[[Disclaimer: Don't own any recognizable characters. Damn.

A/N: Thanks to kukumalu and Twilight-la-fae for being so awesome and reviewing practically EVERY chapter that was reposted.]]

1

It seems to me that I am a magnet for uncertainty, tension, and vexation. The few days that passed after my heart to heart with both Jack and Mary were the most stressful days of my life. I would rather duel with Barbossa myself - with him being invincible and what not - than go through those few days over again.

One would think that after Jack and I had had our little heartfelt discussion, he would let up a bit and let me live a few days without having Will on top of me. Of course not. In fact, when I told him that, he had absolutely nothing to say except: "Aye, love, but on top of ye is exactly where the whelp is supposed to be."

Need I even mention that Will was right behind me as Jack said this? The sheer humiliation nearly made me collapse. Did Jack feel even mildly ashamed of himself? No. All he did was wink. Wink! And tap his nose, like it was some grand old joke, making me flush nearly purple and then get even darker when I turned around to see Will behind me, with a rather astonished look on his face. He certainly didn't seem perturbed at what Jack said, if a little surprised. In fact, I saw him grin almost sheepishly at Jack seconds after I stormed away. As if the thought had occurred to Will, too! As if Jack needs anything else to roar about to the crew!

So help me God if I don't kill Jack Sparrow with my bare hands.

Will, however, aside from his ill-hidden glee at the thought of himself "on top of me", was keeping his word. He had stopped asking me to marry him, and was hardly looking at me any more. I don't know which was worse - him pleading for my forgiveness, or him ignoring me.

Oh, hell, of course I know which one is worse!

I wasn't doing much to help the situation, however, as I was avoiding Will like the plague. I didn't quite know why, but having finally gotten my wish of him leaving me alone, I didn't want to go back on it now. It might just confuse the poor boy until he loses his mind completely, and its quite possible that it could have the same affect on me.

And I was just barely clinging to sanity already.

The crew was no help whatsoever, wherever I walked I would hear one or two hissing at me about the prize I was supposed to give Will for beating me in our duel. And the crew always managed to say something like that with Will around - I cannot say how many times I cricked my neck spinning to look at him. He looked impassive, most of the time, or looked at me sadly. No matter what Jack said about Will getting his prize on his own time, and not in front of them, it was not unknown that Will had not gotten his prize at all yet. And the crew, siding with Will of course, as most of them were men, took every opportunity to put Will and I in a situation to kiss.

Once, a few days ago, they had brought cleared the table below and had lit candles all around the bunks. Aside from this being a completely unnecessary fire hazard, they were also liberal with a lot of dried flowers hanging from the same places where the candles were. Intelligence is not one of the finer attributes of the Pearl's crew, hand-picked by Jack Sparrow, of course.

We had just stopped at a Port and gotten more supplies when I learned that the crew had all chipped in and bought a rather fine feast for two - meaning that it could successfully feed the entire crew for about two days, most likely. They had goaded the Pearl's cook into preparing what pirates would call a romantic dinner - it was probably very similar to the food that Elizabeth had described to me when she was on the Pearl under Barbossa as the Captain. Somehow, a large pig with an apple in its mouth and olives in its eyes is not very romantic, but that's just my opinion.

Anyway, somehow they got Will below - I'm still not entirely sure that he wasn't in on this since the beginning - and they also found a way to get me below as well. Anamaria, I'm sure, had absolutely nothing to do with it, as she's not even looking at me anymore, and she wouldn't want to help me - "help" me! - with Will. Because we all know how very helpful pirates are. Bloody pirates.

They didn't stop at just the dinner though, oh no. They had gone out during their day ashore and bought me a dress! A dress! It wasn't in the best condition, certainly not new, but it was pretty. It was dark blue and cut off-the-shoulder and would have been very beautiful if not for the plunging neckline. Of course, little did I know what the crew intended when buying me this dress - I thought they were being nice. It was nice to have a gift from them, even one that suggested they thought I was some woman of Tortuga, because the crew had been adamant about not taking me seriously. Perhaps I should have known then that if they were acknowledging me as one of them, they would have bought me a pistol or a hat. Not a dress that was hardly suitable for a bedchamber, let alone a pirate ship!

