Disclaimer: Once upon a time, a writer chose to play with other people's characters, places, and things. And the writer lived poorly ever after.

A/N: This is an author's note merely to announce that the twelfth chapter will follow this author's note. Thank you.

Chapter 12: Understanding and Misunderstanding

Murphy ducked out of the back door of the tavern and into the alley. A heavy-set woman-- probably the wife of the owner of the establishment, judging by the flavor of the oaths she was shouting at him-- chased him well outside the building and around a corner with her broom before she finally left him with a humph! and a final swat of her broomstick and returned to her own domain.

Murphy shook his red-maned head. Something about women. Seemed they were more territorial than men, most of the time. Violate something a woman considered hers and pay the price. All he'd done was stroll through the back corridors of the place. By the looks of things, there was a small host of harlots that conducted their business in the back rooms.

On second thought, Murphy decided perhaps it wasn't necessarily that he'd simply wandered through the hallway uninvited so much as it was that he'd done so while all the ladies were in various states of unattractive dishevelment, trying to doll themselves up for the night's… well, the night's work. With a last scowling look in the general direction of the building, Murphy turned his thoughts to other, more significant matters.

What was it Rufus had been saying before they had been interrupted by the untimely arrival of Ben, Brant, and their friend? Ah, yes… Jack had found the mysterious Lux on his very ship. Grandson and only surviving heir of a William, who went by Bill…

Murphy stopped, dumbstruck. Could he have meant old Bootstrap Bill? Murphy had never really known the man well himself, but he had seen him in Jack's company a few times. Always seemed a bit… off somehow when he did see the man, compared to all the real blackhearts and scallywags he sailed with. But Bootstrap had been a friend of Jack's. Which meant that Jack would more than likely have access to the man's grandson, right? Perhaps even have him aboard his Black Pearl...

As he stood in the alley, wondering about his next course of action, his mind alighted on the memory of seeing Brant and Ben not a quarter of an hour earlier, when he and Rufus had ducked into the bar to avoid being seen by them. They hadn't been escorting their young male companion then; they'd had that pregnant wench of Jack's with them. Apparently, they'd traded the wench for the other man when they'd stopped by the inn.

Would Jack send his consort to meet with the precious Lux in private, perhaps in a place as unexpected as the inn Murphy had seen them go into? Well, Jack always had been a conniving, unpredictable schemer. It was worth a shot. If he could find this mystical Lux here, of all places, without having to ferret through his friend's ship to find him…

Murphy set off, walking along the alley at the back of the buildings until he came to the inn, a few buildings down from the bar.

"Are you hungry?"

Gwen sat down in the chair Elizabeth waved her towards, smiling her gratitude. "I'm always hungry these days," she said with a groan.

Elizabeth laughed, glancing automatically toward the sleeping bundle that was little Billy. "I understand," she replied simply.

Gwen helped herself to the ample remains of the generous meal the Turners had been enjoying, then took a moment to glance around the room as she began eating. The inn's parlor was a relatively small, but well-appointed and well-furnished room toward the rear of the lower floor of the building. The Turners had probably had to pay a bit extra for the privilege of dining alone here rather than with the normal crowd in the forward hall. But, having spent the last few weeks herself eating ship's store, she could certainly appreciate their desire to come ashore and find an inn that could serve them a decent meal, and she could at least understand why they'd want to separate themselves from the mostly Italian-speaking locals.

"You look well," Elizabeth said after a moment.

Gwen smiled slowly. She could tell her friend wasn't really commenting on her health. "We've… talked," she explained lightly.

Elizabeth nodded, relieved. The last she'd seen of the Sparrows… well, of Jack and Gwen (she was ever having to remind herself they weren't wed), they had been swimming in unresolved tension over their newfound pregnancy predicament.

"Speaking of talking… your butler… or Brant, I don't know how to think of him now… He said that you wanted to talk to me about something in particular? What is that is so important it's brought you all the way to Rome?"

"I don't know how to think of him either," Elizabeth said with a laugh. "He keeps surprising me. But don't worry yourself. Nothing so drastic has brought us here. We… we had an enlightening experience and decided we weren't quite cut out for sitting around, twiddling our fingers, and being thoroughly predictable and dull. So we came hunting after you, and Jack, and a little excitement. And we've found you, too, so all is well, I suppose."

Gwen grinned as she helped herself to seconds.

"What I wanted to talk to you about was… Hmm. Where to begin…?"

"The beginning?" Gwen suggested logically.

"A very good place to start," Elizabeth said, with a little laugh at herself. "The beginning. Well, Will and Billy and I, with our assembled crew, Brant and all, arrived here three days ago. We've spent part of that time combing the area for Jack or you or any evidence that the Pearl was here, or evidence that it had come and gone. Then we realized we beat you here and have just been waiting."

