Disclaimer: I do not own PotC, or anything from the movie.

A/N: Thank you ever so much for all of the great feedback. I'm glad to be back from vacation and able to devote more time to this story. Anyway, onto the chapter!

Chapter Nineteen:

Walking back to her cabin, Ana felt as giddy as a schoolgirl. The kiss she had shared with Jack Sparrow on her balcony over a year ago had colored her dreams nearly every night. Not a morning had gone by that she did not wake up, look to the harbor, and hope against hope that Jack would somehow be there. Running her tongue along her lips, she swore that she could still taste the pirate, and he tasted twice as good as she remembered. Her skin tingled where he had touched her, and her heart was still racing. No one had ever kissed her like that.

"Maria, I was beginning to wonder where you were."

Her husband's voice brought the weight of reality crashing down onto her shoulders. No one had ever kissed her like Jack, but technically she was a married woman. The only man who was supposed to kiss her was standing right in front of her, and a kiss from him was certainly not in the foreseeable future. "I went up on deck for a bit, after talking with Prescott," she lied.

Chris had been out of her life for two years. He had been a completely different person for those years. Ana had no idea if Chris had been faithful to her while he was gone. Two years was a very long time. If she were honest with herself, Chris had probably been with other women. He, after all, did not have to observe a period of mourning. He knew that his wife was still alive and well, right where he left her. All infidelity aside, Chris was back in her life, and he was her husband. Her feelings for Jack were nothing that Chris needed to know about. In fact, if Ana had anything to do with it, Chris need never know that Ana even knew Jack Sparrow. Let him die thinking that his wife still loved him.

Sitting on the bed, Chris was staring up at where she stood in the doorway, but he was not looking at her. His eyes were somewhere very far away from the tiny cabin they were sharing, and those light brown orbs were in turmoil.

"Maria," he said. "There's something . . . there's something I have to tell you, while I still can." His tone was grave and his eyes pleaded for her to sit with him.

In all of the time that they had been married, their lives had been untouched by tragedy. They had both seen enough death and sadness to be truly grateful for that fact. However, during their "happy" marriage, Ana had never seen Chris' face when he was trying to figure out how to let her down easily. She had never heard his voice when he was trying to break bad news to her gently. Despite never seeing these things, Ana prepared herself for the worst. Whatever Chris was trying to say, it was not going to be easy to hear.

"What is it?" she asked, perching by his side.

"Do you remember the night we first met?" he asked.

Ana nodded. "The governor's ball, why?" She chose not to add that she had dreamed of that ball only last night.

"You were wearing that green dress," Chris' voice was laced with memory and his eyes were sad. "You were so beautiful."

Smiling, Ana put her hand on Chris' arm. "Where are you going with this?" she asked, wondering what secrets could be hidden in a night of dancing.

Chris blinked a few times, and turned his eyes to her face. "You asked me that night, how I'd come to be a Captain so early in my life. Remember?"

"Yes." Ana smiled inwardly. She did ask him that question, but she had been flirting and had not really cared about the answer.

"What I told you, . . . what I told Admiralty, wasn't exactly the truth," he sighed.

"What do you mean, not exactly the truth," Ana asked, stiffening slightly, and banishing the pleasant memory from her mind.

"The other lieutenant, Jackson," Chris started. "He didn't die in battle, like I said he did."

Ana's eyebrows came together. "I don't understand."

Chris took a deep breath. "Jackson was my commanding officer. He was . . . ambitious. He wanted to go after the pirates. The counterattack was his idea, not mine. He wanted his own ship. He wanted to be Captain," Chris paused. Ana squeezed his arm, encouraging him to continue. "Just before we were to attack, Jackson called me into the Captain's quarters, where he had already made himself quite comfortable. He was cleaning his pistol. He said that he alone would receive commendation from Admiralty for this action. He said that if I spoke out against him, I would live to regret it."

"He threatened you?" Ana was appalled.

Chris nodded. "We boarded the pirate ship. Jackson was wounded during the fighting, shot in the leg. He was bleeding, and he probably wouldn't have survived but, I-I . . . I told the crew he was dead. The ship was sinking. I left him there." Chris placed his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands.

