Chapter Twenty

Cole shimmered into the alley behind a burning house that had completely fallen in on itself. He had smelled Wolf and had tracked him there. He appeared and saw Wolf and Elvira falling together again! Closing his eyes, he called out to him. "Wolf, you're late for the ship. We were worried."

"Cripes!" Wolf murmured. "It'll have to wait, sweetheart."

"Put some clothes on!" Cole pleaded. "I have to take both of you back. Let me know when you're dressed." He kept his eyes closed.

Elvira winked playfully at Wolf. "Maybe we don't want to get dressed just yet?"

"Look, Elvira! It's not safe out here, and I can tell you two have been at it like rabbits already! Save it for later! Honestly, how some of you wolves can continually get down amazes me!"

Elvira sighed. "Yeah," she agreed in a throaty voice, "isn't it wonderful!"

"I wouldn't know," Cole said. "I've never done it with a wolf, and I'm not about to start now."

"I'm dressing," Wolf said, "but I want you to know that I am objecting strenuously!"

"You can play later, Wolf, after we leave port. The Captain has a little unfinished business, and then this town's going down. He wants you back aboard the ship immediately."

"I swear, Wolf," Elvira commented as she slipped into her bodysuit but did not bother to put any further clothes on, "I think you must be the only one on your entire ship that isn't a party pooper!"

"I might be a party pooper," Cole said, "but I keep my mind on the business at hand." He never saw the raspberry that Elvira shot at his back. "You two can party later." He opened his eyes, relieved to see that they were dressed or, at least, what evidently passed for being dressed in Elvira's case. He reached out, touched both of them on the hand, and shimmered them to the Pearl.


Dawson went in search of Faith and finally found her in the sleeping quarters. She was sitting on her cot with her naked back turned toward the door. He slipped quietly inside. "Faith?" he asked. "Can I help you? Will you let me help you?" He knew she was hurt and only wanted to make her better.

Faith dropped her shirt, which was darkened beyond black with all the blood from her shoulder. She had been trying to use pressure to stop it for a while but had had little luck. A part of her knew she needed help, but she had never accepted help before. "Why?" she asked him quietly.

"Because I want to. I care about you. I want to make you feel better," he said even as he drew closer to her.

"You don't know what you're talking about. You don't have the first idea what you're getting into here, ki -- " She started to call him "kid" yet again, but for some reason -- she told herself that it was only the pain --, the word wouldn't come out.

"I'm not a doctor, but I'll do what I can. Let me get a pan of water and some cloths. Stay here; I'll be back." He made his way to the galley and saw two of the Halliwells sitting there. "Can I have a pan of hot water," he asked, "and some cloths?"

Piper turned to look at Dawson. She opened her mouth to ask him why he needed it but changed her mind at the look in his eyes. He was deeply concerned about some one, but she could somehow sense instinctively that he wouldn't give up the person's identity. Nodding instead, she rose and retrieved the pot of water she had had boiling on the stove. "I'll make another one," she told him, "and you can have this one." Opening a cabinet, she retrieved a cloth and wrapped it around the handle of the pot before he could touch it.

"Thank you," he said. "I'll bring the pot back later."

Piper nodded and started to reach for more cloths. "How many do you think you'll need?"

"Maybe a couple more," he said and gratefully accepted them. Making his way slowly back, he managed to get back to Faith's side without spilling much of the water. Dawson noticed that her back was scarred but did not say anything. He wondered who had beat the Hell out of her so long ago that the scars were completely healed. He began to bath her wound gently with the water that was now warm. "Would you let one of the Lewis sisters heal you? I don't know how to stitch up wounds, but they could heal you completely. Please, Faith; let one of them look at you."

"Damn it!" Faith growled out. "I knew I should have told you to get fucked!" She jerked away from him, stood, and walked away from the cot. "You're the only one I've ever even considered letting help me, and I was an idiot for doing that much!"

Dawson recoiled from her and was about to say something when he heard a meow. Changing his mind, he said, "There's some one to see you, Faith. A furry some one," he said quickly before she would have a chance to throw something.

