Candlelight flickered.

"Well then." A smug smile lifted the pirate's lips to reveal a glint of gold behind them, and his fingers, beringed with adornments, waggled a fan of cards between them. "Do ye call?"

The slim scamp of a sailor across the table shook his head.

A crowd had gathered around them in the wayward tavern. Rogues and drunken sailors the lot of them. A veritable mob of foul language and sea-worn faces lit up with the shanty's rum-soaked pleasantries. Strangers were most of them, their dress as ragged or as polished as they were. Some of them were familiar faces woven through the crowd.

A dark, glowering man stood nearby, arms crossed his chest. A bald-topped portly pirate stood against one of the wooden supports, watching two inebriated chums place bets. This rotund fellow shared a smarmy smile with the man next to him, a gaunt ghost of a pirate. The sharp, yellow eyes of a straggly-haired man caught the look they shared. Giving a grunt of displeasure, he nudged the dark man beside him and that dark man fixed the two odd pirates with a glare. They faded under his gaze, as did their amusement, the both of them becoming highly interested in the card game at hand.

If the pirate or the sailor noticed this exchange, they certainly did not show any indications of it. They were in the thick of a game that had gone quite a few rounds. Both were gazing across the table at one another—the pirate with that smug smile still on his face and the sailor serious.

"Nay," said the sailor. "I raise you three." He slid three silver coins into the middle of the table and turned a hopeful smile to his embellished opponent. "What of it, Jack?"

"That's Captain Jack to you lad," said Jack Sparrow, leaning forward. He forced the grin to stay upon his face, irritation sweating upon his brow. "Tell you what." Fingers flicked three coins to the pile. "I'll meet your three." He tossed another five coins in. "And I'll raise ye," he said, cocking his head at the boy, "five more."

"So you will." Nolan's own brow furrowed. He stole a look at his cards and, with lips pressed in a line, laid them on the table. "And I fold."

"Are ye sure, lad?"

"Aye."

Jack's eyes widened.

Nolan's narrowed. "What have you in hand?"

Captain Jack Sparrow tossed the cards down and grinned. "Nothin!"

Laughter rang out among the crowd, chortles and chuckles and incredulous guffaws.

'Course, Jack thought that would be, quite poignantly, that. He thought, of course, that the young scamp would this time be quite through with his, Jack's, games. But then, Jack Sparrow had never really prided himself on being very 'right'.

"…and I heard the Pearl was docked, and I said to Gibbs 'Perhaps Jack would accept my invitation to play a hand of cards' and he said 'You really wanna play another round with that scoundrel?'"

Jack stifled a groan. To have thought his antics would have brought about such an end was quite rightly wrong. Nolan had kept place at Jack's table and had been gnawing his ear off the past five rounds of drinks, refusing to fall over drunk upon the wood and leave them in peace. Several times his whining, penetrating voice had nearly driven Jack to skewer him. And then the voice had faded to a murmur as the fantastical scene played out in his mind—the little prat's mouth wide with nattering on as he speared him, his voice finally ceasing, for the love of God wasn't Silence Golden? and then everyone, absolutely everyone in the place would say their praise and celebrate the shutting up of the chatty chum. And he could finally enjoy the buzz that was being killed, no slaughtered, mercilessly by the unforgiving conversationalist across from him—whose voice unfortunately had risen above the welcome departure from reality.

"And I said 'Why not? Seems he's a good enough fellow to play cards with!' and I think, Gibbs said 'Befriendin' pirates ain't a good idea' and I asked why and he said 'cause pirates don't have friends, Captain!'"

Barbossa snorted behind his mug.

Jack snuck a glance at the first mate. He decided that it was in his best interests to pretend he hadn't heard him and so started plucking at the coins on the table with what he hoped looked like a most unaffected indifference. "He's right, lad. Pirates don't have friends."

Nolan roared with laughter.

He dropped the piece of silver with a start. Had Nattering Nolan suddenly and inexplicably gone mad? He glanced at Barbossa.

The first mate rolled his eyes.

"Lad?" Jack poked Nolan's shoulder. "Are y'alright?"

"Pirates—don't have friends!" He laughed again, slapping his knees with mirth.

Jack frowned. This wasn't the reaction he'd expected from the lad—as ridiculous as he was—and was about to knock some sense into the idiot when he felt a warm hand clamp down on his shoulder. Over his shoulder he looked to the handsome man hovering there. "Bootstrap!" He tipped his hat at the pirate. "Wherever have you been, mate?"

"Well you see… it was..." William's wary eyes shifted to Barbossa before settling back on his friend. "Business I had to take care of." His shoulders slumped as he sat down next to Jack with a thump and eyed the coins on the table. "What's the silver about?"

"Cards, mate! Nolan here lost yet another round to your Captain! What say you to that business?"

William shook his head. "Jack, one of these days…"

"Yes. I know, I know. One of these days I'm going to get what's coming to me. One of these days I'm going to get my just reward. One of these days—" He grinned at William.

"—I'm going to get what I deserve," they finished together.

William grinned back.

"And you say pirates don't have friends!"

Bootstrap looked at Nolan and then at Jack, the mirth on his face faded. "Pirates don't have friends, Jack?"