Brushing his hair from the side of his face, Ana kneeled on the floor by Chris's feet, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Chris, that man threatened to kill you," she said. Ana remembered very clearly the day that she had asked Prescott what Chris did to become a Captain. Prescott had recited the story that all the papers had printed. Complete with evil pirates and enough swashbuckling to fill a novel. Prescott had given off the distinct impression that he did not completely believe the heroic tale, but that he had no real reason not to believe it. Now, Ana knew the truth.

He shook his head. "I should have done something. I could have bargained with him . . . something."

"It's over, Chris," Ana said, soothingly. "You did what you had to do, to a man who had let his ambition cloud his judgment." All her life, Ana had been told, by her mother, her father, and her brothers, that a person could not live their life following only the laws of government. She had been brought up to listen to her heart, because a person could only do right if they followed their heart.

Chris had taken the only course of action that he could at the time. Maybe it wasn't the right choice, but the man was dying. What good did it do to dwell on things that cannot be undone? "Chris," she continued. "A man like Jackson would never have made a good Captain."

"Maria, that wasn't my decision to make," he insisted.

"That was seven years ago," Ana placed her hands on Chris' shoulders. "Maybe you made the wrong choice. You were young, and afraid. But nothing you say now can change what happened." Ana paused trying to think of what Prescott would say in this situation. He always knew exactly the right words. "Nothing you do can bring Jackson back. And, no bad deed all those years ago can erase your years of faithful service to the King. Chris, the Intrepid was one of the most renowned ships in the Navy, feared by pirates, privateers and all of the enemies of England."

Hesitantly, Chris' eyes met Ana's.

"You didn't kill Jackson," Ana went on. "He did die in battle. You were a great officer. Even if your actions that day were wrong, you would have made Captain in no time, anyway."

A slight smile crossed Chris' face. "I don't care what England thinks of what I've done. I just wanted you to know the truth."

"Thank you," Ana said.

88888

Prescott buttoned up the clean shirt that had been left in his cabin, taking care not to further aggravate any of his numerous injuries. He had finally seen the surgeon, who patched him up and told him to get some rest. That was his expert medical advice. Prescott shook his head. He had went directly to Captain Norrington's cabin after he'd left the sick berth. James' had, understandably, not been in the most genial mood, but Prescott did manage to talk him out of a bottle of brandy. Heavenly liquid. Upon returning to his cabin, Prescott had run into an agitated Mr. Daniels. He shared a bit of brandy, reassured Daniels that Jack Sparrow wasn't going to swing from then end of a rope, and then proceeded to drain the entire bottle of brandy. Amazing how three days of piracy could affect a man. He had laid down, intending for the rhythmic rainfall that had just started drumming on the ceiling to lull him into a peaceful slumber. However, he'd been completely unable to find sleep. His last encounter with the indomitable Captain Lucky Laffley had left him very unsettled. He did not want to be the one to break the news to Annie, that her husband was a lying coward who had used an innocent man's death to gain promotion, but she had to know.

The cabin she was sharing with that wretch was just across the corridor. He had heard her enter not ten minutes ago. Stepping into the hall, Prescott took a deep breath. He had given Chris the chance to come clean with Annie. If Chris hadn't taken that chance, then it was his loss. Annie was going to know who her husband really was, one way or another.

As he stood in the hall, Prescott could hear voices in Annie's cabin.

"I just wanted you to know the truth," Chris was saying.

Prescott raised his eyebrows. When he had threatened Chris earlier, he had to admit, he never thought Chris would come clean. Prescott figured that the unfortunate duty of demystifying his sister's husband would fall to him. Shrugging, Prescott knocked on the door. He figured that he better see what the damage had been. Maybe he could help pick up the pieces.

Annie pulled open the door, "Prescott," she said, sounding a bit as though she expected someone else. "What is it? Has something happened?"

"That's what I was going to ask you," he said. "I was passing in the hall, and I couldn't help but overhear."

His sister's brow knit into a look of confusion. Backing away from the door, she looked to Chris.

Laffley stood up from where he had been sitting on the bed.

