Disclaimer: Fanfiction. (fan- fik'-shun), n. A form of writing which does not pay enough to support a dead flea. Savvy?

N.B.: Just in case any eye-for-detail readers wonder: yes, the Black Pearl left Port Royal a few days before Will and Elizabeth. But they didn't have to make a detour to rendezvous with AnaMaria. Besides all of which, it's faster to travel alone, with just one ship, and we can assume that Will and company had relatively good luck with wind, sea, and storm.

Chapter 11: Rome and Rum

The day of the Pearl's arrival into the port of Rome dawned bright and clear.

Or it did for Jack anyway. He, in fact, slept for nearly an hour and a half past dawn, so he missed the haze that had actually obscured the sun's dawning.

When he woke, he immediately noticed Gwen's absence from his bed… and his cabin as well.

He made a mental note to ask Will, the next time he saw him, about how eccentrically Elizabeth had behaved while carrying their young son.

When Gwen had finally gotten over the worst of her headaches, she had also begun to grow too cumbersome for climbing up to her usual post in the crow's nest. Besides which, her persisting fatigue kept her sleeping, napping, and dozing as much as a cat might.

But in the past couple of weeks or so, her remaining few headaches hadn't been more than just dull throbbings, her blessedly few queasy spells vanished altogether, and her exhaustion had melted away.

And now Jack was beginning to think he had caught that exhaustion from her where she had left off. She was now as energetic as ever, if not more so, flitting about the ship quicker than he could even think of trying to keep track of. Gwen was feeling young and vibrant, and he was starting to feel, for the first time, his own age creeping over him.

But many nights, she had been bringing her newfound liveliness to bed with her as well. Though she made snide comments about her own growing stomach, ignoring his sincere assurances that he actually found her new fertile figure very arousing, she had been anything but reserved lately.

Jack groaned involuntarily as he forced himself out of bed this morning. After Gwen had seduced him last night, she had made an idle, cryptic statement that she thought she had finally figured out what Gaius had meant by his talk with her several days earlier. And then she'd fallen asleep. And, by the looks of things, she'd sprang up this morning and disappeared again, leaving him to his own devices while she sauntered about the ship causing mischief.

He glanced about the room wearily, trying to locate his clothes. Or at least enough of them to keep the men from snickering and shooting him knowing glances at his overly rumpled appearance when he emerged.

Finally assembling himself somewhat decently, he stamped into his boots, flopped his hat over his dreadlocks, and went out to greet the morning, however unwillingly he did so.

He wasn't quite prepared for the sight that greeted him, though. His two Roman guests were standing on opposites sides of the main deck, both staring out and back towards their fleet. Or, what was left of it, anyway.

Jack turned to look out to sea as well and witnessed the ancient ships disappearing, one by one, before his very eyes.

But strangely enough... he didn't find it strange at all. As much as he'd seen in his life and as much as he'd had to believe, it didn't take much to wrap his mind around the idea of these disappearing ships. Besides, he'd already been forewarned they could do it.

But heeasily figured outwhy they must be disappearing. He knew very well that they were approaching Rome very soon, and the Romans knew as well as he that there was no need to attract undue attention when they sailed into port.

And that's what really caught his attention: they were going to arrive in Rome today, finally--good weather and wind holding. He'd all but forgotten in his exhaustion.

He was eager to find a tavern once a-land and sit down over a few pints with AnaMaria and Murphy. Even though basic communication from ship to ship was easy enough, carrying on detailed conversations with his fellow captains was implausible over their journey. He had the feeling his old pal Murphy knew something that he hadn't told Jack, and that AnaMaria had something that she wanted todiscuss with him.

He hadn't yet decided whether or not to tell either of them everything that he knew, though. No one had been privy to all that passed between Gaius, Rufus, and Gwen but himself. And he wasn't sure he wanted his own crew any more curious about Gwen than they already were, let alone having AnaMaria and, especially, Murphy interrogating her.

AnaMaria swallowed another mouthful of her rum, eyeing both men in turn. "So you've pointed out that the name Helen and the word lux both translate to mean 'light.'"

Murphy nodded. "Aye," he said over his own tankard.

AnaMaria waited.

"Not so much a name, is Helen," Jack finally volunteered, giving Murphy an odd look. His friend had been obsessed with these obscure legends of ancient history back when they had sailed under the same sails and colors several years ago. In fact, the red-haired man had looped Jack into assisting him in some of his ventures, sallying forth to attempt to sort out the tales (assistance for which Jack had been more than well-compensated for).

"Helen was more of a title," Jack added helpfully, fully expecting Murphy to jump in at any time.

"As in Helen of Troy?" AnaMaria offered.

"Zack'ly!" Murphy said then. "She were'n jes' a pretty face. No woman's worth a thoosan' ships."

AnaMaria fixed him with a flat glare at this, but he didn't seem to notice and plowed on, "But if the woman were'n jes' a woman… fer instance, if sh' could shake th' earth, whip up th' sea, kill a man withou' touchin' 'im, and bring wealth to 'er patrons… well, tha'd be a woman to fight for."

"How come I've never heard of this before?" AnaMaria asked, a bit skeptically.

"How often do ye tell people about yer greatest weapons and tricks?" Jack asked pointedly, grinning at her.

"As often as I like," she shot back at Jack. "I've got wits to think up new ones faster'n they can keep onto."

Murphy went on, ignoring their exchanged words, as well as the scowl Jack was shooting at AnaMaria. "Tha's the closest it's ever come t' bein' mentioned in history," he explained. "Ol' Jack's right. Th' ancien's kept mention of 'em low, so's none's enemies knew where they were to steal 'em away. Course, it's clear Rome-" with his brogue, it sounded more like he was saying 'rum', and Jack grinned- "foond th' fam'ly line. There're plenty o' battles they should ha' lost. Tha's evidence they had their 'lux' with 'em.