Jack fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. "Not the non-pirate variety, mate."

"That so?"

"Sure 'tis Bill Turner."

William shot a glance at Barbossa.

"Well 'tis." The pirate shrugged and downed his drink.

Jack ignored the plaintive faces of Nolan Witter and William Turner, solemnly regarding a gleaming piece of eight. He picked it up, slipping it between his fingers, admiring the light it caught in even the dimmest of places such as the filthy tavern that they paid patronage to. The Faithful Bride. Oh she would always be there when they returned to Tortuga. He knew it without anyone having to tell him. She was aptly named. Always she would be waiting with offerings of sweet, delicious…

Oh hell.

Jack looked mournfully at his empty bottle of rum.

Empty! Well. Without a backward glance, Jack scooped up a bunch of coin, plucked the bottle disdainfully from the table, and swayed carefully to the bar, nearly tripping over his own feet—bloody stupid feet—several times and righting himself at each precarious moment. He pushed past several waiting customers and set the offending vessel in front of the barmaid. It made a resounding thunk. He glanced at it briefly before turning to her with a disenchanted frown.

"Wot's yer problem Jack?"

"It's empty."

"Well i'should be empty. Ya bough' i'hours ago."

"But I don't remember drinking it."

"Well thas what i'does t'ya!"

"When one drinks it!"

"Thas wha' I mean."

"Lass. I don't remember. Drinking it."

"Trus me Jack, ya drank the rum. I can smell it on ya from 'ere. Wanna filler up?"

He flicked a few coins at her. "Absolutely," he said, pointing at her. "Rum. Not any of that watery concoction you try to pass off as the stuff to the less savvy of the lot of us."

"Right." And with that, she was off to the back with the bottle.

Jack glanced about. He turned, coming face to face with William Turner. The sinking feeling in his gut had nothing to do with alcohol, he knew, as he looked up at the older pirate who had, over the course of a few years, become his closest friend. For as much as Jack cared about the man, he was always bringing out the bloody best in him. Which was never very good. Not for Jack. He was a pirate. He was sneaky and deceitful and dishonest… which made him all the more successful a scalawag… With William, whose goodness infected Jack seemingly against his will, he was sincere. Sincerely stupid. And… nice.

"No."

"And what's the harm in calling him friend, Jack, when the kid would save yer black soul if ye asked 'im?"

"Because, mate." He fully intended on leaving it at that. But his friend's darkening gaze got the best of him. Jack sighed. "Alright. Because Barbossa thinks I'm a soft fool, a daft idiot… a butter-brained… anyway, the man thinks it. I'd rather he didn't."

"Why worry about Barbossa?" William raised a brow. "Ye were quick to name the bloke first mate."

"Aye. They're usually the treacherous ones. And Hector, well. Hector's a." He stopped, frowning at the amused smirk on his friend's face. "What?"

William's glinting eyes darted toward the table where Barbossa sat, Jack's following. "Hector?"

Jack looked up at him, a matching smirk twitching his lips.

They both stole a glance at the surly first mate across the room.

William snorted.

Oh blast. That was all it took. William Turner, the sod, with his twinkling eyes, was as infectious with mirth as much as he was with goodness. The contagious snickering sent Jack into a hearty roar. Each pirate grabbed on to the other for support, succombing to the raucous laughter. It shook them until they wheezed with the effort, and, clapping the other on his back, they parted, wiping their eyes on their sleeves.

Jack grinned and pointed at him accusingly. "Pirate."

"Same to ye, bilge rat." William shook his head and leaned against the bar. "Friendless bilge rat."

"If I'm friendless, what does that make you I wonder?" Jack's grin turned to a smirk at the returning barmaid. "Think I'll remember drinkin it this time?"

"Never seem to, Jack."

"A mystery solved, aye?" William tried to appraise Jack without a laugh. "So that's why you're always wondering where yer rum's gone."

He frowned. "You know, now that you mention it…"

"Always asking 'Where's me rum? Which one o' ye scalawags has been swiggerin me rum?' he is." William conspired with the girl. "Never thought the logical of course, that he drank it, got bloody drunk on it, and can't remember the drinking it part."

"A right riot, Jack is," she agreed.

"Glad to be amusing you, love." Jack accepted the bottle. "You'll see me again and we'll do this once again. Or more, though I probably won't remember." He winked at her and turned to William. "Bloody out of line, you are."

"Oh blast ye, Jack. Ye know it was only in good humor."

"Aye, always is." Jack looked at their table where the glowering Barbossa sat, hand twitching at the hilt of his sword as the young Nolan Witter talked his head off. The lad would be talking his own head off, literally, if someone didn't step in, and soon. Pausing, Jack wondered if stepping in would turn the tide his way. After all, the kid was a pain in the backside… his backside to be exact.

"Jack." William's other annoying trait was knowing exactly what Jack was thinking whenever he was thinking something that wasn't up to the Turner Code of Conduct. He frowned disapprovingly.

"Oh, all right!" Jack scowled. He gulped a heavy swallow of rum and staggered back to the table, pushing past several skirmishes on his way. Sitting the bottle down on the table, he gathered himself to his fullest height and puffed out his chest, trying to look his most impressive. "Barbossa." Somehow it didn't sound as he'd planned. Not nearly as deep and commanding. More like a slurry hiccup.

