Disclaimer: I own nothing; Disney is master of the universe.

A/N: Thanks to all who read and reviewed! I can't tell you how much I appreciate the encouragement!

I agree with those of you who said that sometimes it's the mystery that adds to the romance-- this is so true. It's much better to be suggestive. And Captain Jack is so suggestive!

Also, I wanted to say that in the second chapter I had Jack give the impression he couldn't read-- I'm glad people picked up on it, because it's going to be part of a plot twist-- remember, Jack isn't always truthful! ;)))

Just wanted to clarify again...this is AU (Alternate Universe-ish) so for the selfish purposes of Jack, (hee hee) Elizabeth never got a marriage proposal from Will-- she was all set to marry Norrington and Will never told her his feelings. Will's sailed away to somewhere in India, which is why she wanted to travel there on a merchant ship in chapter two. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) she was kidnapped by Jack first. I do like Will, and I think if it were possible Elizabeth should end up with both Jack and Will! After watching DMC again today with my sister, we had a long talk about who Elizabeth should end up with...what do you think? I think Disney will probably go with William, but you never know!

(Also, I re-edited chapter 3, so it's a little longer! I changed some things, and added some things so if you like please feel free to check it out before reading this!)

Chapter five should be out within the next couple of weeks!

Please R&R ! ;)))) Arrr..

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Dreams are illustrations... from the book your soul is writing about you.

- Marsha Norman

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Chapter Four: Memories

She could smell something delicious-- roast duckling with honeyed apple, and steaming rice pudding with dates and raisins. Her mouth began to water, and she opened her eyes to admire the lovely feast before her. Yet something wasn't right. Just moments before she had been asleep...in Jack's feather bed.

She remembered slipping under the damp yet inviting blankets and letting her head sink into the down pillows. She'd been exhausted. After her confrontation with Jack, she'd refused to leave the Captains cabin-- which meant that Jack would have to spend the night below deck in a cramped cot. Satisfied that he would suffer suitably for the night, she'd then raided the books that lined the mahogany shelves and picked out a volume of interest: Shakespeare's The Tempest, a book that she had never read before. It surprised her to find so many volumes that looked worn from use; the pages were dog eared and inky notes could be found on nearly every page.

Mostly the notes were translations from one language to another, but some of them had additions and quotes that she could not recognize. She wondered briefly if the books had been owned by Barbossa-- since Jack had hinted to her in Port Royal that he couldn't read. It had been quite comfortable in Jack's bed, a nice coal brazier beneath the sheets to warm her toes. She'd dropped off almost immediately after finishing Act One of The Tempest, her mind filled the ethereal sound of rain, thunder and sorcerers chants. It was therefore quite a surprise to find herself now wide awake, and sitting in the Captain's dining quarters. Yet as soon as she realized where she was, she immediately grasped she must be caught in another dream-- for the man who sat directly across from her at the long table was non-other than the mutinous Barbossa himself.

Elizabeth froze-- her instincts flinching as she waited from him to acknowledge her unexpected presence.

"I'll hand it to ye Jack. Ye certainly know how to appeal to a gentleman's..." and he glanced greedily about the fine table, with it's mountains of fruit, duck and of course, apples.

"...better half," he finished in a tone which made it abundantly clear to Elizabeth that he was nogentleman at all.

"Well you are my second mate... mate. So I'll let you be the better half whilst I enjoy me'self." Elizabeth glanced at the head of the table, where a pair of dirty, salty boots were propped up on it's polished surface. Jack, a large silver goblet in hand, leaned his head back and hummed, his other hand conducting an invisible quartet. Barbossa reached across the table and plucked a plump green apple from the fruit horn which over flowed with exotic varieties. Elizabeth's heart skipped heavily as Barbossa took the apple, then looked straight at her. His face was smoother, and his beard fuller. He looked much younger than when she had last seen him (at which time she saw more of him than she ever wished to) yet she recognized the greedy glint forever present within his eye. He seemed to consider her for a moment, and then turned to regard Jack. "Looks like there be a gale brewin' afar," Barbossa said to the Captain, who was now yawning enthusiastically.

Elizabeth felt her muscles relax slightly--Barbossa couldn't see her. She glanced behind herself and looked out the large bay window, where a dark grey sky rumbled ominously. "Mmmm..." Jack drawled lazily, his head resting against the high back of his tall chair. It was ornately carved; a mahogany piece with waves that curled into arm rests and a gold embossed symbol that crowned the cushioned head rest. All in all, she rather thought it looked like a throne. She could see why Jack liked it.

"Perhaps then we should steer east to avoid any unpleasantness."

