A/N: I predict that Jack will make his entrance about three or four chapters from now. However, when I make predictions about my stories I am usually grossly wrong, so take it with a grain of salt.

Barbossa stood at the helm, squinting into the darkness. He knew he could have had Gibbs or really anyone take the wheel to allow him a little sleep, but he liked the way the breeze felt tonight and he thought sleep was overrated anyway. It reminded him of being dead.

The ship itself seemed pretty dead tonight, though. In fact, in the quiet moments he could sometimes hear snores floating down from the crow's nest - a truly disturbing idea.

Barbossa was startled by the sound of a cabin door banging open. It was Elizabeth. She lurched up on deck, a bottle of rum in hand, clearly tipsy. He touched his hat to her. "How feel ye, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Hurt and tired."

"And drunk."

"I am not drunk," she slurred. She staggered over and plopped down on a crate next to him. "Just hurt and tired. And I'll have you know that's the last bullet I'm ever taking for you – you didn't even say thankyou." He didn't answer, and after a moment she recommenced her complaining. "It hurts, it feels dull, not like a cut at all. It feels like a headache, but on my arm. Like an armache. A bad one. And itchy. I want to rub it but then blood goes everywhere. And this rum doesn't help, it's like water. Not at all like the stuff Jack and I were drinking..."

That earned an amused look. "So you've drunk with Jack Sparrow, have you? Then it's no wonder the crew's rum don't satisfy you - I always have it watered down. No need for the men to be any wilder than God already made them." He reached into his coat and handed her his own flask. "This should suit ye better."

Elizabeth uncapped it and took a swig. "Yes." She made a face. "That's it, all right."

But after another few gulps Barbossa took the flask away again. "I think that's enough, missie." He also shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders. "You don't need to catch cold."

"But I'm not cold."

"And you don't need Will Turner to make eyes at ye for failin to dress like a lady, either."

"Will Turner," Elizabeth echoed sullenly. "If he's so concerned, he shouldn't have fallen asleep on me now, should he."

"Ehh?" Barbossa only caught about half of it. She really was pretty drunk.

"I can't sleep in a hammock because every time I so much as move, it -hic- rubs and I wake up. Or if I finally do manage to fall asleep, I itch it in my sleep and the bandage comes off. I've probably lost another gallon of blood in the last hour trying to get a moment's rest, and I am so tired I could jussabout drop and sleep here on the deck." She sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a proper bed! Why don't they build ships for civilized people, that'sh my question, why must we all live like savages, you know?"

She tried to shift her position a little, but lost her balance and fell to the floor. Barbossa heaved a huge sigh and called for someone else to take the wheel. He steadied Elizabeth with one hand, then two, and helped her slowly down the stairs. "Where are we going?"

"My bed."

"Your bed?" Elizabeth jerked out of his grasp and turned to face him. "Why, Captain Barbossa, I'm sure that's not entirely proper," she giggled.

He didn't argue with her. "But the bed's proper – and isn't that what you were just whinin about? Come on, before you fall on your face."

He towed her into his cabin, shut the door behind them, and led her to the bed. Too drunk to mind that she was barely decent, she handed him back his jacket and lay down.

Barbossa sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her, enjoying both the endearing qualities of a sleepy Elizabeth and also her more... ah...invigorating aspects.

After a moment she opened her eyes. "Why d'you waste so much time cleaning up after me?" she mumbled. "I really am sorry for the trouble. I'm not sure I'm such a good investment after all."

He chuckled. "Don't be foolish – you're a fine investment. Aside from the obvious benefits like spendin the night in my bed, you're a rare find for other reasons. For instance, it's not easy to find someone brave and clearheaded."

"Me? Brave and clearheaded?"

"Aye. Not many would dare board the haunted Black Pearl and strike a deal with her dreaded captain," he reminded her. "And fewer still would impress that captain as someone worth makin a deal with."

"Oh." Elizabeth picked at her bandage. "Forgive me but I don't feel very useful right now, very brave or very clearheaded."

"Well, that be the rum." He frowned at her and slapped her hand away. "You can't keep touchin it or it'll never start to heal."

"I can't help it," Elizabeth whined. "When I fall asleep I ruin it anyway. You'll just have to stay here and hold my hand the whole night."

