November-December, 1687

Dennot, England

Of all the things that Elizabeth Swann had learned during her admittedly-brief tenure in life, it was that if given the opportunity, something would go drastically wrong.

One such event happened not long after their arrival in Dennot.

"The roads are closed," Jack announced, striding in without one of his customary grand entrances. Elizabeth blinked, looking up from the repairs she had been making to her dress. He paced around the tiny room, waving his hands about with indignant irritation. "Do you believe that? They've closed off the roads! His Majesty's bloody troops posted and ready to turn us back."

"So we are effectively trapped here?"

He folded his arms over his chest and huffed. "Yes."

"That's lovely." She went back to the repairs, carefully fixing a seam. She had decided to give up on expressing actual anger with Jack nearly the day after they'd gotten there; it only seemed to goad him into trying to bait her further. "And may I ask, what is so bloody important? What's out there that you must have."

"You wouldn't understand."

Of course not. I'm just Lizzie Swann, after all. "You're a pirate. I'm sure you'll come up with a plan."

"I'm not a landlubber," he muttered, before stalking back out and slamming the door behind him.

She had gone out seeking a job the very next day.

Working had never occurred to her back in Port Royal, though her most excruciating moments of ladylike boredom had led her to ponder the life of a lower-class woman. She knew of two options open to her, neither of which sounded particularly appealing: prostitute and servant. While Dennot did not possess a stunning amount of either, there were enough to suggest it might be viable... if things became desperate.

That is, until she saw the seamstress's tiny store, tucked back from the street.

"I found a job," she said to Jack over a thin potato stew.

He paused with spoon still in mouth, staring at her. When his gaze dropped to her chest, she knew what he was thinking. He swallowed the stew, lowered the spoon. "A... job," he said carefully. "And... what sort of job would that be?"

"I use my hands often," she said, deciding to have a bit of fun with him. "It takes work, but it is ultimately rewarding. All sorts of people..." Watching the expression on his face shift from thoughtful to potentially-amazed was perhaps the most rewarding thing she'd seen since leaving the Caribbean. "...and the pay, well, it's not bad... I may require your help from time to time--"

"I would be pleased to acquiesce," he said.

"--in case there's too much for me to handle--"

"--er--" Jack paled.

She would have liked to have carried on the game, but the look on his face was too priceless to continue. "Jack, don't look so worried! I work for a seamstress. Decorative fittings, for now. It seems there's call for them."

He blinked. "You're... embroidering?"

"Yes."

"You... embroider?"

She scowled. "I have many skills."

"Oh." He went back to eating.

Hmph. Captain Guttermind indeed. There had been no further discussion of it, save Jack's query if her earnings would pay rent until he could find a way to get around the twice-damned road system of County Kent. She had responded that she didn't know, and the subject had been dropped.

Now she worked on her stitches, half-listening to the chatter of the two girls also in the employ of the seamstress. Mary and Hermione spoke more than they sewed, though their skills were enough to make up for the lag when they put their minds to it.

Which was not terribly often.

"Ye don't have to work so bloody hard," Mary said after watching Elizabeth rip out six stitches and redo them for the third time. "He won't be picking up that coat for another week."

Their accents had been hard to decipher at first, though Hermione still retained traces of some education in proper speaking. Mary, on the other hand... well, the faster she spoke, the less sense she made. "I just - I don't like to be idle," she said. I don't want to leave it to the last minute might well make them laugh at her.

"Slow down your cross-stitch. That's why you keep stumbling o'er that," Hermione said. "You've been here a week now, and we've heard nary a peep from you. Be you married, Elizabeth Kendrick?"

Married, am I married? Supposedly. Actually, I'm technically living in sin with a pirate, but I won't tell you that. "Yes."

"Well... what's his name?"

Hermione and Mary would probably take her lack of a story as a dislike for speaking with them - and they had already favored her with suspicious looks after hearing how she spoke. Best to make friends with a story. "His name is Jack. Jack Kendrick. Like me. I'm Elizabeth Kendrick." She paused as they smiled. "We're... living at Cade's boardinghouse for the time being... while he looks for work."

"Running from the father?" Hermione asked knowingly.

