Disclaimer: But we did make a good bit of profit… of fun!

A/N: This chapter… was meant to be at least half the length it is now. Somehow, it's the longest chapter so far - it counts as two chapters in itself. Bizarre. But there were just so many things I wanted to put in. I had to stop and go 'whoa, too much here. Stop writing, now!' So, you'll have to wait until the next chapter for Squirrel and Jack's alone time. Sorry, Sentinel Sparrow, CompYES, and my other readers who love to leave me nice reviews, but that kind stuff is going to have to wait a bit. Also, this chapter was brought to you by ICRep's multi-fandom birthday post. It's awesome-riffic!

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"Ah! Miss Grey!"

Squirrel lifted her head at the sound of Gibbs' voice. He and Elizabeth stood on the stairs, coming down towards them. Squirrel stopped, and waited; behind her, Norrington also came to a standstill.

"There y'are, Miss Grey," Gibbs smiled. "I was wonderin' where you'd gone off to." For a moment, Gibbs' eye flickered to the now-cleaner face of Norrington.

"Just in the hold," Squirrel reassured the First Mate, knowing he'd be wondering about her absence in more ways than one, "Seeing to some c-cargo." She smiled reassuringly. "We were coming up to look for you."

Gibbs nodded, satisfied for the time being. "Ah." Gibbs addressed Norrington. "Did Miss Grey tell ye of your duties, then?"

"No," Norrington said, drolly, "Not yet."

Gibbs nodded. "Right then. Well, if you follow me. And you," he turned back to Squirrel, "take Elizabeth down and get her settled." Seeing Squirrel's perplexed frown, Gibbs added, "See she gets a bunk out of the way of the rest of this lot," he pointed his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the new crewmen. Keep yourselves out of the way of the men; Squirrel nodded in understanding, then smiled reassuringly at Elizabeth. Elizabeth smiled back, though it was a lost and confused smile.

"Oh, and Miss Grey…" Gibbs cleared his throat, "When you're done, could you come to the galley? I need a word with you." Before Squirrel could ask a single question as to the content of or reason for this 'word', Gibbs started talking to Norrington. The two men went up above deck, leaving Squirrel and Elizabeth standing awkwardly below.

"Welcome aboard the Black Pearl, Miss Swann," Squirrel said, shyly, inclining her head. "I'm Squirrel."

Elizabeth smiled back, then considered Squirrel curiously. "I heard Mister Gibbs call you Miss Grey. Is Squirrel your pirate name?"

Squirrel almost sighed. "No," she said calmly, "It's my name. I've…" She shrugged, smiling it off, "I can't remember my real name. Amnesia."

"I'm so sorry," Elizabeth's eyes widened in concern.

Squirrel just shook her head. "It's nothing." She turned. "Follow me - I'll show you to your bunk." The two women walked softly through the now-noisy ship, ducking through the mess of hammocks and crates. Squirrel moved carefully and slowly, making sure Elizabeth would remember the way to their hidden quarters.

As they walked, Squirrel couldn't help but look at Elizabeth out of the corner of her eye. Miss Swann was very beautiful - no doubt she looked even more so when dressed in the frills and finery of her station, rather than men's clothes. Yet somehow, she managed to make the dun-brown coat, trousers, vest and off-white blouse - even the tricorn hat she wore - look feminine. Under a thin layer of sweat and grime - compulsory by Tortugan standards - Elizabeth's face seemed to glow golden. Her skin was a sun-kissed gold, like her hair.

I wish I had skin and hair like that. She looks so beautiful, even dressed like a sailor! Squirrel looked surreptitiously down at her own clothing - though she wore nearly the same outfit, she looked plain and boring. And barely feminine at all. Perhaps if she stitched her blouse a size smaller, bound her breasts a bit looser … Self-conscious, Squirrel closed her cloak and ducked her head.

"Here," she said softly, pushing aside a curtain, revealing two beds built into the wood of the ship, one over the top of the other, each one with a curtain for privacy. "The top bunk's mine," Squirrel knelt down, "But you can have the bottom one if you wish." She began clearing away the spare ropes and bolts of cloth that had been left on the bottom bed.