Gwen nodded absently, acknowledging the droll details before the real explanation. She eyed the untouched slice of pie sitting before Elizabeth with some interest.

Elizabeth pushed the plate toward her across the table and went on. "It's what I've heard while we've been waiting that I wanted to talk to you about.

"We were in the marketplace, only a few streets over from here, just yesterday. There was an older woman at one stall who spoke English rather well compared to most. She was speaking with a British gentleman about 'the graves' when I first saw her. When the man left, I approached and asked her what she had meant.

"She told me there have been several ancient gravesites found recently, tombs and such, looking as though they'd been robbed. And some people think it's odd that so many are being found all at once. The old woman… she seemed to think that it wasn't that people were finding them and then trying to get in for burial treasures. She claimed the dead were finding their way out."

Gwen frowned, but she didn't look as surprised as Elizabeth had been by the woman's assertions. Eyeing her friend curiously, Elizabeth continued, "So I talked to her for a while. She told me some of the old local legends. In one of them, she mentioned a bloodline of… sorcerers, I suppose. The way she described them, she believes they have strange abilities, and she thinks they're related to the grave incidences somehow. And some of what she said… it made me think, for some reason, of that Bill Jacobs. You remember him?"

Gwen froze. She put her fork down, sipped at a glass of water, and turned her full attention now to Elizabeth. "Of course I remember him." How could she ever forget?

"Do you think there could be truth to the old woman's tales, Gwen? She mentioned that these people, this family line, could kill people with a thought if they wanted to. And they could amass fortunes for their patrons… That would explain how, according to Jack's tales at least, Jacobs had so much success all of a sudden, just before he went missing. And it could explain… well, Tom's death. I know it sounds crazy, but I've seen odd things happen before, with that curse when I met first met Jack... Gwen?"

Gwen's expression had sunk into a very deep grimace, as though she were struggling with something.

"Elizabeth," Gwen said then, the word sounding much like a sigh of relief. "There's no reason you shouldn't know. I'll feel better sharing with someone else anyway."

Elizabeth looked surprised, but leaned forward, toward Gwen. "What is it?"

"What the woman was saying, Elizabeth… it could very well be true. I know that sounds mad, but… Do you want to know what really happened on that island?"

Elizabeth took a breath and offered, "Jack told everyone that Jacobs had gone mad and attacked the two of you, and then killed himself."

"That's only half-true," Gwen confessed wearily. "He was mad. Part of him wanted very badly to be a good person, and part of him wanted very badly to hang on to his treasures at all costs. The latter was the man who attacked us. But it was how he did it…"

Gwen looked into Elizabeth's eyes, morbidly wanting her to understand what it felt like, since she and Jack, by tacit agreement, never mentioned their shared near-death experience. "It feels like your blood turns to steel in your veins. The air turns to rock in your lungs. You can't hear or see or feel because the world begins to fade away and become darkness. That's how Tom died, trying to fight it, but it can't be fought."

Elizabeth reached out to lay a comforting hand on Gwen's arm but didn't interrupt her.

"And in one way of seeing it, Jacobs did kill himself, I suppose. But I was the one that did it." Gwen ignored Elizabeth's gasp and plowed on," I shot him, before I could lose the feeling in my hand. I barely knew whether I had managed to pull the trigger or not… I didn't hear it fire, I didn't see him fall. And then, when I… when I came to, he was dead." Gwen paused a moment, but then she hurriedly changed the subject, going back to a previous detail, "Jacobs did have strange abilities. From what we've learned since then it seems he didn't fully realize it all until he was actually told that he could do these things. After that, he managed to amass a great wealth for himself and his men. But then, he grew jealous of his own crew over his treasures and killed them all, in the same way Tom was killed, and the same way he tried to kill Jack and me. But afterward he felt very guilty, and exiled himself with his treasure so he couldn'tcommit any such crime ever again. I guess what he had done to his crew ate at him all those years alone and drove him mad. I…" She trailed off, anxiously chewing at her lower lip.

Elizabeth blew out her breath, shaking her head in astonishment when Gwen didn't finish her sentence. "So all that… Is that why Jack wanted to come here, something about those legends, and graves and all? Something about Jacobs?"

"Yes… and no." Gwen took a steadying breath. "There's one more thing you don't know about Jacobs. He was… my grandfather."

As though on a cue for a convenient distraction, Billy suddenly awoke and began fussing, making all the warning sounds a polite infant will make before unleashing his full battery of wailing and crying. Elizabeth sprang to her feet to collect the baby from the soft couch where he'd been put down to sleep near the fire. As she soothed him, she turned back to Gwen, brows furrowed. "Your grandfather?" she repeated.

