Disclaimer: If I really owned these characters, or even if I made any financial gain off these fics, do you really think I'd be where I am now, rather than buying up season passes and plane tickets to every major theme park in the world?

Chapter 4: Keeping Secrets
"The butler went out for it himself."

Jack grinned up at Gwen, taking the proffered bottle of rum from her.

"That ol' stick?"

"He's not that bad," Gwen said in favor of the serving man as she stepped back to close the door of the guestroom Elizabeth had put them into for the night. "Can you imagine him walking into a bar, though?"

Jack snorted as he tugged off his boots and flopped onto his back on the bed with his rum. Gwen crossed the room to the opposite side of the bed, already barefoot, and shed her skirt before crawling up beside him. Her shirt, one which had been his before she'd appropriated it for her own use, fell halfway to her knees when not tucked into her skirt or trousers, whichever she happened to be wearing at the time. Come nighttime, instant nightshirt.

As she snuggled close against his side, Jack caught a scent that was fresh and clean and lightly flowery. Apparently, Gwen had taken advantage of the Turners' facilities and bathed. As he upturned the rum bottle, he smiled, though somewhat dourly, at a memory that drifted into his mind with the whiff of the borrowed perfumed soap.

One day, several months ago, he'd found Gwen, with basin and washcloth, bathing herself in his quarters. She had suggested, as he watched her with a lewd grin, that perhaps he might gain from cleaning himself up a bit from time to time as well. Eventually, he had caved in. Her powers of persuasion finally won out. Or… perhaps it was simply the persuasive power of a naked, wet woman asking him to get wet and naked as well. Thinking that a sponge-bath would certainly lead to sex, he had decided he could endure a little soap.

How wrong he had been. There hadn't been a little soap. There had been a lot of soap. And scrubbing. And the shocking discovery that his skin tone was a more natural tan shade than the grimy, black-streaked brown he was used to. And above all, in the end, it hadn't led to sex. Gwen had refused him the satisfaction, as she tended to do occasionally.

Half the time she turned him down it was because it was the "wrong time of the month," which he only half-understood and didn't want understand any better. It was scary.

And half the time it was because it was the "right time of the month," as Gwen referred to it, when she refrained from sleeping with him so that the wrong time would keep coming. In spite of what seemed like double-talk and sketchy excuses, he didn't argue with her over it. Gwen would end up explaining to him in order to establish her side of the argument. And he was sure he didn't want to know that badly.

But he had adopted two totally new practices as result of the scouring she'd given him on that occasion. First, he had taken to washing up a bit on his own, just enough to keep her from scrubbing his skin off again. And second, he had developed a very abnormal aversion to entering his cabin anytime he thought she might be there bathing. Abnormal indeed. Who had ever heard of a man avoiding a dripping, nude woman? He only hoped that the crew didn't notice either of these new habits of his.

"What are you thinking about?" Gwen asked at his odd expression.

"Rum," he said, not entirely truthfully. Of course that wasn't what he had been thinking about, but now that the thought occurred, he was thinking of some of the finer alternate uses for the glorious substance.

"So, in other words, you're wondering if you can convince me to bathe with rum rather than Elizabeth's soap."

"Sometimes ye scare me, lass," Jack said, though he didn't sound particularly unsettled. He was used to her seeming to read his mind sometimes. It was the fact that he did the same that unnerved him more. Like the way he knew there was no way she had let it drop yet…

Right on cue, Gwen spoke up, changing the subject. "Why did you lie to Will and Elizabeth about why we're going to Rome? And why are we really going?"

"Friends don't always need to know everything," he responded darkly. Gwen knew he didn't like sharing plans. And she felt that he of all people deserved the right to his paranoia in trusting people too much. After all, he'd had quite a bad turn or two as a result of being too open. But still…

She sighed. "Pretend I'm your enemy, then."

He fixed her with a condescending look. "I tell me enemy even less," he said, as though it should be obvious to her. Which it should.

"But any enemy worthy of the title already knows a lot with you having to tell. So whatever you do tell is more than enough."

He lifted an eyebrow at her logic and upturned his rum again, his only response.

Gwen held up a book then, presenting it so he could clearly see the cover before she began flipping through the pages.

Damn her! She was too good for her own sake sometimes. It was the book he'd been rifling through before she'd come back just a moment or two earlier. He had stuffed it under the pillow on his side of the bed when he'd heard her step in the hallway.

"If we're sailing across the Atlantic just because you heard of some treasure horde some other pirates are going after, and you want to beat them to it, why are you suddenly so interested in reading about Roman military practices?"

Jack winced at her perfectly valid question. As he had hoped, he had found a copy of Polybius' writings, amongst other things, in the eclectic collection of books and manuscripts that was the Turners' library. Gwen shut the volume now and looked at Jack expectantly.