Barbossa's face darkened, and Elizabeth felt the familiar prickles of dread as she watched his expression carefully.

"But we be only fifty miles from the coast of the Isle de Muerte. Surely you don't want the men to have to wait any longer."

Elizabeth studied his eyes, and knew that he wasn't speaking of the men at all but of himself. With a jolt she realized that if Jack was sailing towards the Isle de Muerte with Barbossa, it meant she was witnessing something that had happened over ten years ago. It also meant that very soon Barbossa was going to betray him. Jack however, simply grinned at Barbossa as if he'd made a witty remark. "Always the better half, eh? Your concern for the crew is admirable, but let me ask you one thing, Barbossa: would you rather sail into the Isle de Muerte with your head held high, or drift there piece by piece?"

Barbossa, who had been picking at his apple gave Jack a calculated smile.

"Aye. I'll abide by ye, Jack. The last thing we want is to be marooned..." -- and Elizabeth couldn't help but detect the way he savored the word-- "...in the middle of no where."

"Ah, there's always a somewhere, Barbossa. Tell William to change course, and keep an eye on the skies. With any luck the Pearl will outrun the worst." Jack replied, slurring his words slightly. His face looked flushed-- and his eyes were unfocused.

He was drunk.

Elizabeth watched with growing agitation as Barbossa rose from the table, his posture strangely tense and staged.

"Aye, Captain..." he said, but the words held no reverence. A gush of ice cold foreboding swirled around Elizabeth, causing the hairs on her neck to rise and goose bumps to prickle her skin. Jack, seemingly unaware of his first mate's deceiving obedience settled back to his goblet, his humming off-tune as Barbossa left the table. Just as Barbossa reached the door, Elizabeth could contain herself no longer. Rising, she pointed dramatically at Barbossa and exclaimed: "You cannot let that man leave! He's a liar and a mutineer, and he plans on betraying you and taking the Black Pearl for himself!"

...silence triumphed, punctuated only by Jack's attempts to whistle.

"Sleep well, Captain." Barbossa called back over his shoulder, completely oblivious to Elizabeth's accusations. Jack gave a half mumble, half snort as his head lolled back against the chair's head rest. Elizabeth bristled in frustration. So this is what happened the night Jack was betrayed? He'd been drunk!...? Elizabeth felt anger set her blood to boil. Dream or no dream, illusion or spell, it was intolerable. She glanced at Jack, whose chin now rested awkwardly on his chest. As the cabin door snapped shut and she heard Barbossa's heavy foot falls leading away down the passage, she quickly hopped over to Jack and bent down towards him.

He had to be warned!

He was the true Captain of the Black Pearl, the infamous pirate of legend!

He was clever, he was ...

...unconscious.

Elizabeth frowned down at him. His mouth hung slightly open, and his eyes were shut. The goblet he still held tipped dangerously in his relaxed grip, a dribble of red liquid spilling out and onto the carpet. Pulling back her lace sleeves Elizabeth reached out and grabbed fist fulls of Jack's loose tunic-- and shook him. "Wake! Up! Don't you understand!...? You! Marooned!" she exclaimed with each shake, desperate. She was so upset she didn't notice that one of Jack's eyes had popped open. Before she had the chance to give a proper cry of surprise, Elizabeth felt two arms wrap around her waist, hauling her unceremoniously into the Captain's lap.

"Thank heaven darling, I thought he'd never leave..."

And with that, he grabbed the back of her head and crushed his mouth to hers.

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The Spanish ship La Rosa crawled along like an elegant, sleek cat keeping just enough distance between it and its prey so as not to arise suspicion. The Captain of the La Rosa, or Rose stood on the quarterdeck, his dark eyes fixed on the horizon. It had been days since he'd caught sigh of the black ship, yet he was comforted by the knowledge that it was lurking just beyond his reach...

The Black Pearl.

For two days he had kept his distance, patiently following the Pearl's beautifully crafted stern. Now they were but a short distance from the island where, if he knew his enemy, Captain Jack Sparrow would be mooring. If the winds kept up, The La Rosawould arrive on the Eastern coast of the little island first. There, they would await the arrival of the Pearl. His initial plan had been to simply hunt down the Pearl and dangle her wily Captain off the prow until he begged for mercy and a few hygienic tips.

Of course, he would also get even with the Englishman for stealing the map of Secretos, a treasure that had been in his family for generations. What the fool intended to do with the map he still could not fathom, yet it was not a slight he could let go unpunished.

Honor, above all else.

Honor...and women.