"Hah!" Barbossa swallowed his more inappropriate comments.

"Well what am I supposed to do?" she demanded sloppily. "I would -hic- kill for a good night's sleep, but not if it means I'll make myself bleed to death."

The captain stood and hunted on the floor for something. "We'll fix that." He found a scarf and used it to tie Elizabeth's good hand to the bedpost.

She burped, then looked shocked with herself. "Errmm, Will's not going to like this."

"Then Will ought not to have fallen asleep at his post. Pull on that." Satisfied that the knot would hold through any sleepy struggling she might do, Barbossa rose and made for the door. "If you need anything, be sure to call. Someone else."

She rolled her eyes, but that made the world spin even harder. Elizabeth dropped into a drunken slumber pretty quickly.

Will awoke in the middle of the morning. He was deeply chagrined to find Elizabeth's hammock empty – a fine job he had done watching over her! He hurried out of his cabin and looked around.

The ship was all as usual for a late lazy morning, except that the captain stood brooding at the helm looking even more weathered than usual, almost as if he hadn't gone to bed the whole night. And Elizabeth was nowhere to be found.

Just as he was beginning to wonder if perhaps something had happened to her, Will heard the familiar sounds of his sweet fiancée losing her temper and metamorphosing into a harpy.

"Hello? Hell-o? Can you hear me, can anyone hear me? Hello? Someone let me out, help me! Captain Barbossa? Let me up!"

Will traced the sounds easily to the captain's cabin, and burst through the door. He saw Elizabeth lying on the bed, only three-quarters dressed, blinking against the sunlight. "Captain? Is that you? I have to use the privy, you inconsiderate beast, let me up!" Finally her eyes adjusted. "Will? Oh, dear. Will, it's not my fault, it's not what… I didn't mean for you to see-"

"Right," Will said grimly. Elizabeth was tied - tied - to the bed. There on the floor was Barbossa's coat. There was really nothing further he needed to ask, was there?

Will marched straight out of the cabin, drew his sword on his way up the stairs, and without a word attempted to kill the captain.

But Barbossa was no fool. He sidestepped the first ill-timed blow and then drew. On Will's second mindless thrust he disarmed the boy easily, clobbered him with the guard of his sword, and shoved him to the ground. He rested the point against Will's midsection and pressed down. "Mind tellin me the meaning of that friendly little greeting?"

"You know very well the meaning," Will snarled at him, trying unsuccessfully to take a deep breath against the pressure of the sword in his diaphragm. "How could you?"

At first Barbossa was prepared to handle the situation with a lecture, but when Will attempted to get up he opted for a more hands-on approach to control. He dropped to one knee and drew his short dagger, acutely aware that most of the men had stopped what they were doing to watch.

"I can't have ye makin attempts on my life whenever the mood takes ye," he informed the boy softly. "It would be a waste to kill ye now...but I would have not a moment's hesitation about carvin out one of your eyes."

Will's throat jumped. He felt the dagger skimming over his forehead and still was only half-convinced. But then Barbossa took him by the hair, tilted his head back, and pressed the tip of his blade to the soft spot just above Will's cheekbone.

When Will actually felt his eyeball shift in his head, he believed. "No," he gasped out. "No not that. Please."

Barbossa didn't press any harder, but he didn't withdraw either. "Oh, that's right," he said brightly, "I seem to remember sayin it'd be Elizabeth I would punish if you-"

"No!" Will surged up and despite the captain's best efforts to move the dagger in time, he ended up with a big scratch down the side of his head.

"If you're so eager to get hurt I can help you," Barbossa snarled. He scooped up one of Will's hands, jerked the sleeve back, and scored a few good long cuts down the outside of Will's forearm before Will managed to jerk free. "How's that?" he demanded, his mood obviously improved by the sight of blood.

The wind had died down and all of a sudden Will could hear Elizabeth shouting to be let loose. Shouting. All of a sudden he had an epiphany.

If the captain had really done anything to Elizabeth, she wouldn't very likely have been calling to him for help, now, would she? Will realized he'd had it all wrong.

Oh, he was in for it.