"Kid, what the Hell are you -- ?" she started to demand as she turned around to face him. Her angry eyes fell on the cat.

"Meow?" said the cat even as she walked closer to Faith, her green eyes peering into Faith's angry ones. "Meow?"

Emotions flickered in Faith's eyes as they changed from being full of anger to being haunted by sadness. She stepped back from the cat. "You don't want me," she told it, shaking her head. "I'm a bitch; I already got one killed." She nodded toward Dawson instead. "You want him."

"MEOW!" the cat insisted, gazing intently up into Faith's eyes, her black fur shining as smooth as silk. She stood up on her hind legs and brushed at the girl's hand with her head as though to let her know that she was indeed the one she wanted to be petted by.

Despite herself, Faith had to smile. Slowly, she stroked the cat's head, and when the feline did not recoil, her smile turned to a grin. "Hell, looks like you're as crazy as me."

"Meow meow!" the cat said as though it was agreeing with Faith. Standing on its hind legs, she bumped her hand again.

Faith had to laugh. The laughter that came from her was a sound unlike any one on either of the ships had ever heard come out of her for it was truly of happiness. She had not had a cat come to her like this one had since she had been a child, barely old enough to remember the events that had been the first to scar her for life. Slowly, she slid down so that she sat on the floor beside the cat, her hand running from its head down to its back.

Unbeknownst to Faith, while she patted the cat, the cat was working a spell on her that would heal the girl's arm completely. As soon as it was done, she looked up into Faith's eyes again. "Meow meow meow!" It was as though she was saying, "See you soon; gotta go," as the cat then strode majestically out of the room with a backward glance at Faith. "Meow!"

Faith cocked her head slightly to one side. Why, she wondered, did she have the strangest feeling that she had been had? Dawson looked at Faith's arm in wonderment. It was healed. He did not mention it but could not help a smile that she caught as her eyes turned upwards. "What?" she asked.

"You like cats, huh? It appears they like you too."


Outside, Katrina changed back to her catwoman form. It had worked, and she could not wait to tell her sister! She did not know what she would tell Faith when Faith finally decided to come looking for the black cat, but she would not willingly tell the girl that it had been her. She thanked Bast for the healing and smiled as she caught Celina's arm. "It worked! She's healed!"

"What," Celina asked in wonderment, her blue eyes full of questions, "did you do?"

"Nothing that a little, black cat couldn't handle," Katrina said with a grin. "I hope something works out between the two of them. I like both of them."

"Leave it to you!" Though she was beaming, Celina had to shake her head from side to side in amazement. "Only you would finally figure out how to get a hold of that girl!"

Katrina beamed back at her sister. "A pure stroke of genius!" she had to admit. "I did it! She might not like it, but not even she could find fault with a good healing."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Celina warned her, "but I'm certainly glad you did it!" She hugged her sister tightly, pride swelling in her heart.


"Yeah, I like cats," Faith admitted, "but they're better off without . . . " She had been standing while speaking, and as she stood, no pain registered. Surprise flickered over her face as she realized that, and she looked down at her injured shoulder only to find that it was completely healed. Not a single drop of blood remained. "Black cat," she muttered under her breath. "Green eyes. Suddenly healed. KATRINA!" she roared angrily.

Just as Faith headed for the door, Dawson tackled her. "For once, Faith, give in and be thankful that somebody cared about you enough to help you!" He held her down, laying on top of her, his eyes gazing down into hers. "You know you're lucky. You've got people on these ships that care about you. I've never had any one who cared about me," he said sadly.

As she looked up into his eyes, she found the most absurd notion taking a hold of her. She wanted to kiss him again. She wanted to roll with him again. You know better than that, Faith. Get a hold of yourself and stop being so damn stupid! "That's a bunch of bullshit, Dawson," she growled out at him, not realizing that she had used his name. "Nobody cares about me; nobody's that much of an idiot." She then rolled out from under him.