Which reminded him, on that particular subject it would seem the wind of fortune had shifted in his favor. Since the generous offer made by the Commodore Norrington stipulated that he was to bring back the Pearl's crew alive, it would seem that he was now on the way to claiming four prizes: his map, the Black Pearl, his commission, and with a little persuasion perhaps the enchanting senorita as well.

What better vengeance was there than the sting of jealousy?

Jack, although immune to that fortune which should have seen him annihilated countless times before was not impervious to its poison. The Captain of the La Rosa smiled. It had been four long months since he had laid eyes on Jack Sparrow.

He would be sure to give him a proper welcome.

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Elizabeth shot up from a tangle of soft sheets, her body damp with sweat. The warm phantom pressure of Jack's mouth still tingled against her lips, and she raised a hand to touch them. They felt swollen, and as she tried to gain some semblance of reality one thought kept spiraling through her body.

'I want to kiss Jack. Must kiss...Jack!'

Her whole body felt like it was on fire. Desperately, she flung herself down on the bed and buried her face in the soft pillows, giving a muffled cry of frustration. Here she was, captured by a man who'd sooner pilfer the local church box than show an ounce of honesty, and yet she couldn't stop dreaming of him...and his mouth. His mouth which did sordid, improper things to her, whether he be touching her or merely speaking with his silver tongue. She took a deep, calming breath-- and shivered as she realized that the pillows smelled intensely of Jack. Elizabeth growled. This was madness. Marry Jack Sparrow...? It was impossible...he was impossible! There were a million reasons why she shouldn't:

He was mad, for one.

He'd lied to her from the moment he had met her.

He never bathed.

He had a strange habit of getting himself almost killed.

He was vainglorious.

He was a rogue, a bounder...a pirate.

Elizabeth sat up in Jack's bed, and hugged one of his pillows close to her chest, a feeling of intense tenderness washing over her as she remembered the way he had touched her in her vivid dreams. She let her face fall back to the pillow, allowing Jack's familiar scent to thrill her once more. It couldn't hurt to indulge just a little...could it? 'Yes, it bloody well can!' her better judgment ranted, pointing out that on no uncertain terms, Jack Sparrow was last man on earth she should ever wish to marry. Then why had her heart wanted to say yes?

Carried away by a childish, frustrated impulse, Elizabeth hurled the pillow across the room with a little war-like cry. Take that, Captain Sparrow! Breathing heavily, the image of his shocked expression when she had struck him floated before her memory. Guilt welled up within her chest, causing unwanted tears to prick the back of her eyes. She'd seen it clearly-- an emotion she hadn't thought him capable of. Hurt. Wiping at her eyes, Elizabeth chided herself for being so irrational. She didn't just want Jack to kiss her-- she wanted him to be honest with her-- about everything.

Despite her pride and strict upbringing which maintained: a lady should always keep her temper. A lady never shouts, nor yells. A lady is patient-- Elizabeth buried her head in her hands and swore. Loudly. She wasn't even sure what the word meant-- but it sounded angry and vile and that's exactly how she was feeling at the moment. Compared to being trapped aboard a ship crewed by the mad, and Captained by a man so barmy he defies the laws of reason, life as a peaceful domestic suddenly sounded tempting. She remembered what Norrington had told her the day he decided to let Jack have a day's head start out of Port Royal:

My dear there are no more than five active pirate ships left in the Caribbean; Captain Sparrow's age of piracy is almost at an end. Desperate men do desperate things...

Elizabeth lifted her head and rested her chin in her palm, struck by a sudden thought. Jack certainly had seemed desperate. But for what? Surely he had not kidnapped her in order to offer her that terribly gauche proposal of marriage. No, she knew Jack's temperament well enough to know that his proposal had been very much a last desperate attempt. An attempt at what, she had no clue.

She had never pegged him for a petty kidnapper, willing to shed blood and misery for ransom. She refused to believe him capable of such a heartless crime. Under-handed and treacherous, most likely. Vile and cruel...never. But if not for her father's money, then what...? Suddenly, a wave of understanding crashed down upon her questions, scattering them to the wind. Her breath caught in her throat--

W 26 52...N E 25...36

Her dream...The numbers and letters Jack had made her write in the sand; she recognized what they were now. They were directions. Points on a map...a heading. How could she have not realized before? She remembered vividly watching Norrington plot patrol routes when he had allowed her to attend one of his many briefings. It had been highly irregular, and she had endured glares and indignant snorts of-- a woman in His Majesty's court? Elizabeth had been livid. "But it is not a court! These are matters which concern every citizen of Port Royal, and since you are a Commodore why should they care if I attend?" she had argued, ignoring Norrington's weary and harassed expression.

