugged, again meeting Elizabeth's gaze and pulling her into an embrace.

Elizabeth could feel her own body tense as every muscle in Will's body suddenly tightened, his head snapping up and his gaze dropping back into the distant one that she had learned to recognize exceedingly well over only two days.

"Oh, hell, no . . .calm . . .just calm . . ."  Elizabeth knew that he wasn't speaking to her, and she stepped back a bit, watching helplessly as he struggled against whatever it was Jack was unwittingly throwing at him.

"Mama!  Mama!"  The girl's voice was terror-stricken, and Elizabeth stood in front of her husband for a second more before allowing her mother's instincts to overcome her desire to shelter him.

She couldn't do anything to protect or help Will at the moment, but she might be able to comfort a scared child.

If both Will and Ana were reacting this badly, whatever was happening was bad.

"Oh, God, Jack, try to calm down . . ."  Will stumbled over to the wall, slowly sliding down it until he was in a seated position, allowing his head to fall forward as he concentrated on helping the pirate cope with whatever was happening.  He had heard Ana shouting, but he wasn't able to think clearly enough to determine what it meant other than that his son was also sending a strong distress signal.

"Jack, it's all right . . .Jack, calm . . ."  Even if the pirate couldn't hear the words, speaking them helped Will to focus his mind on what he was trying to do.

The barrage of emotion abruptly ended, not resolving but simply halting.  Will sighed in relief as his own head began to clear.

A stronger cry from Ana brought Will's head up, and he realized exactly what the abrupt cessation of transmission meant.

"No!"  Fury and worry propelled the blacksmith up to his feet, his hands clenching into fists as his eyes closed.  "No, don't you dare hide in your head, Jack Sparrow, don't you dare leave him alone with whatever's happening.  Help him, Jack.  Help my son . . ."

For a moment, nothing changed, and Will could feel the sweat beginning to trickle down his back as he concentrated on finding a chink in the pirate's mental armor.  He might be Jack's friend, might be his brother by choice, but he was a father, as well, and as a father, he had to know he had done everything he could to help his son.

Just as abruptly as the numbness had descended it receded, and Will reeled back as the pirate returned his anger, adding despair, desperation, pain, and terror knocking Will's own shields aside.

"Help him, Jack.  Help my son, and I'll help you.  Please, Jack, please."  No noticeable change made itself known through the torrent flooding across the link, and Will took that as acquiescence.  He sat down slowly again, determined to keep his part of the bargain, even if Jack didn't really know what the bargain was.

The pirate would stay with his son, and Will would stay with the pirate, and somehow they would all survive intact.  That was all there was to it.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Jack wrapped both arms around the boy, pulling him up from his huddle in the center of the cell.  The boy had his hands clamped over both ears in an attempt to block the sounds, but the pirate captain knew how futile that was . . .and Will had robbed him of his own method of escape.

"It's all right, lad, it's all right.  I'm here, Jack, and I promise everything's going to be all right, and Jack Sparrow is a man of his word, at least when it comes to you and your family."  The pirate captain flinched as another scream of agony and denial echoed through the brig, mocking him with his inability to even offer comfort to the either the female pirate or the child he now cradled against his own chest.

He had told her to scream.  It had been his idea.  When the first ten minutes had passed and she hadn't, he knew that she was fighting them, which only meant that when she did scream, it would be real.

Completely, totally, painfully real.  He hadn't meant to hear it.

Will wasn't giving him many options on that front.

He had heard enough screams in his life to last him through eternity, far too many of them his own or someone who he had claimed.  He didn't want to hear this.  He didn't need to hear this.

The boy was keening low in his throat, apparently hoping to drown the sounds out that way.  Jack resisted the urge to laugh.  He knew from experience that that didn't work.

The pounding in his head seemed to crescendo with each dying echo, and he could feel his own racing pulse in the back of his neck, the boy's rapidly throbbing heart adding a counterpoint as Jack tightened his hold on the child.

Another cry of pain echoed through the prison, and Jack couldn't help a small howl of his own.  He wanted to help her, needed to help her, but he couldn't.  He couldn't even tell what, exactly, they were doing to her, as Michael had taken her through the heavy wood door before starting the game.

The boy suddenly came to life in the pirate's arms, twisting around to grab the pirate captain in a tight embrace around the neck, shivering and breathing in shuddering hitches, though no moisture stained his face.

For a moment, the pirate captain pulled back, panic overriding everything, and it wasn't a ten-year-old with brown hair and brown eyes that was grabbing him, but a nine-year-old boy with blond-red hair streaming water as he screamed Jack's name . . .

Will was back in his mind before the memory solidified, and the pirate captain lashed out at him even as he returned the boy's embrace.

I hate you, lad.

