Completely Objective Disclaimer: If anything illegal is taking place here, I'm completely innocent. Unless I'm guilty. In which case, I still didn't do it!

A/N: The title to this chapter is special, as in, different. Normally, the title has a special meaning. This title, however, is simply a tribute to a commercial I saw that was so wrong I burst out laughing for the rest of the commercial break. Cookies to those who recognize the reference to which commercial (it's an American one, sorry to those across the pond who read). But if you still want to work out some profound meaning in the title after reading, have at it... The author snickers cryptically...
Chapter 12: The Wonders of Wood
"Isn't it a bit early to be going to the women?" Anamaria asked boredly as she finished her rum.

Jack ran thumb and forefinger over his mustache idly. "He's not going to the women," he said of Murphy, who had left the two of them abruptly a few moments earlier, at the end of their discussion.

"How do you know?" AnaMaria asked skeptically, shooting him a 'prove-it' look across the table.

He didn't even deign to look at her, but continued staring down into his tankard. He had just a few swallows of rum left. If he drank it now, he could call the tavern wench and order another. And another after that one. And another after that one. He was tired of rationing out his rum on the ship. But for now, it was much too early in the day anyway for heavy drinking, being only mid-afternoon, and besides which, there was too much going on for him to let himself lose control just now.

So if he just swirled the last of his rum around, watching it sparkle, taking just a small sip at a time, it would last. And his relative sobriety would last as well, at least until dark.

In answer to AnaMaria's question, he merely said then, "He didn't go to the brothels because he can't. He's a eunuch." He accompanied the words with a flick of his wrist and whooshing whistle.

AnaMaria rolled her eyes, and fixed him with an expectant glare, one eyebrow lifted.

Jack narrowed his eyes and shifted his gaze from his remaining companion to the door of the nearly-empty tavern, through which Murphy had passed a few minutes earlier. Speaking in a low tone, he shared the obvious answer that presented itself to him, "He's meeting someone." Then, dismissing that matter for the moment, turning to eye AnaMaria, he asked, "Where did ye find him , after we met a month or so ago? And why did he agree to come?"

"Jack, you know better'n I do how he hunts after old legends and such. He just happened to be in Tortuga that week. Didn't seem too surprised, just hitched off with me to the rendezvous, all excited to participate. He was all I could raise short-notice."

Jack yawned, his face settling into a frown as he exhaled. "What was he doing in Tortuga?"

"What do you do in Tortuga?" AnaMaria asked wryly.

The teasing question brought to mind the last time Jack had been in that place of wonders. He'd had quite a lot to drink. Quite a lot. Apparently Gwen had seen that he'd at least made it back to the Pearl, though he couldn't recall whether she'd been around him all evening or not. He'd awoken very late the next morning, almost noon, to find himself lying on his stomach, stark naked, atop the bed covers in his cabin--with a couple of very tender wounds on his rump, and a very amused Gwen smirking at him across the room.

"At least I found your hat," she had told him. Then she'd left to go fetch him some food to help with his hangover.

Jack hadn't yet found the courage to ask Gwen exactly what had happened.

Now, he cleared his throat noisily and responded to AnaMaria's baiting question, "I'll let ye know when I find out."

She shook her head bemusedly.

"What I meant," Jack went on, "is that I haven't heard of Murphy being around ina few years. Haven't even seen 'im meself till now. He used to be all over, investigatin' for his hobby and robbin' for his keep. Why'd he turn up now, an' where's he been?"

"He said he'd already seen the Romans, been boarded by them," AnaMaria reasoned. "So maybe he just heard some of the rumors, and that flushed 'im out. They found him, then sent him on his way as useless, and he went back to brood and drink."

"He said he met themhere in the Mediterranean, though. Why was he back in the Caribbean to be in Tortuga?"

"If you're thinking what you look like you're thinking…"

Jack waved her sentence away. "I'm thinking about what it looks like Murphy's thinking, and if he's thinking what I think he's thinking, I think I'm going to be sick of thinking, because it looks like he's thinking about things I'd rather not think about."

AnaMaria blinked at him, not about to trouble with trying to sort all of that out.

Jack, seemingly oblivious, flicked his fingers at her tankard as he decisively emptied his own. "Have another?"

