A/N: Special long chapter for y'all. Wooot! But sorry guys, no Jack in this chapter, although he WILL be a big part of the next chapter or at latest the one after that. We're going to have some nice negotiation scenes going on… . . And that's all your getting out of me. XD Remember to R&R!

Leah: Wow, you updated, Sal.

Me: (Shrug) Fred was feeling nice.

Fred: Now, whether I should keep on being nice, that's another story entirely.

Me: I love you, Fred!

Fred: Hehehe…

Special thanks to Kirie and Kizume for betaing. Kizume even gave me this title, so all of you, PRAISE HER! Praise BOTH of 'em!


Momentary Surrender

Leah had never known which was worse, to be tormented and tortured or to be left with the anticipation of such and naught else. At first glance the first did seem to be worse, but then when one looked beneath the icy surface, one could see the rippling water full of wriggling hunter and hunted. Beneath the exterior, the former was relatively straightforward, the latter anything but. The latter involved your mind, thoughts and fears chasing and gnawing and snapping in a rough current of restlessness.

Personally, Leah would have rather faced… neither. But as it stood, this was not an option, and she was facing the second, no doubt later the first, and to make matters even worse, she was left to worry about her children and Jack and Kevin and Elise as well.

Nonetheless, at the moment, she had two specific matters vying for first and foremost in her mind, both concerning the darling Eric: the well-being of herself, and the well-being of her children.

Brooding on the possibilities of what could and would happen, Leah sat in a high-backed chair at the table. Mindlessly, she tapped the pad of her right forefinger against the curved, smooth edge of the worn table, the rest of her fingers just touching the surface, her hand hanging off. The heel of her left foot was also involved in the tapping, although it's rhythm was noticeably slower. On and off she would bite the inside of her lip, and in a way that was almost pitiable, Leah noticed none of it. She was too far into the depths of her mind, a maze of caves and caverns that only got darker and darker as they extended into the earth with no hint of escape. The last conscious decision she'd made was to take her dagger out of the garter and hold it in her left hand, hidden under the table as she sat and wrung the fabric of her dress with that hand.

What finally snapped Leah out of her reverie was this: the door of the captain's cabin opening and someone stepping into the room, the door closing behind him. At the very first noise Leah's eyes had darted up, her body freezing, breath halted. It was Swanson.

Without a word, he pulled a chair from his left over and sat down on it, across from Leah. He smiled then, but somehow, the smile wasn't a happy smile. Nor was it, as one might expect, cruel or sadistic. It was bitter, and somehow sad. "Ye've no hope, Miss Sparrow."

She blinked. Well… this wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting. Her lungs only now starting to accept oxygen again, she waited for him to continue.

He didn't.

Although Swanson knew what he wanted to say, at the same time, he didn't. Some part of him didn't even know why he'd come, while actually, he was certain of his reasoning. During this hiatus of silence, Leah let her hand slip away from the table and down to her skirt. This time not so mindlessly, she wrung the fabric in her hands in a tight fist. It was all she could do to keep from snapping. After a time neither was able to judge, Leah spoke in the most coherent way she was able, in a manner that completely summed up her thoughts.

"What?" Her brain was not functioning correctly, and his words just didn't make any sense to her right then. There was too much going on at once, and anything abstract was utterly beyond her.

Swanson sighed, bringing his head down and closing his eyes for a moment. Wearily, he looked back up, his gray eyes shadowed and dark, seeming worn and spent.

"Jus' give us what we want, eh? Then I'll see what I can do."

Leah gaped. In fact, she was so in shock that she continued to gape as Swanson stood, beginning to turn around. He was going to exit the room. It was then that she found her voice.

"What are you-how am I- I'm here if you perchance haven't noticed. How on earth am I to give you anything?"

Swanson paused in step, seemed to consider whether or not he should stay, yet at length, he turned back to face her. "When we send ye back, ye harlot of Sparrow, when we send ye back."

And again, Leah gaped. She was being sent back… insulted by someone who seemed to be helping her yet being sent back and… what? What was going on? Her own thoughts barely made sense to her.

He made to leave again.

"Swanson, wait!" Leah called, standing up, with barely the presence of mind to place the dagger on the chair. Although she could tell it was the last thing he wanted to do, he remained. "Swanson, what-why-how am I being sent back? What's going on?"

"Look, Madame Sparrow," he said, clearly exasperated, "Ye'll see the kids, an' then… an' then ye'll be sent back an' it'll be up to ye ta get us what we're after."

