Elizabeth stifled a yawn. The supper had been going on for what seemed like hours, and Elizabeth was growing tired and insufferably bored. After a while, even her the uneasy feeling that she might hear something bad about Jack had subsided and given in to the mindless hum inside her brain.

"But Commodore! Surely you don't mean that pirates have a haven? Admittedly, I had heard of a port town somewhere that was receptive to their needs and asked few questions, but a safe haven is another matter entirely!"

"True, Barkin, but you must think about it logically: where do pirates go between their voyages? And after? Where do they find crews, restock and repair, stash their immense loot? A pirate isn't always at sea, Barkin, and they are not too difficult to recognize."

Elizabeth yawned again, this time letting it escape. Mrs. Barkin, whose stories of her previous life in Barbados with her traveling father usually kept Elizabeth in stitches, but tonight Ellen seemed distracted; she fluctuated exuberant and listless. There were moments of Ellen's natural, fizzy self, and times when Elizabeth could not pry a word from her. When Elizabeth had commented on her stunning gold necklace, it took several moments to grasp her attention, and when she did, Ellen closed her fist tightly over the pendant, eyes flashing. The next second her eyes cleared and it looked as if she had no memory of her strange behavior. It seemed almost as if she were two people trapped in the same body.

"I understand your thinking, Commodore, but I doubt highly that there is a pirate asylum anywhere- between the English colonies and the Soanish, our fleets would have turned up something by now, don't you think?"

"Barkin, there are many places that we have yet to discover. Why, only last year Jack Sparrow led us to an island-"

Jack? Elizabeth snapped out of her reverie and looked up at Commodore Norrington.

"-we had never heard of and it turned out to be simply crawling with pirates!"

The sound of Jack's name and the mention of their adventure sent a small shiver down Elizabeth's spine. Absentmindedly she traced the scar along her palm where it had been cut last year.

"Speaking of which, any word on Sparrow, Commodore?" asked the Governor. Elizabeth thought she caught a slightly amused tone in his voice and smiled.

Norrington let a sort of bemused expression drift over his features. "I've heard hide nor hair of Sparrow, actually. He seems to be keeping to himself, or attacking only the Spanish these days. Can't say that I'm complaining, of course."

Elizabeth relaxed as their conversation floated off again into the realm of trials and executions, still touching her scar. All of a sudden, she jumped in her seat as if she'd been burned. Elizabeth gasped her palm. For a split second it had burned with pain. Looking at it now, Elizabeth stared in amazement. The thin line scar that was usually slightly raised and pale pink in color appeared to be glowing faintly. She looked closer. Yes, it was glowing, a red hue emanating from her very skin. Elizabeth looked up quickly to see if anyone had noticed her started reaction. No, the room was still buzzing quietly about the same issues it had been a moment before. Except…

Ellen Barkin was staring at her with an intensity Elizabeth had never known.