They convinced me to try it on.

If the dress looked like it belonged to some woman like Giselle, in Tortuga, it was nothing compared to how it looked on me. I hardly fit into the dress, though I suppose that was the point. I'm being extremely subtle if I say that I'm just a tad more well-endowed than skinny little Giselle. The crew barely waited until I had it on before pulling me out of Jack's office, which he regarded sourly as my dressing room, before forcing me below. To where Will was waiting.

I went laughing, thinking that perhaps this was some right of passage for new members of the crew - surely Mary would be subjected to the same thing as soon as she was on the ship long enough. Obviously not. They put something heavy over the door so that I couldn't get out - taking it a bit far, even for pirates, if you ask me - and left me to share a romantic dinner with my formerly betrothed.

Dinner was a spectacle alright. I suppose I could have gotten changed but I was loathed to do that in the cramped compartments that made up the bunks. With Will. It was one thing to change in the same room as your fiancé when you were just that - his fiancé. It was another thing completely when two people are very much in love, and both decide mutually that there is not a single thing they want to do about it. Because of all the pent up tension that had been building since the so-called duel, I didn't think it would be wise for me to undress. I mean, its not like I didn't trust Will, and its not like I didn't trust myself either…because I did. But Will and I aren't patrons of wise decisions, to put it lightly.

A trip down embarrassing-memory lane, then? Very well.

"Christina?" Will had said, standing up so fast that he would have knocked over his chair had it not been nailed to the deck. In any other situation I would have laughed - when he wasn't ignoring me, Will acted as though I was the Queen Elizabeth herself, standing up when I entered a room and what not. However, in this situation, with my wearing a dress that left very little to the imagination - and Will has a very good imagination, I'm sure - it was all I could do not to scream.

Or maybe I did scream.

"WILL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? WILL TURNER, IF YOU ARE PART OF THIS ILL-CONCEIEVED PLAN TO GET ME TO SAY THAT I WANT TO MARRY YOU, AS MUCH AS I DO WANT TO, IT'S NOT GOING TO WORK! HOW DARE YOU, WILLIAM HAROLD TURNER!"

Cackle, cackle, went the crew above.

"Christina, calm down. No I'm not part of this, the crew told me to come down here, that you wanted to talk to me…what are you wearing?" Will edged around the table cautiously, holding his hands out in front of him as if trying to reassure me that he wasn't going to hurt me. Ha. More likely, I was going to rip his eyes out if he kept ogling at me like that!

"They told you WHAT? Oh, I'm going to FLAY JACK SPARROW ALIVE!" I shrieked. I heard Jack's muffled voice above me, "Love, I have bloody nothing to do with it!" I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest, not realizing that the look on Will's face had nothing to do with Jack's proclamation.

"Christina, why don't you just…sit down…are you hungry? The crew said that you…well, they provided this," he finished lamely, taking me by the arm and trying to put his eyes everywhere but my - oh. Hastily, I uncrossed my arms. "I'm going to murder every single one of them," I grumbled under my breath, letting him lead me to a chair next to his. The chairs were nailed to the floor to keep them from sliding around, but they suddenly seemed much closer together than I had noticed before. I swallowed hard.

I sat down gingerly, my head bowed to observe how such an action would affect the top of my dress. Looking up, I realized that Will was observing the very same thing. "Look, William, this may not have been your idea - unlikely, and its something I'm still considering - but you will kindly keep your eyes on mine when I'm talking to you!" I snapped, not even bothering to tuck a napkin there because it would just call more attention to…myself. Bloody crew.