Hiccuping Hector…

Oh blast. Not that again. He pressed his lips together.

"Jack?"

"I've a task you might be interested in, mate." Jack nearly fell backwards as he tried to stand tall. He ignored the snort at his stagger and the fact that the man hadn't addressed him as Captain and smiled most graciously at the older man. "Seems that Lovely Linette has been eyeing you all night."

Barbossa, and William, followed the flick of Jack's wrist across the tavern. Near the staircase that led to the inn above stood a comely brunette. With a bat of her lashes, she smiled sweetly in their direction.

Jack smiled back but turned his attention quickly back to his first mate. "I wouldn't want her to think Captain Jack Sparrow's crew can't properly… acknowledge… a wench's interests, savvy?"

A predatory glint in his eyes, Barbossa grinned. "Well I would hate to disappoint." He bent to gather his effects. "I'll acknowledge her. It'll be my pleasure."

"Excellent!"

The brunette glared viciously at Jack.

Jack's eyes widened and he nodded at the brunette.

She shook her head, arms crossed.

Barbossa laughed.

Jack snapped back to stature and smiled down at him.

"You're a man of surprises, Jack."

"Many." When the first mate leant down to pick up his own share of coin from the table, Jack returned the plea to the brunette. Groveling wasn't something he did unless all other options had flown out the window, but there was no choice with a woman. His lips formed begging words, his hands pleading in prayer.

She rolled her eyes.

He nearly sighed with relief and recovered his stance just in time for a hearty clap on the back from Barbossa. He smiled nervously up at the man who towered over him. "Go get 'er then, mate." Then he and William, who, with a lip bit stiff, had observed Jack's entire exchange with the woman, watched as Hector crossed the room, putting on quite a good deal of charm when he met her at the other side.

Two sets of brows lifted when she seemed taken with the show, blushing as the man bent to whisper in her ear. She giggled and fawned over him, pawing at the collar of his coat. When Barbossa began leading her up the stairs, however, her green eyes flashed angrily at Jack.

"Heaven help her." William saluted the disappearing couple with his hat. He nodded at Jack. "And you."

Jack winced.

The two pirates commenced drinking themselves silly with rum, Jack nearly forgetting why the bottle was empty every time he went for a fill of it. William listened to the young Witter with interest, filling his mug with the sweet drink whenever it dried out. Jack would have protest if he had been sober, but he wasn't sober, and, to be fair, he wasn't paying much attention. Rose wouldn't let him pay attention. Unless he paid it to her of course. And her… effects, which, he had, at some point, decided, were nice enough to pay attention to.

"Jack." William frowned, trying to find a spot of his friend that wasn't covered with Rose. "Hey Jack. Jack Captain Sparrow of the Black Pearl."

Was he mad? Could William Turner not see that his mouth was busy? "Hrrm?"

"Nolan's passed out."

"Mmmmhm."

"He's asleep."

"Mmmmhm."

"Not awake."

"Mmmmhm."

"Someone's taken your rum!"

"Hmm…" Jack's eyes shot open and he pushed the woman away. "Who's took me rum?!" His gaze fell upon it sitting untouched on the table and then his eyes narrowed at William. "You—"

"Pirate," his friend finished. He pointed at the sitting Witter.

Rather, he pointed at the place where Witter should have been sitting.

Jack frowned. "He's passed out then?"

"Aye!"

Jack smiled. "Very good!" He fell back into the lusty embrace with Rose.

"Jack!"

"What?!" He pushed the woman away, tired of being interrupted. He would rather not have her at all if this was going to keep up. Blast. Watching her walk away was like watching his arm being sawed off. He sulked and examined the whelp that had flopped over. Nolan Witter lay with his arm draped over the table. His mouth hung slightly open, a puddle of drool pooling slowly at the corner where it met the wood. A soft snore buzzed from his nostrils. "What should we do with him?"

"Let's…" William trailed off, looking up at his friend. "I don't know."

"We could always tie him up, gag him, and let Rose's friends give him a scare."

"Jack!"

"Ye did it to me!"

"Only once and you deserved it."

"Well now that's debatable, mate."

"No frightening jokes on this kid, Jack. He's a good egg."

"Oh alright, alright." He rolled his eyes. "No scaring him. Good egg?"

"Let's take him back to his ship."

Jack considered the suggestion.

Some time later, the two pirates trudged toward the docks, and ultimately, Nolan's ship. Jack thought it a wonderful night, having been plundered by several painted ladies along the way and having plucked a cask of rum from the outstretched hand of a sleeping sailor. The air was ripe with Tortuga's most proliferous bouquet. Proliferous bouquet, yes that was precisely what the smells of Tortuga were, and he knew that it was a line he would simply have to repeat at some point. Hopefully someone thought it was as clever as he did. Pondering aside, it was a wonderful night indeed. Well, except for the bloody stupid ass lagging behind them.

"I thought we'd agreed not to fool with him." Turner wasn't thrilled with his task. He held a carrot over the donkey's head, urging the beast forward through the winding paths of the village.