He let her go, knowing how wrong she was but knowing that only time would prove to her that she was wrong. "I think you're wrong, Faith. You've got a family here, and they care about you a great deal."

"You know, after all you've been through, I'd think you'd know better than that by now. Families don't exist, not in any way other than blood, and that gets you in more trouble than anything else." She had walked over to her cot and was putting on a new shirt even as she remembered his. She picked it up and tossed it to him.

He grabbed it and then looked at it. "Might as well throw this away. Totally ruined."

"I'll steal ya another one when we hit Tortuga. Just don't go anywhere till I can get it."

"Why, Faith? You're afraid somebody will see me naaaaked?" he asked, stretching out the word "naked", with a grin.

She glared at him. "Why would I give a damn who saw you naked? But I'm not going to chase you down to give it to you."

He laughed out loud, rolling onto his back. He had to shake his head at the wonderment that Faith was. She was a crazy woman and child rolled into one, and he was determined to make her his. If it took one day or a hundred years, he would never stop until he could claim her as his own. "I'll make it easy for ya, Faith. I'll stay right where you can see me."

"Didn't ask for a shadow, kid," she told him, now fully dressed once more and heading again for the door. "Don't want one; don't need one. But I do need to get my hands on that conniving catbitch."

Dawson didn't try to stop her this time. He knew he couldn't. "Just remember, Faith. She helped you."

Faith was about to step over him when he said that. Instead, she paused, her foot in the air, as she looked down at him. "Haven't ya learned anything? When somebody helps somebody, they're always after something."

"Not always," Dawson said, remembering Brendan's kindness and that Brendan had not requested anything in turn except that Dawson keep himself safe and out of trouble. "Not every one wants everything they can get out of you."

"Let me tell ya something, kid. I've encountered two of the people that practically every damn body would have told you could be trusted, and neither one could be. I've got the scars to prove it. If you wanna survive in this world, the best thing you can do is count on yourself and no one else."

"I can never be that way, Faith. I need others to be there for me, and I need to be there for some one."

She shook her head. "Then you're going to die a fool."

"Maybe, but I won't die alone . . . " his voice trailed off and he let her go.

She wanted to stay. She wanted to talk some sense into him but stubbornly ignored what her lips wanted to do. She knew better than to stay, however, and took the stairs two at a time. Bursting through the door, she bellowed, "KATRINA!"

Katrina appeared in front of Faith. "Yes, Faith?" she asked in a calm, quiet voice. "Figured you'd be coming once you found out what I did."

"Why?" Faith snarled. "Why the Hell'd you bother?"

"Maybe because I care about you."

"No, really, why?"

"Like I said, Faith, I care about you, whether you want to believe it or not."

"Why?"

"We're family, and as family, we take care of each other."

"You know, Katrina," Faith growled at her, "you could have come up with something a Hell of a lot more convincing than that. I don't have any family."

"Nothing's ever more convincing, Faith, than the truth," Katrina said. "One day you'll see that."

"Yeah, but the truth is that I don't have a family, Katrina. You wanna care for your family, you go look up the rest of them. I don't have one."

"Yes, you do," she reaffirmed what she already said. "One day you'll be ready to let us in. In the meanwhile, we'll have to be content to care for you from afar."

"I don't need any one to care about me," she spat. "What I need is to go kill something." She turned away from Katrina and descended back into the sleeping quarters, slamming the door in the redhead's face.

Sadness in her heart, Katrina watched the girl go, hoping that one day she'd let them all in and knowing, just as she'd told Faith, that they were indeed a family and families had to be there for each other even when they weren't wanted.


Peering through the darkness, Faith shook her head as she realized that Dawson was still laying on the floor. She did not bother to give him a second glance as she ran down the stairs and jumped over him. She walked to her bed and picked up the sword she normally used. She shook her head. A normal blade would suffice for what she intended, but it wasn't what she wanted. She let it crash onto the floor with a clatter, then flipped her cot over.