"She knows," Prescott said.

Chris nodded.

"Excuse me," Annie's voice was raising. "What do you mean 'she knows?'"

Prescott had to admit that, with her hands on her hips and her brown eyes flashing, Annie could be quite an imposing figure.

"Your brother thought it would be best if I told you the true story of my promotion," Chris explained.

Annie's head snapped to the side. Her angry glare fixed on Prescott. "You thought it would be best!" she hissed. "Prescott, were you hanging this over his head? Threatening to tell me, if he didn't?"

Prescott's mouth dropped open. He certainly had not expected his sister's anger to be directed at him. "You needed to know," he said, finally finding his voice.

"Maybe so," Annie said, "but it was not your place to see to it that I was told."

Eyebrow raised, Prescott stood dumbfounded. Where was all of this coming from?

"I'm surprised at you, Pres," Annie said, her voice menacingly low. "Using a man's mistakes against him like this."

"Annie, this was more than a simple mistake," Prescott did not understand how his sister could excuse Laffley's behavior. "What he did to his commanding officer was murder."

"Jackson?" Annie said. Jackson, that must be Sparrow's given name. "That man was a power-hungry swine, and quite frankly, he probably deserved what he got."

Power-hungry? A swine? What in hellfire was Annie talking about?

"Honestly, Prescott," Annie sighed. "I wouldn't have believed that you could be so conniving."

"Conniving?" he repeated the word. "Look, I'm not sure what you're talking about, but I know that your husband has lied to –"

"Lied to me!" Annie was livid, again. "Christopher has been gracious enough to tell me the truth. The only one in this room that has continually lied since being aboard the Interceptor is you!"

Prescott had been struck by a pistol shot early in his career. The force of the bullet had taken him off of his feet and pushed all of the air from his lungs. He could still remember the impact. That shot, however, did not have half of the strength as his sister's words. "Annie –"

"No, Prescott, I want you to listen to me," Annie was shouting now. "It's no secret to me that you've never really liked Chris. But this is too much. He has told me the truth because he wants to die with a clear conscience. And here you are waving his mistakes in front of him like a banner proclaiming all of his shortcomings. I would have thought you could have a bit more compassion than that."

"Chris doesn't have a –"

"No, Prescott, I'm not going to listen to another word," Annie pushed past her brother. "Do us both a favor," she said, once in the hallway. "Just leave me alone until we reach port." Annie stalked off down the hall.

Prescott turned back to Laffley, to find a smile playing about his treacherous face.

"Know your enemy, Captain Tarret," he said, his smile widening. "I believe it was you who told me that."

Prescott had all he could do to resist drawing his sword and cutting Laffley down where he stood.

"I know my enemy," Chris continued. "And my enemy has greatly underestimated me."

"He won't make the same mistake twice," Prescott replied through gritted teeth.

"From what Maria's said, I don't think he'll get a second chance," Chris chuckled quietly as he slammed the door in Prescott's face.

Leaning against the wall opposite the closed door, Prescott sighed and closed his eyes.

"Didn't go accordin' to plan, eh, mate?"

Prescott's eyes flew open. "Sparrow?" his voice came out as a harsh whisper. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"I missed you," the pirate replied flippantly.

Crossing his arms, Prescott's eyebrow rose.

Jack held up a key ring. "It's really no wonder that you can't keep hold o' pirates, Scotty" he said, grinning. "Guards are a wee bit gullible."

Rolling his eyes, Prescott directed Jack into his cabin. "That where you got the shirt, as well?" he asked, noticing the blue and white stripes that the pirate was wearing.

"Aye, when 'e wakes up, down there," Jack said. "E'll be confused, naked, and behind bars. Now, are ye going to tell me what's goin' on up 'ere?"

"How much of that did you overhear?" Prescott sighed, again.

"Not a word. Jus' saw you get amicably evicted from that cabin down the 'all."

"Well, make yourself at home," Prescott gestured to the room's solitary chair. "Cause we've got a problem."

TBC

Well, that's it for now. My birthday is this weekend, and I would consider a review a wonderful gift, so please leave me some feedback on your way out!