"Elizabeth...you do not understand that these men are not just my superiors-- they speak for the King himself. You must accept that you cannot take part in everything that catches your fancy--"

" 'Catches my fancy'...? Tell me, if I paid the tax required to wear a wig that would rival that of the King himself-- would they be more inclined to let me attend?"

Norrington had looked at her patiently.

"This is not about money, Elizabeth. It is about.. Propriety. What a lady can do, and what she cannot. I am truly sorry that this aggrieves you..."

Elizabeth had simply bowed her head, her hands twisting the ribbons of her delicate lace fan. Her eyes stung with hot, frustrated tears. Norrington hesitantly placed his hand on top of hers, and she tried to smile. She knew it wasn't his fault-- yet the fact that he seemed to accept everything, just the way it was-- infuriated her. She had known that Norrington was a man of ambition and purpose. He hated feeling idle and useless. Why couldn't he understand that she shared that same conviction as well? She had tried to convince herself that in marrying Norrington she was making the proper choice. Indeed she figured she had little choice-- she could not inherit, and her father was worried beyond belief for her future.

"I want to see you provided for, Elizabeth." he'd said anxiously, his kind eyes imploring her to be reasonable.

So she had smiled, and kept back the tears that seemed to build in force each day the marriage drew nearer. The night of their engagement celebration, Elizabeth had spent most of the evening trying to summon up convincing greetings and appropriate responses to the endless stream of congratulations. One of her father's old acquaintances had approached her while she had been gazing out the large bay window which afforded a clear view of the shining Caribbean Sea.

"You look as though you've lost something my dear," the old lady had said kindly. Elizabeth reassured her that she was having a wonderful time. She spoke with the lady about her up coming marriage, enjoying the woman's company. She was genteel, well spoken and impeccably dressed in blue satin and lace. She held herself with a regal dignity that was soaked in femininity, making her stand out in the crowd like a floral perfume that lingers in a room. How much Elizabeth admired her.

"May I ask you a question, Lady Wardley?" Elizabeth had asked the old lady, after a comfortable silence passed between them. The old lady nodded after a moment's pause-- no doubt curious as to what the young woman could want to ask. "Yes, of course my dear."

Elizabeth fiddled with the satin ribbons of her dress-- a habit that her father had tried countless times to break her of. "Do you think you made the right choice in coming to Port Royal? That is to say, are you happy here?"

Lady Wardley frowned; it was not a displeased gesture but rather an expression that conveyed concern and thoughtfulness. After a moment, the pluck of violins and the thrum of cellos filling the silence between them, she spoke softly. "I came to the new world in the hope that I might distance myself from everything I'd known in England. The promise of a new life is a very powerful lure, Miss Swann. One must be careful that they do not lose sight of what they were-- lest they become something they regret."

Yet Elizabeth didn't regret her decision to flee her father's estate. Guilt, mixed with willfulness was like a fuel in her blood, driving her to keep running, to keep moving further and further from what everyone expected of her. And Jack...

Jack had never expected a thing.

He had always treated her like an equal. Granted he tended to treat everyone in the same absent minded manner-- as if his mind was constantly somewhere else and his sea faring body was left to sway on the spot as it tried to catch up. Despite herself, a small smile bloomed on her lips.

"You forgot one important thing mate; I'm Captain Jack Sparrow..."

A swell of exhilaration swirled within her, his confident declaration tattooed on her memory. She knew it sounded quite bold, but somehow she'd always known his insistence that everyone know his name ran deeper than vanity. It was a tenacious cry to be remembered-- to be remembered as a free man. Elizabeth swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood wobbling for a moment as the Pearl's deck lurched beneath her. She still hadn't gotten her sea legs, and not wanting to sit back down on the bed where she knew Jack's presence lingered she made her way over to the writing desk and plopped down in the chair. The desk was a beautiful piece made of cherry wood which boasted carvings of seashells and mermaids. The mermaids, their arms outstretched seemed to beckon her. She let her fingertips travel over their cherub-like faces.

There was an ink bottle and quill placed across a stack of parchment-- and Elizabeth, overcome with a sudden urge took a sheet and picked up the quill. Dipping it carefully, she wrote out the plot points which still swirled around her head. Perhaps if she could find out where they led...

'You could tell Jack about them...' her mind suggested, and no sooner had she finished writing the coordinates down than she was struck by a disturbing thought. As of yet, she had no way of proving her suspicions but somehow she had a feeling she was right. What if Jack needed those coordinates? She looked down at her large, messy handwriting and wondered. It was a strange idea. Just because she'd had a very realistic dream and been struck with a couple of possibly meaningless headings that didn't mean Jack had anything to do with it. Still wondering if she should confront him with the question, she folded up the bit of parchment she'd written the heading on and tucked it into down the bodice of her gown.