Dawson jumped as though a bee had stung him. Crawling to his feet, he asked, "What the Hell?", and then saw it was only Faith having what he caught was a temper tantrum. "What's a matter now?" he asked.

"Just looking for something," she called back to him. "By the way," she added, keeping her voice casual, "I've been meaning to ask you something . . . "

"Yes?" he asked.

"How the Hell'd you go from getting deflowered to winding up at that damn place?"

"My Father sold me," he said in a quiet voice. "He's always hated me. He blamed me for my Mother running off on him, and he's mistreated me all my life. He even beat me, and then today, he sold me as though I was nothing! I've done all I can for him ever since I've been big enough to work to help make a go of that store. He never once thanked me, touched me except in anger, and then today, after you left, he decided he wanted to . . . " His voice trailed off. "Use me in a whole 'nother way. When I refused, he beat the crap out of me. He knocked me unconscious, and when I woke up, I was there." He did not look at her the whole time he was talking.

She had been detaching a sword from the bottom of her cot when he had began talking. Her fingers had stilled on the straps as she had listened to him. "You know," she said quietly, "what he did isn't your fault."

"I know that, but I never realized just how much I hated him until I woke up in that place. He drove my Mother away by abusing her. Then he wanted to use me in her place. What kind of father does that to his kid?" He shook his head sadly. "I want to forget about him. I don't ever want to see him again." His hands clenched by his side. "I'm afraid that if I do, I might kill him."

She was not surprised at his words, but she carefully stilled her tongue from telling him that he would never have to look upon his father again. She had managed to keep that quiet but nonetheless slipped up as she returned her attention to unfastening the sword. "I can't answer your question, though, Dawson. I'd like to be able to, but I've always wondered the same thing ever since my Mother . . . " She stopped herself just then, realizing what had slipped out.

Dawson didn't pick up on what she had said. He hoped one day she would feel free to tell him. Maybe they could help each other get through this awful nightmare. He could tell she was preparing to go out, but he did not want to go with her. He had had enough blood and guts for one day. "Be careful, Faith, and come home soon." He had not even realized that he was now calling the ship home.

"Told ya before," she said, finally freeing the sword and setting her cot back down. "I don't have a home."

"I think the ship's going to be mine. I feel welcomed here. Something I never felt before anywhere."

"Better find some place else, kid," she muttered. And she'd better talk to Jack. She attached the sword's scabbard to her belt and made the decision to confront Jack before she left. Without another word to Dawson, she headed back up.

He stood there, watching her go and praying for her safety, before seeking out a cot and laying down. He could not remember a time he had ever been so tired, and his eyes drifted quickly closed.


Brown eyes blinked open and looked around hazily. Swords hung in various places on the walls, and they were the only bit of familiarity he could see until his eyes fell upon a familiar, perhaps too familiar, face. She sat beside him, her blue eyes shimmering with tears and her blonde hair framing her face as she gazed down at him. "Elizabeth."

"Will!" she gasped. "You're awake! How do you feel?"

He had half expected to find himself dead when he awoke, but much to his astonishment and amazement, Will found that his body did not seem to hurt at all. He was exhausted, however, and could barely keep his eyes open. I must be too tired to feel it, he thought to himself. "Tired," he answered aloud. "Where's Jack?"

"He needed to deal with some other matters," she told him. "There's so much activity on board today, but I can call him if you want me to?"

"No," Will said and slowly shook his head. Although he was having difficulty focusing, he had not forgotten the decision he had made and knew that if he did not act upon it now, he might not have the courage to do so later. "Elizabeth," he said, reaching a weak hand up towards her, "there's something I have to tell you."

"What?" she asked him, catching his hand and pressing a kiss to its back.

He stilled himself from showing the repulsion that fluttered in both his gut and heart. "Please," he whispered, "don't do that."

Confusion creased her brow. "What?" she asked innocently.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he struggled to explain, "and I'll always care for you, Elizabeth, but I can not hide any longer." Her heart stilled, and she knew she did not want to hear his next words. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth, but I do not love you."

