Author's note: Our poor Jack is so sick in this chapter, but there is one part that has a bit of humor, at his expense. Of course, it brings back a memory that will bother Elizabeth, and she will feel a bit guilty for a comment made to Jack in the past. More about that in later chapters. Thanks! Pirate Cat

Will and Elizabeth were awakened to Jack's restless stirring, and ensuing vomiting. They woke to his sounds of distress and his wide, confused, glazed eyes. They quickly turned him over in the bunk to viciously heave more blood and seawater into the bucket for several minutes, after which he went limp, and went unconscious again, trembling and soaked in sweat.

Elizabeth looked up to see that faint light was making it's way through the windows of Jack's cabin; it was the moon - the stormy weather had passed and the ship was no longer rocking wildly. She was not sure how long they had been dozing… she turned to Will, who was rubbing his eyes. She felt guilty for falling asleep while they were supposed to be watching over their sick friend. "I'm sorry, Jack." she thought, for the millionth time, recently.

Will reached out and felt Jack's face with concern. "He's fevered." were his only words, as he felt Jack's neck and the uninjured left side of his face. He reached down into a basin of water for a clean cloth, and started to gently wipe Jack down with it. "Elizabeth. Look." The couple was shocked to see that strange new injuries had made themselves present during their sleep; purple bruises and deep gashes all over his body that suspiciously seemed to be shaped like rough tooth marks. None of them required stitching, but were bloody, and required cleaning and bandaging before infection set in.

Jack stirred, and moaned very softly as Will and Elizabeth tended to him. He was clearly in pain, burning with fever. His hands moved slightly.

"Shhhh. It's alright, cousin. We're here." Will whispered soothingly as he tried his best to comfort. "…shhhh. It's alright… we're not leaving you…"

Thus the night went on, with intermittent wretching, interrupted sleep, and a feeling of helplessness. As Elizabeth bathed the captain's scarred, battered, tattooed body, she wondered how Captain Jack Sparrow had gotten the scars, some of them quite dreadful. Was it any wonder why he was rarely seen without a shirt, no matter how hot the Caribbean sun had been? Too many stares would have greeted him - where did those gunshot wounds on the right side of his chest really come from, and were those scars from a flogging that covered his back? A knife wound on his thigh? What about his left arm… the cause of that gruesome scar was too hard to contemplate. Too many questions might be asked, so he suffered the heat and kept a shirt on.

In fact, it was a wonder that Jack had made Elizabeth privy to some of those scars when they were marooned on Rum Island together by Hector Barbossa - she was asking too many questions that Jack didn't want to answer. But she had demanded the truth from him about the legends that she had heard about him, and he gave her the truth. It was ugly, the truth. Indeed, Will also now bore scars that he was self conscious about. Will carried inner wounds that he learned from, and had grown from. What kind of life did Jack Sparrow really have that left this beautiful man so marked for the rest of his life? She and Will both wondered what inner scars Jack bore; and was he a better man for them, or was the damage too great?

Will was startled by unintelligible sounds from the captain. Will got out of the chair that he had been occupying and sat on the edge of the bunk, reaching for Jack's thin arms. For some reason, Will was careful not to put his hand over the deeply branded white "P" on Jack's forearm.

"Jack?"

Jack's eyes opened a crack and tried hard to focus on Will's face above him. He licked his lips and then tried to speak… only the words that came from him were not in English, and were in a barely audible croak.

"What did you say, Jack? I can't understand you."

The captain had closed his eyes and started to breath rapidly. He opened his eyes a bit again, and repeated his question. Will still did not understand his words.

Elizabeth had joined Will next to the bunk this time, and reached down to take Jack's hand in hers. His eyes shifted her way, and tried to focus on her… he failed, closed his eyes, and opened them again.

"What were you trying to say, darling?"

Jack's hoarse whisper repeated the same question to her, but to no avail.

"In English, Jack… we can't understand what you are saying, love."

Jack gave up. He closed his pained eyes and his breathing slowed again. He fell back into deep, heavy unconsciousness.

The young couple looked at each other in silence. They wondered what he was trying to ask them, and felt badly that they could not respond...

Mr. Gibbs knocked on the cabin door a short time later, and came in with a tray of steaming mugs of coffee from the galley. Gratefully, Will took his mug and inhaled deeply. Elizabeth smiled her thanks to Gibbs, stirring in a bit of the precious sugar from the sugar tin. Morning was dawning over the horizen - its first soft fingers of sunlight stretching up from the sea.

Will looked over at the quiet Jack and said, offhandedly, " I never realized how thin Jack is until now - he certainly is light as a feather to carry. So much of what he wears is the trappings of Captain Jack Sparrow, and underneath all of the belts, boots and bandana, he is rather scrawny, isn't he?" The younger man smiled, knowing that the others knew that he meant it as a term of endearment for the man who, indeed, looked quite frail, in his nest of pillows and blankets.

