Will held up his father's old sword and gazed at it dubiously. "I don't know if I can repair this."

He had come across the rusted blade in the Wickedry's armory, choosing to loiter there while Gerrarrd continued his lengthy meetings with the dissatisfied captains of the Caribbean. He didn't know why he recognized it in the dim light; he simply gravitated to a long, curved object not dissimilar to a sailor's cutlass - but slightly different, thicker through the blade itself. He turned it over carefully in his hands, tracing along the pommel and at last peering at it. Beneath scores of rust and wear and grime: BT, carved into the edge.

Bill Turner. The man had spent some money getting the sword properly engraved.

The captain had sought him out after the latest round, and found him sitting there holding the thing in his lap. Why not fix it, he'd suggested.

"I was told you are a blacksmith of some repute," Gerrarrd said.

"I can knock things together," Will said cautiously, mindful of the captain's steely gaze. "I can repair things, true. But this - I think this is beyond my skills, Captain Gerrarrd. It may even be beyond Prometheus himself..."

"How so?"

Fine; if the captain wished to question him, Will could certainly formulate answers. "This sword was with my father for his duration on the bottom, yes? The rust on this is astounding - although it seems on this edge, someone tried to clean it off-"

"With his teeth."

Will cringed. "-if it goes straight through, and there's no reason why it should not, the blade is likely not salvageable. Even if it doesn't, it's been so terribly abused over the years, abused and neglected and left to rot-"

"While others went on to greater glory?" Gerrarrd lifted a hand and drew a saber from its place along the wall. "This blade, for instance. Is it any better than your father's?"

He took the sword in his left hand, testing it. "It's a fine piece of work. But father's is better-balanced, and will leave a more... lasting injury, if properly-wielded. If you will permit me to say so, Captain."

"So your father's blade is a victim of circumstance."

"Yes," Will said, somewhat puzzled.

"Not unlike yourself."

"Captain?"

"You were confined to land when you should have sprung about in the rigging as a boy," Gerrarrd said, taking the sword and placing it back in its proper position. Will wondered fleetingly if it were truly wise to keep so many sharp objects in one room aboard a ship full of cutthroats, but did not have time to further ponder it as the captain continued. "And then took second row to the Commodore while trying to win your Elizabeth's heart - and then Jack Sparrow-"

"If you seek to turn me against my friends, you choose the wrong method," Will snapped. His fist tightened reflexively around his father's sword, then quickly released as the rust bit into his palms. "Jack Sparrow saved me, saved all of us-"

"And where is he now, William? Where is your friend now? Where is Elizabeth?"

The genuine question in the captain's voice made him look up. "I thought Errol was to bring her in, hold her for ransom-"

"That was the plan, yes," Gerrarrd said. "Oh, don't give me those wounded eyes; you knew all along I intended to make a pretty coin off her father. You're not as stupid as you pretend to be, nor as complacent. But Errol has not been able to find her... and, according to the scuttlebutt 'round the Caribbean, neither has our dashing companion Norrington."

The news struck Will hard in the gut, and it took all his strength to maintain his composure. How? Why? ...he could be lying to you now, William! Trying to draw you out! But Gerrarrd's explanation seemed almost too simple to be a lie; why openly admit to such a gaping hole in his plot to rule the seas? "How... how can this be? How can you not find her? You left her on the island with him!"

"And we have searched that island. Every nook and cranny... everything. Every cave, every lagoon, every tree and every crevice. Errol found the remains of a campsite, but nothing more."

Elizabeth is missing. Elizabeth. You are the reason I am... but... how can this be?

"I can only surmise that something happened to both of them." Gerrarrd paused, taking a few steps across the room to gaze out the porthole. He clasped his hands behind his back. "That, or Sparrow has spirited her away to an unknown locale."

"Jack wouldn't do that."

"Why?"

The question hung in the air. Gerrarrd looked at him for only a brief moment before turning back to the porthole, permitting Will's thoughts to cave in on themselves. "Jack wouldn't do that," he said desperately, trying to hold onto what remained of pleasant memories. "He just... he's a good man."

The captain turned away from his window, placed a hand on Will's shoulder, and guided him from the armory. Will allowed himself to be nudged in the direction of the main deck, now clear of crew members and would-be associates. "You knew Jack Sparrow for all of a few days, lad. He helped you, true enough, but held his own motives in doing so."

Jack wanted his ship back... Jack got his ship back... but he still came back for us... to get his ship back. Will swallowed hard. "I... I don't think he would..."

"Even a good man can be swayed by the wiles of a woman. Your Elizabeth is a very appealing young lady."

