Disclaimer: If Pirates of the Caribbean stuff is P, Delphein's stuff is D, and this story is S, then S - P equalsD. Wasn't that easy?

Chapter 5: Beginnings
"How long were ye going to lie, Gwen? Did ye thinkye could hide it from me forever?"

Gwen frowned deeply at him. "Jack," she began, her tone questioning, uncertain. She wanted to demand an explanation of him, as she might normally do. But, unable to piece the words together, she didn't continue.

Jack's incensed expression didn't change, but his eyes raked down her body. Inexplicably, Gwen felt suddenly naked. Which, of course, she was. But the way he was looking at her…

Well, normally she felt he simply looked at her appreciatively- hungrily, even, if he was in the mood. Now, she felt that he was judging her, sizing her up somehow. She didn't feel desirable with him looking at her like that- she just felt naked.

Having to will herself not to squirm under his scrutiny, Gwen tried again, "Jack, hide what?"

Jack scowled at her. Hide what indeed. His mind rapidly flipped through all of the obvious things he should have caught sooner. Finally, seeing she wasn't going to confess easily, he spat out one of the more suspicious bits of evidence that occurred to him.

"When was the last time you decided not to… play?"

Play cards? Or play with Jack? Either way, Gwen didn't answer.

"When did you start taking naps, Gwen?" His voice was cool, collected, but his eyes- those blasted dark eyes- were boring straight through her.

Gwen started to respond, reflexively, to point out that she'd only taken a few naps recently. And that hardly counted as starting a habit. But she flinched in spite of herself and forgot her reply when she felt his hand at her hip. Gliding his touch over her skin, he rested his palm flat just below her navel.

In that same unruffled, low tone, he asked, "How long?"

Gwen froze as the question, and all of his implications, sank straight to the pit of her stomach like a leaden weight. How long?

Oh no… no, no, no, no, damn, damn, damn. Hardly thinking what she was doing, she rolled away from Jack, sprang to her feet at the opposite side of the bed. She scrambled into her clothes again, swearing in an unthinking stream of sailor's curses under her breath, no idea where she was going. She just needed to get away from him now, needed to think.

She hardly noticed Jack get up and start hunting for his own clothes, where she'd tossed them away not twenty minutes earlier. She hurried from the room, well aware that she was fleeing, making her way through the dimly-lit corridors.

When was the last time she'd decided against "playtime," the last time she'd forced herself to refuse Jack's intimate advances? A few months ago. Damn herself, all the way to hell and back forty times. She'd forgotten. How does one forget something so bloody important? How could she have been so… irresponsible, so stupid?

When did she start taking naps? As Gwen let herself outside, into the moonlit garden behind the Turners' home, her mind brought up memories of Elizabeth heading below decks on the Black Pearl for her afternoon nap.

Elizabeth. She knew. That's what she had really meant by the question she had asked Gwen when she had first arrived early that afternoon. That's why she had seemed a bit confused by Gwen's answer.

How long… until the baby is born? The same question Jack had just asked her.

Gwen sank down onto a garden bench, her hand on her stomach.

Jack. Was he angry with her only because he thought she'd been hiding it from him? Or was he angry because… because she was pregnant?

This couldn't happen! She didn't want this, didn't need this. She was a pirate. She had to… to sail, and fight, and… be carefree, unrestrained. And so did the baby's father.

Father. Jack. Two words that just didn't fit together. It was a joke, like the idea of Jack impersonating a cleric of the Church of England. It wasn't something to be serious about.

Just as she wasn't meant to be a mother. Not now. Not with the life she led now. Her childhood domestic fantasies had been replaced by a fantastic life of adventure, which she didn't want to give up for anything.

But besides all of that, what worried- no, what scared her most-

She looked up at the sound of the door to the house opening, waited silently until Elizabeth appeared around a rose bush.

"I heard Jack calling after you," Elizabeth said quietly, sitting down beside Gwen. "I think he's still looking for you in the house. I saw you come outside, though," she explained, pointing up toward the nursery window, which overlooked the garden.

Gwen only nodded. She hadn't heard Jack calling her as she ran from him, but she hadn't been very focused to notice anything at all at that point.

"What's wrong?" Elizabeth asked into the silence.

"I'm pregnant," Gwen said miserably, staring down at her hands, rough and calloused from doing men's work aboard the ship.

"I was wondering if you realized it," Elizabeth said gently, not at all surprised by the confession.

"How did you know?"

Elizabeth smiled. "You carry yourself differently," she said after a long pause, as though she had been trying to find the simplest way to explain intuition. "And I've been where you are now."

Gwen didn't respond to this, so Elizabeth guessed, "So you've just told Jack, then? And he didn't respond well?"

"No, not… exactly," Gwen said slowly. "I… he told me that he knew. He thinks... he thinks I've been hiding it from him. But I... Ididn't know… didn't realize... I guess I didn't respond well."

"Oh."

"Elizabeth…" Gwen said, looking up from her hands to meet her friend's eyes. "My mother died in childbirth."