"Thankyou." Elizabeth stood awkwardly to one side, watching as Squirrel moved the debris to the floor and to one side. "Did Anamaria used to sleep here?"

Squirrel looked up, surprised. "Yes. She did." It came back to Squirrel, then, that this wasn't Elizabeth's first time on the Pearl. She'd been here before - she must have known Ana.

"Where is she now?"

Squirrel smoothed down the covers of the bed. "She left us. When we put in at Kingston about a month ago, she didn't stay. Though," Squirrel managed a smile, "I can't say I blame her."

"You must have been good friends," Elizabeth said gently.

Squirrel just nodded, not knowing what else to say. After a moment's silence, she indicated the bed. "All yours." She reached under the bunk and half-pulled out a sea-chest. "This is yours too, for the time being. And there's a mirror on that wall there," she pointed, "If you ever need to use it."

Elizabeth thanked Squirrel with a wider smile, then moved to the mirror. Squirrel pushed the chest back under the bunk and watched out of the corner of her eye. Elizabeth doffed the tricorn hat, tossing it lightly on the bed, before reaching back and freeing her hair from the sailor's club. Golden threads unwound under her nimble lady's fingers.

Squirrel looked away and down, her hands reaching for her own hair. It had grown since she'd left Tortuga, but she'd always preferred to wear it tied back in a tight ponytail which left her face looking boyish and unadorned. Maybe if she cut herself a fringe, or left it loose, like Elizabeth…

Shaking the thought free, Squirrel rose to her feet. "I'll leave you to get settled," she said, a little more abruptly than she'd meant. "Gibbs wanted to see me in the galley."

Elizabeth turned from the mirror. "Wait!" Squirrel turned back, wondering, waiting. Elizabeth bit her lip, her braid half-undone over one shoulder. "You… you knew Will? Did he come aboard? Was he alright? Did he say anything about me?" Miss Swann's eyes were liquid and pleading. "What happened to Will?"

Squirrel was glad for the hood that half-obscured her face in shadow. "I…"

Elizabeth moved forward and clutched at Squirrel's arm. "Do you know what happened?"

Squirrel nodded before she could stop herself. "But I… I'll t-tell you l-later," she stammered, gingerly freeing herself. "I'll be back, I p-promise. I just need to find out… what Gibbs wanted…" She turned and hurried away, trying to make her quick steps look nimble and practiced rather than panicked and fleeing.

What am I supposed to tell her? What am I supposed to say?

Squirrel burst through the galley with a gasp akin to a drowner's final breath. Faces turned to her - familiar faces. Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, Pintel and Ragetti.

"Ah, good, you made it." Gibbs moved over and escorted Squirrel to a seat; she seated herself at the table hesitatingly. Why was everyone so silent? Why were they trying not to look at her?

Gibbs cleared his throat. "Gents… and lady," he nodded, earning a slight blush from Squirrel, "As you're well aware, the extra men aboard means we - as the crew - no longer have the duties we may have held previously." He sighed, nodding. "But we're still all senior members of the crew, so…"

Pintel sat up a little straighter. "Senior members? Wot, even us?" Ragetti blinked, his wooden eye mournfully rolling in its socket.

Gibbs nodded. "Aye. You lads as well." The two pirates looked at each other, incredulous but rejoicing. Gibbs continued, "But… we won't have all the duties that we might've had when we were… just us." He looked at Squirrel, but his eyes slid off of her. "As it stands, I've more'n eight men working in shifts in the crow's nest alone, not to mention the various men who'll be working the ropes from above."

Squirrel recognised the oblique reference immediately. "So I won't be… needed… anymore?"

Gibbs hurried to repair the damage. "Not in the capacity of lookout, Miss. And - facing facts - none of us have half of what we had before."