Rufus ducked inside a tavern, followed closely by his companion. The two made an interesting contrast: Rufus with his dark hair, moderate build and classic features; the other man tall, robust, and very red.

"That was Jack's wench, wunnit?" the red-haired man asked offhandedly.

Rufus answered an affirmative, then glanced around the bar they found themselves in. "I do not think she or her two companions saw us," he said reassuringly, then gestured the taller man toward a table in the back. "We can talk here."

Murphy followed, mumbling, "What's she doin' with 'im? And wha's th' ol' bum doin' in Rome 'imself?"

"What?"

Murphy shook his head, making a mental note to personally check into the reappearance of Brant the rumrunner later. Waving an idling barmaid over, he ordered drinks for both of them, though he'd already had a couple while talking with Jack and AnaMaria in the last bar.

Rufus fidgeted in the contemporary garb he now sported to blend in with the crowds easier. It itched in places he wasn't quite used to itching in.

Finally, the lass returned and plunked their drinks down on their table. They had ordered something, so their obligation to the establishment was fulfilled. The barmaid had brought them their order, so the establishment's obligation to them was fulfilled. Now they could talk.

Murphy leaned toward Rufus, and began point-blank, "What's happened since we last met?"

Rufus paused to consider the question. He had first met Murphy when the red-haired man and his red ship had tracked down the small fleet he and his superior, Gaius Acerbus, commanded. That had been several months ago now. Murphy had offered to help them in their mission to find their Lux, and then, to help them in their "grand quest." He had argued that because he knew the modern world better than they did, he would be an asset to them. Gaius had politely refused his assistance, but Rufus hadn't agreed with that decision.

This hadn't been the first time he'd sneaked behind his commander's back. Although there was always the chance of being caught and being disowned by Gaius' fleet, he had secretly bargained for Murphy's aid. Rufus was no fool and realized that Murphy obviously wanted something. Regardless of motives, the two men had shared just enough information to realize that both Murphy's ship and Rufus' fleet already had plans to head into the Caribbean to continue the search. Murphy only intended to hunt down Jack Sparrow, his old legend-hunting partner, but Rufus knew his commander to be following their compass-guide into the foreign waters.

Now Rufus frowned, not quite sure where to begin with what things were significant in what had passed since the last time he had seenMurphy alone.

Murphy prompted, "Is Jack in on this or no? I would'na ask him myself. We were'na alone earlier, and I know AnaMaria would'na agree w' helping ye."

"Captain Sparrow," Rufus began, carefully repeating the name and title the same way Gaius always said it, "has been of some use to us, but he has not agreed to help us defeat the enemy. In fact, I am not certain of how much of the upcoming battle he knows about. Gaius expects the rest of the fleet to arrive within the week. Once we have reassembled in Rome port, we will be ready to attack."

"So Jack found yer Lux, then? He knew? I know tha's why ye found our three ships before, in the Caribbean, w' yer compass." Murphy leaned conspiratorially closer. "Who is it? Did 'e actually 'ave him there on 'is Pearl a'ready?"

Rufus remembered their bargain. Murphy had offered advice for finding their all-important Lux and had promised to help keep interlopers from interfering with the fleet's great battle plans. He had also provided Rufus witha great deal of very useful information about sailing the Atlantic Ocean and the Caribbean Sea, bodies of water that had been frequented by Rufus in his own time. In trade for this help, Rufus would devise a way for Murphy to "borrow" the Lux for his own use for a brief period of time. An understandable desire. And thus, an understandable reason why the red man would be more interested in the Lux at this point than in minute details of the upcoming battle.

"We have found the Lux," Rufus said, watching the pleased grin that spread across Murphy's face. "But I must confess," he went on, feeling the need to be honest in this, "I am not sure the success of the search will prove as beneficial as we hoped. We sorely need help in order to defeat the enemy. But when the Lux cannot even control the traditional powers, or even use many of them, it seems…"

Murphy scowled. "Ye're sayin' 'e canna even help me any?"

"I am concerned that this Lux may still be unaware of many of the usual abilities of the bloodline. I have seen some things while on the black ship that cannot be explained any other way, but--"

"Well, who is it, at least?" Murphy interrupted, rather bitterly. Rufus hadn't told him the name of the man they had been looking for months ago, so he couldn't specifically search for him himself. Now, he was being told that even though they'd found the man, and even after all of Murphy's hoping and worrying in the past months, he still might not get the supernatural help he wanted from the fellow.

