Disclaimer: Delphein, proper n. (DELL'- fane) 1) An amateur fanfiction author who turns no profit from her blatant theft of Disney's theatrical property. 2) An individual who takes comfort in the thought that Disney wouldn't bother to sue such an insignificant person over something so insignificant as borrowing a few characters and a ship or two. Right, Disney?

A/N: I'd like to take a moment to set the record straight on "vulgar Latin," in case any of you have heard of this term before. Vulgar is a word that has changed in meaning over the years. Long ago, it only meant "common;" the modern meaning is linked to the fact that many of the prejudiced social elites viewed commoners as crude or uncivilized. By the old definition, a "vulgar" language was a language spoken by commoners of a town, whereas the educated people of a town would give greater care to proper pronunciation and grammar of their own language and often could read, write, and speak additional languages, such as Greek. Thus, "vulgar Latin" is not just a collection of Roman curses and oaths, as many people incorrectly think; it's merely a dialect, if you will, of the Latin language that was spoken by the unscholarly and the common people. By this standard, there are certainly some dialects and accents today that could be called "vulgar English."

Chapter 20: To Bring Life

Gwen's heart was sick as she thought of what she had agreed to do.

"It is not right," Gaius had continued as they had begun to row out to meet the fleet, "for these soldiers to live in these times. They slept the uneasy sleep of a half-death, their souls still alert and waiting for a summons. And now they live a half-life. It isnot right for us to live now. Rome is dead. We have no purpose, but we have no rest."

Now, as Gaius Acerbus, commander of the Lux's lost fleet, rowed them toward the great assemblage of ancient ships and their resurrected crews, Gwen couldn't help but think of the bitter irony. As soon as they were able to hear Gaius' cries of "Subsistete!"-- the Roman soldiers had obediently furled sails and halted forward motion to await their commander. They thought that their general was bringing back to them the one who would give them their purpose, the one who would lead them in a great battle against the ancient enemies of Rome, the one who would glorify the sacrifices they had made for the Lux so long ago.

For ages, they had been forgotten and the family secrets of the Lux had been lost. And now, it was not a powerful sorcerer coming to lead them in reconquering the world. It was only Gwen, uncertain and hesitant, coming to set things straight.

Gwen blanched at the cheerful looks on the first soldiers' faces she could see. She squeezed her eyes shut against them, trying to stay focused on her awful task. They thought she was bringing them glory-- the only thing these soldiers found worthy of living for.

"This is far enough," she said to Gaius in a choked voice.

The commander stopped rowing and laid his paddle down. He knew better than to stand in the swaying boat to make his oration; but his voice still carried easily enough to the nearest ships, just as his previous call to halt had done. The words spread from ship to ship with great alacrity, until all had been informed of what he had to say to them.

Despite her close proximity to the shouting general, Gwen scarcely heard his words, she was so preoccupied. The few words she did catch, even though he was speaking in the vulgar Latin tongue, were still enough to sketch a clear enough semblance of what he was telling them. He was telling them that the time had come to set things aright; that they had waited in limbo between life and death for far too long; that their due reward was here, brought by the Lux.

Gaius turned to Gwen as soon as he had finished his brief address to the legions. "Give us rest," he said gently. He met her eyes, as though he sensed that she needed all the confirmation she could get that this was the best thing for her to do. Gwen stared back at him for a long moment, aware that she was in the presence of a very wise man.

"Lux es; non caliga in nostrum castellum potest." He said no more.

Gwen's eyes never left his face. She released several slow breaths as she began to concentrate on what needed to be done. She focused very hard on her desire to set things right, focused on it until it seemed to be to greatest wish she had ever had. She concentrated particularly intensely on the Roman soldiers in the fleet before her.

It began with a peculiar sense of vitality. Gwen felt more alive than she had ever felt before. She felt as though she had thousands of hearts beating, thousands of lungs drawing breath… and then she became aware of an almost crushing weariness. She realized, slowly, that this was the collected vitality of all of the half-alive men she had singled out. They gradually became individuals in her perception, and she became more deeply aware of how troubled were these souls… and how empty their lungs and veins were. They didn't belong among the living at all. They hadn't belonged among the dead either.

