The morning brought with it a warm glow of gold. Will was waked by the sun's reaching rays as they swept over him. He yawned and stretched, a broad smile breaking out upon his face. Brushing a soft kiss over his sleeping wife's temple, he sat up and surveyed the room. Save for the candles, it was in shambles. Cushions were tossed about. A chair lay in his way as he stood and picked through the mess. A wine bottle had spilled onto the floor, the garnet substance sticking flower petals to the planks—and to the shirt that had been discarded there. Picking it up, he raised his brows at the ruined thing and tossed it aside. It landed high on the armoire beside Elizabeth's silk slip. The undergarment hung rumpled on the upper shelf.

"So that is where it ended up," he realized.

Shrugging, he dressed quickly and quietly. Though he wanted nothing more than to wake her and spend the rest of the day in wedded bliss, he knew that being mindful of her late morning hours was something of a necessity. His sanity, health, and well being depended upon his understanding of such, and so out the door he went with a mind to find his children and enjoy what seemed to be smooth sailing.

Emerging from the stairwell, he was immediately greeted by thunderous applause from the many pirates on deck. Whistles and hollers brought a sheepish smile to his face, and one pirate's mocking swiveling hips blushed his cheeks. Captain Jack Sparrow who had been shouting orders from the helm had stopped. Leaning against the railing, the pirate grinned down at him and tipped his hat.

"Good morning Mister Turner," he called with a sweeping bow, "I thank you for entertaining me crew for the eve! From what I hear, it must've been quite a performance."

"But not a quiet one," Lemmy remarked to Toddul.

"From what we heard it was nothin short of amazin," Toddul agreed. The round man's chortle prompted the tall man's chuckle, and Shakes cupped a hand to his mouth to quiet his snickering.

Will flushed and averted his gaze as he passed the three of them. To his surprise, a giant hand clapped him across the back. He looked up to find Samson's warm green gaze upon him. A broad smile stretched the big man's mouth wide, and Will could not help but smile back.

"Nae wonder it was you was lookin out of sorts in Tortuga," Samson said, winking. "And I'd thought it was wenches you was worried about. Didn't know you had yourself a wife to be worrying your head over!"

"With Elizabeth, I wouldn't rule out the wench thing, mate."

Will glared at Jack as he and Samson reached the top of the steps. But the pirate's laughing dark eyes brought a grin to his face, and he nodded, allowing the big man to laugh and jostle his shoulder a bit. Suddenly, staring down at the deck, he realized that Jack's boots were missing. In their place were two fine heeled shoes, much like the ones Elizabeth insisted Will wear to her high society gatherings. They were dressed in deep indigo brocade and embellished with fine onyx buckles, buttons, and heels. Raising his head, he took in the pirate's appearance, impressed for he could not remember the last time he'd seen the man as smartly appointed.

Jack's stockings were a pale shade of grey. To Will they seemed silky enough, the very expensive sort suited to the shoes as well as to the rest of the ensemble. The breeches were fine linen, indigo in color, with a narrow strip of brocade down each side. They matched the full-skirted fancy coat, a frock dressed in onyx and dark grey embroidery. Pale grey lace peeked out of his cuffs. At his throat was the same shade, a cravat of finery, ruffling there in the breeze. A fine blue tricorne, adorned with a bit of matching embroidery, perched upon his glossy hair. The beads, baubles, and locks remained but looked somehow kempt, and the rest was loose save for the neatly braided plait at the back tied with a pale grey ribbon. The dark grey line that showed under that of the hat Will knew was linen printed with indigo ink, and he raised his brows, meeting the pirate's level gaze.

"What do you think?" Jack flicked a very clean, lean hand out and turned side to side, the frock's skirt swaying around his swiveling hips. "Is it me?"

Will smiled. "I think it is."

The pirate's mustache twitched up to reveal a glint of gold and he winked at him.

Samson chuckled. "Those are some nice stockings there, Jacky. Think I could borrow em?"

Jack looked from the big man's big legs to his and lifted his chin. "No." He tossed his hair and motioned at the differences with his hands. "You'd stretch them out."

Will sniffed the air—finding a sweetly herbal and slightly spicy musk there—and frowned at him. "You smell… good."

Jack raised a brow.

The blacksmith blushed.

"Are you insinuating that on the usual occasion my personal hygiene is subpar or otherwise malodorous, William Turner?"