Leah stared blankly. No, it was far too easy, far too easy. "What're you hiding?" she asked quietly just as Swanson made to leave a third time.

Not looking at her but facing the door, Swanson stood silent. However, after overcoming a barrier within himself, one of hate and sadism and pain, he spoke, but he did not turn from the door. "There er some things… some that, no matter what, jus' shouldn' 'appen. What Eric wants is one o' those, an' even I have problems with that, an' I'll try to save ye from that. But what 'e does, 'e does, an' I won't stop him. Jack, the bastard, deserves it, an' any whore o' his I shan't save."

More inability to speak on Leah's part followed this, and Swanson reached for the door. It was then, however, that the door swung inward, and he took a quick step backward. It was Eric.

"Well, well, well, if it i'n't two of my fav'rite people alone. Jus' what am I missing, love blossomin' aboard me very ship p'raps?"

"Our ship," Swanson reminded, ignoring the rest of what Eric had said completely.

"Naturally."

Moving past Swanson who stepped to the side, Eric went towards the table, looking Leah directly in the eye. "Come, m'dear. 's time we went."

"And where, pray tell, are we going?" Leah asked, forcing herself to appear calm and confident.

"Why, to see your children, o'course," Eric replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Although Leah felt an unfamiliar spark of hope—hadn't Swanson said this very same thing?— she forced herself to remain incredulous. "Less go, ma cherie, if ye want to see, what where their names, Claire an' John? Well, if they're still alive, tha-"

"All right, all right!" Leah interrupted, stepping around the table and pushing in the chair behind her. She dreadfully wished she could somehow get the dagger, but how could she with Eric watching her so closely? To bend her knees and reach for it would be too obvious. The most she could hope to do was leave it where it was and pray it wasn't found until later. She could deal with it then.

Careful not to so much as glance at Eric, Leah swept by him, her head held high, back straight. She was caught utterly off-guard when he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him, turning her so that she faced into the room. Then, he kicked her legs out from under her and shoved her head-first into the table. With no time to prepare herself, Leah's impact was swift and painful. As she fell forward, the very bottom of her rib cage collided with the edge of the table, her left side hitting Swanson's chair, and her chin hitting the tabletop. It was pure luck she didn't bite through her tongue, but she didn't miss the muscle entirely. The bleeding from its very tip was immediate.

Not allowing herself any time for shock, Leah allowed herself to fall to the ground and then scrambled under the table for her dagger. Someone—Eric, no doubt—grabbed at her lower body, but she kicked back and managed to grab the blade. Then, twisting herself around so that she was bent into a "C", she slashed at the hands. She managed to cut the back of his left hand. Eric's smug expression vanished.

"Bitch," he hissed, and now he was the lioness stalking its prey, careful to avoid Leah's dagger.

Breathing hard, Leah looked out from under the table, the dagger gripped tight in her hand before her. "Swanson, help me," Eric snapped in an authoritatively, watching her with a shrewd, careful eye.

After a brief hesitation, Swanson moved forward. He wasn't a saint; he'd only come to warn her. However, this he was not above. In fact, Leah's agony he just might enjoy, although not nearly as much as Eric would.

"Waddya want me ta do, Eric?" Swanson asked, standing beside his co-captain.

"Nothing," Eric responded, his breathing slowing down. A glimmer of a smile touched his lips. "We wait."

Swanson gave a churlish grin and did as he was told, standing there and watching the stage under the table, a dramatic play running its course.

Still panting, although she was calming as well, Leah calculated, and the numbers didn't seem to be stacked in her favor. It wasn't so much that she was outnumbered, no. It was more that, if she somehow did overcome both Eric and Swanson, what would happen then? They had her children, and she had no doubt that the remaining crew would not hesitate to slaughter John and Claire. She was trapped. There was no chance of her coming out the victor, and although she wanted to punish the two men before her, to hurt them, she couldn't.

Leah felt like doing nothing more than collapsing and sobbing, sinking into a hole never to come out. Even surrendering held its own appeal.

But she could do neither.

What was she supposed to do?

"C'mout, c'mout ma cherie," Eric taunted, his voice and form still that of a skilled, cautious hunter. "You've nowhere ta go."