Gwen was curiously calm in her realization that her task was a necessary one. It was with this enlightened tranquility that she silently willed the lungs to cease and the hearts to still. Even so, she expected that at any moment, she would feel the backlash of outrage from these men being put to a final death so suddenly unexpectedly. It never came. She sensed surprise, but this impression faded quickly into an impression of peace. First one by one and then score by score, she was aware of the demise of the soldiers. How long it took could never be told. It seemed a very short time to Gwen. The vast empty weight of death settled over her, and it was over.

Suddenly aware that she had closed her eyes at some point, she slowly opened them. Gaius' body was slumped over to one side before her in death. His face, though, did not bear the same ghastly face as Cannon Tom, the man whom her grandfather had killed, had worn. It was a death mask of utmost serenity, the countenance of a man who had welcomed his death. The Roman commander had finally found sanctuary for himself and his forgotten, cursed fleet. The curse that never should have been cast, the curse that had kept them half-alive, was corrected now, many centuries later, by the curse, or blessing, of death.

And things were as they should be, Gwen reminded herself firmly.

Gaius' corpse turned lifelessly pale very quickly before her eyes. Gwen watched, horrified, as his flesh dried and decayed and disappeared, and his muscles and sinews crumbled into nothingness. In a few seconds, all that was left of the man were shriveled and desiccated skeletal remains. She moved mechanically backward into the furthest corner of the small boat, where she huddled on the floor of the craft, still unable to break her gaze away from the withered body, terrorized by the ghastly sight.

Things were as they should be, she reminded herself again, trying to maintain her composure.

Oh God, even if it was the right thing, she had killed him-- had killed them all.

She finally averted her eyes and was met with the sight of the nearest of the Roman ships. Whereas before it had been in perfect condition, now its composing planks were petrified and its sails completely decayed and gone. It looked as though it were a thousand years old.

Gwen awoke in Jack's arms. She didn't have to open her eyes to recognize the feel and scent of him. She began to speak to him, but she couldn't find the will to part her lips or put together a thought of what she might say to him. Then she realized that he was preoccupied anyway. He was talking to someone else. And he was wobbling rather unsteadily.

"Here, take 'er." Jack passed her-- very carefully-- to someone else. Gwen cracked an eye open and saw nothing but a mass of red hair. She closed her eyes again very tightly, as though afraid of seeing the remains of the Roman fleet or its commander if she kept them open for too long. Though she knew neither when she had fallen asleep nor how long she had slept, she was aware of being very weary yet, and she was aware that her eyelids and cheeks were covered with the fine, clinging salt of half-dried tears. She felt herself being laid gently down in the bottom of another boat.

"Give me both your guns, if both have powder in them," she heard Jack say from a few yards away, and there was some rustling of cloth and faint clinking of metal above her.

Gwen heard a shot fired a moment later, and the crackle of flames, and she realized absently that Gaius would have a funeral pyre. The thought comforted her, strangely. The boat rocked dangerously then as Jack leapt back aboard his and Murphy's boat. He tucked his own pistol back into his sash and passed Murphy's pair back to him.

"Let's get out of here," he said. "Those ships are already starting to sink; we don't want to be here when they all go under."

Gwen awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming in through the window onto her face. It seemed a perfectly beautiful morning. The skies were clear and bright, the sea calm and peaceful. Outside the cabin door, on deck, the crew of the Pearl were singing one of their favorite shanties; often in the middle of a verse, the song would all but fall apart as some men sang the bawdy lyrics outright, others mumbled through them, and others altered the words to clean them up a bit. Gwen guessed Elizabeth had appeared on deck and that she was the cause of the attempts at censorship that some of the singers were making.

