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A/N: Sorry, I know it's been a while since I updated, but I have not by any means abandoned you all. Thank you very much for all of the positive reviews. I live for feedback, and you guys make me feel so good about this story.

Chapter Seven:

Ana gazed out towards the horizon. The sun was setting, painting the sky with swirls of orange and red. She could understand why the sea captivated so many people. All alone on the deck of a ship, with no land in sight, she felt like the only person in the world. The work and worry of life on land seemed a distant memory. But Ana had not intended to leave that life behind. She did not want to forget, and she did not want to be on this ship in the middle of the ocean.

Chris had always told her that being at sea was the only true freedom ever afforded to a man. But Ana was a woman. She was a woman who felt caged on the deck of the Lady Maria. After drinking a false toast to her husband's health with Mr. Matthews, she had asked if she were permitted to go up on deck. Doyle had said that she were free to roam wherever she liked. She was the Captain's guest, not a prisoner. Nothing felt further from the truth.

Fingering the tiger eye that hung from her neck, she thought about Jack. All she had wanted to do was to find him and surprise him on his birthday. By now, Prescott must have started to worry about her absence. Maybe her brother had found Jack and told him her intentions. Some birthday surprise that would be. Prescott would be beating himself up for letting her come to Tortuga in the first place. He had probably gone straight to the nearest naval outpost and ordered a full scale search. Wonderful.

"You cannot see a sunset so beautiful from land," Chris' voice interrupted her thoughts.

Ana did not turn to face him, nor did she respond. She stared blankly at the sky and kept turning the tiger eye in her fingers. The sunset was lovely, probably the most beautiful that she could remember, but she was still too angry with Chris to want to agree with him.

She shivered in the cooling air. After a few seconds of rustling behind her, Chris draped his coat over her shoulders. She was too angry to want to agree with him, and she was far too angry to accept his help. Shrugging, she let the coat fall to the deck, still not facing Chris.

"I thought you looked cold," he said.

"I'm fine."

Chris moved to stand next to her. She could feel his eyes searching her face. In all the time they had known one another, she could not remember ever acting this cold towards him. They had fought, yelled, and cried. But there was always passion in their arguments, and beneath every disagreement, there was love.

"I didn't give that to you," he said, apparently noticing her necklace.

"No."

"Who did?"

Ana could feel her anger flare. "Are you implying that I owe you some sort of explanation?" she hissed, finally turning to glare at him. "You've been dead for two years, dear husband. For all you know I could have ten suitors vying for my attentions."

Her fury was clouding her judgment. Sarcasm had always been useless with Chris, in the past. He had always been able to see through her bravado to what she was really feeling.

Chris bent to retrieve his jacket from the deck. Holding it in his hands, now it was he who could not meet her eyes. "There's someone else." His words were a statement, not a question.

Ana threw her hands up in exasperation. "Chris," she started. "Why did you bring me here? What did you really expect to happen?"

He swallowed. "I guess, I thought you'd be happy." Not waiting for her reply, Chris descended the stairs, and vanished below decks.

88888

When Prescott had entered the navy nearly seventeen years ago as a midshipman, he had been taught to stand with his hands clasped behind his back. The pose was meant to convey professionalism and dignity, and meant to keep the boys from wiping their noses on their sleeves. He stood in that very same pose, as he watched James Norrington climbing aboard the Loyalty. He looked every bit the proper master and commander of a ship of the fleet. His face betrayed none of the trepidation that was coursing through his veins.

Sparrow had among his colorful crew, a man who had once been a bosun in the Royal Navy. The man was right now, wearing a blue uniform and playing the whistle almost perfectly. Daniels had helped Prescott find enough Navy uniforms to outfit the proper amount of officers and sideboys. To all appearances, the Loyalty was functioning as a normal frigate defending the crown.

"Captain Norrington," Prescott began, after the bosun's whistle ceased it's tune. "What an unexpected delight."

Norrington nodded as his eyes wandered over the makeshift crew that stood on deck. He gave off the impression of knowing that something was amiss, but not being quite able to pinpoint the discrepancy. "A few new crew members, since I was last aboard."

"A few," Prescott had stood in front of the King of England once to recount a particularly fantastic sea battle. His knees had shook and his palms had sweat. But he had trained his voice not to waver. He was calling upon that training this very minute, to keep James' suspicions at bay. "If you'd care to share a glass with me, I have some fine Madeira in my cabin."

"Of course, Captain Tarret."

Prescott poured two glasses of the sweet liqueur once they had gone below decks. He knew James was scrutinizing every inch of his quarters trying to decide what was out of place on this ship. Obviously, he had not been able to paint the cabin, but short of that, he had put everything back the way it used to be. He had removed all traces of the flamboyant pirate captain who had occupied the space for the past year.