What could she do? What could she say? After spitting some blood off to the side and wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand, Leah spoke. "I see my children, Eric. I see them, you swear it. I see my children!" While her situation seemed hopeless, Leah did not speak as if it was. Although she appeared a mess, her dirty blond hair falling out in great patches from the combs that were just hanging on and blood staining her chin, all while she lay under a table with no possible chance of victory or escape, she spoke with cool resolve. Her voice was breathy, quiet, but nowhere did panic sound. She sounded utterly in control of her wits, though perhaps not the situation.

The real situation was quite the opposite. Inside, Leah was in hysterics, and on that last sentence, some of this did show in the form of a tremor, a crack, and a rising octave in her voice. Not a great deal of it, no, but enough.

Eric was loving this.

"A'right, I promise. Ye'll see yer lovely cherubs, but first, ya gotta give up the knife." A pause. "Are ye gonna give up the dagger, then, or not? Time is moving… moving…" Leah hesitated for only a moment before chucking the dagger across the floor to Eric with a small cry. It hit the floorboards with a loud clank and slid to his feet, stopping after colliding with his boots. Eric bent down and picked it up. "Good girl," Eric praised, standing once again. "Now come on out." Leah obeyed, standing up in front of Eric and Swanson. "Good, good, good obedient wench. Yer learning, aren't ya, ma cherie?"

This time, Swanson shoved Leah towards his partner, and Eric once again kicked the legs out from under her. She missed the table and landed on the floor, and that was when the beating began. Eric and Swanson both kicked her, but after a while, it was just Eric, Swanson stepping to the side and observing with sick pleasure. Leah didn't know how long it went on for, but she did know that a) it hurt like hell and b) it took everything in her not to fight back.

"Eric, Eric!" It was only then that this psychotic, sadistic, homicidal maniac stopped, leaving Leah on the floor. Although small whimpers did escape a few times as she lay and took the thrashing, to her credit, she'd never once allowed herself to yell, had only grunted or gasped.

Breathing hard, Eric just now seemed to come back to himself, glowering at Leah with an eerie expression on his face and glow in his eyes. Sweat glittered off of his flesh, and he shook slightly. It truly seemed painful to tear his eyes from Leah and to Swanson.

For a moment, the two just looked at each other, and then Swanson spoke. "It's enough, Eric," he said softly, taking two steps forward and placing his hand on his comrade's shoulder. "Enough."

Eric said nothing for a moment, but then he reached forward and took the back of Swanson's head in his hand, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. Pulling away for a moment, he whispered "Yes, enough," and continued the embrace, pushing his body up closer to Swanson's.

Meanwhile, on the floor, Leah slowly pulled herself up to one of the table's thick, unadorned supports and leaned against it, sitting up with a shuddering breath. She missed her Claire and John, she yearned for her babies. And she yearned for Jack.


Truly, it was never comfortable with your hands tied behind your back. No matter how many times it happened, it was always an irritation. The rope dug into your wrists, and sometimes your arms would cramp. Walking was especially difficult, and the fact that your hands were rendered unusable, the obvious intent of tying your hands up in the first place, was never pleasant. The walking problem, however, Leah did not have. She was sitting in the back of a rowboat, one of the Beaten Bride's beaten treasures, and although she herself was hardly in better shape than the boat, she was conscious and aware, bruises, blood, and possibly broken ribs or no. Before her sat one of the men who'd been in the room with her, Jack, Elise, Eric, and Swanson. He was rowing. In front of him sat Eric. Swanson was still on the ship.

Without a word, the trio rowed up to the island. Soon, they reached a cove, and there was a labyrinth of caves and tunnels far worse than there had ever been on the Isla de Muerta. Into here they rowed, Eric lifting a lantern Leah had not noticed so that they could see their way. On either side, they passed tunnels branching off of the main path, but they entered none of them. Instead, they continued rowing until they reached a sandy landing, two boats positioned far enough up so as not to float away and close enough together for there to be room for more.

The whole time, Eric had not so much as glanced at Leah, and frankly, she was quite content to have it that way. This would change soon, however.

The moment the bottom of the boat hit land, Eric disembarked, his crewman following. Roughly, said crewman grabbed Leah's upper arm and yanked her out of the boat. Leah stumbled out, and only because he was gripping her arm so tightly, in effect holding her up, did she not stumble and fall. It ached to move, or to even sit still, really, and the fact that she was wearing Elise's blasted dress—all the good that had done her—did not help matters any. Bloody skirts…

"Get up there," the man growled, pushing Leah forward to dry land. It seemed the boat was too heavy for one man to drag up himself, and both Eric and his crewman would have to do it. Wildly, Leah considered running, but decided against it the same moment. Where was there to go? What would happen to the children?