"Malodorous ain't the word," Gibbs said, rushing toward Jack with a copper spyglass. He handed it to him and nodded out to sea. "Think we're on the right course, Cap'n."

All of them turned as the captain took the instrument to his eye and peered through it toward the island ahead. Will frowned, seeing the mountains there. Black as coal and glistening under the sun the rocks rose into the blue sky, piercing it with purple peaks. Across the short distance the silver palms swaying in the breeze were easily discernible from the rest of the deep darkness of the place, and Will gazed at them, their shivering fronds lulling him into a trance. Jack's snapping shut the spyglass snapped him from his stupor and his questioning gaze turned toward the pirate as he was quite sure that in all of their travels Jack had never taken him to the island that lay straightaway in their path.

With a glance at the smiling Samson, Jack slung his arm around Will's shoulders and nodded toward the nearing inlet. It passed through the very mountains, a wide mouth of black rock breathing in the lightly lapping ocean water. The pirate indicated the strange landscape with a sweeping hand, flicking the air in front of them. "This, Mister Turner," he said, dark eyes gleaming as he turned them to the blacksmith, "is where the Black Pearl makes berth."

Will raised his brows.

Jack raised his.

"If this is where the Black Pearl makes berth, what of Isle de Muerta?"

"Isle de Muerta. Ah yes. The island that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is. Well that," Jack said, laying a hand on his hip, "was but a stepping stone in the path for us, really. It's only a hop, skip, and a jump away if it be the destination you prefer. I know its empty, damp caverns are extremely hospitable!"

"All the charm of the devil's pit, that place has," Gibbs muttered. He took a slug from his flask and nodded at the three men who glanced his way.

Will turned curious eyes back to Jack. "A stepping stone?"

"Aye," Jack said with a grin, "a stepping stone."

While the pirate turned back to his crew to shout orders, Will followed Gibbs and Samson to the rail to look out over the side of the ship. The mountains were receding quickly to reveal a hidden lagoon. It was not unlike that of the Witter's on Tortuga but unlike it altogether. Will counted no less than five waterfalls. Two bubbled nearby and the three that cut the black rocks ahead were but whispering white. Mist they were and mist they rose at their hissing pools. The sun shone a prism into the fine haze, and painted the water liquid gold. Rippling waves lapped at the surrounding beaches of black sand, shimmering over it as they washed the shore.

"Special place it is," Samson said softly. "Aye, missed it, I did."

"You were here?"

The big man sniffled. Reaching up to wipe his eye, he nodded.

"With Jack?"

"Aye, with Jack." Samson smiled. "And your father."

Wind knocked from his lungs, Will turned away. His gaze fell upon a floating dock, made of vines and bark, reaching toward them. He was not surprised when he felt the Pearl ease to an anchored rest beside it. As the ship's sails and lines were attended to, and as Jack grabbed the big man and Gibbs aside to give them their own orders, Will took the moment to stroll toward the stern of the ship and look out over it all. He took a deep breath. Exhaling, he closed his eyes.

Against the darkness Will saw before him the image of the man in his dreams. Fire filled his lungs as his hand went to the portrait in his breastpocket. The man's golden eyes twinkled and with a wink he was gone, quick as could be. Startled by the animate gesture, Will jumped. Heelsteps toward him he heard and in the blink of an eye he found Jack standing beside him, a sobriety in the pirate's eyes as they swept the perimeter of the place around them.

"You might want to wake Elizabeth."

Will hesitated, then nodded and started away. He turned back at Jack's nervous clearing of his throat. At the pirate's worried expression—drawn brows and pursed lips—he frowned.

"But," said Jack, "I think it's rather important you forget to mention that such was my suggestion."

Watching Will walk away, weary of the thought of a forcibly woken Mrs. Turner, Jack bit his cheek. He waited until the man disappeared from view to head for his cabin. Pulling back the doors, he heard quiet whispers. With narrowed eyes he pushed past the drapes and came face to face with two women gone silent. Anamaria and Alice Witter looked up at him. Blank-faced they were, save for two fast quirks of a smile.

"Are we there yet?"

As it had been the question that the Turner children would not stop asking—even when he'd threatened them with the terrible task of cleaning the bilges with their mother's hairbrush—Jack scowled at the woman who'd dared utter the phrase and folded his arms. "We are."

Alice smiled. "Good. The children will be happy to hear it."

"Not as happy as I." With that, he pushed past the two of them and made to find the youngsters crowding his cabin. They were sitting on his bed with the cats waiting patiently, Isaac standing quietly by. At this he raised a brow.