The adrenaline rush that had fueled him disappeared immediately, and immediately all his cuts started to sting. The pain helped clear his head. Will made eye contact, took a deep breath, and said quietly, "Please don't hurt Elizabeth. I'm sorry. What I thought was...was bizarre, it can't be true, I see now. I made a mistake, I'm sorry." He stood as soon as he was allowed, putting a hand to his head where the sword guard had caught him. "You've no idea what I thought-" he said sheepishly.

"I know exactly what you thought, and I tell ye it is completely unthinkable," Barbossa snapped. "Yes, you did make a mistake, a costly one, and it'll be Elizabeth who pays. Now get out of here," he added loudly, overriding Will's interruption, "before you make it any worse."

The captain looked furious and deranged and so, mentally swearing to somehow sort this all out, Will got out of there.

Gibbs wasn't too pleased with this morning's fiasco. Even as a small child Miss Elizabeth had been a bright and lively thing, and he didn't like the idea of anyone doing anything to dampen her spirit... especially since she hadn't done anything to deserve it.

He steeled himself to speak up. "So...what's your plan of action, cap'n?"

"We'll handle it tonight when things are quieter - no sense disturbin the ship while we're trying to make good time."

"Aye but I meant...well sir I was only just wondering...what I meant is what...I mean I think we all, the whole crew, are, you know, concerned for Miss Elizabeth's...safety. We just want to know-"

"-You needn't concern yourselves for Miss Elizabeth's safety," Barbossa answered loftily. "I'd be a fool to waste her and I know it." His eyes narrowed and he looked much fiercer all of a sudden. "But if you think the boy's idiocy won't have consequences, you're dead wrong. Aye, it's a shame she has to suffer for him, but those be the rules and all aboard know it."

Gibbs would have continued to press, but the captain changed the subject. "Can you find us a storm?"

"A...a storm, sir?"

"Aye, a big one. One that'll blow us fast and hard towards where we're goin."

Gibbs scratched his head. "Aye, I could try, cap'n, but you know how dangerous it be to take on a big storm in a little vessel like this... and with such a crew, to boot. We do our best, you know, but..." he shrugged.

"So much the better," Barbossa said. "There'll be worse than storms where we're goin and the crew needs to be seasoned. I'm thinking in particular of a Mr. William Turner."

Gibbs thought he understood. "That's brilliant, sir! If we run into trouble the crew'll have to come together. Nothing like danger to unite us but good. That'll put an end to Will's feistiness, mark my words." But then he frowned. "Although I'm afeared it might be a risk - most likely Turner'll learn his place and everything will be fine. But there's always that little chance he'll keep on disobeying you, cap'n, and in a bad storm that can be trouble..."

Barbossa sighed impatiently. "And that's the whole point! If the boy fails to perform under pressure, or if he questions my least order from now til then, overboard he goes and the storm can have him. It'll go down in the log as an accident. And ye will make sure that's what the crew believes."

Gibbs nodded slowly. "Aye, the men would resent it if you…ah...dealt with him outright, sir. Not to mention what Elizabeth would think."

A shadow crossed the captain's face at the mention of Elizabeth, but he nodded resolutely and confirmed the plan. "If Turner can't do as he's told, he endangers the whole crew. So we'll keep to the code."

Finding Barbossa much too frightening for his taste, Gibbs nodded and started to move away, but the captain grabbed him by the arm and added one bit more: "I am givin you a direct order to tell no one about this plan," he enunciated carefully. "And if you disobey, I'll handle ye according to the code as well."

Gibbs' throat went so dry that he had to unscrew his flask and take a long swig before he could even manage "Aye, sir."

TBC.

Further Rants:

Despite my affection for grody pirates and my inexplicable attachment to Barbossa, I admit that he's a cold one. I'm not sure quite how cold…but cold. And dramatic. There is always some strange rockstar / primadonna quality to the way he leads his crew. Man I can't wait til the 3rd movie!

And I know I'm not 100 fair to Will. Aside from his immaturity he's actually quite cool. I watched DMC again last night and I admit Will is a good leader, totally fearless, and strong under pressure… but the immaturity still pisses me off.

Review, will you? Bloody lurkers! Thanks very much to those of you who do have words of encouragement. Although I'm surprised to see so many people having sympathy for DMC's Norrington. I thought he was kind of a jerk.