"But you all have something useful to do," Squirrel protested quietly. "You can haul on ropes and weigh anchor and… and all I'm good for is sitting in the rigging and looking out at sea." Putting this realisation into words suddenly made it painfully obvious to her. I'm too weak to help set the sails… and when push comes to shove what do I do? I hide in the rigging and throw rocks and insults, because I'm took weak to lift a sword or a pistol.

"Not true!" Marty broke in, frowning. "You're dead-brilliant with the grub we have. I wouldn't trust anyone else in the kitchen more than you. You're a brilliant cook, and you know it!" He paused a moment, then added, "And don't forget that you're a fine quartermaster. We can trust you for certain when it comes to the supplies."

"Aye!" Ragetti lifted his head, smiling shyly at Squirrel. "You did them letters beautifully!" Pintel also nodded.

"Wind in the sails!" Cotton's parrot walked across the table and rubbed its head on her arm. "Even keel!" Cotton himself grinned.

Squirrel smiled at the men, then turned back to Gibbs, the smile fading. "But will I…"

Gibbs hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "No, lass." He sighed, shrugging slightly. "I'm sorry, Miss Grey, but the men needed something to do. And… I didn't have much choice, seein' as how you're… you're a woman, and all. I'm sorry."

Squirrel ducked her head, her mood inky black again, but even more so than before. "I see. So… I have no duties whatsoever… I'm not needed for anything… correct?"

Gibbs looked pained. "I'm truly sorry, Miss Grey. But… that's the truth of it."

Squirrel ground her thumb into the wood of the table. "So…" The words were harsh and painful, and nearly choked her. "I'm useless." I may have well stayed in Tortuga… at least I was useful there! At least I had something to do! Here… I'm a part of this crew but I can't do anything because I've been replaced… and even Jack doesn't need directions! He doesn't even need… me…

"Miss Grey, that's not what I meant…"

Squirrel rose angrily to her feet, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. "But it's the truth! I'm useless!" She tried to stop from sounding weak, but couldn't. She turned away instead, heading for the door, wanting to find some place to sit and cry. "No-one needs me for anything!"

"I do."

Squirrel stopped at the doorway, and turned back, surprised. Surprised at not only the source of the voice, but at the simplicity of the statement.

Ragetti ducked his head somewhat, awkward and shy. "It's jus'," he said, "It's jus' that no-one's ever wanted t' teach me t' read before…" He half-mumbled, blushing under the grime on his face, "An'… an' I think that's werf summin'… innit?"

Squirrel felt all her foolish, selfish anger evaporate at the sight of the pirate's bashful and honest face. He wanted to learn to read, and she had promised to teach him. That had meant so much to him, more than she'd realised. All her life she'd been told she was useless, hopeless, not worth anything… and yet, here, aboard the Pearl, time and time again she'd been shown how needed she was, how much a part of everything she was…

Squirrel ducked her head, smiling under tear-soaked eyelashes. "Aye. That's something." She smiled a little wider, laughing. "I did promise, didn't I. I'm sorry." She sighed, wiped a tear away, and then looked around at the crew.

These men were the reason she belonged. They were her family. They looked to her now, smiling, welcoming.

"'Ere, Squirrel," Marty indicated the chair she'd vacated. "Dry your eyes, and then stay a while."

Cotton's parrot bobbed up and down, spreading it's wings. "Sheets to the wind! Sheets to the wind!"

Gibbs tilted his head, wearing an apologetic smile. "Cotton's right - it's been a fair while since you've played cards with us. What say you, Miss Grey?"

Squirrel smiled, lowering her eyes. "I'll stay," she said softly. "Thankyou." She sat down, untying a bag from her belt. This small pouch contained a dog-eared set of playing cards, and a pair of dice. Squirrel passes the cards to Gibbs, who shuffled them and started dealing them out; she herself rattled the dice in one hand, feeling grateful for the company that surrounded her. She looked at Ragetti, who was seated next to her, and smiled. He smiled back, embarrassed but pleased. He held out a small black book to her, shuffling in his seat like an excited puppy.

"'Ere," he said, "Could you read us some of this?"

