Disclaimer: Writing fanfiction but not getting in any trouble? Yep. I'm good with it.

A/N: My mum did a beta read of this, and she had a witty comment I thought I'd share with you all. But, I've forgotten it. And it was really funny! Gar. Stupid memory processes. But here's the chapter anyway.

The night was quiet and still, and a gentle breeze moved the Pearl ever onwards to her goal. It was Squirrel's watch, and she sat in the crow's nest, alone, staring out at the inky blackness of the distance. From here, in the dark, it was impossible to say where the horizon was. Sky and sea were blended. Sky and sea were one.

Squirrel shivered slightly, and drew her cloak around her a little tighter. She didn't mind the night watches. She'd spent all of her life in Tortuga working at night. Keeping watch on the Black Pearl made no difference to her routine.

Besides, the night was quieter. And she had time alone with her thoughts.

Will Turner's arrival on the Pearl had been a nice surprise. It was unusual to find a man of his quality at sea. Or anywhere, for that matter. Such a gentleman. Elizabeth Swann was so lucky to have a man as honourable and devoted as William Turner.

If only the same could be said for me and Jack.

Squirrel squirmed slightly, blaming her movement on pins and needles rather than any other kind of discomfort.

Jack was a pirate. Always had been, always will be. Freedom was what he held dear. That had been one of the reasons Squirrel had been attracted to him. Jack Sparrow went were he wanted, when he wanted. His was a life of freedom; a life Squirrel had always wished for. For Squirrel, Jack was everything she could have ever wanted, a symbol of everything she'd ever dreamed of. His roguishly handsome looks didn't hurt none either.

Squirrel smiled slightly, blushing even more so.

There was also that mystery about him. The way he was so unreadable, unpredictable. It had made Squirrel curious. Curiosity to know why and how Jack Sparrow kept his secrets was another reason she'd followed him.

Ah, but that was half a lie. Squirrel smiled to herself, remembering. Sharky had come to her with the promise of escape - finally, a ship that would take her from Tortuga! - and Squirrel, battered, broken and desperate, had taken it. She hadn't even known she would be leaving aboard the Black Pearl with Captain Jack Sparrow until she was nearly at the docks. But by then it didn't matter. She was free.

But, then… Squirrel bit her lip, looking up at the starless sky. She had been dreaming of it, hadn't she? She'd always wanted to leave with Jack, to be with him and find happiness there. She'd dreamed of being swept off her feet and sailing with that pirate, having adventures on the open sea… Before she'd even left the dock she'd foiled an assassination attempt, been saved from drowning, and given her uncle a dunking. That was quite an adventure in itself!

She laughed softly under her breath, then the laugh faded into a sigh.

She loved Jack Sparrow. It would be stupid to deny it. She loved everything about him: his unpredictability, his charm, his swagger, his gold-toothed smile… It was a one-sided affair, but still. She lacked the bravery to speak to his face, the courage to speak her heart. But she still loved that pirate captain, for whatever reason.

Squirrel slowly pulled herself to her feet and looked down. Cotton was at the helm, alert and keeping course, but his parrot was asleep and dreaming, head tucked under a wing.

Squirrel looked up. The sky was inky and starless, and the only light came from the ship's lamps; a feeble and poor comparison. The wind - stronger now - plucked at Squirrel's hair and cloak as it hurried past her to fill the sails.

The weather is changing, she thought to herself. 69 percent of a chance of rain. Slowly, she climbed down out of the crow's nest and slithered down the ropes. With soft leather-soled feet, she padded across the deck, as silent as the ghost of the Grey Lady.

How many times had she done this? How many times had she stood on the deck of the Pearl in the middle of her watch and stared at the captain's cabin? How many times had she stared at the door, wondering, trying to build up the courage?

Tonight I'll do it, she thought, If the weather can change, so can I. And then, a second thought galvanised her. If Will can cross the Caribbean to find a way to save his fiancée, why can't I just cross the deck of a ship? Taking a breath, Squirrel moved softly through the near-darkness until she stood at Jack's door. She brushed back her hair, adjusted her cloak, and bit her lip. Then she raised a gently shaking hand and balled it into a fist.

