Usual disclaimers – life ain't fair!

Welcome back to affnet, although as I type this, it is down again!

With thanks for the reviews and to Kat for editing it and Hils for being Hils!

Chapter Twenty

"Matthias?" Celia enquired hesitantly as she hovered outside the sick quarters. "Can I come in?"

"Course yer can," the ship's doctor beckoned. "I reckon th'sight of ya will do this one good, at least!"

Celia was grateful it was gloomy enough in the cabin to hide her blushes as she walked over to the low bunk on which Oliver was laid out. "How is he?"

"I'll live, apparently," came his Irish brogue and Oliver turned his head to look at her, a smile on his face.

"It looks worse than it is," Matthias informed her. "But no heavy liftin' fer a while."

"Oh good! Remind me ter get stabbed more often!" the Irishman quipped, winking at the young girl hovering over him. "Is th'cap'n all right?"

"Yes," Celia nodded. "He's just pulled the skin open, that's all."

"That's all?" Jack snorted as he entered the cabin. "It hurts like buggery."

"Tell us about it," Oliver sympathised. "Thanks fer comin' fer me, Cap'n." He struggled to rise on the bunk, only to be held down by two pairs of hands belonging to Celia and Matthias and he sank back, wincing from the pain reverberating around his body.

"I wasn't about ter leave you there," Jack stated. "Some bloody soft pirate I am, eh?" he chuckled.

"It's why yer th'best," Matthias observed. "Th'cap'n has more nous an' integrity in his little finger than any other captain I've ever served under," he told Celia.

"Now I know why I give yer so much treasure - so you can say nice things about me!" Jack laughed. "So, Mouse, you'll live then?"

"Aye, so th'good doctor tells me," he mumbled, his eyes drifting shut as exhaustion started to overtake him.

"Time we left," Jack mused, taking Celia by the arm and leading her from the cabin. "Saint Martha?"

"Huh? Oh, yes. She is the saint of housewives amongst other things," the former novice told him. "But why her image was on that grave, I have no idea."

"I wonder if there's a Saint Martha around?" he pondered, stroking his braids.

"Jack! It means nothing - it doesn't lead to his treasure," Celia argued, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "You're taking us on a wild goose chase."

"I'm captain of this ship," Jack reminded her, curtly. "I'll decide whether we're on a wild goose chase or not, savvy?"

"Fine!" she snapped, darting into the galley as they passed it to get away from him.

"Yer all right?" Tobias enquired as he pounded a lump of dough to within an inch of its life. "Cap'n windin' yer up again?"

"Do you think he's leading you all a merry dance over this so called treasure hunt?"

"I can see how some might think that," the burly cook nodded. "But us - th'crew? Nah, most of us have sailed fer too long under him, an' them that ain't would've heard all about him before they joined. Mark my words, somethin' will come out of this. Might not be what we expected, but somethin' will."

"That's what I was afraid you'd say," she sighed, half sitting on the edge of the trestle table.

"Look at it this way," Toby smiled, flashing his silver teeth. "We've got ter sail somewhere, might as well sail to… where are we sailin' to?"

"He's probably looking for a Saint Martha as we speak," she replied with a rueful smile.

"Hey! There's a Saint Marta in Colombia," the cook cried, slapping the dough down. "Go an' tell th'cap'n, there's a good girl."

"All right," Celia sighed heavily, gettin down from her perch and heading out of the galley. She peered her head around the sick quarters, smiling as she saw Oliver sleeping peacefully, then she made her way up the steps to the main deck, squinting as the setting sun caught her eye. "Ja… Captain," she called, as she shielded her eyes and spotted him at the bow. "Toby says there's a Saint Marta in Colombia," she informed him as she made her way along the deck towards him.

"Is there, now?" Jack grinned, exchanged glances with his quartermaster. "That isn't too far away now, is it?"

"Indeed not, Cap'n," the older man agreed. "There or…" he hesitated before speaking again. "Isla de Muerta?" he shuddered. In spite having been there many times since the defeat of Barbossa and his cursed crew, he still hated the place and was always thankful when he was back on board the Pearl and sailing away from the dread isle.

The pirate captain pondered for a few minutes, weighing up which would be better before nodding his head, looking around in slight bewilderment at the nearby crew who had been waiting with baited breath. "Saint Marta," he declared.