He's just trying to sway you! Will smiled darkly at the captain, but could not chase away the seed of doubt that now grew and took root in his belly. It had been too long. Maybe Gerrarrd did pull all of this from out of some dark orifice of his body, but it did not explain the sudden passion Elizabeth had displayed with him on the island... nor the disturbing dreams...

Nor, worst of all, that horrid moment of unease when he had asked her directly of her relations with the good Jack Sparrow.

He closed his eyes and took a breath.

"We must all consider our varied truths at times, Mister Turner." Gerrarrd glanced at the sword still clutched in his hand. "Why not see what you can do with your father's old blade? It might do you a world of good."

Something to concentrate on... something to distract me... something to take my mind off your plotting and your wicked thoughts of my Elizabeth... my... "Captain, if I may speak frankly?"

"Of course."

"Why is it that you speak with such a heavy dialect among some, but slip out of it among others?"

Gerrarrd flashed a smile. "It's all in the marketing, lad. Or didn't Jack tell you that?"

Dennot

Elizabeth opened her eyes to gray light filtering in through the window, and realized she had overslept.

She leaped out of bed and crossed the bedroom in two steps, yanking the door open. Hermione had entrusted to her the jacket of a man of considerable power; Elizabeth had done half of the work by candlelight, only retiring when she realized her tiring stitches would do more harm than good. She'd meant to awaken early and finish it before handing it off to its proper master...

I will be sacked! She clawed at the door and grabbed for her sewing kit, only to realize it was not there.

What is this? Had she left it somewhere else? She scanned the outer room, only to find the jacket there, in completed splendor. It lay folded over a chair, her sewing kit on the table in front of it. Beside the sewing kit, though...

The front door opened and shut, and Elizabeth turned to stare at him as he strolled over. She ought to thank him, at the very least; or perhaps question him... but all that came out of her mouth was, "You cook?"

"I am a man of underappreciated and unfathomed talents, darling Elizabeth. And you were so tired last night, well-" He shrugged. "-that overlord I work for found my speed endearing and rewarded me quite nicely."

"I didn't know you could sew, either," she said.

"Good gracious, girl, any sailor worth his salt knows how to patch a sail or repair his dress uniform. Not all of us can afford to go to lovely ladies like yourself."

"I-but-"

"The master seems to require a courier be sent out immediately following his birthday celebration in a matter of days," Jack said, focusing intently on her. "Out to County Kent, with full pardons from the soldiers on the road - you wouldn't have, ahem, known about this, would you?"

Elizabeth was too busy salivating over the breakfast spread to pay much attention to him. "Yes... Hermione did mention messengers had... traveling privileges..."

Suddenly a gentleman, Jack pulled out a chair for her. "I do believe you've earned yourself a reprieve, Lizzie-dear. And a promotion."

"To what?"

"Plotter. Er, schemer. Or something of that nature." He sat opposite her. "I shall need to find transportation..."

Elizabeth paused before lifting a cup of steaming tea to her lips. "Leave that to me, Mr. Kendrick - leave that to me."

He stared at her. "I find I don't like the way you say that."

"But as I've just been promoted, you're going to let it pass and see what surprises I procure."

"It seems that way." He began cutting a loaf of bread. "If all goes well, we'll not be in the little town of Dennot very much longer."

"I take it we're to hunt down this... object you keep going on about."

"We're going back to the Caribbean, darling! One dreadfully painful step at a time."

Elizabeth sighed. "So you keep saying, Jack. So you keep saying."

Rose -

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry when I received your review. I'm glad you came back, but... I know well enough the tortures of fanfics that aren't updated. Few things in life are worse. I am terribly sorry that I did not deliver the crack as promised... but I hope I can make it up to you, in time.

Oh, and about Jack not having a plan... well... dammit, I hate trilogies! ;)

General Note -

Probably next weekend I'm going to put up the edited versions of the first three chapters. Basically trying to put Corwin back in-character (have received some complaints) and make a few adjustments... as I've said before, it started out as more of a humorous take but has gotten a bit darker, so...

I'm indulging in a bit of fluff as you can see, but chapters 25 on are gonna be hardcore, yo.

Also -

After careful consideration, I've decided to drop the rating to PG-13 for the time being. I don't see anything that wouldn't have passed in the movie (well, ratings-wise) - so it will be appearing on the PG-13 page for now.

Next time, on Silence: Jack realizes that Liz's idea of transportation is rather scary; Will stumbles across some interesting information, and Liz realizes that things might just be as bad as she fears.