"How's Annie?" James asked.

"She's well."

"And Bridget?"

Prescott paused a moment at the mention of his wife's name. "Fine, as well."

"You've changed your cabin?"

James had visited Prescott's cabin many times over the years, Prescott knew the new paint would not go unnoticed. "Bridget's idea," Prescott said, still busying himself with the Madiera.

"That so?"

Prescott nodded, handing James a glass and raised his own in the air. "The King," he toasted.

"The King," Norrington repeated. Once he had sipped the liquid, he said, "I thought I remembered hearing that this ship was taken from the harbor a while back."

Prescott never would have called himself a good liar. Never, that is, until a certain pirate came to Kingston last year. During those days, Prescott had spun tales for Admiralty, his colleagues, Spanish aristocracy, and, of course, for James Norrington. He had wanted to be vague and avoid direct questions, but that would only fuel James' curiosity. Shaking his head in a manner to suggest an unpleasant memory, he said, "that's true, I'm afraid. Nasty business, I took the Steadfast out in pursuit and had to fire on my own ship. Cowards surrendered after the first broadside. Had to fix her up a bit, but she's still the feisty old girl I remembered."

James produced a forced laugh. "Who was responsible for her disappearance?"

"As if you have to ask," Prescott said. "Pirates."

James' eyebrows raised.

"Now, now, I'm in no mood for I told you so," Prescott said, hoping to inject a bit of humor into the tense situation. "Suppose I should have listened to you, when you told me what a bad lot they all are. No exceptions."

"You mean to say that Jack Sparrow took this ship?"

Prescott nodded. "Should've seen it coming, I guess."

"Did you catch him?"

Fighting to contain his grin, Prescott was mentally patting himself on the back. He had James right where he wanted him. Ever since the incident in Kingston, James had become the scourge of piracy in the Caribbean. He had named the wily Sparrow as his personal nemesis and vowed to hunt the man down. All Prescott had to do was mention Jack Sparrow, and James would forget his earlier suspicions. "Damn shame," Prescott said. "He got away from us."

"Hmm."

"That's actually what I'm doing in these waters," Prescott expanded, hoping to engage the other captain.

"How's that?"

"Rumors that Sparrow was sighted near here."

"Here? Where?"

Now Prescott did smile. He had James, hook, line and sinker. "I'm fairly certain he's less than a days' sailing ahead of us."

"Really?"

"Has himself a little sloop, these days. Two masts, redwood. Named the Lady Maria."

A smile was taking hold of James' face. "Are you certain?"

"Well, one can never be certain with these kinds of stories, of course."

"Of course."

"We were told that Sparrow was aboard."

"Yes?" James was practically salivating with excitement.

"As I said, can't be sure. However, I did visit a pub frequented by pirates . . ."

"You did?"

"Um, yes. Wore a disguise, of course. The man I spoke with said that the Lady Maria was sighted in the area this morning. He didn't know if Sparrow was still aboard, but at the very least, she is a pirate vessel and needs to be brought to justice. One less pirate is a good thing, I always say."

"Indeed."

"I don't suppose I could enlist the aid of the Interceptor?" Prescott asked, finally getting to the crux of his plan. "She is a good deal faster than my old girl."

James smiled. "Of course, I would be glad to be any assistance."

"Wonderful," Prescott answered. "A toast, then, to our good fortune?"

"I would love to, Captain, but I really must return to the Interceptor to make the necessary preparations."

"Understandable," Prescott said, his voice full of mock regret. "Hopefully we will be able to raise a glass to our success very soon."

James shook Prescott's hand quickly, as he turned to practically run back to his ship. "Don't bother above decks. I'll see myself over the side."

Prescott folded his arms in front of his chest and sat on the edge of his desk. He laughed softly to himself. His plan had worked admirably.

"I once told your sister that she'd make a fine pirate," he heard Sparrow's voice. "Seems to run in the family, eh, mate?"

Prescott turned to face Sparrow, as he emerged from the sleeping quarters. "Been there the whole time?"

"Aye."

Shrugging, Prescott moved to pour himself another glass Madeira. "Join me?"

"Why not." The pirate took the offered glass and sat behind the desk. "I half expected you to tell him the 'ole story. Couldn't of 'ad that."

Prescott smiled. "Planning to shoot me if I gave you away?"

"Something like that."

"Well, Captain Sparrow, I have lied to an officer of the crown, sailed with a pirate crew out of Tortuga, and sent my best friend, under false pretenses, off to chase down my brother-in-law. I think we can safely say that I have bid a fond farewell to my life in the King's service. So, I shall raise a toast to piracy, the only career choice I seem to have left."

The pirate laughed, lifting his own glass. "I'll drink to that, mate."

"You'll drink to anything."

TBC

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