Although Gibbs had declared the chasing ship would not catch them, the crew of the Black Pearl were still busy for the rest of that day drawing out a bigger margin between the two ships and it was only when darkness fell and Jack had ordered all but the necessary lights to be doused, did they finally shake off their pursuers,

"Go on, Captain," the quartermaster urged as Gabriel Jennings softly called out the end of the first watch (midnight), and not sounding the bell thus giving away their position once again. "I'll take the ship."

"You sure?" Jack enquired wearily, rubbing his eyes. "Make certain…"

"Don't worry, they won't find us."

"I know," the captain of the pirate ship smiled. "Just make sure th'men keep a sharp eye, eh?"

"I will," Gibbs promised, clapping the younger man gently on the shoulder as he passed. "Goodnight, Jack."

Jack crept as quietly as he could into the cabin, peering in the dark as Celia had not lit any of the lanterns or candles. 'Good job I know th'way,' he thought wryly, picking his way across to the side cabin.

"Jack?"

"Aye," he confirmed. "I didn't think yer'd be awake."

"I've been dozing," Celia admitted. "The stern seat isn't the most comfortable of places to sleep."

"Why are you there? Why didn't yer rig th'hammock?"

"I-I was too busy keeping watch of the other ship through the window and then realised that it was too dark to see what I was doing," she confessed, blushing at her silliness.

"Ah… you'd best come an' share th'bunk then," he chuckled lasciviously.

"N-no!" she stammered, not wanting to be in such close proximity to him. "I-I'll be f-fine…"

"What's th'matter, luv?" Jack purred, his voice getting closer to her. "Don't you trust yourself any more?"

"What do you m-mean?" Celia enquired, gulping audibly as she felt him stand in front of her. "H-how can you find your way in the dark?"

"Years an' years of practice, Ceila," he murmured, sitting beside her and leaning over.

"S-stop it."

"Stop what, I'm not doin' anythin'… yet. An' you haven't answered my question…"

"W-why wouldn't I trust myself?" she whispered, cursing herself for shivering as he blew on her neck.

"You know I heard you," he chuckled, moving closer still and nuzzling her hair. "Have you ever done that before?"

"Stop it!" Celia wailed, jumping to her feet and stumbling in the dark. "It's wrong…"

"If it's wrong - if what you did to yourself is wrong, why hasn't there been a thunderbolt from th'skies ter strike you down? Why hasn't every man on this ship been struck down fer their collective wickedness, eh?"

"Stop twisting things!" she pleaded, catching herself as she crashed against the table in the middle of the cabin.

"I'm not," Jack purred, standing and following her, using his ears to track where she was. "You want me, Celia Hammond, an' I don't care how much yer deny it. Give yourself ter me an' then all this turmoil yer goin' through will end, eh?"

"To be replaced by turmoil of another kind!" she retorted, yelping as she stubbed her toe on the mizzenmast.

"Ah, so you admit you want me, then?"

"I admitted nothing!" she retorted, feeling her way around the mast and hoping to reach the door before he caught up with her.

"You said you'd have a different kind of turmoil, which means you're considerin' givin' yourself ter me… plus, you didn't deny that you want me…" Jack took one more step forward and reached out to where he judged the young woman to be, grabbing her hand triumphantly and pulling her back to him. "Did you?" he murmured, tracing her face with his hand until he found her mouth and then replaced his fingers with his lips, wrapping her in his arms to quell her struggle.

"Jack…" Celia croaked as she pulled away. "Please don't." She pushed against him in an effort to break free, but his grip was too strong and she sagged in his arms, sighing resignedly. "I-I can't…"

"Why?" he whispered, his breath hot on her face. "Just answer me this one thing - honestly. Do you want me?"

Celia swallowed several times, all that she had been taught about propriety fighting with the need and desire racing through her veins. "I… Jack…" she pleaded.

"It's just a simple yes or no," he urged softly, still holding on to her tightly.

"Simple!" she snorted ruefully. "If only…"

"It is…"

"I… can't. I'm scared," she gulped, trembling against him.

"There's nothin' ter be scared of," Jack told her. "I won't hurt you."

"I-I know y-you wouldn't, but…"

"I tell yer what, how about we go an' lie on th'bunk an' just touch each other, eh?"

"With our clothes on?"

"Heh! No," Jack chuckled, shaking his head at her. "Maybe if yer just touch me, then you won't be so scared, eh?"

"Jack - I can't! I truly can't!"

"Celia, luv…" he sighed, running his hand across his bandana.

"You don't get it, do you?" Celia cried, jerking away from him. "I had to touch him!" she spat. "I had to do things to him, I had to watch him and Syndony do things and now you want me to do the same to you!"