"Oh, Gwen," Elizabeth said, clasping her hand. But before she could offer Gwen any consolation for the loss of her mother so many years ago, or more importantly, to assure her that it didn't mean the same thing would happen to her, Jack appeared around the rose bush.

He had apparently not been able to find his shirt quickly enough and had abandoned the search. He hadn't bothered with his boots either. Clad only in trousers, barefoot and bare-chested, the moonlight picking out the gleam of his hair jewelry, Gwen would have found him alluring at any other time. But she only looked down at her hands again, tightening her grip on Elizabeth's hand as well.

Jack glanced back and forth between the two women before taking a step closer to Gwen. He stood silently for a moment, as though waiting for her to acknowledge him.

Elizabeth watched as he swayed, as if still on the ocean, apparently trying to decide if he should make an off-hand teasing comment or say something serious. For herself, she was trying to decide if she should stay to back-up Gwen or if she should leave the two of them alone for this. Finally, she concluded that the carefree couple needed to learn to work together to deal with important matters like this. She stood, squeezing Gwen's hand before releasing it, and returned inside.

Jack watched Elizabeth walk away, then took her abandoned seat beside Gwen on the bench.

"A whelp, aye?" he said at last. He seemed to have realized that Gwen hadn't been hiding it from him at all. The realization was as much a shock to her as it was to him. If not more so.

Gwen exhaled heavily, as though trying to steady herself. "I didn't think…" she said softly, sounding choked. She didn't look up at him.

Jack stiffened, feeling uncharacteristically awkward as he suddenly realized she was crying. And trying to hideher tearsfrom him. He couldn't recall ever having seen her cry. She'd been a little upset, certainly, once or twice before. A little unhappy. But not enough to draw out tears and sobs, just frowns.

They sat in silence for a long moment, Jack feeling distinctly incompetent and lost (feelings he rarely, if ever, struggled with), Gwen doing her damned best to appear as though she were merely staring at her hands and not trying to fight back tears of trepidation. She felt ridiculous for blubbering like this, but couldn't help it. She was pregnant, for Davy's sake, the very last thing on earth she needed or wanted.

Finally, uncertainly, Jack reached out and pulled her against him, leaning her head against his chest. Gwen caught her breath in surprise at the unusually affectionate gesture, then gave in to his embrace, letting him hold her while she cried.

"S'long as we're already here, there's no need to raid elsewhere," Jack reasoned, nodding and gesturing in an affirmative sort of way. He took a bite out of his apple.

Gwen listened suspiciously for footsteps and shot Jack a warning look. The Turners, they could certainly trust. But there was never any complete guarantee on the servants. Speaking in a somewhat lower tone than Jack, she asked, "How will you get it all aboard the Pearl?"

"We'll load it up, o' course," Jack said impassively, reaching across the table for the milk.

Gwen paid no heed to his deadpan comment and pointed out, "The Black Pearl will be recognized the instant she sails into harbor. But you would have to sail into harbor in order to 'load it up.' Unless you intend to lug grenades all the way out to the other bay."

"I know she'll be recognized," Jack said impishly, flashing her his I'm-scheming grin. "I'm counting on it. Ye going t' eat that?"

Gwen shook her head and pushed her plate closer to him as she entreated him, "Jack, just once, tell me… what are you planning? How are you going to break into the artillery and get away with it while Norrington is breathing down your neck?"

"Ye've forgotten an important detail," Jack said. He glanced at her plate, then pushed it back towards her, apparently having changed his mind about finishing her breakfast for her. Pointing emphatically down at it, he said, "Eat that."

Ignoring his command, she pushed the plate away again and asked, "You mean, the detail aboutyoubeing Captain Jack Sparrow?" She grinned at him.

Both of them automatically paused and looked toward the open doorframe of the breakfast nook, into the dining room beyond, listening to the sound of approaching footsteps.

Relaxing as they identified the interloper as their host,Jack turned back to Gwen and narrowed his eyes at her for her teasing. "Close. But what ye've forgotten is that Norrington is Norrington. He won't let me down."

"Who won't let you down?" came a voice.

The voice preceded Will into the room. He was followed shortly thereafter by Elizabeth.

"You won't," Jack said, switching subjects easily, turning to Will with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Will glanced from Jack to Gwen as he seated his wife and then took his own chair at the table. "What is it now?"

"Gwen would like a sword," Jack said.

"I've got one, Jack," Gwen intervened. "Will's busy."

"You've been learning to fight?" Will asked, turning to Gwen. He flashed her a grin. He thought for a moment. "When will you be leaving, Jack?"

"Tomorrow," Jack answered, unable to contain his puckish grin at the reminder of his plans. Impulsively, he scooted the remains of Gwen's breakfast back towards her.

Elizabeth watched Gwen frown at Jack and purposefully push her plate away again. She could practically hear Will's thoughts, knew he was trying to decide which of his swords currently at the forge he would modify and spruce up as a gift for their friend, and how long it would take him to do so. And Jack… Elizabeth lifted her eyebrow in bemusement, and asked him, "Will you be leaving with or without naval pursuit?"