"I was keeping my eyes on yours when you were talking," Will said slyly. I frowned at him. "As grateful as I am that you did not demand your prize fulfilled, Will, it does not allow you to stare at me as if I was some wench at a bar!" I growled, not appreciating his newfound sense of sarcasm.

"Are you are supposed to be something other than a wench at a bar in that thing?"

My eyes must have popped straight out of my head and gone rolling around on the table with the pig. Maybe the pig could use them instead of the olives that he had to make due with. I was really quite shocked that he -Will, I mean, not the pig - could be acting like this towards me…shall we recap the part few experiences I've had with this man? One, he was in love with my sister so deeply that he would have 'died for her' in that stupid self-sacrificing way that men have. Two, he falls in love with me and proposes. Three, he kisses my sister while apparently still in love with me. Four, he chases after me after I run away - with more than good reason - and demands WHY I wont marry him. That's just displaying his stupidity and ignorance - which he somwhat heals by saying that he will stop badgering me about getting married. And now? He takes it upon himself to not let the crew down, and stares at me like I'm some form of entertainment for him! Which is what the crew planned, yes, and I hate it when plans against me succeed. And not only does he stare at me like he's about to pay for a favor or two, but he taunts me about it as well.

"Excuse me?" I seethed. Will smiled at me in that way that he has and I felt my control slipping. Let him stare at me if he wanted - it was better than him staring at Anamaria or Mary, or, I admitted grudgingly, Elizabeth. I caught myself smiling back and froze, fixing a scowl on my face and raising my chin haughtily, like a true daughter of a rich Governor.

"You're not doing a very good job of convincing me that you have nothing to do with this. And if I find out that you took part in this in any way at all, I will never marry you William Turner, I swear it!"

Will's smile faltered and disappeared. "I'm sorry, Christina, but I swear that I had absolutely nothing to do with this." His face took on a look of desperation, as if my threat were somehow the worst thing he could ever hear. I stared at him - I had no trouble looking at his eyes and only his eyes! - and nodded slowly. "I believe you," I said reluctantly, mostly because I remembered the resignation in his eyes when he told me that he wouldn't ask anymore. He sighed with relief and I felt a smile touch my lips.

"Surely my never marrying you wouldn't be so horrible, Will?" I teased. He didn't return my grin. "It would be," he told me solemnly. I looked away quickly and took a deep breath, which was a trick in itself, because this dress was near bursting. I licked my lips nervously and I caught Will swallowing hard from the corner of my eye.

"So…any ideas about how we're going to get out of here?" I asked cautiously, stealing a look at him. He shook his head. "I doubt they'll let us out if we ask…" he said lowly. I glowered up at the ceiling. "Even if we ask nicely?" Will smiled and I avoided looking at him. "Could you ask nicely without swearing oaths at them, Christina?" he asked me. I grinned, "Ah, you know me far too well, Turner," I replied and choked a bit on the wine that I had sipped at. Will rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Neither of us knew quite what to say to each other, it seemed.

"How long do you think they'll keep us in here?" he asked. I wrinkled my nose. "Until Jack orders them to let us out, which he probably wont do for a good while, no matter how much he says that he wasn't involved in it."

"Well, they can't keep us in here forever. They're going to have to come in to sleep come night," Will said decisively. I nodded. "Right. But if it's a still night, they might sleep above…Oy! When are you going to let us out!" I bellowed, chucking a piece of hardtack at the ceiling. It cracked into many small grainy pieces and rained down on Will and I. The only thing that hardtack is good for besides getting the attention of your traitorous crewmates is for hammering - the ruddy stuff is too vile to eat. Not that I'd been eating much of anything else lately besides disgustingly salted meat; we'd really needed to stop for food.

My stomach growled loudly. I sighed. "Well, as long as we're down here, we might as well eat. And eat as much of it as we possibly can, I don't want any to be left over for them." I jerked my head up towards the ceiling. Will chuckled, "Very well."