She gasped aloud and drew back from in shock. "Will, no!" she exclaimed. Tears welled in her eyes, and her frantic words stumbled over themselves. "You -- You don't know what you're saying! You're too tired!"

"No," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "I do know what I'm saying, Elizabeth. I'm sorry. I know this hurts you, but I must be true to myself and to my heart. I. Do. Not. Love. You. I never have."

"But why . . . ?" she tried to ask, shaking her head and continuing to look down at him in disbelief.

"I thought I did, but something happened when I set sail with Jack to rescue you. Something happened that I never would have thought possible. I found myself out on the sea, Elizabeth. I found myself. I found what I always felt missing from my life, but I'd never known what it was before. I found out that I'm a Pirate, through and through; that the sea is my home; and most of all, I found . . . " He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes for a brief moment as he stilled himself for her reaction. Then opening his eyes, he looked directly into her eyes as he told her, "And I found the man I love."

"NO!" Her shout of denial rang throughout the cabin and echoed past its walls. "NO! Will, you're delirious! You don't know what you're talking about!" Tears streamed down her face, and she turned to run from him.

He caught her wrist before she could, however. "Elizabeth, look at me. Please look at me. I never wanted to hurt you, but marrying you, no matter how great a woman you would be for any other man, when I did not love you would not have been fair to either of us." He did not want to hurt her, but he nonetheless tightened his grip on her wrist just enough to bring her gaze unwillingly back to him. "I know this is hard for you to believe, but you must believe me."

"Please, Will," she whispered, her tears increasing and tearing at his heart, "let go of me."

"Not yet," he told her, shaking his head. "I can't yet." He had to make her understand. "Honestly, Elizabeth, I didn't want to hurt you, but it only would have ended up trapping us both in a loveless marriage had I continued the charade."

He breathed a sigh as a thought finally came to him of a way he might be able to convince her of the truth. "Elizabeth, do you remember when Jack sailed away after we rescued him from being hung?" She nodded slowly, and he could tell from the look on her face and in her eyes that she remembered what he had not yet made mention of. "Do you remember how I was crying when you kissed me?"

"Yes," she answered reluctantly with a slow nod. Her voice was so faint that he could barely hear her.

"Do you remember what I told you when you asked me?"

She nodded again but was still having trouble finding her voice for the tears that choked her throat. "You . . . You told me that you were crying for joy, joy that I loved you."

"And did you believe me?" he persisted. "Honestly?"

"No," she admitted with a sigh, the truth finally sinking in. "But I wanted to."

"I wish I could take that back. I wish I would have had the courage then to tell you the truth, because it would have hurt you less than waiting as long as I have has. But you were right then. I wasn't crying for joy. I was crying," he admitted with a deep breath, "because the man I love was sailing away and I thought I'd never see him again."

As the truth sank in, she trembled at the realization that the man she loved loved another. She did not hate him even then. She did not throw the ring he had given him at her; she did not even think about it. She did not curse him or even slap him. Instead, as he released her wrist, knowing that she finally knew the truth and trusting her to keep it to herself, she ran from the cabin as if it was Hell itself and the Devil was trying to ensnare her. Her tears blinded her as she continued to run.

Will's sigh echoed in the room where he had been left alone. His shoulders sagged as he dropped back into the unfamiliar but comfortable bed. He had done it. He had finally broken it off with Elizabeth and told her the truth. But how, he wondered even as sleep claimed him again, would he ever have the courage to face Jack with the truth? How could he ever tell the man he loved, who he knew would never love him in the same way, how he truly felt for him, that he loved him with his entire heart and soul, that his lips thirsted for his, that his body ached desperately for his? And what would he do when Jack turned from him in disgust and his only chance for a happy life with the man he loved was gone forever? What would he do?


Lorne sniffed the air until he located Jack. Making his way slowly toward where the scent was coming from, he finally came upon Brendan laying out on the floor and Jack sitting beside him. Jack seemed to be lost deep in thought and did not stir as Lorne first came up. "Captain?" Lorne asked.