Jack flashed a grin at his friend. "We agreed not to scare him. Never said anything about humorously humbling and otherwise humiliating fun."

"But why do ye seek to humiliate the lad?"

They had stopped at the bottom of the hill, the ass looking up at them stubbornly from under its bushy eyebrows. If asses had eyebrows. Jack wasn't sure if that's what they actually were, but that's what they appeared to be. He stared down past the thickets of hair into the beast's eyes and arched a brow. "Why won't this ass move?"

"Like I'd know anything about asses."

"Oh, and I do I suppose!"

Turner grinned.

"Not funny." Jack wagged a finger at him. The donkey's snapping at it shot him a few feet into the air, a whirling bit of coat and clunk. "Blasted ass!"

"Precisely what I was thinking."

"Sod off!" Jack bared his teeth menacingly at the donkey who looked up at him with easy dark eyes. Under those eyebrow things…

Nolan Witter gave a soft groan from the animal's back.

The pirates stopped and stared at him. They admired their handiwork. Rather, Jack admired it. William looked quite appalled by it. They had put the lad in a thick curly wig, dressed him in Rose's lacy under things, and painted his face. His eyes were lined darker than Jack's, his cheeks ruddier than the heartiest pirate in Tortuga, and his lips red as the the lips of the ladies for sale. Around his neck were strands of brightly colored beads, on his fingers several rings that even Jack considered too gaudy to wear, and stuffed in his mouth a very dead, very wet fish. Sickeningly smelly it was, but not at all overpowering the cloying scent of Rose's strongest French perfume, Ew de Toilet.

Well, something like that.

Jack snickered.

"Jack, this is not funny."

"The only thing that isn't funny, William, is that your sense of humor seems to have altogether disappeared. Right off the map. Just… dropped right off. Oh there it went. Right after Atlantis!" He frowned at the donkey. "That and that this ass is the laziest that I have ever had the utter misfortune to meet!"

"Probably trained not to go to the docks lest pirates pilfer it." William waggled the carrot in front of the animal. "As if we'd take an ass on a ship."

"With all this talk of asses, I've thought of something. Slap that thing on its rear and we'll be on our way." He was pleased when the suggestion worked, and patted his friend in thanks. "Good man." The bray of the beast drew his gaze down. He hesitated. Grimaced as he patted the animal. "Good ass."

They were quite a spectacle, walking along the docks as they were, handsome William foisting a carrot above the beast who carried the sleeping village idiot who had been decked out louder than even the embellished pirate captain walking next to them. Sailors pointed and pirates laughed.

"Splendid." Jack grinned and nodded back at them. "Exactly the reaction I was expecting!"

William didn't share in his delight. "He is only a kid, Jack."

Jack rolled his eyes.

The Nolario was a big ship. It rose high above the ragged dock on the westerly side of Tortuga. It was gold and blue and polished. Its uniformed crew on deck was busy, milling about with purpose. They had left the boarding planks in position and so, without so much as blinking, Jack led William and the ass up onto the deck of the ship. He wasn't surprised to come face to face with the business end of a musket and he calmly pushed it away from his nose.

The man holding it squinted at the ass behind him. Then he aimed the weapon back at his face. "Bad luck to bring an ass aboard a ship."

Jack pushed it away again to gander at the man before him. The sideburns were exactly as Nolan had described. And his face was as ruddy and his gut as hearty as well. "Mr. Gibbs is it?"

"Aye." His gaze narrowed. "Captain Sparrow?"

Jack gave a slight bow.

"What's the ass for?"

"Thought he was yours." He nodded toward the animal—and young Witter.

"Bleedin saints!" Gibbs gaped at the sight.

Jack smiled and wrapped an arm around the man's meaty shoulders, turning him to walk toward the helm of the ship. "Found him like that, mate. Unfortunate thing really. Your captain's a bit eccentric it turns out. Slightly odd. Not right in the head. I would be very careful if I were you."

"Careful?"

"Cautious. Never know what a man like that is likely to do. Desperate for affection I'd say. Hard telling though."

"Captain Witter's not that way."

"No, I hadn't thought so either. But. We found him that way. Dreadful. Just dreadful. Thing is…since the lad's a Witter it would be very unfortunate if word got about that he was a… well. You know."

"A eunuch?"

Jack frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the could-be eunuch with the fish clamped in his mouth. He ignored William's reproving frown and turned back to the sailor with a shake of his head. "No, not a eunuch. Most definitely not. Boy does have a beautiful singing voice though."

"Aye, certainly." Gibbs nodded sagely. "It's why I asked."

"I'm afraid it's worse than that."

"Worse than being a eunuch?"

"Far worse than being a eunuch, mate." Jack let loose with a whopper of a sigh and forced a saddened look on his face. "A sick man. Perverse. Wicked. He's got a fish fetish."

William made a strangled noise, but Jack chose to ignore it and Gibbs seemed not to have heard it.

"A what?" Gibbs' wide eyes turned to his snoring captain slumped over the ass and back to Jack. "Not a fish fetish!"

"Afraid so, Mr. Gibbs. Poor lad's turned into a fin flipper. A gill glugger. Scaly sniffer." Jack grinned a bit, only to bite it directly back when the sailor narrowed his eyes. He rolled his own to the sky. "May the heavens help him."