All eyes locked on him. Isaac's eyes were hopeful. The children fidgeted and the cats' tails swished. After a momentary silence, Little Lucy screwed up her face and kicked her brother. Jack Turner sighed and turned pleading eyes toward the pirate captain studying them.

"Are we there yet?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" Pleased that it would be the last time he heard such from the lad's lips, Jack grinned. He crossed the space between he and the children and bent down close to them. Eyeing first the girl and then the boy, he nodded. "Aye, we have at long last reached our destination. And if I ever hear that question again, it will be too soon."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

"Are we there yet?"

Elizabeth's question brought a smile to Will's lips as he quite imagined Jack had been asked such from their children far too many times. He kissed her cheek and took her hand in his. "We are, love." He frowned. "Though where we are is still slightly questionable."

"Must I really get up?"

"Well I—"

She groaned into her pillow. "It is so early, Will. Surely there is much to be done that I will only stand in the way of."

"But I—"

"Will," she said sharply, yanking her hand away, "really, do you not agree that I would only be a hindrance?"

He fell silent.

"Wake me later," she murmured, pulling the cover over her head.

Will gulped and pulled it back down, cowering away when she turned to face him. In the morning, when his wife slept, she was the picture of beauty. In the morning, when his wife was waked on terms not her own, she was the picture of wrath. Now her lip twisted and her eyes flashed at him, challenging him to contest her snooze. He swallowed, regretting the words before they even left his lips. "Captain's orders."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

"Do you think he heard?"

The Ice Queen scoffed.

Anamaria grabbed her arm and fixed her with a glare that she hoped conveyed the seriousness of her question. When understanding dawned in the woman's eyes, she let go of her and folded her arms across her chest. "Well?"

"No, Anamaria, I do not think he heard," she said, twisting the key in the lock and pushing open the door, "else he'd have come here, taken the boxes, and stood behind us with a smirk on his face." With a roll of her eyes, she turned toward the pile of crates. Satisfied, she nodded at them and then at the woman beside her.

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

"You took care of it?"

Roth watched as Jack secured his maps and ledgers in the lock box below the desk. He smiled at Gibbs as the last, a black leather book, was tossed in. "Aye, we did."

Gibbs' blue eyes sparkled. "A spot of good luck it was that Roth's spent so much time with Marie."

The young helmsman smiled sheepishly as the captain whirled to grin at him with the other sailor. He shrugged. "Figure all's fair in love and war."

Captain Jack Sparrow grimaced. "Rather hard to figure which it is with those women."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

"War, Anamaria," Alice said, smiling at Jack across the deck, "that's what it always is."

The other woman did not respond, for she was busy scowling at the men who hollered at her for her sudden change of appearance. It had been the captain's request she wear a dress, and though she had vehemently stated that such was not about to happen, she'd ended up borrowing a gown from Elizabeth. They were nearer in size than she and the small woman walking beside her. A good thing it had been, for if Anamaria had had to wear one of the Ice Queen's frilly frocks, she would have died on the spot. Elizabeth, at least, knew that less was sometimes more. The yellow gown she'd borrowed was simple. Its bodice was high and its skirt dropped fairly straight to her ankles. There were no sleeves, and the only decoration was a silk rosette under the plunging back.

Alice Witter's gown was lovely to look at as well, but much too much for Anamaria's tastes. Dark grey it was, a grand gown of silk ruffles with a too tight bodice. Its decorations were many, from the pearl trim across her chest to the matching buttons up her back, and its skirt composed of too many layers of sheer silk and lace. They fell fairly straight as well, but as they were all individual panels, they flowed around and behind the woman's hips and legs. There was much movement in the gown, and Anamaria thought that if it were her wearing such a thing, she would be much too conscious of it.

"How can you stand that thing?"

Alice frowned down at her dress. "Jack had this made for me on holiday. A sweet seamstress in Bombay. She's the talk of London."

Anamaria rolled her eyes.

"It's a beautiful dress!"

"And I didn't say otherwise, did I?"

Alice shrugged. "I rather like it. It's the only gown I have that is touched with black pearls."

"They are rare," Anamaria conceded.

"Yes," Alice said, smirking as she ran a hand over the rail of the ship, "they are."