Squirrel took the book graciously - slipping the dice back in their bag - and gingerly pried apart the waterlogged pages. A strange sense of recognition washed over her as she read the first words she saw. "I will make thy name to be remembered in all generations: therefore I shall praise thee forever and ever…" She looked up at Ragetti, surprised. "This is a Bible."

Ragetti just nodded. Pintel, involved in a four-way card game between Gibbs, Marty and Cotton, looked up at Squirrel. "'E's worried about the state of 'is immortal soul, 'e is."

"It's a decent enough care, and not one t' be taken lightly," Gibbs commented, looking at the book in Squirrel's hands with interest. "Go on, Miss Grey. Read us one of the Psalms."

"Of course, Gibbs. I always liked the 25th Psalm," Squirrel smiled, peeling apart the Bible's pages gingerly. "My mother always used to read…" Squirrel's hands froze; she lifted her eyes and found the crew staring at her, just as surprised as she was.

"Wot?" Ragetti asked, "Wot 'appened?"

Squirrel looked down at the bible, feeling a hot flush building behind her ears. "My mother," she said the words slowly, scarce able to believe what she was saying. "She would sit me on her lap and read to me. She smelt of soft roses, not hard-edged roses like the women of the night. Soft roses. Her dress was cotton. And my father would stand in the doorway and watch us both; smells of coffee and spices from the storehouses came through the window. And he… he smiled at us. 'That's my girls', he'd say… And he'd laugh and she'd laugh and I laughed with them because I was so happy…" She stopped talking, barely able to believe, let alone continue.

"Wot?" Pintel frowned around at the frozen faces. "Wot's goin' on?"

"I remember," Squirrel breathed. "I remember this…" She looked down at the Bible in her hands.

Gibbs put a hand on her shoulder, smiling comfortingly. "Looks like you're finally recovering your lost memories, Miss Grey."

Squirrel nodded mutely, stunned. A mind was a strange and curious thing. All those nights she'd spent staring out at sea, or up at the stars, or curled up half-asleep, straining to remember a crumb, a grain, a glimmer of her past, to find nothing but silence… and yet, opening the Bible had conjured up the past so suddenly. Strange, to say the least.

"Well," Marty said, "Ye did say that yer mother was a proper lady, and yer father was a sailor, so… they're both the kind that would want their child t' have a proper education, aye?"

Squirrel nodded again, running her fingers over the pages. "Aye." My parents…

Ragetti looked confused. "So… Did I 'elp you, then?"

"Course you did!" Pintel grinned at his friend before turning his attention back to his cards, "If it weren't for you bein' clever and givin' Miss Squirrel the Bible, she wouldn't have remembered her dead mum and dad."

Ragetti looked at the Bible in Squirrel's hands, and then up at her. A small, slow smile spread across his face. "It might've been divine providence wot inspired me to be clever, you think?"

Squirrel smiled back, her heart soaring, lifting her up out of the black pits of despair. "I don't doubt it." She put the Bible down between them. "Shall I read the psalm, then?"

"Yes, please." Ragetti shuffled closer beside her, his eye following her finger as she read.

"Unto thee, my Lord, do I lift up my soul. O my God, I put my trust in thee…"

So Squirrel passed the latter half of the evening: in the company of her card-playing friends, she read various passages from the Bible aloud, remembering them even as she read. She helped Ragetti learn words and phrases, and promised to teach him the alphabet next she could get a hold of ink and paper. Each of the crewmen suggested passages, as both talismans against misfortune and as a means of soothing the soul. And Squirrel read on, calmed and uplifted, but always hoping that the next verse, the next word, would prompt another memory.

She continued reading until she heard the bell ring for second dogwatch, and then sat up in alarm. For a moment, she'd forgotten where she was. She was lost in the convivial, familial closeness of the galley; the sound of the bells reminded her of what she'd set aside for the moment.

We're heading for Davy Jones' chest with a ship full of expendable men. And Elizabeth Swann.

"Gibbs," Squirrel's voice was a mere whisper, "Elizabeth's been asking about Will." The crew turned to look at her, varying degrees of surprise or unease on their faces. "What do I tell her?"