I love you, lad.

Don't leave.  You said you wouldn't leave.

Jack Sparrow held the boy as tightly as he dared, closing his eyes as more cries ripped through his defenses like a sword through flesh.

He didn't want to hear this.

He had to hear it, to keep the boy safe.

In return, Will would be there.

And the pirate captain would make damn sure that the blacksmith knew what it was that Jack had given up for the sake of the child's sanity.

Responses to Reviews:

Jade:  Perfect.  Thank ye!  ;-)  I hope the chapter was worth the time.

Becky:  Definitely helpful.  Thank ye, too!  ;-)  Glad you like the story.

Rinkufan:  I keep winding up doing homework through Navy NCIS, but maybe I'll see it eventually.  Thanks for the lists, and as for denseness, don't worry.  You definitely don't strike me as a very dense person.  It was probably how I wrote the ending of that chapter.  I'll work on it a bit more.

Pip3:  I don't think Jack likes the head injury.  ;-)  Thanks for writing in.

Rat:  Thanks.  I rather like that line, too.  I think I'm in this to the bitter end now, unless something else unexpected occurs (which, given this year of hell, is definitely possible).

Szhismine:  I lied last time.  Next chapter you find out who gets poisoned, promise!  It would just take far too long to finish that part and post.  I figured you guys would like at least a bit more this weekend, so you didn't think I died or something.  Thanks for the lists, too!

Lavender Wonder:  I don't know about other fics, but I was running out of places for him to get hurt, and the head seemed like a nice place.  Then the background story started forming, and a head injury seemed like a very good way to have him saying things he normally wouldn't without him being half-dead and feverish.  Thanks for the lists, they were great help.  As for your song, it now runs through my head with another line that goes involves the use of the phrase 'stabbity-stab' added to what you already had.  I think you've created a monster, friend.  I've got a tune and everything for the sucker.

Merrie:  The rescuers are working on it.  It just takes a bit of planning (and muse-poking) to get the plot to that point.  I'm glad you like the link.

Soappuppy:  Nope, it isn't close to being done, either.  Barbossa was a really intricate villain, and while I didn't like him, I definitely respect the writers who thought of him and the actor who brought him to life.  Thanks for saying my fics are edible.  That brings a smile to my face.

Starzangel:  Me told.  If you want, me also share results when I finally get them.  Thanks for the lists!

JackFan2:  Thank you excessively.  Now please continue to write your own story so I can read it.  ;-)  Yes, the mind link has now definitely entrenched itself into the plot . . .I couldn't pull it free even if I tried.  Oh well.  It seems to working out all right.

Erinya:  Sorry to make you worry.  Thanks for the lists!

Snow-Angel222:  I remember you, love!  You've reviewed twice before, I think.  Thanks for sparing me and allowing me to complete my project.  ;-)

Empress Ariana:  *blushes*  Oh, by all means print them off.  If you want partially fixed-up copies, I could e-mail you the word documents.  I tried to get rid of most of the mistakes, but I keep finding more.  If you could sell them for ten bucks a prop, I would a) die of shock and b) insist you keep selling and simply share the profit with the poor starving . . .well, not quite . . .artist.  ;-)

Pirate Gyrl:  Well, I won't write any just like that, as that is the only place in the plot that that scene fits, but maybe relatively similar . . .I hope you liked the update.

Ryuu Angel:  Well, so much for speed updating . . .oh well.  Thanks for the help with the assignment!  Isn't remaining unnoticed by parents difficult?  Considering when I type these things that I'm usually barely coherent, aye, trying to keep from laughing or crying or some such thing that would cause them to come investigate is difficult.  As for the swimsuits and the spaghetti straps, we have those rules, too (no shoulders may show).  My guy friend from the Center (where there is no such rule . . .such bliss, there . . .such freedom . . .when we aren't attempting to die . . .) is planning to be a neurologist.  His response to their reasoning is quite amusing.  I can't do it justice, but the gist was, "What am I going to do if I'm doing brain surgery and this big-breasted nurse walks in front of me and I've never seen that women have these things that just seem to happen around adolescence?  Give my patient a frontal lobotomy because I get 'distracted'?  I don't think the insurance company and the Board of Directors is going to be very keen on buying that one."  Oh, he was so great saying it!  *fight urge to laugh uncontrollably*  Oh, I understand inverting numbers and letters!  I did so horribly in computers because I have this bad habit of inverting lower-case 'b's' and 'd's', and guess what our teacher had us use time and time again?  As for being lost four out of five minutes . . .yes, that is how I normally feel, but I still managed to pass the test!  *does happy, insane dancing-gymnastic run around house*  Yes, it definitely appears if I kill Jack, I will be hunted down and slowly roasted alive.  Do you hear that, muse?!  Our lives depend on you behaving!  Okay, hope the response wasn't too horribly long or boring . . .