Jack stood, watching the women from afar, when he heard Elizabeth's heels join the noise on deck. He glanced askance at the Turners headed his way and was relieved to see a brilliant smile on the woman's face. She looked lovely, he thought, on the arm of her husband. Both were dressed to match. Elizabeth's gown, a silk thing in a fetching shade of peach, rather suited her morning afterglow, he decided. Will's chocolate colored ensemble, with the peach embroidered vest he'd had made in Bombay, was one of his favorites on the lad, and he was pleased to see it on him. He smiled at the two of them as they neared and tipped his hat at the woman.

"Morning Jack," she said sweetly.

The pirate raised his brows at Will when she pecked his cheek, but the blacksmith looked away. Jack shrugged and returned the kiss to Elizabeth's soft knuckles. "A lovely one at that."

"Oh yes," she said, "I was very happy to wake to it."

"Why have you brought us here?"

Jack followed Will's gaze to the floating dock. His crew, accustomed to the custom, had already started hauling crates and barrels ashore. In fact, he was quite certain they had everything that he'd specified off of the ship and most of it to its destination. He smiled. "For your birthday of course. Had to outdo the Governor, you know."

"My father," Elizabeth said, arching a brow, "celebrates birthdays with claret and croquet."

Jack smiled. "Yes, I know. But Will likes to play croquet." He pretended not to notice the dark look shot his way and flicked a hand toward the gangway where stood the couple's waiting children. "Let's be off 'fore they start their squawking, aye?"

It took much convincing from 'Untle Jat' to get Lucy down the planks, over the dock, and ashore, but the pirate had somehow managed despite the several high pitched shrieks Will knew were much to close to his ear. When Jack had handed the girl off to Elizabeth, Will had fallen into step beside him, glancing down in wonder at the black sand around the stone path they were walking on.

"You've a jar of it at home."

Will looked up at the pirate. The jar he'd never mentioned to Jack. It had never sat in the pirate's sight for he kept it in a small wooden box in his and Elizabeth's bedroom. That the pirate knew of it warmed his heart, as surely it meant his father had sent at least some sentiment with the sediment. He nodded at his friend, words evading him.

The silver palms were as breathtaking up close as from afar, and he thought the sound of the breeze rustling through them was the essence of peace. If heaven were but a sound it would be the sweet "ahhhh" of the air that seemed to breathe rather than blow. On the trail through paradise they wandered until at last Will stepped under the frond Jack held for him and into a clearing.

Jack waited till Elizabeth and the children had stepped through to let the palm snap back. He took off his hat and laid it over his heart, eyes reverent on the vista ahead. "And there it is. Our humble abode."

"There is nothing humble," Alice Witter snapped, batting the palm that had snapped in her face away, "about it."

For once Will had to agree with the woman. Humble certainly did not describe the sprawling fortress of rock that looked more like a castle than anything he'd ever laid eyes upon. Set against the rise of rocky hill it was and around it swept its walls of smooth black cobblestone that gleamed in the sunlight like bubbling tar. A round tower rose high in the air, and atop it Will already saw a group of crewmen looking out over the land.

His son followed his gaze and his eyes lit with the sight.

"Don't even think about it," Elizabeth warned.

Will saw the boy's shoulders droop but he was glad that the lad did not contest his mother's warning. Instead, he gawked as he walked, occasionally stepping on Jack's heels, and earning a stern look from his father in turn, in his haste to get to the wide-open entrance. As they neared it, Will noted that it was gated with fancy black scrollwork—the pieces he recognized as a commission he'd received from a secretive buyer whose order had been placed by an equally secretive man who wore a ridiculous wig and too many rings. With a frog in his throat the man had claimed the work was for a wealthy Frenchman who'd settled in the Spanish Main and was busy spending his riches on the restoration of what he called "an opulent ordinance of an ostentatious oasis". The design that the man laid out on the table had been extensive and the work had taken Will many months to complete. Despite that, he'd finished it faster than he'd thought he would and sent it off. The Frenchman had been pleased by the caliber of work and timeliness with which Mâitre Turner had fulfilled the order and had sent a note with a bounty of thanks to tell him so. He'd signed it himself, Jacques Moineau de la Perlenoire scrawled in red ink.

Will noted one of the twisting iron vines and cast a dark look at the pirate.

Jack's eyes widened innocently. "What?"

"I made that gate for a Frenchman!"

Elizabeth gave him a dubious look.

"I did! Don't you remember? Twas a commission for—"

"Jacques Moineau?" Elizabeth's eyes danced with light. "De la Perlenoire?"