After moving up the incline that was this landing, Leah leaned against the cold, slimy stone wall. Her breathing had just picked up its pace. Moving was painful.

Here, it seemed as if the moist air was trying to swallow her up instead of the other way around, and it was harder than usual to slow her breathing. Instead of oxygen diluted with water, it seemed the opposite was true here as the smell of sea and mold assaulted her senses.

After a minute, the boat had been dragged up far enough so that it would not float away, and then the captain came up with the other pirate, the former leading the way, the latter gripping Leah's arm again as he dragged her along the passage, and not a straight one but one with twists and turns, illuminated only by Eric's lantern. After about half a minute, Leah could make out light from further on down the passage. A sharp left turn later, and she found the source. It was a huge chamber, torches placed here and there and burning brightly. From the "ceiling", which was neither too high, too low, nor even a ceiling, were various holes strewn about, scarce amounts of dying sunlight peaking through and fresh air pumping in. It seemed the air could have been much worse. From this chamber, more tunnels stretched to every side, seven of them all together, all leading in different directions to mysterious areas. Stalagmites and stalactites littered the area, but the ground was generally flat, if not dank, gray, and eerily large. Talk about the belly of the beast… It looked like the inside of a stomach, gray instead of pink and red.

There were four men here as well, sitting on a huge, coarse piece of dirty canvas to Leah's right. Well, at least the cloth was cleaner than the clammy hard-packed ground, whether only dirt or dirt atop stone Leah couldn't tell. It seemed they were having the time of their lives, these men, chugging rum and munching on stale bread. As they saw the trio enter, the men made to drunkenly stand up, but Eric motioned his hand, urging them to sit and continue their lunch. They did as obliged.

And now, as Leah examined the chamber, completely ignoring the handprint bruise that was being created on her arm, Eric did look at her. He twirled about and grinned, the lantern still held in one hand, and then he bowed, spreading his arms wide. He looked up before straightening up, his arms holding their position.

"Welcome to the Cove of Secrets," he grinned, his voice a smug, cruel purr.

Instantly, Leah froze, struck dumb by his words. He wasn't serious… He couldn't be. It was impossible. He was mad, insane, mad, psychotic. Without thinking, she responded.

"What?!"


Fred: Well… what'd ya think o' this chappie, Sal?

Me: Pretty good, pretty good. Got some good angst in there.

Fred: Oh yes, and lovely character development. Some plot development too.

Me: Not to mention a lovely ending, a cliffhanger. We're getting into the story now.

Fred: Definitely. Who knows what will happen next?

Me: Well you.

Fred: True… Now, what's going to happen to our dear heroine this time…? Hmmm….

Leah: ….You two are sick… sick.

Sara: Go calling and email! . Now I just need to stop being lazy and email… (pokes self)

WOOOOOT POTC GIFTS! No, I'm sad to say I've gotten no such pressies, although my friend got a Jack poster. I DO have 3 Amy Lee (Evanescence) posters though… Glad you likethed the chappie. . And yes, I SHALL read the fic… but not this week. I have midyears at school. --"

Jinxd: I'm sure you and Jack will. ;) This chapter wasn't particularly happy either, though… I'm very very cruel to Leah…

TriGem: (Joins in the dancing) Long review WOOOOOT! (Showers TriGem with Jack cookies) And now for me response:

Woot, glad you likethed the chappie! Yes… Eric is a little bit of an intuitive evil little psycho. Leah is in serious trouble if she gets stuck with him. As for Jack, he really thought of Eric and Swanson as a bit of a joke, even after they took his kids. However, he never underestimated the severity of the situation, and although he acted like it, it was never a game to him. Now, though, he and Leah are splitting up it seems, and those two have Leah and his kids. To make matters worse, he could have avoided the latter and he blames himself. He blames himself for all of it, why, you'll see. ;)

M-SPARROW: I'm honored that you like Leah and Jack so much! Yes, there was definitely much character development; I love it. OOOO, I've read both of those. After you read a few of Dan Brown's books, my only complaint is that they have the same exact endings, but still, they're awesome. Brilliant and well researched. I loved Angels and Demons and the Da Vinci Code, the latter especially. I sound like I'm a salesperson for his books… I'll be quiet now.

Vagrant: ROFLOLLAHBHATWBICSH!!!!! You are now my favorite person ever…