We loaded our plates - gold gilded plates - and ate in silence for a while. The ice had been broken, though, and soon we were talking the way we did before all of the insanity occurred…we were talking the way we did before he realized he was in love with me. I bit my lip thoughtfully, wondering what it meant. Surely he couldn't have stopped loving me that fast…

"Christina?" Will touched my shoulder gently and I started so badly that I choked around a piece of pork. Coughing, I stared at him. "W-what?" Will's eyebrow's knit together like I was something he couldn't quite puzzle out. "Are you okay? You look pale…are you sick?" he asked, concerned. I shook my head but I couldn't jar the thought that maybe he had stopped loving me, that's why we were so comfortable. Maybe he didn't want to ask me to marry him any more than I wanted him to. I turned to him and realized that the chairs were a lot closer together than I had thought they were. Will had leaned over when I started coughing and now his face was mere inches from mine. I bit my lip worriedly. "I'm fine," I whispered. Why was I whispering? Will started to pull away but I put a hand on his arm and he froze. Slowly, he turned his head to look at me.

Maybe Elizabeth was right, and I did steal him from her. Because I couldn't stop myself from leaning closer to Will; maybe I was every bit the temptress that she had accused me of being. But surely I'd never done anything like this when Will was teaching me to duel…true, I was never eager to talk about Elizabeth either; no matter how many times he asked, I always found a way to change the subject. But maybe I had meant more when I dashed out to duel with him in my shift, not realizing how it could have affected his judgment, and altered his view of me from his friend to something more…and yet, he had been the one who was mad to save Elizabeth from Barbossa. I couldn't be as much of a hussy as Elizabeth was bent on portraying me as, could I?

Nevertheless…I was aware, fully aware, of what happened to the top of my dress when I leaned in to him this way, peering up into his eyes through my lashes. I don't know how successfully I was with the whole siren act, mainly because while the crew did provide me with a dress worthy of a prostitute, they did not provide a bath. It had been a good few weeks since I bathed, but right now that wasn't really on my mind...

Elizabeth had claimed that Will loved me through some sort of witchcraft on my part - but maybe it was something simpler than that. I had never thought of myself as acting seductive around him, but right now there was no other word for how I was behaving.

The thought of Elizabeth being right - about me! - was not pleasant, but at the moment my heart was not in it. I didn't seem to care. If he didn't love me anymore, what was there to do about it? I couldn't change his mind…and yet I found myself a breath away from him, and grateful for the sweet flavor of the wine. Maybe I had sipped more wine than I thought.

"I owe you a kiss, don't I?"

1

Commodore Norrington always prided himself on being a very consistent man. He was a man of unwavering personality, and while some people - such as the currently missing in action Miss Swann - would think of that as boring, the Commodore thought that reliability was a good characteristic for a person to have. Especially a person who was a Commodore.

Commodore Norrington very rarely did anything surprising. He believe in straight-backed responsibility, and that was not easy to accomplish if one was spontaneous. Not that he was a man to take the easy path instead of the righteous one. Commodore James Norrington always took care to do the right thing, not the easy thing. He was not like a whimsical blacksmith, running off - most likely drunkenly - after a woman who he had caused to run away in the first place.

James Norrington knew all about what happened between young Turner and the eldest Swann daughter. He knew more than either of those two would have wanted him to know, but after Christina ran off and Turner followed her, Norrington stayed in the Governor's mansion for three days, trying to reassure Governor Swann that he would rescue his daughter. He tried to find out any information he could about where Christina would have fled to; he interviewed the servants, he interviewed Elizabeth, who cried a great deal of the time. He went up to the stables on a whim and interviewed the stable boys, who showed him a trinket that Christina Swann had given one of them before dashing out. The boys said that she had come storming in after a short ride on her mount, and when Norrington asked what she might have been running from one of the smallest boys came forward to say that he'd been out exploring and had seen a ship moored about a mile off the coast of Port Royal. Norrington could barely keep his temper with the lad - what was wrong with young men nowadays? If he had been twelve and seen a suspicious ship anchored far away from the main docks, he would have reported it to someone immediately. But then, Norrington was never a stable boy.