Gibbs paused in the midst of shuffling the cards. "Tell her what you can," he said slowly, "But nothing more than what you feel would be right." He looked as awkward as Squirrel had felt.

Squirrel nodded slowly, sighing inwardly. How would she know what to say? Guilt would make her an easy read. Elizabeth would know that Squirrel knew something more than she was willing to tell. Surely Squirrel would betray Jack, albeit unintentionally.

Squirrel looked down at the Bible. In her mind, something dug and scratched at her. There was something important about this Bible. Something she somehow -knew- would play a larger role sometime ahead. But she didn't know what. Was it a memory, hidden? Was it a verse which would make everything clear? Was it both? A link to her past and a means for the future? Feeling on the verge of something big, Squirrel slowly and reluctantly closed the leather-bound book and handed it back to Ragetti. I promised I would talk to Elizabeth. I promised. And there will be time enough to search for answers later.

"Reefs abound," Cotton's parrot warned as Gibbs handed Squirrel back her deck of cards. Squirrel put the cards back into the pouch with the dice, and slowly rose to her feet.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she said softly, and vanished with a swish of her cloak. She picked her way through the darkness, avoiding the now-full hammocks and the bunches of men who were still awake, gambling by lanterns and singing course songs to each other. She avoided them all as she moved her way through the darkness, heading for the hidden bunks, where the curtain gave some measure of privacy.

The curtain was drawn, and Elizabeth was asleep. Squirrel closed the curtain behind her, then stood and looked at the sleeping beauty. Tears had tracked down Elizabeth's face, soaking into her pillow and her loose golden hair. She must have cried herself to sleep. Squirrel reached down, and gently brushed a strand of hair free from Elizabeth's face, feeling saddened and sorry for her role in all this. This woman deserved to know the truth. Elizabeth deserved to know that Jack had betrayed Will's friendship and trust; she deserved to know that Will now served aboard the Flying Dutchman in Jack's place. She deserved to know…

But not now. She was sleeping now, rest she surely needed.

And, Squirrel's inner voice prompted almost cruelly, she won't hear it from you. Jack may trick a friend to an unhappy fate, but you won't say a word. You won't betray Jack. You can't.

That's right. I won't betray him. Squirrel thought calmly, squashing the anger she felt, I may be a pirate, but I'm a good person.

And Jack isn't?

That made Squirrel pause. No. Not all the time, she finally admitted to herself. But it's what I wish he could be.

With that final thought, she turned and climbed up into her own bunk, kicking off her boots and covering herself with her cloak. As she drifted off to sleep, she heard that strange, beautiful lullaby playing in her head. She hummed it softly before falling into a dreamless sleep. There was a slight smile on her lips when she finally gave way to the darkness; the smile was beautiful, and sad.

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The morning came. Squirrel heard Elizabeth stirring, and rose quickly, donning her cloak and boots again. She'd rested well, and was not in the least bit groggy. She wondered if Elizabeth felt the same, given how she'd fallen asleep.

"Morning, Miss Swann," Squirrel smiled, as Elizabeth blinked the sleep from her eyes. She hid her lips in an apologetic smile. "Forgive me for not coming back sooner. Gibbs kept me longer than I'd expected."

Elizabeth rose easily from the bunk, not looking in the least discomforted by the awkwardly small sleeping area. "It's alright. I don't blame you." She smiled, then her hands flew to her chest, checking for something. With a relieved sigh, Elizabeth pulled a small leather-bound packet from her tunic and held them in her hands.

Squirrel looked at the packet with some measure of unease. "What's that?"

Elizabeth brandished the packet as she got to her feet. "Bargain," she said, a determined set to her eyes and jaw. "Bargain with Jack Sparrow." She looked at Squirrel. "Where would he be at this time of morning?"

Squirrel cocked her head, and, as if on cue, the bell for forenoon watch began to toll. "He'll be on deck, if I know him well enough," Squirrel said matter-of-factly, binding back her hair. "I may have only been aboard for a few months, but I can say I know him pretty well." Squirrel pinked slightly as she dropped the hood over her face; she wondered at her boldness. Where had that come from?