Lowering the tone of his voice to scarcely above a whisper, though the bar was nearly empty anyway, Rufus answered, "The man we were looking for is dead. Now, the only Lux remaining alive is the grand-child and only heir of William… or Bill, I think he was called--"

Rufus was cut off by a curt gesture from Murphy asthe red-haired mansuddenly stood, cocking his head toward the open front door of the building. Rufus heard the voices approaching the door from outside. One of them sounded familiar. It was the voice of one of the men aboard the Black Pearl, one of the men that they had just seen accompanying Miss Gwendolyn into an inn just down the street, right before they had ducked into this bar.

Oh! He and Murphy certainly couldn't be caught here, conferring with one another. They were supposed to be strangers.

Murphy was already ahead of him in that realization. With no back exits obvious from the main room, he began towards the backroom that, by the looks of the things, served as a headquarters for the tavern wenches. Before he had gone a step or two, he doubled back andsnatched up his drink, so Rufus wouldn't look so conspicuous with two drinks, and dropped a few coins onto the table. Then he disappeared into the back room. Rufus heard a shriek and a giggle and yet another voice scolding, then a back door slamming somewhere. In the same instant, Ben Blades and his previous companion entered the bar, without Gwen but with a third man in tow, nodding toward the bartender and a lingering server-girl as they took seats.

Close call.

Rufus briefly wondered if he was supposed to try to find Murphy again to continue their discussion, but he decided no. He had responded to the message he'd been sent and had complied with it by coming to meet the man. Best he went back now before he got himself caught in his disobedience to Gaius. It wasn't his fault, after all, that he had been interrupted before he could tell Murphy that Gwen was the one he would need to talk to about getting the help he wanted for himself.

Rufus stood, nodded toward Ben, who noticed him ashe settled the tab with bartender using the coins Murphy had left, and then he headed out of the bar and began making his way back to the docks in the distance.

"Have another?"

AnaMaria laughed, but asked more seriously, "How many have we had already?"

Jack frowned exaggeratedly. "What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

AnaMaria snorted as she laughed, then both of them laughed because she had snorted. Finally, she caught the breath to respond, "African or European?"

"Whichever can carry coconuts."

"How many coconuts?"

Suddenly very gravely serious, Jack said, "The same number of drinks we've had." He pointed a finger and stabbed the air for emphasis. And missed. He tried again, trying to poke his finger toward AnaMaria to make sure she got his point. He missed again and knocked over his own tankard. At least it was empty. Giving up on that gesture, he tried another, pounding his hand down on the table. He hit his thigh instead, but that seemed like it would be a good gesture to use as well, so he let it go, and then picked up where he left off, "I'll go get me coat."

He realized he was still wearing his coat.

AnaMaria snickered.

"Well, and we haven't had enough rum," Jack said suddenly. "I'll go catch the rumrumm-- runrummer-- rummerrun-- rrr-- let's have some more. Lass!"

"We've had enough," AnaMaria countered, trying to convince herself to get up and leave. She'd actually had two or three less than Jack, if she'd been counting right. Shouldn't have let him convince her to drink with him. True, he wouldn't try to nick her Gilder, not since he had his precious Pearl back, but she couldn't forget the last time she'd drunk with him, several years ago: when she had finally awoken the next day, she'd discovered that he'd stolen her boat.

And she could tell she'd had too much to drink already, because suddenly even that memory was funny. "Let's go, Jack," she suggested.

"Hmmphsffbl," Jack replied, looking bright-eyed toward the door where the barmaid would come out.

Then he realized he'd been staring at the wrong door. That door was the entrance. He could tell because a few people suddenly entered through it.

"Jack! AnaMaria!" Elizabeth all but flew across the room toward them. Gwen and Will were close behind her.

Jack noticed the serious expressions on all three faces as they approached and he childishly copied them, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes.

"You've got to help us," Elizabeth began as soon as she reached the table. Jack realized suddenly that her eyes were damp and red-rimmed, and he searched inwardly for some part of his mind sober enough to try to rationalize that.

"My baby," Elizabeth went on urgently. "Billy's been kidnapped!"