On the third day with Governor Swann, after he had leeched as much information as he could from the servants and such, Norrington had tried to devise some kind of plan of action. But it was hard - and Norrington was never one to shirk his duty, he was rigidly aware of how far away that damnable Jack Sparrow could have gotten by now - not even knowing where Christina planned to go, and if she ever sought to return. For all anyone knew, she could be gone from Port Royal forever. Norrington didn't think Governor Swann could cope for an extended period of time if he daughter had run off much the same way her mother did. Not that it was any fault of the Governor's this time - no, another man was to blame.

But with Mary gone - Norrington's heart clenched at the thought of Mary Pearl in the hands of vile pirates - and with Turner off trying to play the hero, which was not quite as convincing in this light as he was merely paying the price for his infidelity, it was difficult to find a lead anywhere.

One thing seemed certain. They would be heading for Tortuga, most likely. Norrington had cursed himself repeatedly for waiting so long before leaving. They couldn't possibly have made it to Tortuga already, but he had wasted valuable amounts of time trying to figure out what Christina could have been planning when he could have been sailing already.

There was one thing he was sure of - this could not come to blows. Not with Jack Sparrow, whose Pearl could outstrip any ship in the Caribbean. If there was some nautical battle of sorts - by now, Commodore Norrington had no idea what to expect - it would be taking too many chances. He had assured Governor Swann that the most important thing was, of course, getting the Governor's daughter back. Secretly, James Norrington thought that Christina could fend for herself quite well, and she obviously trusted Jack Sparrow. And Jack might even have some sort of affection for the girl, after all, he had promised to 'kidnap her properly' to save her from what he must have thought a waste of potential for so promising a female pirate.

Norrington was loathed to admit this to Governor Swann. If the Governor thought that Jack Sparrow had taken some interest in his daughter, he would have sent out an entire army after her to protect her honor. Though, with a woman like Christina, Norrington wasn't even sure and entire army could protect her honor. Not if she didn't want it protected. She wasn't conventional in the slightest, which was making his job all the more difficult.

"If I was a woman scorned, where would I go?" the Commodore had mused with a wry smile one the last eve before making his own plan of action. He was standing in Governor Swann's garden, watching the birds play in the bird bath, completely unaware of the footsteps behind him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you utter those words before, Commodore." The voice of First Mate Gillette was slick with amusement. The Commodore turned, his arms clasped formally behind him. The smile that was on the First Mate's lips was far from formal. The two men had been friends for years, with the First Mate only a few scant months younger than Norrington himself. They had both been good sailors; James Norrington had been raised to Commodore and had gradually undergone a change in personality, whereas Gillette remained virtually unchanged. He was still the same man who took a comfort and joy in the art of sailing the way some men took their own comfort in women and ale. At one point, Commodore Norrington was quite sure that Gillette had fancied Christina Swann for his wife, but the First Mate had made it all too clear that that was not the case.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were stalling for time, sir." Gillette often mocked Norrington for his change in position, all in good fun. Norrington knew that he could not find a more faithful First Mate anywhere; he knew he would never have to fear a mutiny. Not that mutinies were common around here, the sailors of Port Royal were no common and base pirates, after all. But all the same, Norrington felt better not having to worry about going through what Jack Sparrow had undergone. Still, he found it hard to have any pity for the pirate.

"Stalling. Gillette, have you ever known me to be a man to stall?" Norrington asked, clasping his hands in front of him this time. Gillette grinned, "Only when you were contemplating asking Miss Elizabeth Swann to be your wife…" he said, his noncommittal shrug letting the Commodore know that there was no bite in his words. Norrington nodded. "Aye."