Elizabeth didn't seem to notice. She picked up her tricorn, setting it over her unbound hair. "Let's go, then," she smiled, and pushed aside the curtain with the hand that held the 'bargain'. Squirrel followed in her wake, wondering at what might be contained in that leather packet, and what it could possibly mean for Jack Sparrow.

The morning light was bright and cheerful, and the Pearl was bustling with activity like never before. Squirrel looked up, surprised by the number of men hanging from the rigging, clambering over the spars, running to and fro across the deck. The Pearl was so full of life - maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have extra members of the crew aboard. Maybe it would do everyone good to have half-duties, working in shifts. The Pearl certainly seemed to be doing better. Her sails had never seemed so full, and her timbers had never seemed so light.

Squirrel caught sight of Norrington, kneeling as if in prayer, over the deck. She felt a twinge of pity for the man. Once he'd been a decorated officer, feared and respected by sailors and pirates alike, and now look at him: cleaning the deck of a pirate vessel, the lowest on the pecking order.

"Jack!"

Elizabeth's voice brought Squirrel's attention back around. Gibbs and Jack were standing together, discussing something; they looked up as the women came towards them.

"Good morning, Miss Swann," Jack said, his gold teeth glinting in his smile. "Sleep well?" Squirrel tried to hide her disappointment in being ignored. Jack didn't even look at her. His smile was only for Miss Swann.

Elizabeth shook the leather packet at Jack. "This," she said, "Was what Will was going to trade you," she said, her voice half-harsh. "He was going to bring you back to Port Royal, and Beckett would give you these in exchange for this compass of yours." She touched it at her belt; Squirrel looked at it enviously, but only briefly.

Jack's smile vanished, and a strange - alarmed? - look appeared instead. Gibbs was even more so. Squirrel recognised the name, and felt her hands stray to her dagger instinctively.

"Beckett?" Jack took the packet from Elizabeth and opened it out.

"Yes," Elizabeth said, moving next to Gibbs and peering over Jack's shoulder. "See? They're signed. Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company."

"Eaagh." Jack pulled a face, sticking out his tongue. He still looked back at the letters he held, but he held them as though they were a dead rat wearing a diamond collar.

"What would a lord be doing offering pardon to a pirate?" She scowled.

"This ain't a pardon," Jack said, looking at the contents of the packet with some manner of disgust. "They're letters of marque."

Squirrel blinked. Letters of marque? These letters meant that Jack could sail his pirate flag and hunt down ships as any pirate would, only this time, they wouldn't be chased like rats for it. They would be allowed to be pirates. It was a pardon, of sorts… So why was Jack so unhappy with it?

"Will was working for Beckett and never said a word," Gibbs frowned.

"Aagh…" Jack clutched at his arm, where he wore the pirate brand.

"No, he wasn't," Squirrel protested. She looked to Elizabeth. "Will was working for you, Miss Swann." She looked back to Gibbs. "That's why he didn't mention Beckett. Because Beckett didn't matter to him. Only Elizabeth did. That's why he wanted the compass, remember? To free Elizabeth."

"Is that what you're thinkin', Miss Grey?" Jack said absently, flicking his eyes up from the letters. Squirrel flushed, hearing that same suggestion in his tone from earlier: You fancy the lad? Elizabeth looked at Squirrel, gratefully, yet wanting to know more about her precious Will. Squirrel just looked away.

"Beckett wants the compass." Gibbs' scowl deepened. "Only one reason for that."

Jack was sour-faced. "Of course. He wants the chest."

"Yes," Elizabeth put in, "He did say something about a chest." She quietened at Jack's raised eyebrow.

Gibbs was lost in his thoughts, and they weren't happy ones. "If the Company controls the chest, they control the sea."

"A truly discomforting notion, luv," Jack turned to Elizabeth, as if to impress upon her the gravity of the situation.