"Bloody hell," Jack swore, mentally kicking himself for not realising, especially after the way she had reacted to the name of the tavern they had visited in Saint Georges. "I'm sorry, luv, I didn't…"

"Think? No, that's obvious," she sniffed, wiping away tears with a handkerchief. "It was horrible, Jack, and I… I don't want to sully the way I feel about you with having to do that."

'Th'way she feels…?' he thought, elation soaring through him but he sobered immediately, wanting to reassure her, but making a mental note to bring it up when the opportune moment arose. "Rape isn't just about a man penetratin' a woman," Jack replied gently, reaching out once more and drawing her to him, relieved when she did not pull away. "Rape is about a man forcin' a woman ter his will. Come on, we'll just lie, eh?" he urged, tugging at her.

"Naked?"

"Not if you don't want to, no."

"A-all right," Celia agreed hesitantly and found herself being lead carefully across the cabin.

"Is it that that's worryin' yer more than it being against what th'church believes in?" he asked as he felt his way in to the side cabin.

"I'm not sure," she admitted, swallowing when she realised where they were. "Not naked…?"

"Not naked," he sighed ruefully. "Although I've never touched yer when we have been naked, have I?"

"No," the young woman agreed, biting her lip as he stopped by the bunk. "What do you want to do then?"

"You know what I want ter do!" Jack grinned, squeezing her hand as she stiffened. "Just hold yer, kiss yer, an' see what transpires from that, eh?"

"A-all right." Celia squealed as he grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up on to the bunk, then climbed up himself, settling quickly and sliding an arm underneath her, his fingers curling around her ribs.

"Comfy?"

"Yes," she replied, having no choice but to snuggle against him due to the lack of room in the small bunk. She hesitantly stretched her own arm across him, praying that she would not touch where his shirt gaped open and breathing a sigh of relief when she felt his shoulder, but moving her hand rapidly when she remembered his wound.

"How about puttin' it there?" Jack suggested with a chuckle, taking her hand and putting it on his midriff, not so low down as to spook her but low enough for him to sigh blissfully. "What about a kiss, eh?" He did not wait for a reply but turned onto his side and kissed her, his tongue pushing into her open mouth and exploring it, probing deeper and more urgently as she responded beneath him, her arms winding around him and pulling him on top of her and her legs tangling with his. "Bloody hell, luv!" he panted, breaking away from her. "I thought you didn't want ter…"

"I-I got carried away," Celia admitted timidly, both scared and elated at how quickly she had lost control. "Jack - I don't know what to do!" she bewailed.

"Do you trust me?" he murmured, his tongue idly playing inside her ear.

"Y-yes… why?"

"Celia, do you trust me?" Jack repeated, wishing there was some light in the cabin so he could see her face.

"Yes," she replied, more firmly.

"I want ter show you how pleasurable it can be. I won't force you or hurt you, but yer have ter trust me, all right?"

Celia shivered and bit her lip but found herself nodding in the dark. "All right," she agreed, bracing herself for what might be coming, and whimpering as he moved down her body and lifted her dress, tugging at her knickers until they were around her ankles. "J-Jack…?"

"Trust me," he muttered, wishing more than ever that he could see her as his hands ran up her legs until they reached the soft fuzz of hair at the top and he buried his face in it, his tongue licking and probing along her slit.

"Jack!" she cried, clutching the bedcovers as a white hot flame shot through her body. "N-n-no," she gasped, arching her back and writhing as his tongue thrust into her warm, moist womanhood while his fingers worked along her slit, caressing the nub and driving her almost insane with desire. "Oh… Lord…"

"It's not wrong," Jack rasped as he broke away from his ministrations for a moment before plunging back in, licking her more urgently as she moaned and squirmed, her panting getting more and more ragged until she cried out and her legs clamped his head as he drank her juices, her cries of passion mixing with the slurps from his mouth until she sagged back down against the bunk, breathing heavily from exersion and shock.

"Oh…" Celia gulped, the rest of her words being cut off by Jack's lips closing over hers and she started as she tasted herself on and in him.

"Nice?" he chuckled as he broke away to suck at her neck.

"Yes," she gasped, shifting as his teeth nipped at her skin, sending another wave of passion coursing through her. "Oh, yes… but…"

"We'll go at your pace, savvy?" he murmured, his fingers working on the laces at the front of her dress. "We can still just touch, if that's what yer want eh?"

"Why? Why are you being so understanding?"