Captain, I know I've never been… Captain, I just wanted to thank you… You saved my life, Jack and… I don't know how to put this… A thousand and one phrases came into mind, all of them jumbled and incomplete.

She'd done this nearly every night since Jack had saved her. She'd stood at Jack's doorway, hand raised to knock, but she'd never been able to.

You don't have to say you love him, Squirrel reminded herself, Just say 'thankyou'. Thank him for getting you out of Tortuga. Thank him for setting you free.

Still, she hesitated, her fist inches from the wood. Scenarios of Jack's mocking laughter or harsh words played out in her mind's eye.

Don't be stupid. That's not what will happen. Just say 'thankyou'.

Squirrel took a deep, shaky breath… and lowered her hand.

"Stupid." She whispered, turning away. She crossed the deck until she reached the railing, and looked out at the inky blackness of the sea. The wind grew a little stronger, its hands heaving at the sails and tugging at Squirrel's hair and clothes. 75 percent. 82 percent. The storm grew ever nearer.

Squirrel wiped at her face, feeling the first few drops of rain. She stared at her fingers, and her heart gave a dull thud in her chest. This wasn't rain she was holding. And her hands were blurred and out-of-focus.

Am I crying? She touched her cheeks, and found tears rolling down them. She blinked, trying to force them away, but they kept coming. She stared down at her hands, and a few tears were captured in hr open palms.

"Stupid," Squirrel said again, though this time with less conviction.

As the storm rolled in, she stared at the artificial starlight that glistened in her hands.

The rain fell in heavy sheets and waves boiled and raged like barely-tethered beasts. Will stood at the railing, peering out through the rain. Gibbs and Jack stood just behind him. All three men were looking at the ship, half-submerged on the rocks ahead. None of them seemed to mind the rain. Squirrel, her hood down and her cloak wrapped tight around her, stood further back than any of them, leaning against the mast and trying to keep herself dry.

"That's the Flying Dutchman?" Will asked over his shoulder, incredulous. Squirrel couldn't help but agree. Those rocks were bloody obvious, even in a storm. What kind of fool would risk sailing anywhere near them? Maybe Davy Jones wasn't such a 'greet see-lah' as Tia had said. Or… Squirrel suddenly felt the knife-twist of alarm, Is that really the Flying Dutchman

"Aye, a veritable jewel of the sea." Jack said, smiling. There was a pause, and then Jack elbowed Gibbs in the stomach.

"Must've run afoul of the reef," Gibbs said, in a half-cough.

Squirrel frowned at the back of Jack's head. What are you hiding, Jack Sparrow?

Will merely shrugged. "She doesn't look like much."

"Neither do you," Jack said, slapping Will on the shoulder. "Do not underestimate her." He tilted his head to one side. "So, you got a plan?"

"I go aboard, search the ship until I find your bloody key," Will said, sounding peeved.

"And if someone tries to stop you?"

Will scowled through the rain, and pushed away from the railing. "I cut down anyone in my path."

"I like it," Jack said with forced nonchalance. "Simple, easy to remember." He turned out to look at the sea, while Gibbs walked to the helm, scrumptiously rubbing his stomach.

Will crossed the deck, wiping water from his eyes. The longboat was ready for him.

Squirrel moved forward from her place under the mast. "Will?" She held out a small linen pouch to him. She'd sewn it herself, many weeks ago in one of the days where there was not much to do. She was proud of it - it was good workmanship, if she did say so herself. She'd always been handy with a needle and thread.

Will stopped, and genteelly accepted it from her. "What is it?" He asked, hefting it in one hand.

"It m-might come in handy," she said, her voice nearly lost over the hiss of the rain and the waves. She gave a shrug, made a small - almost apologetic - smile that Will returned, though his smile was far warmer and more genuine. He made to turn away, but Squirrel impulsively reached out and grabbed his arm. "Will, I…" She paused, licking her lips, not knowing how to phrase what she wanted to say.

