A/N: 2,252 hits in three days. This is crazy. You guys are absolutely wonderful, with all your reviews, and what not, but it would be nice if some of you who are reading and not reviewing did review. I always like input on how to make the story better. I'm a bit worried about how Jack's character came out in this chapter, so you guys will have to let me know what you think. And yes, I realize I haven't quite got the plot moving yet, and I realize also that I have not explained the reasons for Elizabeth's breakdown. They will come soon enough, so be patient. I am hoping to get one more chapter up before I leave tomorrow, but not guarantees. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Boo. I might cry.

A few hours before dawn, the Balinor lurched violently, and suddenly, and Jack was sent sprawling off his bed and onto the hard wooden floor. He grunted and sat up, shaking his head and then widening his eyes as he realized the ship was still listing heavily to her starboard side. He stood up, just as the floor swayed beneath him a second time, but leveled out. He dashed out of his cabin and up the stairs to the upper deck, looking comical in his nightshirt and socks. The wind and waves tossed the great ship about like a toy; the rain pelted down to the point of blinding anyone caught in it. Jack grabbed hold of something—he wasn't quite sure what—to steady himself and be certain he wasn't to be blown away.

Gibbs was standing at the helm, frantically gripping the wheel with both hands and trying desperately to keep the Balinor on course—and afloat. He saw Jack at once, and called out to him as he tripped his way to the quarterdeck.

"I thought I was goin' t' lose 'er for a momen' there Cap'n!" he cried through the howling wind, as Jack took his place at the wheel. "The anchor's let lose an' we can't seem t' get 'er back up! And we should drop canvas sir! Already she's gettin' 'erself torn up!"

"Aye!" Jack growled through the rain. "Drop canvas, and do ever'thin' ye can to get those anchors up! Cut the chains, need be." He spun the wheel heavily to the port side, trying to face into the wind and waves. A ship facing sideways stood little chance of surviving a direct hit from a large wave. The crew raced around the ship, doing everything they could to help ensure the Balinor's continued existence—as well as their own. It was one of the worst storms Jack had been faced with, in all his years at sea, and he found himself worried.

The waves were steadily increasing in size, and the wind seemed to be swirling them in a giant circle, so that the same wave appeared to hit the vessel multiple times. A particularly bright streak of lightening allowed Jack to see the faint outline of a dark ship far in the distance. He didn't immediately recognize it, but then, he hadn't the time or ability to look again. The Balinor and the safety of his crew were his main concern, for the moment.

Suddenly, an extremely large wave slammed into the front of the Balinor, knocking her nose so high into the air that Jack very much believed she was going to topple over on herself. She groaned as her wooden skeleton struggled to maintain itself, the bottom tip of the main boom dipping into the unforgiving sea as she continued to rise. He lost his grip on the wheel as the wave came aboard and bashed him savagely against the railing separating the stern from the sea. The vessel shuddered for a moment, suspended in mid air, before the wave continued on its path and swept out from beneath her. The deck seemed to disappear below Jack as she plummeted down, still upright, and he made a mad grab for the wheel, which was spinning wildly.

At a glance, there didn't appear to have been any loss of life—something the Captain was grateful for. He couldn't stand to lose any of his crew, for without them, the ship was finished. The sea continued its relentless attempts to flip the Balinor, as another large, yet not as large as the previous wave, crashed into it from both the side and the bow. Jack tore off his headscarf, tying his hand to the wheel, a decision he knew was probably foolish, but he was useless if he wasn't in control of the ship. The water tried for the second time to wash him overboard, and topple the vessel, but for the second time, didn't succeed. He could hear the crewmen sputtering desperately on the main deck as they were submerged briefly.

"Blast you Neptune!" Jack cried aloud, his voice lost in the driving wind and rains. Since when do I refer to Greek gods? his mind spat at him in the next instant, before he shook the rainwater from his eyes and forcing the wheel towards the starboard side. He quickly removed the scarf and placed it securely around his neck, before he turned back to port. The ship began to gyrate, just as the waters seemed to be doing, and Jack hoped that by moving with them the ship would avoid any further serious collisions.

He faintly heard Gibbs' voice calling, but he paid him no attention. The full force of his concentration was now entirely focused on keeping the ship in the swirling pattern he had entered her into. He thought he noticed a slight decrease in the amount of rain, but was unsure if it was only wishful thinking. But then, just as suddenly as it had started, the wind and the rain and the waves had vanished into the darkness, leaving the Balinor gradually spinning to a dizzying stop.

Jack heaved a great sigh as relief swept over him, just as the waves had a few minutes before. The entire ordeal had lasted no longer than a half hour, but to Jack, time had seemed to have been stopped completely. His tired body sagged against the mahogany, and a moment later Gibbs and Cotton appeared by his side. Looking up into the relieved faces of the two men, Jack raised his eyebrows and stood up straight, tying the scarf around his head once more.