"You'd rather I wasn't?" Jack teased as he gave up in trying to undo her dress. "Toby was right when I said I love women so much that I can't understand a man who doesn't. It goes against everythin' that I am ter hurt a woman - even a whore."

"You're not really a pirate, are you?" Celia mused, subconsiously stroking his back. "Not deep down."

"Heh! I suppose not," he agreed. "I'm not driven by th'same forces that turns other men ter piracy which is probably why I'm firstly, successful, an' secondly, still alive." He sighed heavily, glancing around in the dark. "Stay there, luv, I'm goin' ter fetch some light."

"Is that wise?" she fretted. "The other ship might…"

"It's worth th'risk," he assured her, kissing her deeply before climbing down from the bunk. "Celia…?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"Don't fall asleep, eh?"

"Of course I won't," she giggled, feeling light headed and a little shaky. 'You've done it now,' she thought to herself once she was alone, pulling her skirts back down again, having enough pride to want to preserve her modesty. 'There's no going back…' Celia lay there for a few moments, willing herself to feel guilty but instead found that she was listening intently for Jack's return.

"Here we are," came his growl from the main cabin and Celia could see the flickering of the lantern against the bulwarks as he approached the side cabin. "Much better," he grinned, the light glinting on his gold teeth and making him look even more rougish than he already did to Celia's mind.

"Yes…" she agreed hesitantly, her nerve all but failing her now that she could see him. "A-are you sure it's safe?"

"Th'other ship won't be able ter catch us anyway," he shrugged, starting to strip out of his clothes until he noticed Celia watching him warily. "Still not naked?"

"D-do you mind?" Celia fretted, biting her lip. "I-I'm sorry…"

"That's all right," he sighed, smiling although deep down he was bitterly disappointed. "I'll keep me breeches on, eh?"

"Thank you, Jack," she replied, rewarding him with a sweet, relieved smile. "I will try…"

"I told you - at yer own pace," Jack interrupted, standing beside the bunk once he had divested himself of his shirt, boots and bandana. "Do you perhaps want ter take your dress off? Yer'll never straighten it out otherwise."

"Yes, I had better," Celia smiled, getting down from the bunk and continuing what Jack had started on her laces until the garment was loose enough to pull down and it pooled at her feet and she was left in only her undershift which she always slept in anyway. Celia bent to pick it up, unsurprised when Jack patted her bottom and then fondled it, his fingers reaching between her legs and brushing against her. "Jack…" she warned, her voice catching as a wave of desire washed over her.

"Just feelin' th'goods, darlin'," he chuckled throatily, pulling her to him as she straightened with the dress in her hands, and he buried his face in her neck. "Yer hair's getting' long," Jack mused as he brushed it aside in order to reach her skin which he nipped gently.

"S-stop," she gasped, arching her back and clutching the dress tightly as another throb pulsated deep in her womanhood.

"Yer sure you want me to?" he rasped, biting harder at her neck and making her gasp and groan.

"Y-yes…"

"Yer don't sound very certain," Jack teased, flitting his tongue across her ear lobe as he ran his hands down her body. "I can make you feel even better than before," he boasted, rubbing his hand along her slit, albeit through the material of her shift.

"Oh, Jack," she groaned, writhing in his arms. "P-please don't…"

"Why?" he whispered, his hot breath tickling her ear. "I think you want me to, really…"

"N-no… please, Jack."

"Why?" he demanded again, pulling away slightly and frowning at her behind her back.

"I… oh…" Celia sighed, throwing her hands up in exasperation and turning to face him. "If… when I give myself to you, I want it to be a conscious decision rather than having my desire making the decision for me… does that make sense?"

Jack chuckled ruefully, a slow grin spreading across his face as he kissed the tip of her nose. "Perfect sense," he acknowledged, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. "Let's go ter bed, yeah?"

"Thank you," she smiled tearfully, wondering how a pirate would be more considerate and gentle than even her well-bred fiancée had been as she snuggled up to him, resting her head on his bare chest, lying in silence until sleep took her.

Celia opened her eyes, blinking in the strong morning light and turned over, mewling with disappointment when she found the other side of the bunk empty and cold - obviously having been vacated for some time. 'I'd better get up,' she thought ruefully, clambering from the bunk and stretching luxuriously, wondering where the pirate captain was and soon finding her answer.

"Ah - you are alive, then?" came Jack's acerbic voice from within the main cabin and she poked her head around the door, blushing furiously as she saw not only Jack, but Joshamee Gibbs, Gabriel Jennings, Myles Burford and Oliver Fernan, all huddled around the table, studying a chart.