Elizabeth blinked. "Well, yes." I don't actually know why we're here. Something about a pirate and important business to be taken care of. I need to get a story straight.

"My da's not too fond of my Thomas. Disowned me when I married beneath me. But he's a right good man, he is. I'm teachin' him to read, and he's teaching me... other things." The glow of her smile told exactly what those other things were. Fortunately, Elizabeth had become a bit too worldly to blush. "He's a stablehand at Lord Owlsley's manor by the hillside. Sometimes he takes me riding on the Lord's castoffs. Good man, the Lord Owlsley is; he sends us his shirts out o'kindness."

"Sometimes other things too?" Mary queried.

"Hush, you."

She came home that night to find Jack staring out the window at a torchlit meeting going on across the street. "Jack, I think--"

"Have you heard the latest gossip?"

"What?" She hung up her cloak and investigated the pantry's contents. There was not much to be found.

"It's said that William of Orange may invade."

Elizabeth shut the pantry and stared at him. "What? Why?"

"Haven't you heard the stories, dear? It appears dear James is most displeasing these days... a shame, too..."

"Is that why the roads are closed?"

"I wager it has something to do with it." Jack turned away from the window and looked at her ruefully. "I would have been happy to go out and fetch what I need anyway... but you've rather... complicated things."

"I? How so?"

"Why, you've gone and become respectfully employed! Shutting you up in the place while I cavort about County Kent will only raise eyebrows." He took the potato she offered him and began peeling it. "Nor am I keen on leaving you. Too many things could happen. I don't trust Quentin Cade as far as I could throw him."

"But you are the great and powerful Jack Sparrow," she said, picking up a parcel of salt that had cost more than she was willing to remember. "Surely you could throw him quite far." She supposed it would be too much to be pleased that he had expressed any concern for her. Somewhere deep down, she was quite sure that Jack held a smidgen of friendly affection for her, probably something similar to what she felt for him. After all their adventures together, goodness...

He rolled his eyes and held out his hand for another potato. "Your compliments make me want to sweep you off your feet and forfeit the money your father owes me."

"Really, Jack, you do make a lady feel wanted."

"Don't butter me up. Potato."

"That was the last of them," she said.

He looked at the potato with new respect. "The last of his breed."

"Spare me your sentimentalities and boil him."

"Heartless wench."

"Foolish mortal."

He dumped the potato into the boiling water. "Relentless she-devil."

"Bad pirate."

He stuck out his lower lip. "Now that's just cruel."

"All's fair in love and war."

"And which of those would pertain to your feelings for me, Miss Swann?" He looked at her with raised eyebrows, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

She studied him. "If you caught fire while stirring that, it would be quite funny."

"As always, you answer my questions succinctly."

Life in Dennot went on quite unremarkably as days turned into weeks. Elizabeth found her stitches improving, and soon she could converse rapidly with Hermione and Mary and work at the same time. The money she earned from her embroidery scarcely covered food bills, but seeing that she managed to contribute in her own way - well, that was enough for the time being.

Jack, however...

He went out each day, presumably to find work. He's probably robbing people, Elizabeth thought as she bade Hermione farewell at the end of her day. How else could we pay rent? Unless good Captain Sparrow - oh, pardon, Mr. Kendrick - had methods of procuring silver from thin air, he almost certainly went about it in a nefarious manner. The fact that she barely minded it anymore probably spoke volumes about their ragged state in this little town, but Elizabeth Swann Kendrick found it hard to care.

She stopped to purchase a loaf of bread from one of the villagers as day became dusk, half-listening to a conversation nearby. "Ye'd best drop it there, laddie, if ye wish to live."

The voice sounded almost like Anamaria, and she turned in its direction as the baker counted the coins she handed him. A tall, slim woman shielded by a cape spoke to a man nearly as large as she, clutching a bag. "I believe the rightful owner be that way."

"You'd best get along, dear," the baker said. "This may get ugly. Erisa is one of the finer bounty hunters... miss?"

Elizabeth had long-since forgotten him, watching spellbound as the man with the bag pulled a dagger from his belt. The crowds fanned back, but this woman - Erisa? - calmly doffed her cape. Beneath it, she wore a man's trousers and shirt - and carried a sword.