"Didn' much think we were goin' t' make it there, sir," Gibbs breathed, shaking his head with widened eyes. "We be forever indebted t' ye." Cotton nodded, his parrot squawked something incomprehensible, and Jack put his hands on his hips pridefully.

"'Aven't ye 'eard mates? I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!"

The men on deck gave a loud whoop, before being ordered to scour the entire ship for damage. Jack was suddenly visited by the thought of the Lochinvar, and the part of his crew that Will Turner now commanded. The ship he had seen during the storm, Jack mused, was not the Lochinvar. It had been far too small. A sailing vessel it was, and likely a pirate one at that, but most definitely not her. Now that he thought about it though, something about the ship did seem vaguely familiar, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was just by memory. He would need to see the ship again. Jack glanced around quickly around, before motioning for another crewman to take the wheel. "Sail 'er towards that faint bit o' horizon o'er that way," he instructed the man, who nodded. "Keep a watchful eye out though—she can't take many more 'its from anythin'"

Without another word, the pirate left the quarterdeck, and a few moments later, found himself outside Elizabeth's stateroom. His hand fell on the knob, slightly afraid to open it for fear of what he might find, but then he decided to knock. The door quite suddenly burst open, just as he had been about to enter, and Elizabeth stood before him, looking very frightened indeed. Without a second thought, she threw her arms around him and held him so tightly that she was restricting his breathing abilities.

"Easy on the goods darling," Jack chuckled lightly, patting her comfortingly on the back and repeating a line spoken to her once before, but in a much less dangerous situation. The girl suddenly seemed to have realized just whom she was embracing so desperately, because she roughly shoved him away, backing into her room again. She turned her head away, but stayed where she now was. The man stepped forward and gripped her face in his palm, tilting her chin up so he could look her in the eye.

She didn't protest, much to both their surprise.

"Feelin' all righ' after that lit'le hop she did, love?" he questioned, referring to the Balinor.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him.

"Nothing has changed, you know," she says, trying to keep her mouth set in a firm line, but having a hard time doing so. Jack's other hand had found home at the base of her neck, but he pulled it away as she said this, taking a step back.

"Tell me," he began, smiling boldly. "What makes you think you were anythin' more t' me than any other women I e'er been with?"

She pulled her face away.

"I still love Will," she spat sourly. "And you'd do well to ignore any comments he might make about whatever it is he thinks is going on between the two of us. As I informed you earlier, we are merely on bad terms, at the moment. Pre-marriage nerves, is all." Her fists were clenched and shaking, and her arms placed stiffly at her sides.

"Are you quite certain o' that, missy? Because if I did say so meself, I'd say you had somethin' much diff'rent on yer mind this night past."

"Wretch!" she cried, throwing her fists at him, but he caught them in an incredibly strong grip. She fought him, but he backed her up against the wall and pinned her there, his smile never wavering. He was rather enjoying the sight of Elizabeth Swan in a rage. Her face was flushed, her mouth clenched tightly shut, and her eyes dark. "You ruined everything," she whispered, hate weaved throughout the entire sentence.

"Pard'n me lass, but if I recall correctly, which I'm pretty sure I do, 'twas you who kissed me that day on the Pearl. 'Twas you who shackled me t' that mast. 'Twas you who left me there t' die. And yes love, 'twas you who sailed t' the end o' the earth to bring me back. So which one o' us was it really?" His eyes flashed dangerously, but still he continued smiling. Elizabeth tried to free herself, but she was no match for the pirate's almost superhuman strength. He brought his face in close to hers, so that she could smell the rum on his breath, as well as the scent of the sea that she had long ago noticed he always carried with him. His hand strayed down her side lightly, and she felt her knees go weak beneath her. She knew very well what he was trying to do, and she was infuriated with both him and herself that he was succeeding. "Seem familiar love?" the man asked her, his voice a note about a rough whisper.

"Damn you to the depths, Jack Sparrow," the woman rebuked in a low voice.

"Careful there, lassy," he warned, grazing his fingers back up her side in a deliberately slow and sensual manner. "Ye wouldn't want to be angerin' ol' Cap'n Jack, now."

Her eyes lifted to meet his, and she immediately found herself entirely swallowed up by the dark, ominous pools. He was so close. His hold on her tightened as he ghosted his lips across hers, and then, abruptly, he released her.

"O' course ye don't! 'Cause when Captain Jack Sparrow is angry, ever'thin's done 'is way. Now, I feel the time fit for a spot o' rum!" He swaggered away, arms out to his sides as if to keep his balance, and in a moment's time, he had vanished. Elizabeth sank to the ground, cursing. How is it that he could have such an effect on her? When she had first met him, it was anything but pleasant. Being held back against a man whom she did not know—a pirate—with a chain around her throat, was not enjoyable. Still though, it had been the first time she had ever been so close to a man, any man, and she couldn't help but feel a slight rush as it had unfolded.

Jack Sparrow was dangerous, and this is what enthralled her so. He was everything she couldn't have, everything she wouldn't have…and everything she wanted.