She'd been forced to change when the comfortable clothing she'd been wearing began to become too fragrant-- it had been a couple of days at least since she'd been able to have a proper wash and toilette. The gown she wore now was made of light cotton, and was a style in which she could slip on over her head. It was still tight around her middle, but she had been eternally grateful that it didn't have buttons or laces-- she could not imagine a worse humiliation than having to ask one of Jack's crew to help lace her up. Surprisingly, Pintel, the crotchety pirate who had originally taken her to Barbossa six months earlier seemed to be going out of his way to be kind to her. He'd brought dinner to her the night before, and even asked if she would like him to sing her a chantey while she ate. She'd agreed, partly so as not to hurt his feelings and partly because he had a habit of inventing very amusing lyrics when he couldn't remember the real ones.

Elizabeth grinned to herself, remembering one such variation:

Whiskey is the life of man
Whiskey, O, Johnny, O
I'll drink whiskey when I can...

Unfortunately, he couldn't seem to remember the second verse (in which he was supposed to repeat the first), so he sang:

I like whiskey better than ham

Whiskey, O, Johnny, O

I'll drink whiskey in a pan...

It had been quite entertaining.

Still smiling, Elizabeth was about to rise from the desk when something caught her eye; it was her name. She sat back down, her hand reaching for the crumpled parchment from which she could clearly see the heading: Dear Elizabeth...

Her first thought was that the paper must belong to Jack-- she was sitting at his desk after all. Yet hadn't he been unable to read the wanted poster when she'd showed it to him not two days ago? The though that he'd lied to her yet again caused her to frown, but her initial anger was replaced by an interesting question: why had he lied to her about something so harmless...what was he trying to hide? Curious beyond the point of reproaching herself for snooping, she uncrumpled the parchment quickly and smoothed it out on the desk. Her heart caught in her throat.

There was no date, and it read:

Dearest (this had been scratched out, she noted)

Loveliest (this greeting had been scratched out as well)

Dear Elizabeth,

I hope you do not think me presumptuous in addressing you as such, yet if you do I should heartily agree with you. I am a very presumptuous man. Blame it on a life unspoiled by the restrictions of a society that would rather see a man hang than see his worth. Yet you have always indulged my grandeur, have you not? And I have always seen more worth in my life than is perhaps warranted.

In case you are now paying attention to your lip in consternation (as you oft do when you are thoughtful) ---

...and here Elizabeth stopped biting her lip immediately. She continued to read the letter feverishly, he heart pounding heavily against the confines of her bodice.

...let me put your mind at ease. These are not the ramblings of a man mired in the depths of his own inadequacy; I will not send you a sonnet, or pester you with the sweet nature of my suffering. This is my goodbye. My only goodbye.

For some time now I have been plagued with the knowledge that despite my best efforts I have fallen victim to that which all men of my calling are loathe--regret. Although I would very much like to blame your fair charms for this lapse of mine, I find I cannot summon the gall to resent you. On the contrary, I can find nothing but admiration for your bravery, your spirit. I have thought of little else since we cast off from your port.

Troubling? Quite. Theory? I have many.

But rest assured love; I am quite resigned to your marriage and wish you my sincerest wishes for your health and happiness... and for that of your betrothed as well, if I must. Know only that you have crafted an admirer out of the most ill matter and that I shall give you this one promise: that I, being selfish and rash in nature will give you Elizabeth, who is valiant and also oh, so rash one kiss...

Elizabeth breathed.

She hadn't been aware that she'd been holding her breath until her throat had begun to burn painfully. The letter had ended abruptly with that declaration: one kiss. There, the smooth elegant script became cramped and chaotic, as if the writer had been transferring his conflictions onto the paper. Her mind spun, unraveling the doubts and questions she had been cataloguing. Before she could dwell on any, there was a knock at the door and she jumped. Instinctively she stuffed the crumpled paper into her bodice and rested a protective hand over it. Pintel stuck his head in, his eyes blood shot and his voice dryer than usual. He must have had a long night in the crow's nest.

"The Captain wishes to see you on the quarterdeck, milady," he croaked, sounding forlorn.

Elizabeth, her hand still pressed to her bodice nodded.

'We'll see if you truly are made of such ill matter, Captain Sparrow...' she thought. 'But I have faith...'

TBC...!

A/N: Eeeep! Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked, and that you'll stay tuned for chapter five which should be out within the next few weeks. Thanks ;))))) !