"But fer all that, there's no mention of their existence or where they came from. And tha's where th' legends come in. Legends say there be a line o' family what Helen was a part of. And I, fer one, I think they're still alive today, somewhere. And these Romans Jack's got knows how to find 'em, aye, Jack?"

Jack merely nodded distractedly. Then, as though coming back to himself, he cleared his throat and nodded emphatically. "Yeah, yeah." He cleared his throat again."Yes."

AnaMaria gave Jack a suspicious look, then turned to stare at the hairy red man for a long moment. "And why do you want to find them?"

"I don't,"Murphy assured her abruptly. He started to say something else, then stopped and shook his head slightly before starting again, "They've stayed oot o' thought for so long for good reason. No," he said emphatically. "Reason it matters so much is so's we ken keep our Roman pals from finding them."

"Or else, death and destruction?" AnaMaria asked derisively.

"They'll be wantin' to save th' empire, and needin' lots o' help to do it," Murphy put in reasonably.

AnaMaria frowned. "So you claim the Romans came up from their graves to look for this obscure bloodline of sorcerers to help them take back the Mediterranean?"

"In a manner of puttin' it… aye."

"Why now?" AnaMaria asked flatly. "They've had a few hundred years to find help. A bit late to save their bloody empire now, don't you think?"

Gwen watched idly as a young lady across the street in a long, silken gown strolled by in the late afternoon sun, with her escort at her side. It was odd to think that, not all that long ago, she'd been just like her. Dressed in finery, fully expecting to marry comfortably, settle down, and be perfectly content. But just look at what she would have been missing!

Gwen sighed. Missing, indeed. Well, she was missing out on Jack's meeting with his fellow captains now, for one thing. She had the niggling feeling that conversation would be about her, in some way. She desperately wanted to go and eavesdrop, find out what they really knew about everything. In fact, she half-turned and almost set off toward the direction of the pub she had seen them enter half an hour ago.

"Where're we goin' now, Gwen?" came an amiable voice beside and slightly behind her.

Gwen had to contain a sigh of frustration. "Nowhere. We're going nowhere. I'm going nowhere," she said dully, watching as the lady and her escort noticed herself and her own escort and then tried to disguise her curiosity.

The next she saw of Jack, she'd wring his neck. And then wipe that impish grin off his face, which she knew was the response he usually gave her when she was upset with him. A chaperone. Why on earth did she need a chaperone? She was carrying a child, that didn't mean she was one.

Ben nodded boredly at her words, but trailed along behind her when she began walking quickly up the street.

Jack had asked thatBen keep his eye on her no matter where she went, andBen had obligingly assured his captain he would do so. Truth be told, any of the men would have gladly accepted the duty. True, there were perhaps two or three of the youngest fellows who lusted after her still, though they were wise enough to keep it to themselves. But to the rest of the crew, at her twenty years, she was more like a young treasured niece to them. And when it had become apparent to them all that she was pregnant (and that Serge hadn't been wrong in his early guess about her condition), it had only increased the protective way they felt about her.

Still, Ben wasn't blind. He could see Gwen was irritated at having him follow her about like a child, especially since, in the past, she had even wandered the streets of Tortuga alone without Jack flinching in the least at the thought. Thus, he was at least trying to give her a bit of distance, but not so much that he couldn't leap to her side in a split second.

And leap he nearly did when Gwen suddenly stopped to address herself to a man on the street. Gwen had hesitated, but the man had apparently noticed her as well and halted his steps. But that wasn't enough to incite Ben's protective reflex. What nearly caused him to jump out of his skin was who she had stopped to talk to.

The old gentleman smuggler himself.

"Brant! If it's not ol' smoke-brained Brant hisself," Ben exclaimed, coming from behind Gwen to grasp the man's hand enthusiastically. Lowering his voice somewhat, considering their location on a public street, he went on, "There's those that say ye left the business."

Brant's eyes flicked toward Gwen, who by now had obviously convinced herself that yes, this was the Turner's butler, then he looked back to Ben Blades.After a short pause,he cracked a puckish grin and said, "I had an offer I couldn't refuse."

The evasive answer didn't fool Ben in the slightest. "An offer to go elsewhere, or an 'offer' to leave off?" he asked knowingly.

Brant hesitated, and that was all the answer Ben needed. So the man had been forced out of the rum-running trade.

As though noticing he was being remiss in his manners, and to change the subject away from his own past, he turned to Gwen. "Miss, ah… Webster, isn't it?"

Gwen frowned slightly. She hadn't heard the name of Webster in quite a while and had nearly forgotten she even owned a surname. "It's Gwen," she corrected.

"Ah, yes... Gwendolyn. What luck to run into you like this! Miss Elizabeth was hoping she would find you when the Black Pearl finally made it into Rome. It seems she has something important to discuss with you."

"Elizabeth? They're here, here in Rome?" It occurred to her, belatedly, to wonder about the fact that Brant, whom she had always thought to be suspicious but oblivious to Jack's and her own occupation, mentioned the Pearl so carelessly.

"Certainly," Brant said. "That's why I'm here as well. Though it was rather sudden, really, when they decided to come."

"Where is she?"

"Well, I can take you to her, if you wish, Miss Gwendolyn."

"Yes!" Gwen exclaimed. "By all means." Elizabeth and Will here? And their little boy as well she would assume. Why? What on earth could be so important that Elizabeth would track her down like this?

As they began to walk back down the street, the direction she'd just come, with Gwen sandwiched between the two men, she wondered too about the butler himself. A former pirate, perhaps? If Ben knew him, he must have once been involved in something illicit.

Would there never be end to all the little mysteries?