"Y-yes," she spluttered, backing quickly away, but not before she had caught the look of hurt and anger in the eyes of the tall Irishman.

"Mornin', Miss Celia," Gabriel called, more than a hint of amusement in his voice. "Did yer sleep well?"

"Jennings…" Jack growled, looking up from the chart and shooting a warning glance at his crewman.

"Sorry, Cap'n," he muttered, a smirk still twitching the corner of his lips.

"It's not me you should be apologisin' to…"

"Sorry, Miss Celia," Gabriel called towards the direction of the side cabin. "Forgive me m'manners."

"It's all right," Celia replied, as she tried to wash herself with the scant bit of water still left in the pitcher from the previous night before deciding that she would have to do and pulled on her yellow dress, wincing at the creases in it. 'I'm going to have to face them,' she thought, biting her lip. 'And they know what happened last night… well, not exactly what happened, but enough… oh no!'

"You comin' in or not?" Jack enquired from where he was standing in the doorway of the larger side cabin, his head cocked to one side as he watched her.

"I-I'll wait," she smiled weakly. "I don't want to interrupt."

"Never stopped yer before… you've got to face th'crew sometime," Jack reasoned. "Or is it just Fernan yer don't want ter face, I wonder?"

"What?" she gasped, wondering if he had found out about the kisses she and the helmsman had shared the other day but realising that he would most certainly not so jovial about it if he did.

"I know he likes you, an' I suspect yer like him. But not as much as you like me, eh?" he murmured, stepping closer to her and brushing his lips across hers.

"They'll see," she squeaked, backing away and trying to look over his shoulder.

"They've gone," he grinned, winding his arms around her and drawing her in to his arms. "Do you like Mouse?" he asked, looking deep into her eyes. "Do you prefer him ter me?"

"Jack!" Celia cried, looking in horror at him. "Do you really think that I would have let you do what you did last night if I preferred Oliver?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "But I do know that he is married an' that you probably would consider givin' yourself ter him even less than you considered givin' yourself ter me. So, maybe I'm th'lesser of two evils, as it were, hmm?"

"How dare you!" she spat, slapping him. "I'm not some whore!"

"When did I say that you were?" Jack reasoned as he rubbed his cheek. "I just suggested that you maybe like Oliver but consider him out of bounds."

"But you're still suggesting that I'm prepared to give up my virtue, willy-nilly! Why? Just when I decide what I want to do, why do you do this? Have you decided that you don't want me but are too afraid to tell me?"

"No," he laughed, throwing his head back as he did so. "No, luv, I want yer more than ever. But I saw th'look on yer face when you saw Fernan in th'cabin, an' I saw th'look in his eyes…"

"What would you do if I said I preferred him?" Celia frowned, chewing her lip with worry and not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"Ter be honest, I haven't really thought about it, most likely because I know you prefer me, but if you said you wanted him…? Probably take what you still owe me from his purse an' wish yer both good luck as I left yer at th'next port of call."

"Oh…" she gulped, feeling both relieved and frightened by his reply.

"So…?

"So? Oh! I do want you, Jack," she replied shyly, looking away from him and blushing, unused to discussing her deepest feelings. "I always did, if I'm honest with myself. I suppose things got a little… complicated."

"Complicated? How?" Jack mused, looking at her down his nose and frowning.

"I… erm… j-just that I wasn't certain at first," she gabbled as she realised that she nearly spilled the beans about the kiss.

"I see…" he nodded slowly and Celia had the horrible feeling that he saw only too well. "Come on then, young lady, or breakfast'll be all gone by th'time we get there!" He grabbed her hand and virtually dragged her across the deck before she had chance to protest and yanked open the cabin door, bounding out on to the main deck.

"I was just comin' ter tell yer that th'oats are ready," Elliot grinned as he almost collided with his captain at the top of the hatch. "An' Toby's in a right mood, an' all! Mornin' Celia," he beamed at the woman who was just a few years older than he was.

"Yer getting' a little familiar, Deane…" Jack mused, looking darkly at the young crewman.

"Ah, she's like th'sister I never had!" he chuckled, stepping onto the deck. "Nothin' ter fear from me, Cap'n," he said innocently, whistling as he went and winking broadly at Matthias Swain.

"Yer'll get yourself inter trouble one day, my lad," the ship's doctor hissed as Jack and Celia disappeared down the hatch. "An' I wouldn't be able ter patch yer up again, like as not."