Will frowned at his wife and friend as they chuckled together. In the moment it took to gather his wits, Jack had led the group into the fortress, and Will had to hurry to catch up. He did, quickly, and fixed the pirate with a glare. "What is so funny?"

The pirate sighed sadly. Shaking his head, he laid a light hand on Will's shoulder. "You really should think about learning some French, Will."

Will would have responded had his breath not caught in his throat. Palace the place must have been, for the great round room before them, with its vaulted ceiling and mosaic tiled floor both richly inlaid with jewel tones that seemed to sparkle as gems even in the soft light filtering through the circling tall lancet windows, was truly an 'opulent' space. There stood in the center an ivory likeness of Venus, bejeweled sash covering her naked form as her loving face glowed at the gilded sparrow set in her hand. Three open vaulted doors set at intervals of two windows were encased with lovely golden sculptures of various goddesses enclosed in the arch and above the lintel of each of them, rich as any cathedral's scriptural tympanums, and seemed to lead to equally palatial spaces.

"It's beautiful," Elizabeth breathed, taking his hand.

Wordlessly, Will smiled at both her and their wide-eyed daughter and followed Jack through the door at the right, glancing up at the statuary briefly to read the inscription of Prospicere de Fortuna under the scene. The walls of the hall they walked through were worn but the trompe l'oeil of fine cartography upon them wasn't, its swirling lines of indigo and black script bright over a wash of sand. Will recognized the work and looked forward to Jack. The pirate, fluttering fingertips on the left wall, drew his attention to one of the detailed illustrations.

Beside the island labeled Jamaica was painted a portrait of a small family. Meticulous in detail it was, and as he neared it, he saw immediately that it was his own family on the wall. There stood he and Elizabeth, dressed in the exact finery they wore as they stood in the hall, with the children gathered in front of them. Happy faces had all. Behind them was a feather light painting of a ship he quickly accepted as the Black Pearl, and below them a banner marked with their family name in dark, fancy letters.

"It's us," Jack said, reaching up at his mother to pat his sister's hand excitedly, "look Lucy!"

On an ordinary day Will would have been stunned by the brotherly fashion in which his son had shone excitement, but it was not an ordinary day. He watched, instead as Jack Sparrow traced a line with his ringed finger from their portrait up to the right. A small compass rose, set between two far-off islands, lay under the pirate's tapping finger.

"You," Jack said, pointing to Will with the other hand, "are here."

"Does here have a name?"

"Well," said the pirate, going to and throwing open the double doors of gold at the end of the corridor, "we never rightly named the place. L'Ile de la Perle Noire is what they call it."

"They?"

Flashing a smile over his shoulder, Jack disappeared into the next room. Will followed, glancing worriedly at the formidable statue of Neptune and its candlelit altar as they passed it. It was a thing of wonder, the serene God ruling with his terrific trident over the entire place. Will ran fingertips over an amethyst orb upon the altar.

"For energy of the mind."

Will looked up at the pirate framed against swagging silken material and nodded, having heard from many jewel experts the same thing of that particular precious gem. "And spirit."

Jack smiled and turned on his heel. Another set of doors he opened to reveal a village far as the eye could see. Small cobblestone houses dotted the landscape along the foot of the mount. Smoke billowed in the air, a heady aroma of herbs and spices scenting it. There were the sounds of laughter, of music, and chatter, and it was as those met Will's ears that he saw the beautiful people. Long limbed with luxuriously glossy hair they were, and of olive complexion. Simple of dress they were, draped in silks and linen and some tinkling jewelry.

Nearby a group of children with gleaming white smiles danced and laughed together, their strange language enticing Will's ears. He was disappointed when they hushed suddenly and bowed their heads, but he did not wonder at the reason for their reverence. It was but seconds later when a robed woman appeared. A golden circlet held her hair piled on her head, and kohl lined her black eyes. Flanked by two dark young men and followed by three dark young women, she passed calmly and quietly between himself and the pirate, head bowed. Will watched the procession with interest, raising his brows as they knelt before the God of the Sea, their quiet words whispering in the even quieter chapel.

"The Intuits," Jack whispered, leaning close to Will.

Will cocked his head, having not heard the name before.

Jack smiled. "The sacred people of Neptune."

"They made Jacky their chief."

Will and Jack frowned and turned to find a grinning Samson towering over them. Will recovered first and arched a brow at Jack. The pirate flashed a golden grin and shrugged, fluttering fingertips nonchalantly in the air.

