A/N: Yes, I know, I should be sent to the gallows for not updating. I've been so busy though…college acceptances are forcing me to go and visit each one. Which means I have to spend my weekends hearing some teeny-bopper explain to me why I should waste thousands upon thousands of dollars at her school. **Snort** Sorry if I sound bitter…I just miss writing! Please review this chapter…I hope you enjoy it.

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Pirates of the Caribbean: The Wind's Eye

Motherhood, Misery, and Mystery

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He tried to comprehend what his cousin told him, but he found it hard to stop gaping. He stared at her for so long in complete silence that his eyes began to water. He blinked, realizing how he must look, and cleared his throat. She said nothing.

He followed her gaze downward to stare at the intricately woven Persian rug beneath them. Pretending to study its ornate design, Kidd was actually trying to figure out what, in the name of God, to say. He had no idea that Elizabeth had been through so much. And now her husband was accused of murdering Commodore Norrington. This wasn't a feather-light matter.

He cleared his throat once more and raised his eyes to focus on her. "I had no idea…"

Elizabeth nodded but remained silent. Her eyes were still upon the Persian rug.

"Er…" Kidd stumbled over the words that were meant to be comforting. He was never very good at soothing conversations – he was a pirate, for God's sake.

"I just don't know what to do." Her voice was soft yet controlled, and only contained a wisp of regret.

Kidd rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out a plan of action. Jailbreak? No; if Turner is being accused of murder, then he would be heavily guarded. Yet his men could create a distraction…a riot of sorts. If they could remove all of the guards from the jail, leaving only a few…

Well, Kidd could take care of that.

He nodded his head. Jailbreak en route of a distraction it would be.

"Ok, Lis, I think I've got – " Kidd broke off when he saw Elizabeth's face. She was crying silent tears.

Dammit, Kidd thought, biting his lower lip. I hate it when women cry…

"Oh, Lis." He reached for her and she fell into his arms. She continued to cry noiselessly, but he could feel her ragged breaths against his chest. Shaking his head and cursing the day when Elizabeth fell in love with a blacksmith, he whispered, "I'll get him out, Lis, I promise. I'll get him out."

He felt Elizabeth nod as she pulled away from him, furiously wiping her eyes. "I've never cried so much in my life."

Kidd grinned. "There's a first time for everything."

Elizabeth snorted. He loved it when she did that – being prim and proper was not Lis's cup of tea.

Feeling the mood lighten ever so slightly, Kidd clapped his hands together and looked around the room. "I think I've got an idea."

"And I think I have to tell you something."

"By all means."

She looked down at her hands that were folded in her lap. She seemed apprehensive, bouncing her knee and sniffling awkwardly. She avoided his gaze by either focusing on her hands or staring directly past him. She bit her lower lip. It wasn't a good sign.

Kidd narrowed his eyes. Undead pirates. Jack Sparrow. The Black Pearl. Heathen gods who were bloodthirsty, waiting for revenge to quench their thirst. What else is there to tell me?

"I left out a few details…"

Kidd waited patiently, studying her intently. She was still avoiding his gaze.

"Um…well…see, I'm, ah…" She began to fidget again, but Kidd still kept himself composed. She would tell him when she was ready.

"You see…Will and I…we're, um…see, the curse didn't break because…ah, Will's not the last of the Turner bloodline." She continued to stare at her hands.

Kidd looked at her intently, but nodded slowly in semi-comprehension. "Then he has a sibling?"

She shook her head, a little too quickly for Kidd's taste. Why else wouldn't the curse break? If it needed the last of the Turner bloodline…

Then it struck him.

"Oh my God." It was all he could say.

He saw color rise in her cheeks, and she smiled shyly, glancing around the room. He felt his mouth drop open once more.

"You're WITH CHILD?!"

"Shhh! For goodness sake, William, keep your voice down!" she said harshly, her eyes darting towards the door. "There's no need for all of Port Royal to know."

"But you're pregnant."

"Yes, I am."

"With child as in…having a baby?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "No. With child as in having tea. Yes…with child as in having a baby."

"But…you can't be pregnant." He knew he sounded stupid. But his mind could not let him grasp the fact that his baby cousin was pregnant. She just couldn't be.