She stared, utterly transfixed, as Erisa locked blades with the thief. He may have been handy with his dagger, but Erisa was simply magnificent, sweeping her steel underneath his and sending it spinning to the ground. A flick of her wrist and the man dropped the bag, clutching his now-bleeding arm. Erisa picked up the bag, checked its contents, and handed it to a lad no more than ten. He whispered a thanks and vanished back into the crowd.

"Go about your business," Erisa said to the gathered masses. They hurried to oblige.

Elizabeth took her change from the baker and all but sprinted home, her blood aflame.

She nearly smashed into Mr. Cade as she sprinted up the stairway. After hurriedly apologizing, she flung open the door and startled Jack into dropping his mug. "I saw a woman!"

"A woman?!" Jack began jumping around to mimic her. "You saw a woman! Alert the Commodore! Stow the guns! Dip the ensign! A woman!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and grabbed his hands, spinning in a circle. "You don't understand - she fought - with a sword! She was good!"

Jack just looked at her, apparently not making the connection. "A sword! Sword-swinging women!" He linked arms and danced around in a circle, glad their earlier arguments had been forgotten. "We're devils and black sheep and really bad eggs, drink up m'hearties, yo-ho!"

"I want you to teach me."

He stopped his dancing. "I've heard that from you before and will never live it down."

"No - I want you to teach me to use a sword."

He placed both his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward, smiling warmly. "Dear, the day I put a sword into your hands is the day I sign my own death warrant."

"I wouldn't use it on you... well... not often..."

"I'm hardly suicidal, Mrs. Kendrick."

"But - to defend myself! In case you go wandering..."

"You'll need to get me drunk. Very drunk," he decided.

Her good spirits faded, and for the first time since their arrival she looked at Jack coldly. "Look at my hands, husband," she said, lifting them for him to see. "I toil away for long hours and barely manage to feed us, while you - what? What do you do, Jack? You dragged us here. If you cannot find a way out of Dennot, perhaps it's best if we just go home."

She didn't give him a chance to respond, marching to the bedroom and slamming the door.

When she left for work the next morning, he was already gone.

Jack decided early on that he would not make much of a shepard.

It was all Elizabeth's fault, really. She'd gone and gotten herself a job nearly the instant they stepped off the ship - how the devil had she done it? And now... well, he would be damned if Elizabeth Swann could land a steady income and he couldn't.

I'm working as a seamstress, she informed him haughtily as she hung up a new cloak. He eyed the cloak, then her with trepidation. One of their girls died of the fever and they need someone with a quick stitch.

You... embroider? He'd asked cautiously.

She had drawn herself up. I have many skills.

Apparently.

For some reason, she hadn't slapped him.

That did leave him with the uncomfortable task of gaining some form of meaningful employment - or at least meaningful income - preferably the latter. So far he'd lifted three shillings off of various individuals and none had been the wiser. The look on Elizabeth's face when he dumped the money on their kitchen table had been one of thoughtful annoyance; she hadn't even needed to open her mouth. He simply sighed, turned around, and went back out into Dennot to find himself something to do.

One of the sheep nudged him and bleated piteously. He reached out a tentative hand and patted it. "There there, now... sheepy..."

Oh, this wasn't going to go well at all.

Day Two of Jack's Job Hunt

 "How was work?" He asked sweetly as Elizabeth plunked a bagful of food on the table. Expressing an interest in her day might prevent further hostilities down the road. A good commander always tried diplomacy first, after all.

"The girls are Hermione and Mary... Hermione is my age. Mary has a little girl - her husband died not long ago. Today we worked on a coat for a nobleman... I'm not bad. My stitches are small and fine." She rapped his hand as he reached into the sack. "What did you do today?"

"I... am not a good shepard," he admitted.

Day Four of Jack's Job Hunt

At some point in the distant past, the occupation of scribe had been a position of both honor and dignity.

"Are you stupid or simply daft? Your writing is atrocious! No one can read this! I want my money back!"

Apparently this was not the case in Dennot.