"Something about being handsomely charming, dashing, daring, and blindingly brilliant." His brow furrowed. "Or perhaps it was charmingly handsome, dashingly daring, and blindingly brilliant."

"Your father turned them down," Samson clarified.

Will bit back a snicker at the look of dismay on Jack's face.

Recovering quickly, Jack dismissed the words with a flick of his hand. "Details."

It was then that the group of sacred people in the chapel stood. The robed woman who Will guessed was something of a priestess smiled softly as she approached them. Reaching Jack she took his hand, pressed his knuckles to her forehead, and bowed. When she rose, her lips parted and a language unlike any other but like all spilled from her lips. Though Will did not know the words he knew their meaning. He understood though he did not. The matter was fascinating and he found that he could not take his eyes off of the peaceful priestess.

"Jack." Her black eyes gleamed at the smiling pirate as she spoke. "We have missed you greatly and are happy to see you are home. We are happy also that you have brought with you our Sweet Queen." She gave a slight bow and left the place, as did the other robed persons.

Samson blinked. "Sweet Queen?"

Jack's smile twisted. "Alice Witter. But don't tell her. No doubt it would go to her head."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

"Apparently the state of Jack's head is wonk with inflation."

Alice and Anamaria were staring at the new self-portrait on the wall mural. Captain Jack Sparrow had been painted there, his chest a bit broader, arms a bit bigger, and chin a bit stronger. Beautiful olive-skinned women strove to touch and pander to him. Two women, different from the rest, looked rather familiar. A pale doll pressed lasciviously to his left and a dark mynx to his right. Both women were garbed in their sailing attire—their too tight sailing attire with gapingly low necklines. The exotic beauty on the right held in her outstretched hand a bunch of grapes. A golden goblet of wine was clenched in the hand of the other woman. A flock of sparrows swirled around them all. Flying overhead were cherubs, their chubby hands extended toward the handsome pirate with the dashing grin.

"The state of Jack's head," Anamaria scoffed,"is somethin I try not to think about."

Alice snorted.

"Pretty."

The women turned to find Little Lucy smiling upon the portrait from the warmth of her mother's arms. The little girl's dark eyes examined the ladies and turned toward them, a small smile curving her little lips. She giggled and pointed at their feet in the painting where two cats, one dark and one grey, rubbed against their ankles.

"Tats!"

"Someone thinks highly of himself," Elizabeth said, arching her brow at the scene painted before her. "Though I can't say I'm too surprised by the notion."

Anamaria chuckled.

"Uncle Jack looks funny," Jack Turner decided, shaking his head. "Look, he's got a butt chin!"

All four females looked discerningly upon the portrait at the spot of which the lad was speaking. Little Lucy gasped and clapped her hands delightedly, her mother smiling a coy smile at she and the other women, both of who tittered with the giggles over such an accurate description of the chin's depiction. Anamaria gave the boy's shoulder a squeeze and Alice patted his head fondly.

"What's funny?"

The pirate, flanked by a dazed Will Turner and the big man Samson, strolled to stand behind them, his gaze flicking over the assembled group and settling finally upon the painted portrait. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. As if deep in thought, he raised his hand to the beard on his chin, mouth twisting.

The women shared a look, and promptly bit on their lips so as not to laugh. Little Lucy, not so keen on the art of secrecy, giggled openly. Whether Jack Turner was keen to said art was unknown but whatever the case was he hooted with laughter, clutching his sides.

His father stepped forward, peering over Jack's shoulder. His gaze fell upon the portrait and his eyes narrowed. They filled with the scene, widening all the while. Raising his brows, he glanced at the pirate holding his chin and then at the likeness on the wall. Samson did much of the same. At long last, the big man's mouth crooked.

"Ne'er did I think I'd say this, but ye've an eye for beauty, Jacky," he said, lip quivering. "Seems you see it in things the rest of us don't."

"Aye?" Jack frowned at the picture and then at the big man. "While I do agree I've always had an eye for aesthetics, that's hardly nice, mate. People can't be blamed for what nature gave them—or didn't in this case." The pirate didn't seem to notice the pitying looks the others were giving him, or the laughter that had his namesake rolling on the floor, as he poked at Samson with a pointed fingertip. "Therefore you should apologize to the ladies."