"Aye."

"You know what they do to sniffers when they find out about them."

Gibbs frowned. "Fraid not."

Jack shuddered. "Awful things. Poor souls go through torture." Jack paused, his gaze sweeping over the staircase to the upper deck. "I hear it's some sort of… steps…"

"Steps?"

"Steps." He leaned on the railing with another sigh and rueful shake of his head. "Usually twelve of them. And if you don't follow the steps, mate, you get tossed off the wagon."

"Off the wagon?!"

"Right off it, so to speak." He shook his head. "And right back into sniffing. Scales."

"A shame is what it is."

"Absolutely."

"Just what in the name of God is going on?"

Jack swiveled to face the man who had snuck up on him.

"Edward Swift." This one was all angles. Angular nose, sharp chin. Sharp cold eyes as well. Flashy coat and a pointy hat. "Advisor to young Captain Witter. What is this commotion about?"

After all, the entire working crew had stopped their working and had commenced staring and snickering. William Turner had somehow been able to have earnestly kept a solemn look on his face, allowing the ass the carrot he had obviously grown tired of teasing it with. The beast munched happily on the snack. And Nolan Witter was sweetly oblivious.

Jack had to fight to control the mouth twitching delight of it all. He managed, thinking of what the Witter clan could do to him if they found out that it was a farce. A fantastic farce, but they, surely, wouldn't see it the way he did. Sadly, not everyone had the capacity to appreciate a respectable ruse. In fact, it seemed as if the world had been glued stiff as of late. No fun at all. And this advisor didn't look fun at all…

"It's not good Mr. Swift." Gibbs sighed wearily and leaned closer to the man. "Captain Witter's grown attached to fish."

"What?" Swift frowned at Sparrow. "Fish?"

"Sad, I know," Jack lamented. He fixed doleful eyes on the man. "But always a risk when a sailor takes to sea."

"Mr. Gibbs, please get your captain to his cabin immediately." Swift waved the sailor away, studying Jack with a sharp eye. He frowned deeply. "Mr. Sparrow and I shall discuss this… problem."

"Aye and it's Captain Sparrow, Mr. Swift." Gibbs plodded off.

Jack smiled. The man had remembered. Good man.

"I would like to know about this…"

"Problem?" Jack supplied, strolling easily alongside the taller older man.

"Yes."

"It's simple, really. The sea proves to be too lonely for some sailors. Particularly," he flicked his hand in the air, "most of the young ones. Sad but true, Mr. Swift. With women scarce on the open ocean… Let's just say anything, even something with gills and scales, starts to look… promising."

"So the boy has a… a fish fixation?"

"Precisely!"

"How very peculiar. He detests fish."

"Yes. That is a sign of it. Very telling. A sailor suffering such an affliction would most certainly be in denial."

"What would… remedy this problem?"

"Twelve steps, I hear. Wagon exercise. Very progressive."

"Wagons, Mr. Sparrow?" Swift arched a brow.

"If one forgets to follow a step, he gets thrown clear off the wagon." He frowned. Oh but he hoped the man wasn't as sharp as he looked. Explaining something that had been all but whipped right off the top of his head was almost always risky business. "A lot of incentive. Wagons aren't fun to be thrown from, you know."

"No I would imagine not. What steps?"

Jack nodded sagely. "Twelve of them. All leading to self-awareness."

"Self-awareness."

"Yes."

Edward Swift nodded and strolled through two open doors. Jack followed, glancing about the room at its finery. Truly, the Nolario was a Witter ship. Richly appointed and classically beautiful. A gilded and glossy and high-class affair. Superfluous wealth had built the finery around them. The Witter family had no need for pirates anymore. They had enough riches to last a hundred lifetimes.

"Fine ship," Jack admitted, admiring the thick rug underfoot as his boots ceased to tap on the planks.

"Why thank you."

Swift and Sparrow turned to the one who had said it. A solid man by the look of his strong jaw and brow. Eyes blue like the lad's but edged in cold suspicion even as he accepted the compliment with grace. His face was touched with a few telling lines. And he sat, straight-backed, in a fancy chair.

"Wilhelm Witter, brother to the departed Onry." Edward introduced them. "Jack Sparrow, Captain of…?"

"The Black Pearl."

Old Witter nodded. "Boy has much to say about the man."

"Well the man has much to say about your boy."

"Is that so?"

"Afraid so."

Nolan's father waved Jack into the chair across from him. "Sit. Tell me of this." Worry creased his forehead. For a moment, Jack wondered if this was going too far. He hadn't expected family to be sailing with the lad. Swindler Swift he'd expected. But not the brother of the famous pirate and the anxious father of the all-too-trusting lad, not Wilhelm Witter...

But he forged on. "My mate, Bootstrap Bill, and I happened upon your son tonight. Intoxicated. Caught him… in the act, so to speak."

"In the act of what?"

"Fish."

"I don't understand."

"The boy has a perverted view of fish, my lord." Swift sighed impatiently. "He favors fish. They… please him."

"What?" The man was aghast.

"Your son is a fish fetishist." Swift cut to the quick.

"A what?"

"He fancies fish, sir."