"Don't ask," Jack said. "Women are more trouble than they're worth. I had to stop him. Gods knows what he would have done to Miss Halliwell had I not!"

"Miss Halliwell's in love with him, sir, or at least she thinks she is. I had to leave the galley, but I heard some of her words as I was leaving. She'd probably be the best thing for him, but Gods knows what kind of trouble lays between them! I'll sit with him till he wakes." Lorne knew Jack had other problems on his mind and that he had to be about attending to them.

"Thanks, Lorne; don't leave him until he wakes up. He'll be disoriented. Tell him I'm sorry." He reached out and gently stroked Brendan's head. "I don't know what's been happening between Brendan and me lately. Seems like every time I turn around, I'm asking him to forgive me. I guess it's true that you only hurt those you love."

Lorne knew that Jack loved Brendan as the younger brother he never had. They watched over each other even when they were fighting.

Jack slowly got to his feet. "Well, I'd best get changed before Cole returns. Thanks, Lorne," he said again and headed off for his cabin. Suddenly, he was almost knocked from his feet by a running figure. He managed to catch her, realizing at the same time that it was Elizabeth. "Elizabeth? Is Will okay?" he asked, his voice showing deep concern.

Elizabeth nodded but did not speak. She choked back the sobs that rose in her throat even as tears continued to run down her face.

He lifted her chin and reached in his pocket for his handkerchief. It was a lacey, silky thing and not worthy of much of anything. He gently wiped her tears away. "What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes looking deeply into hers. "Did some one say something to hurt your feelings?" He hated to see women cry but most especially when he knew them and cared about them. He was at a loss until she could tell him what was wrong.

"Oh, Jack!" Elizabeth wailed, throwing her arms around him and desperately clinging to him. "It's so awful!" She managed to slowly gasp out an explanation even as she sobbed into his shoulder. "Will . . . He . . . He just . . . He just broke off our engagement!"

He hugged her gently. "The boy is distraught, my dear. If you had been through what he's been through today, you would probably not have made it, but he's built of stronger stuff. He survived but not without cost. Give him time, and I'm sure he'll change his mind again. I've seen how he looks at you. I know he loves you. He's just afraid now, and deep down, probably associates, in his mind, what your father did to him with you. He's not thinking clearly." He continued to hold her gently.

She shook her head fiercely, her long, blonde hair shimmering down her back as she did so. "No," she cried out, "that's not it! I thought it was at first, too, Jack, but it's not!"

"What did he say he was?" he asked her in a steady, calm voice, patting her on the back.

"He . . . He said he loves another."

"Have you ever seen him look at another woman? Think, Elizabeth! The only woman I've ever seen him look at is you, and he makes cow eyes at you every time he looks at you!"

Remembering who it was that her beloved truly loved, she pulled away from Jack's embrace. She did not move any further from him but had difficulty forcing her eyes to meet him as she told him slowly, "It's not another woman."

Jack had to smile at that. "I've never heard anything more far-fetched than that, Elizabeth! What better thing could he come up with to get you to leave him alone than to claim he loves somebody else and that's it not even a woman! Please, Elizabeth, use your brain, not your emotions! You've got to give the boy time. I could never see him with a man." He had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. Gods, if it were only true, he thought, that he loved a man and were he that man! He'd never ask for anything else for himself again, but he didn't dare to believe it.

"I am using my brain," Elizabeth snapped, her eyes blazing up at Jack despite the tears that still filled them, "and time isn't going to do any good!" She sighed, realizing she had bitten his head off though she had not meant to. "Jack, he explained everything. There's been . . . problems all along in our relationship, and he finally told me the truth about them all. He used to cry whenever we kissed, and now I know why."

"Elizabeth," he said softly, "a man can not always perform though he would love to. Some men can't for one reason; some can't for others. Will's a virgin. It will be his first time. Don't you think he's scared to death? I can't remember when I was a virgin. I think I was eight, but I've been having problems lately, as well. I think it's got to do with my diet and lack of rum. You've seen women passing by and slapping the fire out of me. Well, the only one of those I actually deserved was Anna Maria. The rest of them were just mad at me, because I couldn't perform. A man will use anything for an excuse, especially when he's failing the woman he loves." He paused to give her time to say something.