"Why not?" Elizabeth's tone was not as annoyed anymore. She seemed almost amused.

"Because…well, I mean, to have a baby, you have to…um…" Kidd rubbed the back of his neck with his hands. He couldn't say the word.

Elizabeth laughed, genuinely smiling now. "Well, I'm glad the infamous William Kidd knows the requirements of creating a child."

"But…you're my baby cousin…" he said, still shaking his head. This is bloody insane…

"Not so much a baby anymore," she said, her eyes sparkling.

He eyed her cautiously. "You're pregnant?" he asked again. Perhaps he hadn't heard right.

"Do I need to write it down for you?"

Kidd's incredulity disappeared and he grinned. "No…I think I've got it, thanks. Have you told your father?"

Elizabeth's smile faded. "Not yet."

Kidd laughed out loud. "I can't wait to see the look on his face when he finds out his nephew is a pirate and his daughter is pregnant because of one."

~*~

It was a miracle that he was alive. Everybody said so. They reminded him so many times, in fact, that Jack had the innate urge to punch every single one of them.

"I can't believe ye made it," Gibbs muttered again, shaking his head. "We was sure you were a goner."

Jack stared at him for a moment before grinning. "You forgot one thing, mate."

"What? That you're Jack Sparrow?"

"No. That I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

Gibbs grinned. "Good to have ye back to yer ol' self, Jack."

"Aye," nodded Dolan.

"Yes, well, lucky I didn't die, considering you bloody good-for-nothings haven't figured out a way to get out of here, have you?" Jack commented, studying his surroundings. He saw Anamaria, still unconscious, being tended to by Ingrid. He forced his eyes to look away before the anger rose too profoundly in his chest. He saw the crew of The Victoria Anne smiling at him from an adjacent cell, saw Gibbs and Dolan and Bootstrap. But…

"Where's our father-to-be?" he asked Bootstrap, smiling slyly.

Bill's jaw tightened as he looked away. He didn't answer.

Jack narrowed his eyes as he studied Bill, whose once regal stature had diminished to a slightly hunched, weary, slight frame of a man. He turned his eyes on Dolan who stared down at his boots, and to Gibbs who took a swig from his flask, all of them obviously avoiding his gaze. "Bloody hell, what does it take to get an answer around here?"

"Ratherford took him away," Dolan commented, still staring at his boots. "For questioning, reckon."

"Bastard," he heard Bootstrap mutter vehemently.

"How long ago?" Jack asked, his eyes still on Bootstrap. He could feel his mind becoming numb.

"About two days ago," Gibbs commented, taking another swig.

Jack's heart sank. "And you've heard nothing?"

"Nothin'. Just the howlin' of the wind."

Jack's eyes squinted as he tried to think of what to do next. But the grim reality of the situation began to sit in, and, for the first time in Jack Sparrow's life, he felt completely vulnerable. Incapacitated, still extremely sore, and without a clue as how to remedy the position they were all in, he quietly chastised himself for letting the turn of events take a hold of him. He liked to believe he was in charge of his own destiny, making all of his own choices, his own decisions, free of anything to tie him down.

But now, it looks like his decisions were being made for him. With no outlet, with no means of escape, with injured, exhausted, and weary comrades, Jack knew that their outlook was dismal. There was nothing he could do about it.

At least, for the moment.

A shaft of light appeared, and Jack winced – it had been dark and dreary in the jail. But the opening of the door caused a fair amount of shuffling from the prisoners as they all craned their necks to see who was entering. Gibbs told Jack that no one had come in or gone out since Ratherford had taken Will away; he wasn't sure if that was necessarily a good thing.

His eyes adjusting to the brightness, Jack saw a tall man enter, accompanied by two armed guards. It didn't take a scholar to know that by the man's self-important stance, his esteemed posture and his well-bred gestures, this man was Ratherford.

Jack grimaced inwardly, but his face remained emotionless to the eye. More than likely, the commodore was coming to interrogate him, the same way he interrogated Will. He inhaled deeply, calming his quickening heart, quieting his churning stomach, and preparing himself for both physical and mental torture inflicted on him by a man whom he would give his right hand to kill.