"Preposterous!" Wilhelm's brows snapped at Jack. "Is this your crude idea of a joke?"

"On the contrary. Serious is what this is."

"My son does not fancy fish. He hates fish!"

"Love, hate… Very thin line between the two."

"You are off your rocker, Sparrow!"

"But I'm not off the wagon."

"Sir?" Swift eyed them warily. "Perhaps it would be best to assess the situation after you have witnessed the evidence which, I'm sorry to say, seems compelling to say the least."

"What evidence?" Wilhelm's glare snapped to Swift. "You don't mean to tell me that this is true, do you Edward? Surely you find this as completely ridiculous as I do!"

The advisor stood tall, his mouth drawn. His gaze shifted between his Lord and the pirate across from him. Finally, feet shuffling, he nodded. "The condition of your son suggests that this is not as completely ridiculous as it sounds, sir."

Jack watched the elder Witter rise from his chair. The man was much bigger than his son was. Very tall and broad shouldered. Dressed, to the hilt, in silk and brocade. Ruffles of fine lace peeked out from the cuffs of his glorious jacket. And a very big, very curly pale wig spilled down his back. He walked with the distinction of a Witter—the air of a man who was so significant that the Crown needed him. And he was livid under all of the polished exterior, his brow sweating, his lip trembling, and his eyes snapping sparks at Jack.

"I refuse to believe it!" he roared suddenly, fists jabbing the air.

He was sure he'd shrunk back in the chair. He had definitely not planned on that development. For such an easygoing lad, Nolan Witter's father had a significantly short fuse. A significantly short and most likely dangerous fuse, and suddenly, he wondered if blasted William Turner had been right. Had this been completely unnecessary? Perhaps he had gone too far. Perhaps it was time to bow out gracefully—and run like hell. Perhaps it was time to get out—

"Refuse to believe what, Father?"

The cool, clear voice had come from behind him, but Jack dared not to take his eyes off of the furious Wilhelm Witter. The man was too angry, much too angry to not pay attention. Fortunately, at the sound of the calm voice, the man had gathered some of his lost composure. And as he stalked from the room, Swift reluctantly following, Jack thought he heard his name attached to a solemn oath of revenge.

"What have you told my Father?"

She'd strolled around his chair to stand before him, the small girl who looked as delicate as a porcelain doll. She was a wisp of white in a scanty silk kimono, but commanded a certain bit of authority with dainty hands upon her hips and lips drawn tighter than Swift's. Grey eyes cold as ice narrowed upon Jack.

"Well?"

He fought the urge to shiver, fought the whisper of a familiar endearment on the tip of his tongue. "Nolan's got a bit of a fixation. With fish."

The girl's mouth twitched at the corner. "Is it true?"

"Come again, lass?"

"You heard me, Beaunasty." She slinked across the floor to a silver-laden cart, whisked a china cup off, and poured a steaming silver pitcher over it. "How do you take your coffee?"

"You, little miss," he said, not missing the dangerous flash of her eyes in his direction, "ask too many questions."

"You don't want coffee?"

"Cream."

"Very well." When she had readied their cups, she returned and held one out to him. "Careful, as it is fine china you shall be drinking from."

"Of course." Though he was accustomed to the so-called finer things in life, Jack looked down his nose at the cup in his hand. Bloody useless dainty handles it had. He frowned at it before he took a swallow of the stuff. Oh but that was delicious… he hadn't had coffee in days. Weeks perhaps. "Delectable, darling."

"Who are you?" The girl was swallowed in the enormous chair her father had sat on. Legs crossed, a cup and saucer balanced daintily on her knee, she studied him. Her gaze flit about his face, to the beads and the hat… to the kohl 'round his eyes. "I feel," she said slowly, "as if I know you."

"I've no doubt you know of me at the very least." He flashed her a smile and swallowed another delicious swill of the warm drink. "Captain Jack Sparrow, love. And you?"

"Captain Alice Witter."

"Captain?"

"Yes."

"Well where is your ship?"

"This is my ship."

"This is your brother's ship."

"My brother is a fool." A smile lifted her lips. "Is it true what you told them?"

"Of course, lass."

"I don't believe you."

He paused in lifting the cup to his lips and stared at her over the rim. So far, he'd managed to slip by Swift and, with any luck, Wilhelm Witter would soon believe the story he'd concocted. If he couldn't slip such a thing past a girl, Alice Witter or not, he would not ever live it down. William Turner, who was in very close proximity to what could be his undoing, would forever recount the story of The Day That Captain Jack Sparrow Was Found Out By A Girl. Not a welcome thought. Not a welcome possibility. He forced it from his mind and took to studying her.

"What is it? Have I something on my face?"

She was cold. Everything about her… cold. Nothing warm! She was slight and pale and lovely as a London snowfall. And she seemed amused, somehow, by this exchange. Amused, somehow, at the prospect of Nolan Witter, her own brother, being fooled with by a pirate. Or perhaps being a fish fancier, if she believed him. He hoped that she believed him.

"No," he replied.

"Then stop staring. It's very rude."

"Don't think you're one who should be nattering about propriety, love." He shrugged and pretended to be engrossed in the detailed mural above them. Well, half-pretended… it was very pretty after all.