"That blasted Jack Sparrow - even if we leave for Tortuga this instant, we will get there and he'll be long gone! With the Governor's daughter!" Norrington slapped his hand on the rim of the birdbath, sending all its inhabitants scattering indignantly. He didn't miss Gillette's wry smirk.

"Just the Governor's daughter? Are you quite sure there isn't another whom you are so anxious to dash off and rescue?"

Norrington frowned. "There is the maid, too. She shouldn't be subjected to a life of piracy." Gillette scoffed, going so far as to look offended. "She isn't just the maid, James, you know that bloody well, even though you insist on being a stubborn as an arse," he spat.

"It is my duty to rescue both of them, yes? What more do you suggest I do?" Norrington felt his own ire rising. Mary Pearl was not something he bloody wanted to talk about. He wasn't sure how he felt about the woman except for the way it made his blood boil thinking of her with Jack Sparrow. Jealousy, yes. But James Norrington would be the very last to admit it. Mary Pearl made his blood boil in more ways than just jealously, but by now she would think that he hated her.

"I suggest you come to terms with how you feel about that woman. Maybe you don't see it, James, but you're different from the sailor I served the Crown with a sodding decade ago. If you keep going the way you are now, you'll kill yourself."

"What would you know about it, Gillette?" Commodore Norrington shot back heatedly. Gillette looked as if it was an effort not to say what he wanted, disgustingly aware of the fact that James was his proverbial Boss. "You know exactly what I mean, Commodore." He managed a quick nod, knowing far too well that his friend was in an arrogant mood created by the title given him earlier this year, the title that he'd been working strenuously for since becoming a sailor, most likely.

"Try remembering the man you were before the ceremony, Commodore." Gillette walked out of the garden straight-backed and not looking back at the man his best friend had become.

Commodore Norrington walked out of the garden moments later, not bothering to bid good-bye to the Governor. He found himself in his own mansion, staring at all the things that he had come to own. Tall marble sculptures of perfectly shaped women decorated the vast hallways in-between high ceiling-ed rooms, paintings by famous artists, imported tapestries and the like. Expensive clothing, old books, trinkets that he didn't know the use of and would probably never need, aged wine, fine serving ladies and a cook that was second only to the Governor's. He walked from empty room to empty room and thought of what Gillette had said; if there was one thing that could be said for Gillette it was that the man was honest to the point of annoyance. James Norrington let his thoughts drift to Mary Pearl - he still didn't know if that was her real name - as he stared up at one of the marble figurines. He wondered if she would ever forgive for all the things he'd said to her that were out of line. No woman deserved to be treated the way he'd treated her; once there was a time when Norrington wouldn't even offer a wench or barmaid the same respect he'd offer a queen. Mary deserved the way he acted least of all.

That was how Commodore found himself at Tortuga weeks later without a crew except for his First Mate and a man named Richard Millar; the man claimed to know Christina well since they were children, and maybe he could help find her somehow. Gillette had joined him without a word on the deck of a small, fast ship - a vessel that could more truthfully be called a boat than a ship, in all honesty. He had decided that he would have to stop lying, at least for a bit, to himself. He would try to give up this quest to bring Jack Sparrow to justice, just for now. He knew the truth that rang in the First Mate's words…if he kept on like the cold, indifferent man he had turned into, he would die, sooner or later. All men did, but some men were lucky enough to have made something worthwhile of their lives. And what would be said of him then? That he was a distant man, successful, but empty? Catching villains and making the seas safer, but having no time for a family, a wife, children? He didn't want to be remembered as a man who was too cold for that, but at the rate he was going, there would be no one to remember him anyway. Watching the scantily clad blonde woman - the owner of the pub that he was in, The Moon's Wolf - as she repeatedly beat off advances from some of her patrons with a wet rag, James Norrington realized that for once he wasn't off to increase his own esteem. He just wanted to apologize to a woman named Mary.

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[[A/N: Whew…ya'll don't know how hard I've been trying to break out of complete writer's block to get all that down! But once I started writing, I guess I just couldn't shut up.]]