Ratherford's hawkish glare held a sickening gleam to it, and Jack felt his heart catch in his throat. It was something about the triumphant expression on his face that made Jack's mind scream.

Will!

The commodore cleared his throat as he folded his hands behind his back. He surveyed all of them, taking his time, enjoying the sight of their angst-filled faces, their hating glares. It was only when Jack felt his chest was about to burst with anxiety that he spoke.

"William Turner admitted his guilt in Commodore Norrington's murder."

Jack's heart sank for the second time, although he was grateful Will had made the right choice. Knowing how hard-headed that whelp could be, Jack thanked the lucky stars that Will hadn't done anything stupid this time around.

There was silence that followed the commodore's words, and a sick, sadistic smile spread across his twisted face. "Under normal circumstances, he would be hung by the morrow morning."

"And why aren't these circumstances normal, reckon?" Dolan growled, glaring at Ratherford.

The commodore chuckled, and fixed his icy glare upon Bootstrap. Jack felt his spine tingle. Something was wrong…Jack felt his breath catch in his throat. He silently prayed that what he was thinking would not be the case. But he lost all hope when Ratherford spoke the words he had been dreading.

"Because, my good pirate, William Turner is dead."

~*~

Joshua Smithe sat in the local tavern, wishing that Kidd would hurry the bloody hell up. He couldn't stand being in his overcoat and knickers; they jabbed into his well-defined stomach and made it hard to breathe in the already tobacco-filled and sweaty bar. To avoid grimacing, he took another long gulp of his rum, placing it down upon the dirt-filled, cracked table with a loud thud. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve but stopped himself: that was no way for a gentleman to act.

Damn gentleman…ain't even capable of dressin' comfortably.

Taking his lucky coin out of his pocket, he placed it on the table and stared at it intently. Something about the coin had always made him relax, his body calm and his mind clear. The skull on the gold coin stared back at him unseeing, and Smithe smiled. Must be a pirate's coin, he thought. He could never figure out the meaning of it, but often found himself looking at it, admiring the craftsmanship of it. Molding gold like that wasn't easy.

He slipped it back in his left jacket pocket as he raised his mug to his lips again when he felt a hand reach over his shoulder and plant itself on his chest.

Surprised, he turned around to look at an exotic-looking woman. Dark skinned but with a beautiful complexion, she looked at him slyly, as if she knew something he didn't. He noticed her milky skin that looked silk-soft to the touch, her long, black hair flowing freely down her shoulders, her rich figure enticing to any man who dared give her a second glance. Her arm still rested on his chest and she bent down towards his ear, whispering, "Why are you alone tonight, sir?"

Smithe grinned and looked over his shoulder at her. They were so close he could see the faint tint of hazel in her eyes. "Just enjoyin' a drink by meself."

"Ah, a loner, aye?" she responded. She winked at him and said, "Would ye like some company?"

Smithe felt the longing inside him, but refused to give in to it. He was in a strange port, filled with ever-watchful eyes; he didn't want to get mixed up with the wrong people, regardless of how many beautiful women offered him company. He had always been cautious in unfamiliar circumstances, but as he looked up into her eyes, he felt the longing reach him again. She was so beautiful, so exotic looking, that he was almost unable to say no.

Almost.

"Aye, I would, but not tonight, lassie." He offered her a devilish wink.

She laughed, her eyes mysteriously sparkling. "Suit yerself, sir." She turned to walk away, seductively pouting her cherry lips and brushing her hair aside. A secretive look remained in her eyes as she turned to leave.

"Wait!" he heard himself calling out, standing up and pushing aside the chair, focusing on nothing but the beautiful woman in front of him. "What be yer name, lady?"

She laughed heartily, and Smithe smiled, although he couldn't see what was so amusing. He watched, as if in a trance, as she walked back towards him, her hips swinging, her extremely low-cut blue dress swirling around her lovely figure. She approached him smiling, and stopped when her face was only inches from his. Tilting her head she kissed him softly on the lips, and Smithe felt his chest tingle with desire.

"What be yer name?" he whispered again, losing himself in her striking eyes.

She smiled even wider. "Anamaria. My name is Anamaria."

~*~

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