"Excuse me?"

"Calling the Captain of a very important ship 'beaunasty' is something of an insult, I do believe. But then I wouldn't expect much more from the spoiled little rich poppet of a daughter of a fancy-to-doer like Wilhelm Witter."

"You really think my father will fall for a clever ruse of yours, Captain Sparrow?"

"It's possible."

"He won't." She smiled pleasantly. "But I do think it's amusing what you've cooked up for us this evening. A fish fancier? I'm near sorry I'll most likely be forced to watch you be fed to the fish of Tortuga. Fancy that, indeed."

"Lass, you aren't nearly as witty as you believe yourself to be." He sighed. "Your brother is a sick man. Perverse. Nastier than beaunasty, in fact. Desp—"

"Oh, do shut up." She languored back in the chair and fixed him with a level stare. "Tell me about your ship."

He frowned. Hadn't she just insulted him?

"If you tell me about your ship, I shall tell you about this one." She glanced up at the decorative ceiling. "Since you seem to fancy her."

"Apologies first, love."

"Well out with them then."

"Your apologies, Miss Witter."

"That's Captain Witter to you."

"And I'll be having your apologies. Time is of the essence."

"Dream on, Captain Beaunasty."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Well this was splendid. The woman—girl—was stubborn as the ass out on deck! And, similarly, as infuriating. And, coincidentally, as stoic. She wasn't going to budge. She wasn't going to apologize. She wasn't going to fall at his feet and admit that he was as respectable as she. In fact, she was going to sit there—in that lurid gown—pretty revealing all in all—staring back at him without a word while they waited for the return of her familiars. Wasn't she?

He swallowed the rest of his coffee and set the saucer and the cup on the table between them, taking greater care than necessary with the dainty china. Relaxing in his chair much the way that she did, he leaned his head back against the fine upholstery and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling again. If he were right, it was a scene from the Sistine Chapel. God reaching out a hand…

Well that figured. The Witters have a mural painted on their ship and they paint God in it. Not Neptune. Not Poseidon. Not even Onry Witter, but God.

Alright, this silence was unnerving. Any more of it and he would start wondering why their ship was blue and not black. "The Black Pearl is indescribable." He dropped his gaze to the girl across from him and was surprised to find her staring back as intensely as before.

"Then perhaps I should see her instead."

She wanted to see the Pearl? The girl was inviting herself to his ship? After she had insulted him and refused to apologize? "And how do you propose we get there? I only ask due to the severely inhibiting possibility of your father feeding me to the fishes. Since you seem to believe it's a possible possibility…"

"Alice Witter!" Edward Swift's sharp voice cut through their conversation as he stalked back in through the doors. "Have you no decency, young miss? If you are to speak with Captain Sparrow, you shall march yourself to your cabin and dress in something suitable. Your nightgown is not suitable for such and I shall not be belittled by your lack of decorum!"

Something had the man riled. Jack grinned at her.

She scowled at him and then at Swift. "And I shall not change my clothes for the lack of self-restraint with which men are cursed."

"The girl does have a point, mate," Jack admitted.

Alice's jaw dropped. "Girl?"

"Captain Sparrow. You shall be rewarded for your goodness to our… ill… Nolan. Mr. Witter and I wish to reward you for your kindness. While you may be of a most hideous profession, it is not a hideous thing you have done for us this eve. Rather, you have acted a gentleman and we seek to compensate you for your trouble."

"Compensate at your leisure, Swindler." He cleared his throat. "Mr. Swift."

"What strikes your fancy at the moment, sir?"

Alice Witter gaped at them. She slid from her chair, slammed her own fine china onto the table next to his, and pushed past the protesting Witter Advisor. The white satin trailed behind her as she rushed from the room. The sound of her slippers tapping on the hard wood of the deck faded into the distance and was then quelled completely with the far-off slam of a door.

Jack cocked his head and folded his hands neatly together. "I shall have to carefully consider my response to that, Mr. Swift."

William Turner stared at him as he had shaked the hands of Wilhelm Witter and Edward Swift. William stared at him as he chatted gleefully with Mr. Gibbs. William stared at him as he ordered the various crew of the Nolario to handle their 'reward' with care. William stared at him as he navigated the men and the full-to-the-brim longboat to the Pearl. William stared at him as he ordered them, upon their lift to the deck of his ship, to unload the swag. And William stared at him as he wished them well as they were lowered back to sea and sent on their way.

Jack had resisted the urge to comment several times. Well, several hundred more likely. It hadn't been easy, but he had managed to do it. And now that it was only he and his friend on deck, the Pearl's watchmen carrying armfuls of supplies to the hold, he grinned and slung his arm about the man's shoulders.

They stared down at the remaining treasure trove of fresh fruit, shot, rum, and trunks of riches.

"That was what ye were after."

"Aiming for it."

"Ye didn't miss."

"Course not!"

"They bought it."

"Hook, line, and sinker." Jack snickered.

"Fish."

"Fish indeed!"

"And what about when the boy wakes and finds that ye made him a fool?"

Disappointment. He sagged against his friend with the weariness of it. "Must you always emphasize the negative, William Turner?"