"No refunds, sorry sir, that's the way it--" Jack turned and sprinted away, dropping his quill and ink behind him.

Day Seven of Jack's Job Hunt

"Tomorrow! And tomorrow! And tomorrow! Creeps in this petty pace--"

"Stop, ya blimey fool, you're overacting."

Jack looked at the script and raised an eyebrow. "Have you seen this writing, mate? It begs for overacting."

"Look here, Mr. Kendrick, I'm sure you're very pleasing to the eye but you must exercise... restraint."

The director's midget accomplice tugged on the leg of his trousers. "What about the Polonius role in the other one?"

"Ah.... actually, here. Take this. You need only read from halfway down."

Jack studied the script briefly before flinging his hand outward. "Neither a borrower, nor a lender be; for loan oft loses both itself and friend; and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry." Spitting out the words was nearly painful as he sashayed back and forth across the stage. He stopped in his tracks and pointed directly at the director's face, much to the man's horror. "This above all: To thine own self be true!"

He never did receive a callback.

Day Eight of Jack's Job Hunt, Evening

"What are you doing?"

"Writing."

"On what?"

"I bought some paper."

Elizabeth slammed the door. Jack winced, trying not to imagine the cost of repairing the hinges if she kept up this new habit. "We're living off bread and water and you're writing?!"

"I'm writing a play," he informed her. "It will be a good play. Better than anything that hack Shakespeare can churn out."

"And what is this good play about, Mr. Kendrick?" Elizabeth pulled her cloak off and dropped it on a chair.

"Well, there's several interlocking storylines. Our protagonist is Captain James Dory, a dashing and successful but somewhat absent-minded pirate--"

"I see where this is going."

"--and his accomplice, the dull-witted but well-meaning bla--er, sheep herder, Wilkes Tavington."

"Really." She did not sound terribly intrigued. "And how is it that a dull-witted sheep-herder happened to come across a dashing but absent-minded pirate captain?"

"The captain lost his ship, and the herder lost his sheep, of course," Jack said. "They are joined by Robert Marlin, well - he hires them - to help find his lost daughter, Estella."

He thought he caught the edge of a smile and pushed onward. "You see, Estella was a terribly adventurous girl and wandered a bit too far off the beach... wound up getting kidnapped by... I haven't quite figured that part out yet."

She didn't smile. "It'll never sell."

He sighed and fished around in his shirt, finally dumping a bagful of coins on the table. "If you must ask, I liberated it from a drunk snoozing in an ally, all right? Now, be a lovely lass and stop trying to turn me into a toad with your eyes."

And then something quite amazing happened.

Elizabeth smiled.

Jack, at long last, smiled back.

---

Props to Xena for the many skills line. Nods to... let's see... Finding Nemo, and anything else I managed to rip off.

My Darling Readers:

Wow. It has been way too long. Real life has, unfortunately, gotten in the way once again. I haven't looked at this fic in nearly a year, and it stings. Witness me trying to get the character voices back.

I can't promise this story (or the trilogy) will ever be finished at the rate things are going. But I can promise that I will do my damndest to get it done.

Hey, it's progress, right?

I'm going to be rewriting the first three chapters. When I first set out on this quest, the plot (well, what there was of it) was highly different from what it turned out to be... actually, I was aiming for more of a parody tone back then. So, that will be worked on. It was actually Muffy's comment that reminded me of this, something I'd been ignoring for awhile. It sticks out most glaringly with the Commodore. One thing I DO want to clarify is that he didn't really want Lizzie's head to get blown off... she was simply underfoot during battle and he, being the jilted lover, was somewhat bitter. One of those "oh, life would be easier if you'd DROP DEAD" moments.

Look for the revised opener (it won't be terribly different, methinks) to crop up in the next month or so.

Meanwhile, I will do my utmost to update at least once a week. I want to see this thing finished, probably even more than you guys.

Thank you for continuing to review and asking when it will be finished... it means a lot to me. You guys rock, I hope I don't let you down!

Next time, on Silence: The Captain and the Commodore come face-to-face - Captain Soledad, that is! Will's Worst Fear™ is confirmed, and Gerrarrd has a scheme (when doesn't he?)