Something's not right here. Be careful, please. You have Elizabeth, waiting for you back at Port Royal, and a life ahead of you that I both envy and wish you happiness in. Something's not right, so please, please, for all our sakes, be careful. Something is not right.

She looked back over the deck, where Jack stood. He was looking over at Squirrel curiously, frowning slightly; he evidently didn't see her face towards him from under that hood of hers. As Squirrel watched, Jack looked back over the sea, not at the ship, but scanning the horizon, his left hand held up to eye-level. It looked as though he were gauging the direction of the wind, but… with the palm of his hand towards him. The black spot stood out starkly to Squirrel's eyes, even in the darkness of the storm.

Your hand is unsteady and the game is against you, Jack Sparrow. But you still have something up your sleeve, don't you?

Will waited patiently, his head tilted curiously, the small pouch in one hand. Finally, Squirrel sighed, releasing Will's sleeve.

"Just… be careful," she said, her eyes locking on his. "Not everything is as it seems."

Will nodded at her, acknowledging her advice, though his eyes were just as perplexed as when Tia Dalma had spoken to him. Squirrel didn't blame him; the advice had been cryptic, even to hr own ears. Squirrel followed behind Will as he crossed to the longboat, and smiled when she saw him carefully tie the small bag she'd given him to his belt before climbing down into the boat.

"Your chariot awaits you, sire!" Ragetti cackled, holding a lantern for him. The rest of the crew crowded to the railing to watch Will's departure. Squirrel dug her fingernails into the wood, her heart racing. Would Will be able to cross those waves in that little boat? Surely he'd be flipped over, forced into the sea.

She looked up, and the image of Tia's crab claws superimposed themselves over her vision. The shadow from the candlelight… The shadow was coming…

"Oi!" Jack called down, "If you get in trouble, just tell them that Jack Sparrow sent you to settle his debt. Might save your life!"

Will pushed off, his face determined. His boat seemed to be pitifully small and weak against the might of the waves. But he rowed none-the-less, and the tiny vessel held together.

Be safe, William, Squirrel thought, biting her lip.

"Douse the lamps."

Squirrel looked sideways, alarmed. Jack's voice had been so subtle, so deadpan … it was frightening. But what was even more frightening was the order that he had given.

"Douse the l-lamps?" Squirrel move to her captain's side. "Are you mad? How w-will Will be able to find his w-way b-back?"

Jack's eyes turned to her, and Squirrel was struck by the strangeness in them - it was as though all the light-heartedness and the feigned drunkenness was gone. All that was there now was steel. Cold hard steel.

"I believe I just gave an order, Miss Grey."

Squirrel drew back, shaking her head in denial, then looked back out over the water. A small yellow light bobbed in the waves, making good progress despite the storm. Will's longboat would soon reach the Flying Dutchman. And Jack's bloody key.

One by one, the lights on the Pearl died, and Squirrel was left squinting through the rain at the tiny light dancing in the wild water, her heart in her throat.

Jack drew out a telescope and focused it on the distance. "I noticed you happened to give Will a parting gift," he said conversationally. "You fancy the lad?"

"Don't be absurd," Squirrel snapped, though she kept her voice low. She shuffled almost imperceptibly to her right, moving slightly away from Jack. Either because of her earlier feelings - or perhaps because of this strange, unknown fear - she didn't feel comfortable standing too close to Jack Sparrow.

A gust of wind shook the sails, and droplets fell around the pair of them. Squirrel lifted her hood slightly, not taking her eyes from Will's light but scanning the sky. "The storm's ending," she noted, unsurprised. Tropical storms, though furious, often burned themselves out quickly.

"Good," Jack said, still squinting through the telescope. "Oh, look," he said, in the same tone with which he had presented Tia with the monkey, "Young Will's made it safely to that ship. Good on him."

"'That ship'?" Squirrel turned to look at Jack. "You mean, that isn't the Flying Dutchman?"