In short, by all obvious standards, this was an ideal sort of day, a daymeant to be enjoyed. But Gwen's mind went back to the evening before, when Jack and Murphy had brought her back aboard the Black Pearl. Jack had heard her out as she pled for him to pardon AnaMaria's behavior; AnaMaria knew there hadn't been time then to explain it all to everybody who would want to know, so she had instead focused on helping Gaius to get Gwen alone. Despite her good intentions in clearing Anamaria's name, Gwen hadlost all sense of focus in her extreme fatigue and hadn't really managed to explain anything at all to Jack. She'd only rambled incessantly about AnaMaria, which for some reason had stuck in her mind as something she should clear up. Jack had put her to bed, since it was clear to him that the exertion of whatever she had done had greatly wearied her, and that she wasn't good for any information for him at the time. He would hear it all soon enough.

Gwen wagered that Jack had probably heard explanations enough from AnaMaria by now. There was a good chance, in fact, that by this time, he'd thoroughly interviewed and interrogated everyone who might know anything at all in the case. A quick glance around their quarters proved that he was nowhere to be found there. But on the desk was a glass of water, waiting for her.

Gwen had barely stepped beyond the doorway of the cabin before she was wrapped up in Elizabeth's embrace. "Are you all right? I was so worried!"

Gwen only smiled her answer as she hugged her friend back.

Will could be seen near the mainmast, dancing quirkily to the crew's singing with his young son in his arms. Then Gwen spotted AnaMaria, Jack, and Murphy. The three were standing close enough together to convince Gwen that their camaraderie had been wholly restored. They were looking out at the Gilder, a short distance away, and the two men were nodding from time to time as AnaMaria pointed and gestured.

Gwen sighed, relieved that things seemed to be resolved and happy once, but still feeling disheartened. Giving her head a little shake, she turned back to Elizabeth.

"I suppose you'll be going back to Port Royal," she observed for want of anything else to speak of.

"Why?"

Gwen floundered. "Well, with what happened to Billy there…"

"He's back, safe and sound. Captain Murphy never really meant any harm. Besides, Will has already agreed that I should learn how to defend myself and my son. Especially since Jack has consented to allowing us to stay aboard the Pearl."

Gwen compulsively squeezed Elizabeth in another hug. When she drew back, she saw that Jack had spotted her and come over, trailing his colleagues behind him. "A word, Gwen?" he said simply.

Gwen smiled again at Elizabeth to take leave of her and followed Jack into the map room. Murphy came along as well, but AnaMaria stayed behind with Elizabeth.

"Murphy has a favor to ask of ye," Jack said without preamble, having negotiated the matter with Murphy while Gwen was still asleep earlier that morning. "I thought ye might want to hear him out."

Gwen started and then stared at Jack, then at Murphy. "I don't want--" she began, but Jack cut her off.

"It would do ye good to hear 'im," he said sternly, sounding far more serious than he looked. He was idly re-plaiting his goatee.

How could Jack be so callous? Didn't he realize what she'd just had to do? And he wanted her to do a favor for someone else? But Gwen bit back a reply. Murphy took this as leave for him to speak, and he cleared his throat.

"I be gov'nah of a li'l isle we call Simantikos", he explained simply. "I 'elped th' people build a smugglin' enterprise; captured 'em some ships, run some o' the competition out o' business…" He seemed to realize that it wasn't necessary to share all the particulars of how he had managed to win the respect and devotion of his citizens; he cleared his throat again and went on, "They trest me fer ever'thin'. But then some started gettin' sick, awful sick, and some dyin' very slowly…I couldna do anythin'. It started spreadin' more, and I remembered th' tales me da' tol' me, and 'is before 'im, about the Lux. Me great-grand-da' heard all about' 'em from some ol' witch tryin' t' sell charmed trinkets t' 'im and 'is comrade. I used t' want t' meet ye-- er, the Lux-- because I wanted ye t' gi' me some spit of land to rule. But now, I been looking fer ye to… now I ask that ye gi' me back th' people o' the land I got m'self. It's deadly important... Ye're me last 'ope for 'em," he finished rather lamely.