Samson, having opened his mouth to do so, froze. His gaze, along with that of the two women, cut to the portrait's likeness of both. Finding nothing emphasized—save for the cut of clothes and too low necklines that only showed what was naturally endowed—they blinked. Anamaria, having had enough of the pirate's nonsense, reached out and cracked him hard across the face. With a humph she took Alice Witter's arm and together they marched down the hall and through the doors. Jack stared after them, a look of dismay on his face as he rubbed his tender jaw.

"I definitely didn't deserve that."

"Well," said Samson, "you were only bein nice."

"Women just don't appreciate my abundant capacity for compassion," Jack complained, pushing aside a Lucy-lugging Elizabeth to step over the Turners' laughing son. "Perhaps," he added sadly, "chivalry is dead."

Will, having the sixth sense that men without wives had not, grabbed his own growling wife and held her back. She glared at him over Little Lucy's head. He gulped, hoping that her anger from the morning waking had subsided as he was quite sure if it hadn't he would not be able to restrain her for much longer. The oblivious pirate, walking back toward the round room, sighed again and put his hands on his hips.

"Mister Turner," he drawled over his shoulder, "I've things to show you and yours but I fear there's just not enough time in the day… Are you coming or not?"

Samson, having the seventh sense that men without wives had not, patted Will on the shoulder and hurried to catch up to the pirate ahead. "They're comin. Just admirin your paintin's all."

"And who could blame them?"

"Aye," he grinned down at Jack. "A regular Raphael you are."

"Well," Jack said, flicking a hand in the air, "personally, I think I'm more of a Michaelangelo."

"Every minute goes by finds me wantin night to fall faster."

Alice smiled grimly.

"Why ye wantin night to fall faster, love?"

Anamaria paled upon hearing that voice in her ear. Her gaze fell to the lean arm snaking around her waist. For Roth's benefit she forced a nervous chuckle. "Now why would ya be askin a question like that?" Putting on a smirk, she turned 'round to wink at him. "One ya already know the answer to?"

The young man grinned and kissed the woman, but Alice's eyes narrowed on him. She lifted her chin and studied the rake. Her stare was quick and decisive. Finding nothing she could discern as being out of the ordinary for the helmsman, she shrugged and left them to their smooching. Afterall, she still had to find Gibbs and treat him to the onceover before night fell.

Author's Babble: Moineau is French for 'sparrow'. De la Perlenoire is, of course, a play upon 'of the Black Pearl'.

Many thanks to Eledhwen for her correction of my French regarding "De la Perlenoire" as well as "L'Ile de la Perle Noire". They were previously "De le Perlenoire" and "Le Isle de le Perle Noire" which are incorrect, but because she was nice enough to let me know, they stand corrected! A perfect peach that Eledhwen. Thank you :)

Venus is for all intensive purposes the Roman equivalent of Aphrodite. Jack has a statue of Aphrodite standing near the stern windows of the Black Pearl, and so I decided to use the goddess' counterpart for this instance. Aphrodite/Venus is associated with sparrows, doves, and swans. She is the goddess of love and sexuality. Oddly enough she was married to the smith god Hephaestus, steadiest of the Gods. He made a golden girdle for her, and wove magic into the filigree. That bit of Aphrodite/Venus' story reminds me much of Elizabeth and Will. The rest of it doesn't, as Aphrodite/Venus did not enjoy marriage to Hephaestus and used the girdle to attract the fancy of whomever she deemed more exciting. But more importantly, I think Jack rather fancies the goddess of love. Perhaps it is the Pepé le Pew in him, no?

Fortuna is the Roman goddess of luck. She represented fate and all its unknown qualities. She is said to have been blindfolded as she dealt fate and thus "Sight of Fortuna" is a rather optimistic inscription. She is symbolized by the sphere, the wheel, the ship's rudder and prow, and, because she was once considered the goddess presiding over the Earth's abundance, the cornucopia. Luck seems to be a favorite theme for the pirates and so Fortuna is an important figure to mention.

The Intuits, sacred people of Neptune, don't exist—as far as I know. Though amethyst is said to be a stone of spiritual energy and psychic ability. The Roman myths did not really put much emphasis upon Neptune. And the Greek myths of Poseidon make him seem a crotchety sort. But in astrology, Neptune is associated with spiritual enlightenment and intuition(thus Intuits), mercy and compassion, and psychic receptivity. Negatively speaking, Neptune is associated with illusion and confusion: deception, trickery, and guilt. Which, by the way, all traits that have their place in this tale. Funny, that.