Elizabeth sat next to Jack on the bunk, regarding the sick man, and brushing his thick, weathered dreadlocks back from one of his bare shoulders. "He really looks much different right now, doesn't he? Without the kohl around his eyes and bandana, I can actually see all of his face. He looks quite a lot… younger", she said, quietly. She lightly felt of Jack's cheek, concerned that he was still hot with fever, but at least quiet, for the moment.

Gibbs looked at the pair over his steaming mug of coffee. "Jack has never been a stocky man, and aye, he is quite a few years younger than most think 'e is. Jack became a captain at a youthful age, an' he tries to give the impression tha' he is older than 'e is, so as t' not undermine 'is authority, as it were."

"Do you know how old my cousin is, Josh?"

"No, Will, I don't. Jack's careful not t' share t' things much about 'imself. I'm guessin' tha' he would be in 'is 30s." Gibbs sighed. "He's th' best cap'n what ever lived. Born to it. But there are things that have happened to him before I e'er met 'im that unhinged him some, an' he has come more unhinged since… well… you know." Gibbs paused, then went on apologetically.

"E'er since I've known th' man, he has had trouble keepin' himself rooted in reality, so t' speak. It's my job as first mate to help keep Jack goin' in th' right direction, but my job has gotten harder since he tends to 'lose 'imself more, it seems. I'm not complainin', mind ye… the Cap'n can't help it, most ways. Like I said before… he's like me own, an' I try me best t' help him. He's th' smartest, quickest man I've ever met… but not always th' wisest. His heart overrules 'is mind, at times. Look at 'im… how much more is th' cap'n goin' t' have t' pay for his debt t' Davy Jones? A deal tha' he made wi' his wounded heart, an' not a sound mind."

Gibbs sadly leaned back in his chair, watching Elizabeth gently wash Jack's still face and chest, and he took a sip of his coffee, wishing that he was sharing a cup with his captain. Will thought it best to change the subject.

"Do you happen to know if Jack is fluent in other languages, Josh? I know that he can speak some French and some Spanish, and I know that he can read and write… his shelves are full of books, over there."

"Aye, lad, tha's why 'is cabin always smells of leather." Gibbs brightened a bit. "It's th' bindin' on th' books. Jack has had a bit o' schoolin'… he was a cartographer's apprentice for a time until he went back t' sea with his ship, Th' Wicked Wench."

Elizabeth interrupted, "So why does his cabin smell of coconut? Limes and rum, I can understand, as I know that he loves them both, but I could smell coconut, of all things. I find it odd. HE always smells of salt air, spiced rum, and… coconut?" She questioned.

Gibbs chuckled and shook his head. "What a question, lass. Look under th' bunk… under the cloth that ye find there."

Curiously, Elizabeth did so, and was astonished. "A wash basin! With cakes of soap, and towels! And … a bottle of hair oil with coconut essence?"

"Smell his hair."

"What???? I shall not!"

"Go ahead! The dreads look like snakes, but they won't bite ya, lass! Th' cap'n does try t' keep clean, though it's hard on a ship at sea. Always tried t' be presentable as a cap'n…even as a pirate cap'n. As ye know, fresh water be hard t' come by, so even th' cap'n is a bit dirty at times. But some don't really like t' be grimy all th' time - Jack's one o' those. One o' his quirks.

Elizabeth gingerly picked up one of Jack's dreadlocks and sniffed it slightly. Her eyes widened and she said, "Hair oil with coconut essence! How vain! And he won't share the use of the soaps?" She laughed, softly… then she looked at Jack's still, pale, handsome face. Her own face fell. She murmered, "I know that you can't hear me, but I didn't mean that. I know I've hurt your feelings before over personal comments like that, haven't I? The things that I've done to you…"

Will and Gibbs raised their eyebrows and knew that they needed to lighten the mood as much as it could be, with Jack so sick. Will cleared his throat and asked Gibbs, "So Joshamee, you didn't answer me… does Jack fluently speak any other languages besides English?"

Gibbs looked down at his mug, uncomfortably. "Was th' Cap'n talkin' in his sleep?"

"Aye, you could say that. And it did not sound like French or Spanish to us…"

"More'n' likely it was 'is native language. He tends to rattle on that way when he's sick or injured."

"Native language? And that is…."

Gibbs cleared his throat. "Well, Will, Jack didn't learn English first, ye see…."

Will and Elizabeth looked at him in silence.

"Well, ye see…" Gibbs peered over at Jack to make sure that he was not cognizant of the conversation. "

"Ye see, Jack's native language is Gaelic… Irish Gaelic."

The Turners just stared at Gibbs, then Jack, then back at Gibbs. Irish Gaelic. Will shook his head in frustration. One more layer of mystery to peel away from the enigma that was Captain Jack Sparrow.