Murphy waited anxiously for a response, but Gwen didn't answer quickly enough to suit him. With a surprisingly discerning tenderness, he said, "I'm nah askin' ye t' kill 'em; I wan' ye t' save 'em. T' bring life back t' S'mantikos."

"I bring death," was Gwen's reflexive answer. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack pause in his braiding and turn to look at her. Gwen looked over at him and could tell by his expression he was surprised with her; it wasn't like her to say something so grim. She started to formulate an explanation for her impulsive statement, but couldn't think of anything to say by way of explanation. Jack looked like a parent who was torn between punishing or pitying his child. He couldn't think of anything to say to her either.

It was Murphy who finally spoke next. With a wisdom that had grown from leading and providing for "his" people, he said logically, "If tha's all ye were meant t' do, they wouldna ha' called ye th' Light."

There was a stunned pause on Gwen's behalf. Gaius' last words flooded back to her. "You are the light," he had said, "there can be no darkness in our sanctuary." Smiling uncertainly then, she looked up at Murphy and answered honestly, if shakily, "I really hope I can help you, Captain."

Murphy visibly brightened. In fact, he looked suddenly just as cheerful as a lively, playful Irish setter. A particularly large one. He looked toward Jack, who gave some minute signal of approval, and then the big man sprang toward the door. He paused as though he had just been struck by his rudeness and turned back to Gwen to thank her fervently, hug her, and kiss her forehead. Then he charged back to the door and left in a great rush to find Gibbs and give up the bearings for his island territory.

There was a long silence in the map room after he left. Gwen couldn't think of anything to say. While she waited for Jack to think of something, her mind wandered. She unexpectedly stumbled over a couple of tidbits of information coming together. Gaius had told her about her great-grandfather having a large red-haired companion with him when he visited the medium. And now Murphy, a large, red-haired fellow himself, had mentioned his own forefather seeing "an ol' witch" with his friend…

She turned to share this surprising connection with Jack, but when she met his eyes, she decided there would be other times to talk about such things.

It was clear to her what he was thinking about: the last real conversation they'd had, before yesterday's insanities, had been an argument. Jack was obviously in a similar predicament to the one that Gwen now found herself in, now that she was thinking about their fight again. Jack wanted to tell her he was sorry he'd gotten her into the whole mess, and also wanted her to know he was sorry she couldn't tell how he felt. Gwen, for her part, wanted to apologize to Jack for not really listening to him when he tried to explain to her how he felt, and wanted him to know that everything was, at least,finally as it should be, and that she would be all right again herself, in time. She also wanted to thank him for making her listen to Murphy just now. He had known that she needed to concentrate on healing-- and trying to heal others would be just as beneficial for her as for them.

So, naturally, even having so much to say, they just stared at each other until Jack started fidgeting and Gwen's mind wandered off to consider her chances of being able to go relieve herself sometime soon.

Then, clapping his hands together and nodding contentedly as though they had just spent an hour in delightful conversation, Jack slid off the table, where he had been seated, and walked over to her. Gwen rose to her feet as well when he started moving. Jack teasingly ignored her and walked right by as though he would simply leave the room, but then he doubled back. She found herself abruptly all wrapped up in his arms, backed up against the wall, being kissed wholeheartedly. After a small eternity, Jack leaned back and grinned.

"Still got it, luv," he said. The statement was just enigmatic enough for each of them to save face in the light of their own egos. Gwen expressed her agreement with his claim by kissing him back, though she was rather more chaste than he had been. No sense in leading him on too far just now, since there was her bladder to consider.

Luckily, Jack didn't seem to have any intentions of re-consummating their mended relations just then anyway. With a self-satisfied grin, he released Gwen and turned to leave. He paused, though, and turned back to her. Stooping down, he planted a funny, smacking kiss on Gwen's belly, then winked at her, and left the map room.

"Enough of that bloody dirge, ye slimy… sea-slime! Why don't ye sing The Song?" he shouted to his crew as soon as he was on deck again.

Gwen remained motionless in the map room, her hand fixed over the spot Jack had kissed on her growing stomach, and her mind fixed on Murphy's words:

To bring life…