Gibbs did the same. "And bad! Bad for every mother's son what calls himself pirate."

Squirrel interrupted impatiently. "How does anyone, let alone a lord, know about your compass, Jack?" She asked, keeping her eyes on Jack until he turned to face her. She paused a moment - Jack didn't answer, and his face was a careful and unreadable mask. "Let alone that," she continued, unnerved by Jack's silence, "But how does a l-lord of the East India Trading Company," she near spat the words - damn bastards - "Know about the legend of Davy Jones? Even the d-details of how he controls the Kraken? It's not exactly c-common knowledge." We had to go to a remote island - populated with cannibals - and talk to a voodoo witch in order to find the details behind the story of the captain of the Flying Dutchman. And yet Beckett knew about it before we did.

Gibbs looked very near to spitting. "I think there's a bit more wind to be coaxed from these sails, don't you?" He hurried off to start barking orders at the crew. "Brace the foreyard!"

Jack continued to stare at Squirrel, saying nothing, not even moving. Finally, he shook his head. "Now's not the time for such questions," He said quietly. "Go about your duties, Miss Grey."

Squirrel nearly exploded with a protest, but stopped herself. Jack's silent refusal to talk had revealed something. She'd been able to read something behind that poker face of his.

He knows Beckett. Not just by name or reputation, either. Her eyes strayed to his sleeve. You wear a pirate brand, Jack Sparrow. You had heard the name 'Beckett' and winced - Beckett had surely given you the brand. But, you must have known Beckett before then. But from where? She ducked her head, frowning. I'll withdraw from this game… for now.

Jack turned his back on Squirrel, dismissing her. "May I enquire as to how you came to possess these?"

Elizabeth's face was nearly scathing. "Persuasion."

"Friendly?"

"Decidedly not."

"Will makes a deal and upholds it with honour," Jack said flippantly, prompting a shadow of pain to cross Elizabeth's face. "And yet you stand here with the prize."

Squirrel fumed behind Jack's back. You're a fine one to talk about honour. She moved away, walking slowly, half-turned from Jack, still watching his face and hands and feeling a dull ache in her heart.

Jack held up the letters and read them nonchalantly. "Full pardon, commissioned as a privateer on behalf of England…"

Squirrel shook her head as she leaned against the railing, just out of earshot. Jack, why not take this opportunity? Why not simply accept the pardon offered to you? You'd still be free, Jack. Nothing would change.

Though it wouldn't be the same, would it. It wouldn't be the same as being a free pirate. He'd be accountable. And things would be expected of him. Jack wouldn't want that - Jack wants to be free. Completely free. She sighed, understanding now. Besides, who'd want to be employed by a man like Beckett?

The deck was full of movement, of men crossing the deck and shouting and swinging and running. Yet one movement caught her eye. The snapping to alertness of one of the men, the subtle lifting of a head to listen, to hear, to understand. The scenting of prey.

Norrington had heard about the letters of marque.

Squirrel slowly straightened, keeping her eyes on the former commodore, feeling wary, almost alarmed. She looked over at Jack, and saw him tucking the letters into his coat. Squirrel turned her head back. The former commodore dropped the cloth he was scrubbing the deck with into the bucket of water beside him, assuming the air of someone with the upper hand. Nonchalantly, he rose to his feet and walked away. His path took him past Squirrel; noticing her watching him, he stopped, and offered a half-smile. "Good morning, Miss Grey."

Squirrel nodded in return. "Norrington." She made a show looking around him, at where the neglected bucket was being commandeered by another swab. "Is there a reason why you're leaving your duties?"

Norrington shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing in particular." There was a grace to his movement and something in his smirk which brought colour to Squirrel's face. To hide this, she shook her head in knowing disbelief, playing her part in this charade. As she did so, her eye caught sight of Jack. What she saw nearly made her cry out.

"Persuade me."

Though Elizabeth was not showing any interest in Jack whatsoever, the simple fact that the pair of them were so close together was painful. They were looking into each other's eyes, close enough to kiss… Squirrel looked away, feeling hurt, jealous, angry, saddened, all at once. Her face lay unguarded, open… until she remembered who she'd been talking to. Squirrel looked up, and found herself facing Norrington's knowingly raised eyebrow.