"He doesn't love me, Jack!" she exclaimed the moment he gave her a chance. "I wish he did, but he doesn't! Didn't you hear what I said! I didn't mention his not being able to perform, as you call it! What I said was that he cried every time we kissed!"

"Virgin," Jack repeated. "You're the only woman he's ever kissed. Guys pretend to be hard, but we're not as hard as we make out. A kiss with you would be a beautiful thing, and I can see Will clutching it to him as though it were a jewel yet believing himself not worthy of you so he would cry. He would hope you wouldn't know, but how can you kiss somebody and not know if they're crying? You want me to talk to him? He's lost right now."

"You can try," she said, "but you're going to find out the same thing he already told me. That's the same line he originally fed me about his crying, Jack, but there was always sadness in his eyes, never happiness. The first time it happened was when we kissed as you were leaving." She silenced herself quickly before she could tell him that it was he her beloved loved but then spoke instead, "Whoever he loves is on this ship, but it's not me."

"Maybe he loves the Pearl?" Jack said. "I know I do. She's my mistress and my one true love. He seemed to take to piracy rather well. Maybe he was crying for all the missed adventures he knew he'd never have. Let me have a talk with him, Elizabeth. My question to you is this: Do you love Will or are you just infatuated with him? Do you truly love him?"

"Of course I love him," she answered immediately for there was no doubt in her mind that she did, "but that doesn't matter! He doesn't love me!" She shook her head in frustration. "You can try talking to him, Jack, but I'm telling you: It's not going to do either of us any good."

He reached out and touched his right index finger to her lips. "Patience, dear lady. Time heals everything. I promise I'll talk to him first thing tomorrow. Just leave him alone for now; get some rest. I've got to go out for a while, and the ship will be moving just as soon as Cole returns. It needs to be outside the port."

She nodded understandingly but did not bother to tell him yet again that she knew his talk with Will would do no good. She wondered for a moment what Jack would think if he knew he was the one who Will truly loved.

Releasing her, Jack continued on to his cabin. Once there, he quietly entered, walked over to the trunk that was at the foot of his bed, and began to rifle through its contents. Will was asleep, or at least so Jack thought, and Jack was quiet as a mouse as he did not want to wake him although he kept stealing glances at him. From the looks that kept flashing over his face, he could tell that he seemed to be deep in sleep and having a bad dream. In truth, however, Will was continually stealing glances at Jack but quickly shutting his eyes every time the pirate moved to look at him.

Finally, Jack located the outfit he was looking for: black pants, black shirt, and a black hat. He pulled them out of the trunk and carried them over to one of the chairs that was in the room. He sat down in it, took off his boots, and began to change his clothes. He heard a sharp gasp from behind him, but as he turned to look back at Will, he found that he was still asleep. With a shrug, he turned back to changing his clothes, never realizing how desperately Will was fighting to keep from looking.

Jack's mind was on what he was about to do, and the only woman he could think of who would help him in his quest was Faith. He knew she had intentions of returning as well though she had not told him so; he had a good ideal what she was going to be doing but would not interfere. He felt whatever heartless bastard had sold the kid deserved it, too.

He felt the ship begin to move and realized that Cole had returned with Wolf and Elvira, a woman he had yet to meet. He hoped she'd be good for Wolf. He desperately needed an anchor who could hold up to him and settle him down some. He usually ran after every woman while he was in port, trying to find one who could match him and came away saddened.

He pulled his hair back and bound it. He decided to keep the same sword he had used earlier that day. It was a perfect slice and dice sword and that was what he was planning on doing. He put his hat on his head and looked back one last time at Will, who seemed to be resting better now. Then he went out the door in search of Faith, never hearing the sigh of relief that echoed after the sound of the door shutting.

To Be Continued . . .