Jack lowered the telescope slightly. "Maybe."

Squirrel frowned. Suddenly, there were knots in her stomach. Something isn't right here. "Jack," she said, breathing slowly in order to control her stammer, "Why have you sent Will alone? Why didn't you send some of us with him?"

"Because, luv," Jack said, a trifle patronisingly, "I need all of us on the Pearl to keep her steady."

"I don't believe you," Squirrel said in a measured tone.

Jack shrugged, looking sidelong at her. "Your choice, luv." He held the telescope back to his eye.

"And you didn't answer m-my question, either."

Jack didn't answer. Squirrel turned back to glare at the sea, which was gradually calming. There was a will-o-wisp dancing in the dark ship ahead - Will's lantern. The rain still fell in heavy sheets over that wreck, but above the Pearl, the only rain was the water dripping from the black canvas and rigging.

"He won't be able to s-see us," Squirrel said, half to herself. "We're a black ship with black sails, in the middle of a black ocean on a black night. He won't be able to come back." There was a long silence. Squirrel slowly turned her eyes back to the kohl-eyed captain beside her. "You don't mean for Will to come back, do you." She made it a statement, an accusation.

"Course I do," Jack said, but his voice was distracted, a bare whisper. Squirrel watched him for a moment - he wasn't watching Will through that telescope. He was scanning the turbulent sea.

"You didn't tell us about your black spot," Squirrel said, raising her voice fractionally, "You didn't tell us about the Kraken, you didn't tell us about Davy Jones. What else are you hiding from us?"

"Ssh!" Jack hissed, dropping the telescope from his eye to glare at Squirrel. "Do not give us away, luv."

"Give us away?" Squirrel frowned. "To whom?" She looked out at the sea, angry and stubborn.

The shadow from the candle had vanished from Tia Dalma's table. But here, in the sea, it did not.

A ship, huge and majestic and yet somehow terrible, burst from out of the waves, rising with some dark purpose. Squirrel gasped, shot through with some terrible feeling, some premonition, some animal instinct which told her that this was unnatural, otherworldly, dangerous. Her gasp turned to a whimper, and then her mouth widened and her voice rose into the prelude of a scream…

Jack clapped his hand over Squirrel's mouth and held her close. "Do NOT give us away, I said!" He hissed in her ear. Squirrel struggled slightly, her wide eyes locked on that dark and terrible ship, whimpering into Jack's hand. "I'm going to let you go," Jack told her, "On the condition that you do not scream. Deal?"

Squirrel nodded, swallowing her voice, and Jack released her. She was aware she was blushing, panicked at having Jack hold her so, but it was nothing compared to the panic she felt at the sight of that strange ship. And it had burst from the depths like the devil himself…

"The Flying Dutchman." She breathed, shaking.

"Aye," Jack said, taking the telescope from under his arm and putting put back up to his eye. "That's the one."

Squirrel would have turned to Jack, to argue about Will's safety and Jack's lies, but her eyes were locked on that point of light that denoted Will's position. Please be safe, William!

Suddenly, that light was shattered, turning into a sword of flame which flailed and scythed through the rain. Squirrel gave a cry, quickly smothering it with a hand. "What's going on?" She asked Jack. "What's happening?" She wanted to tug at Jack's sleeve to get his attention, but didn't want to touch him - she knew her hands and her face would burn.

"Will's fighting a few of Davy's boys," Jack said darkly. On hearing Squirrel's strangled cry, he added, "Don't worry, luv. He'll be fine. Young Turner's a brilliant swordsman. For a eunuch." He grinned under the telescope, but, as Squirrel watched, that smile faded. Likewise, across the distance, did the sword of light.

"What?" Squirrel cried, then remembered to lower her voice. "What happened?" She squinted over the blackness, through the dying rain, trying to see something, anything.

Jack didn't move. "Now's the time to wait, luv," he said gently. "Wait and see." With his eye to the telescope, he would say nothing else.

Squirrel looked out at the sea again, feeling helpless.