Gwen explained in a rush, "My mother was born in the Caribbean somewhere. Her mother, my grandmother, took her to England alone to raise her there. She taught my mother to read and did her best to provide well for her. When my grandmother died, my mother was very lucky, almost unbelievably lucky, to wed a very wealthy man, my father. Almost like there was something more than just dumb luck at work…" Gwen frowned, for the first time really considering that. If this truly was purely hereditary, then her mother would have had the same abilities as Jacobs. Perhaps her mother had unwittingly used her Lux charm to lure such a promising husband?

She pushed those thoughts aside to consider later, and went on, "My grandmother's name… was Rosemary." She took a deep breath, then began from her grandfather's side of the story. "In Jacobs' cabin on that island, I found evidence that he corresponded with a favorite whore of his, whom he was teaching to read in exchange for her... services. One who entertained notions of returning to England someday, to become a lady. He called her Rose." Gwen hesitated, then added, "He even mistook me for her on the island, when his madness was on him. I have no doubt that he really was my own grandfather."

Elizabeth didn't say anything for a long moment. "That complicates things a bit," she finally said, smiling hesitantly and uncertainly.

Gwen was relieved atElizabeth's attempts to make light of the weighty information she'd just shared. She reached for her water glass, downing half of it. Sighing appreciatively at the feeling of sharing a burden with a friend, she leaned back in her chair. She hadn't really realized that it was such a burden.

But that was probably true, at least in part, because Jack wasn't much of one for talking about serious matters seriously. Anytime she idly asked about his old gunshot scars or the terrible scars weaving across his left forearm, or about the slashes across his back, he usually joked and spun half-true tales of his adventures gone awry. He treated his close brush in that cave with Gwen as nothing more than an anecdote, too, for use when his usual bar-tales didn't win him enough attention. Normally, this was just fine with Gwen (especially since he could weave a very intriguing tale), but every now and then, like now, it didn't seem at all funny or ironic to her.

"Gwen?"

Gwen looked up, a bit startled. Oh. Lost in thoughts again. Elizabeth was smirking at her.

"Sorry," she said, heaving another settling sigh. "Sometimes I wonder how I manage without you around."

Elizabeth grinned. "Speaking of managing," she said, walking back to where Gwen was seated, "would you like to hold him now?"

Gwen looked at the little bundle in her friend's arms and started to make some protest, but before she could argue, the child had been deposited in her arms and Elizabeth had stepped back, smiling bemusedly at her. Gwen looked up at her helplessly as Billy began to fuss at being passed about.

Elizabeth didn't offer any words of advice on what to do with him, but said, "You'll have your own to care for soon, you know."

Gwen didn't say anything. She tried not to think about the end of her pregnancy, neither the labor nor the babe. She wasn't especially looking forward to either of those issues. But as the Turner baby started to cry, in a thin, petulant wail that gradually grew stronger, Gwen slowly got to her feet and began to pace with him, as Elizabeth had been doing.

Elizabeth watched her for a moment, then, turning her mind back to their conversation, meditatively said, "So there's truth to an old woman's fairy tales."

Murphy crept up the hallway, listening carefully for the sounds of people walking or talking. He came to an open door just up the hallway from the back door he'd let himself in. After listening carefully, he realized that the conversation inside was nothing more than the kitchen-idling gossip of a woman and her daughter, probably members of the owning family. He managed to sneak by without catching their attention.

At the next door up, which was cracked halfway open, he paused again to listen, and prepared to creep pastthis one as wellwhen the words he caught halted him.

"There certainly seems to be more than just fable to it," came a vaguely familiar female voice. "Besides all of that, well… there have been things happening on the Pearl that I can't explain away. Shh, Billy. What am I doing wrong?"

Someone from the Black Pearl! Murphy heard footsteps, then another woman's voice, "Put your arm there. There you are." There was a sigh, then, "He looks so much like his father already…"

There was a pause, presumably because they were looking at the baby. Murphy scowled, toying with beard as he leaned against the wall outside the doorway. Billy? Named for his grandfather, no doubt.

So the heir was nothing but a child.

Still… they claimed there were strange things going on aboard the Pearl. Perhaps the babe already had some abilities? He must be very powerful indeed. Perhaps powerful enough for Murphy's purposes, even if the infant was far too young to know it himself.

Edging nearer to the door, he listened carefully for a few seconds more, to determine the exact positions of the occupants of the room. All he would have to do is dash in, grab the child, and flee the way he had come, out the back door. He could be back at his ship in a trice. If he was lucky, Jack and Anamaria would still be in the bar where he'd left them, and without them to question him, he wouldn't have to explain to their crews why he was leaving the trio so suddenly.