"If I didn't, would ye see it at all, Jack?"

"What makes you think I don't?"

A silence descended upon them.

Nonplussed, Jack withdrew his arm. Twigg, Grapple, and Ketchum who had reappeared from below, arms free, drew his attention. They were animated. Seemed excited as a matter of fact. Brighter than they had been in a long time, and with more of a bounce in their step. He would have been pleased and more than happy to grin along with them had William not knocked the wind clear from his sails.

Could the man not be satisfied with the wool they had just pulled over Witter eyes? Could he not laugh at the ridiculous ruse? Could he not find the humor and the effectiveness of it? Could he not find the good in anything that Jack did? Could he not connect the dots? Could he not read between the lines? Must he always question his ways, questionable though they might be?

Could he not answer him?

The three pirates eventually made their way back on deck. They came to a stop in front of Jack, waiting for his next order as all but the trunks of coin and currency had been stored away below.

"Many thanks Gents. Handful of clink for each of you after you take these to my quarters." He watched them hoist the three money-laden coffers and head for his cabin. "No heavy handling, no double dipping. Inflation is not welcome policy aboard our floating state of Pearlocracy."

He was answered with a chorus of grunts.

Jack watched them disappear into his cabin. "They'll take two scoops."

William nodded.

"A lad like Nolan Witter has no place in piracy, Mr. Turner." He turned and leaned against the railing of his ship. His gaze rolled with the waves out the murky midnight blue to the point at which the sky and sea were too dark to distinguish where one ended and the other began. "Trust in one of us. You'll soon trust in all of us. And not all of us are as tolerant as the one of us."

William had stepped up to join him.

Jack stole a look at his friend.

The man was pensive, watching the water in the same manner as Jack had been. His gaze searched earnestly for the horizon, and upon finding it nigh impossible, traveled down the height of the ship to the calm waters surrounding her. She was at ease docked at the favorable island. Satisfied with this, he turned his gaze to the younger pirate and nodded his understanding.

They let the silence linger between them for a few moments. Relief flooded Jack at having gained that particular nod from his friend and he took the time to look up at the stars in the sky. Several constellations revealed themselves to him in glowing splendor. But he searched for his very own. That outline of luminaries which had shown itself to him and had never quite disappeared from his sight. Catching the glint of her pointing bowsprit, he smiled.

Serenity ensconced him, and, with a bounce in his step, he headed toward his cabin to call it a night.

Elephants woke him on the morn.

There were elephants and they were aboard his ship and they were herding across the deck in a wild stampede. And there were probably zebras and leopards, too, by the sound of the roar going up. Hyenas. Cackling. Ugh, what a hideous sound that cackling was. Hyenas were simply not welcome on the Black Pearl. But then neither were asses and the distinct bray of an ass rose above the din.

Jack cracked an eye open.

There it was again. That braying! And laughing! And thunderous elephants! And braying!

"Ass!"

Struggling to button his breeches and throwing the doors open, he rushed out onto the deck and toward the railing where his entire crew stood peering down over onto the docks. Pushing past several snickering pirates, he came to stop next to William Turner. Whether dread or laughter was appropriate wasn't certain given the amusement clearly writ on the man's face. Not willing to waste his time wondering about it more than need be, his gaze rolled down to whatever it was everyone else was looking at.

Standing on the wood of the dock was the ass, munching happily on a bucket of carrots.

Jack shrugged. Then his gaze snapped back to the contented donkey. The flush of his face burned under the heat of the Caribbean sun. His eyes grew wide as he took in the transformed animal. Someone had taken care to the appearance of the ass, grooming its fur neatly, wrapping a red headscarf around its ears and trimming its thick mane with a variety of beads.

William slapped Jack on the back and grinned. "Got what ye deserved! An ass for an ass!"

No. Not good.

Jack was fairly sure that if he felt any lower, he would sink directly through the planks and into the brig of his own ship. His entire crew was laughing, pointing at the ass—and at him—and… he wanted to jump overboard. Off of his own ship! He would rather have been fed to the blasted fishes. Than have this… this… oh this was egregious. This was not acceptable! This was—it was—

"What is that?"

His gaze had wandered up the docks and he squinted at the approaching figure. The crew had quieted, following his pointing hand to it. Whatever it was, it wasn't happy. It stomped. It kicked. And it carried itself with assured anger toward them. Whoever it was, they wore a purple dress. A purple dress that Jack was convinced he had seen before. But where…

Linette!

Ragetti's mouth dropped open. "If it ain't Barbossa!"

The deck of the Black Pearl erupted in laughter.

The glowering first mate paused in his march to glare at the munching ass. His eyes grew wide and he pointed at it. A hearty laugh crackled from his throat. "It seems we've found your long lost twin, Jack." But as he spotted the ruffles around his wrist, they reminded him of his own misfortune, a snarl curled his mouth. Gauging that the reaction to this was louder than that of his reaction to the ass, he scowled and glared up at the pirates.

"Looking lovely, Barbossa!" Jack called to his first mate. "As always!"

"You!"

Jack grinned at William.

William grinned at Jack.

And then Jack bolted for his cabin and locked himself tightly in. It would be a long day. He did have Witter Wealth to count, afterall.