Aratfeniel:  Where is the story going?  It keeps shifting course slightly, but I think we've a final destination point, though I can't share it yet.  Thanks for the responses for my stats project!

Cal:  Actually, I tend to break things when I juggle.  Writing is the only time I manage it with any modicum of success.  I like little Jack . . .then again, I'm not exactly an impartial observer.  ;-)  Oh, so now both Ana-Maria and Jack have been okayed for parenthood, hmm?  Me thinks me sense a subtle hint in there . . .Thanks for the in-depth review and the response for my stats project, I love both of them!

Jigglykat:  Thanks for catching up!  I hope the wait for the update wasn't too awfully long, and good luck on your animation project!

Hollow-Ambitions:  You did it exactly right, love!  Are you sure that you're a natural blond?  ;-)  Thanks for the kind comments.

Erin:  Thank ye for the list!

Shadowfax:  Okay, don't try to fool you into thinking I've killed Brian.  Thing is, I really meant for him to have died with Norrington, but then he decided that he really didn't want to, so I let him come back.  Self-control is a hard thing to keep . . .mine keeps running away.  Glad you got your paper done.  ;-)

Lunatic:  What's going to happen next?  Things.  Two really big things with little things in the middle (I don't know what the little things are yet . . .the muse is being exceedingly stubborn . . .he didn't listen to Jack's advice in this chapter . . .).  Thanks for the list, and I like all your reasoning!

Kayden Eidyak:  Thanks for the reviews, and I hope ye can find that omelet, me friend!  I think you're thinking like a hobbit at the moment . . .Anyways, thank for the kind comments!

ElvenPirate41:  I love all your reviews.  I'm sorry about the boy who hung himself at your school.  Yes, misery does seem to seek out company.  Yes, Hallson is a bastard.  As for Brian getting a promotion . . .he really is quite young, but he gets a scene relatively soon where he talks about that and he doesn't want me giving spoilers, so I'll be quiet now.  Our marching band plumes are quite pretty . . .we just had our last football game . . .last time wearing it . . .I will not cry, no, uh-uh . . .*sob* . . .oh, boy.  Morpheus was the Greek god of dreams.  As for my disclaimer about how to make money off pirates . . .your mind is apparently much cleaner than mine, and I love your scholarSHIP joke.  I like that "Farewell to Arms" thing, it definitely feels true at the moment.  I love your 'silly blind michael.  i see an 18th century sex symbol'!  I was having a not-so-good time, and that just made me laugh (near hysterically) and feel so much better.  I've never done a poemfic before . . .it might be fun to try . . .I didn't plan the three stories to come together with the link, the link just came and the muse decided that that would be the explanation (I explain better in a few older RtR's, if you're direly curious).  Again, you made me laugh and feel better by giving me an image of a crazy rubber wig just randomly bouncing around Brian's room.  ;-)  As for the rhyme . . .it does rhyme!  I didn't even notice . . .*grins sheepishly* . . .I'm all up for sailing around the world with Jack Sparrow!  Jack is too hot to go to hell . . .filing that with the muse.  Thanks for your responses for my stats project!  As for teens being smarter than they think . . .BLOODY HELL, YES!  I've thought of ways around most of their rules . . .it just seems pointless to argue with most of them, and when they threatened to kick me out of NHS for daring to disagree with the lanyard rule and 'swearing' (do 'god-damned' and 'bloody hell' when the bnobby sitch has got me bawling in front of my bloody section by pushing all of my buttons, from 'Kaitan's dead' to 'my families dying' to 'I've wrecked the car', which was fixed so that's okay, to I can't walk straight and am trying to hack my lungs out as I attempt to argue count as swearing at an authority figure?) I just stopped for a bit this year.  I'm working on organizing school-wide protests now, so bnobby sitch can't kick me out of NHS senior year.

BrokenSkye:  People go insane sometimes.  Normally I do hate projects, but this one is actually kind of fun.  I like your character analysis of Marcus, it's fairly accurate.

Zinnith:  That's okay!  I completely understand RL getting in the way, and thanks for the lists, they came in just as I started organizing my stats, so they were in time to be included!  As for handing in papers that are slightly confused . . .don't panic.  I'm sure it'll be better than you think.  I would be traumatized for life if I killed someone, too.  As for how Jack got himself into trouble again . . .blame the muse!  It's all his fault!

Gypsy-Fire:  Okay, don't hurt Jack.  I keep telling the muse that, but he isn't listening very well.  Thank you for all the kind comments, and the help with my stats project.  As for loving calc and bio . . .I think it's a love-hate relationship at the moment . . .