"Here," came the voice of Jack's wench.

Judging by the fussing of the babe and the soothing sounds made by the other woman, the child was being passed back again. Perfect opportunity.

Gwen's reflexes took control before she had time to think about it. Just as she was handing Elizabeth her son back, a great red-haired man darted through the door, straight toward where they stood in the middle of the room. Gwen had her sword out from its specially concealed place in the folds of her skirt before she even had time to actually decide to do so.

She exchanged surprised looks with the attacker. He seemed surprised by the fact that a woman had drawn on him, and that she had done so with such alacrity. For her own part, Gwen found herself struck speechless as she realized that this was Jack's friend, the large red man called Murphy, who had traveled with them across the Atlantic in his red ship.

He hesitated, as though uncertain about whether to draw his own sword or not. He took a half-step toward Elizabeth and her child, and Gwen moved to strike. At that, he had his own sword out in self-defense in a fraction of a second.

Gwen had never actually fought a real opponent. Still under Jack's tutelage (or at least she had been until he refused to spar with her anymore while she was pregnant), her only opponents to date had been shipmates who had no intention of doing her any harm and whose only motive was to help her learn and practice. Despite her protests, she'd never been allowed to board a merchant ship until the other pirates had resistance under control. But if her lack of true experience with the blade or if the awkwardness caused by her stomach were disadvantages, her motive was enough to overcome them. With a real opponent came a real purpose to guide her sword.

The metallic clash of blade on blade rang out, and Gwen was certain that the sounds would soon bring some of the inn's other occupants to investigate. But the seconds stretched longer and longer as she labored to keep up her defense.

Jack always made it seem so effortless, while she still found herself analyzing moves one by one, trying to remember the correct parry and execute it properly even with the hindrance of her belly. But for all that effort just to keep her defense alive, she still managed to spot every opportunity of striking back.

Compared to all of the energy she put into warding off Murphy, the man seemed almost bored, and it was clear he didn't want to fight her at all. But neither could just stop. Gwen had no way of being sure he would abandon whatever he had been about to do (it looked to her as though he had been going after Elizabeth's baby, oddly enough), and he had no way of knowing that she wouldn't slash at him if he were to break defenses and bolt for the door.

Gwen blocked a high thrust, following through with a tight arc, pushing his blade out. The move didn't fool Murphy, and he wasn't about to leave his middle unprotected with his sword out at his side. With a smooth, cool motion, he flicked his sword back and up again, deflected another strike from Gwen's blade, then lunged forward, with his sword at an angle, protecting his entire torso.

Gwen hesitated as she recognized the move. The one Jack had drilled her on over again and again. But that had been at least a month or so ago, and she'd not quite mastered it even then. The second's pause was far too much. She brought her blade up to ward off the blow, but just a hair too late. It struck too high on Gwen's blade, and her sword faltered.

She didn't drop it, but before she could resettle her grasp on the hilt and raise it again, Murphy had seen his chance and dashed at Elizabeth. Elizabeth was by no means one to give up without a fight, but the much bigger man wrested her baby from her easily enough. And then, in a single wink, he was gone. And right behind him went Elizabeth.

What had seemed like several long minutes had in fact only been a few short seconds. The sounds of belated saviors preceded a trio of men and a plump, wide-eyed woman into the room. Gwen hastily sheathed and hid her sword again, not wanting to be more a spectacle than she already was. But she didn't pay any attention at all to the questions being posed by the interlopers. She hurried out into the hallway.

There were a handful more people lining up in the hall to her right, so she guessed at where Murphy and Elizabeth had gone and veered to her left, calling loudly as she went, "Do something." Do anything but stand there, for heaven's sake, really.

But just as Gwen stepped out the back door, Elizabeth came running back, wiping her eyes but clearly trying to keep a handle on her wits. "I lost him, around a corner, he was just gone and I couldn't... Will," she stammered to Gwen, under her breath. "We have to go find Will."

The two women began to push past the bewildered group of people without saying a word to them. As Gwen stepped into the fading sunlight out front of the building, painfully aware of how tightly Elizabeth was clutching her arm, she glanced about quickly for the nearest pub. She spotted one just up the street and assumed it was as good a place as any to begin searching for the misplaced men.

As they hurried toward it, as quickly as Elizabeth could pull Gwen's cumbersome body after her, Gwen's thoughts flitted back to the great red man. Why on earth would he want Elizabeth's baby? And for heaven's sake, she knew better than anyone what a villain and scoundrel Jack could be, but even so, he wasn't vicious. Somehow she had just assumed that any of his good friends must be of similar mettle. Apparently, she'd been wrong.

Where on earth was Jack anyway? If he was still in that bar while his friend was running around, kidnapping babies and then disappearing with him...