Chapter 11

                Ana's eyes narrowed as she drew herself to her full height, silently accepting the challenge.  She forced her breathing to some semblance of normal, though the quickened pace and harshness of the sounds showed that she was having trouble resisting her urge to hurt Jack in any way, shape, or form.

                "Now both o' ye…out."  Jack growled, dragging himself up from the bed to stand on shaking legs.

                "Ye hardly seem t' be in any condition t' be givin' orders Jack," Ana pointed out, crossing her arms across her chest.

                Jack feebly stood as tall as possible, stepping to within a foot of Ana's face.  The two stood in a stalemate, glaring daggers at the other, shoulders tense as if preparing for an all-out brawl.

                "Ye can barely stand."

                The snap of flesh connecting with flesh at high speeds echoed through the cabin as Ana dropped backwards onto the floor.  She lay in shocked silence on the floor before slowly pulling herself into a sitting position and tenderly rubbing her cheek.  Her hand paused when the fingers brushed against something warm and sticky on her cheekbone.  Pulling it away to examine it, she found fresh blood now coated her fingers.

                Audible thuds declared the sudden disappearance of the young crewman who had been hovering by the door, his flight instincts haven gotten the better of him.

                "It seems I can say th' same fer you."  Jack growled, glaring down at her with empty eyes.

                "Cap'n, was tha'-"

                "Remember this, both o' you, ne'er forsake my title or question me orders…especially not in th' same breath."  As he said this, a dark hint of a grin twitched at the corner of his mouth.  "Now I'll say it once again:  git out."

                Gibbs leaned down and half helped, half lifted Ana to her feet.  "Let's tend t' tha' cut, lass," he muttered, using her new injury as an excuse to get them both out of the cabin without any more injury.

                Ana numbly followed his lead and in a few minutes the two had left, closing the door behind them.  Jack backed a step, closing the distance between him and the bed.  With a sigh, he allowed his legs to give and buried his head in his hands, the adrenaline from the confrontation gone.

                'What's wrong Jack?  Having second thoughts?'

                'No.'

                'I'm not so sure.  You're rethinking your actions towards the girl, aren't you?'

                'Who?  Ana?  No.'

                'Right,' the voice drawled, sounding eerily much like his own voice only more feminine.

                'Why would I care?'

                'Perhaps having seen what could have been has gotten you thinking?  It's not exactly the best thing to doubt yourself.  Not now, not ever.'

                Jack's head shot up and his eyes widened as the image Ana standing before him in the cabin, pregnant shot through his mind.  Once the memory had passed, his head returned to the comfort of his hands and he clenched the dreads of hair in his fingers.

                ''m not doubtin' myself.'  The muttered statement fluttered half-heartedly to the voice, which seemed to ignore it, but remained silent all the same.

                Jack remained in the silence of his cabin motionless as the glow of the sun disappeared beneath the horizon.

~*~

                "Commodore,"

                "Not now Mr. Turner, I am in great haste at the moment and you are undoubtedly here about the hanging yesterday."

                "Yes, but it's a simple question I have, really.  Where did they bury him?"

                "That is none of your—or Mrs. Turner's—concern," the Commodore replied simply, lengthening his stride which the blacksmith matched easily.

                Will sped up further and whipped in front of the Commodore, staring him straight in the eye and blocking his path.  "Where is he?"  Will asked quietly, a dangerous tone beneath his calm exterior.

                Norrington sighed and dropped his gaze slightly.  "They didn't."

                "Didn't what?  Hang him?  That would be impossible, seeing as my wife watched him strangle to death."  Will shot back, ignoring the rudeness of his comment.

                "No, he was hung, I assure you," Norrington paused momentarily as Will's expression darkened and his fists unconsciously clenched at his sides.  "But they did not bury him."

                "What?!"  Will hissed, not wanting to draw any other marines into the conversation.  "What do you mean?!  I thought the Navy was more decent than-"

                "Mr. Turner," Norrington snapped, cutting Will off pointedly.  "He was not buried because the cart carrying his body to the gravesite was attacked.  Sparrow's body was not recovered."

                Will's jaw went limp and all the anger once directed at Norrington drained and pointed itself to a new, unknown target.  Whoever had dared to keep Jack from a burial would pay; and soon.

[a/n:  Please review, it keeps me writing and will get this story done sooner.]