"Ah, th'cap'n wouldn't hurt me," Elliot boasted as she started to climb the rigging. "It's someone else he needs ter worry about…"

"There - you've faced some of th'crew," Jack announced as they walked along the dimly lit corridor, "an' yer survived."

"Yes, Jack," Celia sighed, shaking her head at him. "Although I hardly think just Elliot counts."

"Heh! Seriously, luv. If you get any snide remarks from anyone, I want ter know, savvy?"

"No," Celia stated firmly, shaking her head once more. "It's going to be something I will have to learn to live with - might as well start now."

"All right," Jack agreed, regarding her with a sideways glance.

"What?"

"Your attitude's changin' an' I admit ter being a little surprised by it… why?"

Celia closed her eyes, as she thought. "I don't know," she replied eventually, opening them again and glancing at the pirate captain, blushing as she saw the intensity of his stare. "I suppose I've started to realise that I can't be the same person I was when I came over here - that I couldn't be the same person I was when I left England, even if I had gone to the Virgin Isles as a missionary. It's a different way of life, a different outlook but it's taken me the best part of five months to realise it."

"Quicker than most," he quipped as they reached the mess and he lead her in to it, casting a quick glance around the men gathered there and frowning slightly as he saw Oliver turn his head away. 'Bugger!' he thought to himself. 'I'm goin' ter have ter have another word with you, Fernan…'

"I'd almost given up on yer," Toby sniped as he stomped into the mess and slammed two bowls down onto a trestle table. "It might be cold."

Jack raised his eyebrows at the departing figure of his cook and looked at Thomas Frazer questioningly.

"Lost his rum rations playing dice last night," the Scotman informed him with a shrug.

"Ah, that'll teach him ter gamble, then, won't it?" Jack stated firmly. Although he allowed the men to gamble small amounts of money or their rum rations, it was not something he entirely approved of, believing it to cause more trouble than it prevented.

"Cap'n, can I borrow Celia ter help patch th'spare topmast sail?" Jacob Sumner enquired.

Jack looked at the young woman who nodded resignedly, and he smiled sympathetically as he knew she hated the task but did it, largely without complaint. "Keep you occupied fer th'day," he chuckled as he tucked in to the lukewarm oats.

"When will we arrive in Saint Marta?" Celia enquired, pulling a face at the taste of the gruel but eating it nonetheless, knowing it was that or nothing of substance until supper.

"I reckon two or three days, eh Fernan?"

"Two or three days, aye," the helmsman echoed in a surly tone.

"Oh dear," Celia sighed quietly, glancing at Jack who was frowning at his bowl.

"So," Jack said loudly and cheerfully, deciding to ignore his crewman's mood. "You still think this is folly?"

"Yes," she replied, grateful of the distraction. "If I had any money, I would take a bet with you that nothing will come of this."

"You would, would yer…?" Jack learned in close, his lips pressing against her ear. "You don't just have ter bet with money, you know…" he growled, grinning with evil delight as he felt her shiver.

"What do you propose I bet with, Captain?" she enquired, quiet enough for the men nearby not to overhear and a teasing smile playing on her lips.

"We'll have ter see if we can come up with somethin' eh?" he chuckled, watching as Oliver Fernan limped from the mess as he favoured his wound, a dark look on his face. "Now, if you'll excuse me, lady and gentlemen, I have a ship ter run. Catch yer later, luv."

"Yes," Celia nodded as she finished off the unappetising porridge.

"Ah, Gibbs - just th'man I want ter see," Jack said as he spotted the quartermaster ambling down the corridor. "I think there may be problems with Fernan…"

"Aye, there are," the older man sighed, shaking his head. "We've tried ter warn him but he's… well, he's got it bad for her."

"Well he'll just have ter not have anythin' fer her, will he?"

"Why don't you?" Gibbs retorted, holding a placating hand up to stop Jack's outburst. "He likes her every bit as much as you do, Jack. How would you feel if the tables were turned, eh?"

"Like killin' him," Jack nodded ruefully, seeing Gibbs' argument. "How do th'men feel about havin' her on board?"

"They're fine about it. There's ribald comments, as you'd expect, but Mouse, and Butler aside, the men don't have any problem with her… or you," he stated, knowing what was really on his captain's mind.

"Now I know why I won't let yer retire," Jack grinned, clapping the older man on the back. "Ta!"

"It's a pleasure," Gibbs chuckled. "And yes, I'll have another quiet word with Mouse."