"I have to ask, Miss Grey," he said conversationally, smirking somewhat, "What is a woman of your quality doing aboard a pirate ship?"

Squirrel controlled her embarrassment and fear. "If you're finished with your duties here, former commodore," she said evenly, "Perhaps you could go down to the hold. The animal pens haven't been cleaned for a long month."

His smirk never faded. "Of course, my dear," he said, softly mocking, "Whatever you want."

Squirrel's flush deepened. "On your way." She pushed past him, hiding her face from him. She moved to the railing and turned back; her eyes locked on Jack, held him, and followed him as he swayed and sashayed his way to his cabin. As soon as the door closed, Squirrel closed her eyes, severing Jack from her sight but holding him in her memory. She sighed deeply, as though winded. Squirrel pushed the hood from her face, exasperated and uncertain, and turned to the sun. Her mask had slipped, and Norrington had seen her.

Ah, let him think what he will, she thought sadly. It doesn't matter. It's not as though what I want and what Jack want are the same thing. Squirrel remembered Elizabeth, and suddenly a green steel dagger seemed to pierce her heart. Where was Elizabeth now? Turning, Squirrel found Elizabeth was leaning on the rail not far from where she stood. She looked to be laughing at some private joke. Norrington was moving towards her with clear purpose.

"It's a curious thing," Norrington commented wryly, leaning nonchalantly on the railing. "There was a time when I would have given anything for you to look like that while thinking about me."

Elizabeth ducked her head in the same manner Squirrel would have done. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do," Norrington smirked.

Elizabeth looked uncomfortable. "Oh, don't be absurd. I trust him, that's all."

Elizabeth's choice of words - don't be absurd - echoed strangely in Squirrel. She'd said the same thing only a night before. She'd stood at almost the same spot where Elizabeth now stood, only in the midst of a tropical storm late at night instead of on a clear, bright day. Both times meant the same thing - I don't love this man. Squirrel had meant Will, and now, Elizabeth meant Jack. Squirrel steeled herself with this relief, and the dagger in her heart vanished. Foolish womanly fears, nothing more. Determined to put an end to this, Squirrel called out.

"Commodore!" Both Elizabeth and Norrington looked up, the latter with some measure of amused annoyance. Squirrel jerked her head over her shoulder, keeping her face as expressionless as possible. "I do believe I gave you an order."

Norrington just smirked at Squirrel. "So you did." He pulled himself lazily - gracefully - upright, and started to walk away. As he reached Squirrel, he turned back to Elizabeth, throwing one last word over his shoulder. "So you never wondered how your latest fiancé ended up on the Flying Dutchman in the first place?" He turned back, giving a smile - a predatory, knowing, blackmailing smile - as a parting gift before going below. Squirrel flushed, caught in this cat's cradle of deception; she risked looking up, and found herself pinioned under Elizabeth's pleading gaze.

"Don't mind him," Squirrel said firmly, though her throat was dry. "He's just sore."

"But it's not like James to say something like that," Elizabeth said faintly. Her eyes hardened, the gaze holding Squirrel down. "What really happened to Will?"

"He was taken under duress," Squirrel said truthfully, though it was such a lie. "He had no choice."

"Did you?" Elizabeth asked faintly. "Could you have saved Will?" Her lovely brown eyes widened in alarm. "Could Jack have saved Will?"

Squirrel looked away and closed her eyes for a second, a mere second. "No," she said, looking Elizabeth dead in the eye. "He couldn't have." With a regretful look at the sighing lady, Squirrel turned and walked away, her gut churning. Please, let that be the last lie I ever have to tell for Jack Sparrow.

It wasn't really a lie, a voice told her languidly. You were telling the truth - Jack couldn't have saved Will. He couldn't have… because he didn't want to. He was too busy saving himself.

She crossed the deck with heavy steps, her eyes low.