"What did Anamaria really have to tell you?"

He didn't answer immediately. Gwen waited, looking at him expectantly, until finally he answered. He spoke in a low voice, "There have been sightings in the Mediterranean."

When he didn't continue, Gwen prompted, "Sightings?"

"Anamaria and her crew saw one themselves. The ship was coming toward them, but it just… faded from sight. While they were watching it."

Jack seemed to be trying to decide what more he really needed to share or how he needed to explain himself. He took another swallow from his rum, then set it aside on the nightstand just beside the bed. After a few seconds, Gwen spoke up.

"I'm assuming there's something else you're not telling which leads you to connect these… ships to the ancient Roman navy." She waved the book as evidence. "So you, both of you, that is, think that there are ships from centuries ago sailing around and fading in and out, and apparently you think there's something to be done immediately, which is why the Pearl is going to Rome. What you haven't said is what's in it for you, or why you invited other ships along, Anamaria's and whoever else."

Jack shook his head, more as a gesture of amazement at her ability to piece clues together than as a refusal to answer her questions. But he said then, "Permit me a mystery or two, luv. Later."

Gwen eyed him doubtfully for a moment, but eventually acquiesced. At least she knew her guesses so far were right. Knowing she would get no farther with him on this issue tonight, she let the topic slide for now. She leaned over Jack to set his book down on the nightstand beside his rum.

"Eep!" Gwen let out a surprised exclamation that was half-laugh and half-yelp.

With her leaning across him like that, he had stolen the opportunity and grabbed her, right around the ticklish part of her ribcage, and pulled her down atop him. Rather than fight him, Gwen amiably shifted her weight and brought her legs up, moving to straddle his hips.

"Are you happy now?" she asked, smiling down at him from her intimate position above him.

"Give me a few minutes and I will be," he said with a smirk, running his hands down her sides. When they reached the hem of her shirt, his fingers slipped under the material even as he felt her hands gently tugging at his own shirt.

Jack wouldn't ever admit it, though Gwen probably perceived his thoughts on the matter anyway, but there was something to be said for familiarity. Unlike the numerous women before her, Gwen had been around him long enough and frequently enough to learn exactly what pleased him best. She knew better than he did exactly how much teasing he could endure. Just as he knew her completely. He was just as familiar with her body as he was with his own…

Jack adjusted his angle until he found the spot that made her arch her back and tighten her grip on his forearms. He then began a maddeningly slow rhythm. To Gwen's frustrated pleas, he responded only with a grin, gold teeth glinting at her.

When she could stand it no longer, he let her roll them back over, so she was on top again, and let her set her own tempo. Gwen's release came fast and hard, and she collapsed on Jack's chest, feeling the rise and fall as he steadied his breathing after his own release. After a moment, she rolled off of him, settling at his side, resting her cheek on his shoulder, one arm curled around his middle.

Jack frowned. Unaccountably, rather than feeling relaxed and satisfied, as he should have, he couldn't shake a niggling impression that something was amiss. Something wrong with the way Gwen behaved, or… or something. The thought had occurred to him once or twice in the past several weeks, but the doubt had always been swept away as his senses got caught up in the act. But he had noticed, when they made love… something wasn't right, something was different somehow.

But what? Why was it different, what was it that was bothering him about their sex life these days? Though he wasn't thrilled to consider it, he briefly wondered if she had begun sharing the bed of someone else on board the Pearl. What else could it be?

…And then suddenly it all made sense. It was so obvious. It would certainly explain some of the odd behavior she'd exhibited recently. And here she had been pretending he was the only one keeping things secret. And she had been viciously hiding something herself all along. Why would she do this?

Gwen felt Jack's muscles still tensed, sensed his gaze on her. She raised her head slightly and curiously looked up at him. His dark, kohl-lined eyes were narrowed at her, and she couldn't help feeling intimidated at the look in them. His jaw clenched and unclenched.

Confused, Gwen involuntarily shrank back from him a few inches. She had seen him annoyed, irritated, frustrated at her. But she couldn't recall him ever fixing her with a look so angry, so… accusatory.

"How long were ye going to lie, Gwen? Did ye think you could hide it from me forever?"

History Tidbit: Polybius is often referred to as a Roman historian, when he was, in fact, Greek. He wrote about Rome and its rise, with an "outsider's" (if you will) perspective on why and how the Roman Empire became the world power so quickly. He described some parts and details of the Punic Wars between Rome and Carthage in great detail-- including the selection and equipage of Roman legions, both landbound and seafaring.

Polybius is often referred to as a Roman historian, when he was, in fact, Greek. He wrote aboutsome