As she watched Will and Michelle enter the maze of ships of the docks, Alison felt curiously numb. She supposed it was because this whole thing was completely unbelievable--her younger sister had just left with Will Turner to seek out Davy Jones to save Bootstrap Bill, and God knew where her other younger sister was...

As Alison stared off into space, Gibbs turned to the rest of the group, which was silent as well. Elizabeth wiped a tear from her cheek, and her father put an arm around her shoulder comfortingly. Norrington was looking around skeptically, clearly seeing nothing wrong with seeing Will and some girl leaving.

"Well!" he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence as the wind picked up. "I'm starving, how about you?" he asked, looking down at Alison.

This was enough to set Alison's temper over the edge.

"What?" was all she managed to get out, trying not to shake with rage. The clouds seemed to get darker as her face darkened with anger.

"Oh, that was sad and all, but really, we should get moving, shouldn't we?" Norrington continued, seemingly oblivious to Alison's fury. "I mean, I've been locked in prison for weeks..."

"My sister just left to confront Davy Jones and all you can think about is FOOD?!" Alison roared, advancing toward him threateningly.

"Whoa, missy!" Gibbs exclaimed, alarmed, hurrying forward and grabbing Alison's arms. At his touch, she relaxed a bit, realizing how stupid it would be to attack Norrington. She calmed herself down until Gibbs released her, her glare never leaving Norrington's face, who stared right back, his expression unreadable.

As the wind whipped the group's hair around their faces (if their hair was long enough to be whipped, of course--Marty, you'll recall, has no hair, and Governor Swann wasn't wearing his wig), Gibbs said, "Alright, you lot. Where're we stayin' for the night?"

They decided to stay at an inn in one of the poorer parts of Port Royal. The Swann's house was still under control of Beckett's men, and they had deemed it best if they kept out of the East India Trading Company's hair for a while.

After eating dinner at the inn and glaring at Norrington every chance she got, Alison went outside to take a walk.

It had rained a bit earlier that afternoon, and the streets were muddy. The sky, however, was clear, and there were no clouds to cover the bright full moon.

Sighing deeply and taking in the warm, moist air, Alison set off down the road, not knowing where she was going--and not really caring, either.

Now, there were only her thoughts to comfort her. Not that that's necessarily a good thing, she thought grimly. Not with all the crap that's been going on lately...

As she walked the muddy streets, she turned everything that had happened to her and her sisters over the past days over in her mind.

Sucked through a dryer...landing in the Pirates of the Caribbean world...splitting up on death defying adventures...man, am I going to need some serious therapy after this...

Alison turned onto another street, barely looking up to see where she was going, just following her feet. Her thoughts passed over the events of the past and moved to Norrington's dismissal of her sister's exit.

Was she overreacting? Perhaps a little bit. Hadn't he just had a bad few weeks? Of course he would be a bit uncaring...

No, she thought, her stubbornness getting the best of her. There's no way I'm giving in to that cold, heartless--

She thought she heard a step behind her.

She looked up and found herself on a different street--a paved one...one she didn't recognize.

"Great," she muttered.

She heard another step from behind her and this time whirled around to face it, drawing her two pistols from her belt in one smooth motion, and pointing them at her stalker.

It was Cutler Beckett, decked out in cloak, manwig, and sling from when she had shot him before.

"Hello, Miss Connors," he said smoothly.

Alison kept her pistols trained on him as he slowly walked closer.

"How did you know my--" she began.

Beckett chuckled and said, "You didn't shoot my only assistant today when Mr. Turner took the heart from me."

Alison thought wearily back to the time she had shot that man--had it really been today? But her attention snapped back to the present as Beckett continued talking.

"Anyway, the only reason I came to speak with you is to propose an offer," he continued, stopping some three yards away from Alison.

"And what offer is that?" she replied calmly, not moving her pistols.

Another chuckle from Beckett. "Please, Miss Connors, I can't think with you pointing those guns at me," he said, sounding quite amused.

Alison contemplated this, then finally dropped her arms, deciding she could take him, pistols or no, since she had wounded his arm earlier. She slowly shoved them back into her belt, all the while keeping a wary eye on Beckett.

"There, now isn't that better?" Beckett remarked, smiling.

Alison couldn't say it was. "What do you want?" she demanded, getting more irritated by the second. Just being in this slimy man's presence was annoying.

"Alright, I'll get to the point," Beckett said, eyebrows raised slightly in an expression of bemused arrogance. He began to reach for his jacket pocket under his coat, and Alison flexed her fingers, ready to draw a pistol if the time called for it.

Pulling his hand back from under his cloak, Beckett produced a small, leather covered packet. Glancing up at Alison, he tossed it with his good hand. Alison caught it easily and looked down at the cover.

It was black, and she recognized the emblem on the cover as the one of the East India Trading Company.

"What's this?" she asked Beckett, staring down at the packet.

"Why don't you read it and find out?" Beckett replied smoothly, smirking slightly.

Alison shot him a glare and flipped it open. Her eyes scanned the parchment, and finally she saw a name she recognized. Her eyes widened as she realized what she was holding in her hands.

"An arrest warrant for me," she said aloud, managing to sound cooler than she felt. "How original."

Beckett smirked at her and walked closer. "That's right. I could take you in right now, if I wanted to."

It was Alison's turn to chuckle. "For helping Norrington escape?"

"Yes," Beckett said feigning seriousness. "You aided in the escape of a dangerous pirate."

"A dangerous pirate?" Alison repeated incredulously. "Oh, please. He was drunk half the time! He's no more responsible for his actions than I am."

"A charming description of his escapades," Beckett sneered. "But while he was in Tortuga...and other places...he engaged in acts of piracy."

"All to get his job back!" Alison exclaimed. "He did what you wanted, and you locked him up for it!"

"No, I locked him up for piracy," Beckett said calmly.

Alison glared at him. "And now you want to lock me up for helping a 'pirate' escape?" she said, gesturing with her arrest warrant. "You think I'm going to let that happen?" She dropped the leather packet on the ground and kicked it toward Beckett, watching it skid across the wet pavement.

"You might not have to," Beckett replied.

Alison stared at him. "What are you talking about?" she asked warily.

Beckett withdrew another leather-clad packet from the folds of his cloak, but this time kept it to himself.

"Another warrant?" Alison asked coldly.

"For your friend Norrington," Beckett said.

"I don't like where this is going," Alison muttered.

"If you help me put ex-Commodore Norrington in prison, I will revoke your warrant and you can go free," Beckett said.

"Oh, yeah?" Alison scoffed. "And what's stopping us from just picking up and leaving Port Royal?"

"Ah, well, that would keep you and Norrington out of my hair," Beckett said mused. "But don't think I wouldn't send someone to find you,"

Alison shook her head at his tenacity. "What do you have against Norrington, anyway?" she asked.

Beckett only smiled. "It's nothing personal, Miss Connors." He picked up Alison's arrest warrant and tucked it and Norrington's warrant back into the pocket hidden by his cloak.

"I'll give you the night to think about this. Meet me here tomorrow night and we'll discuss...our agreement."

He turned on his heel and disappeared into the night.

"How is it an agreement if I haven't agreed on anything yet?" Alison muttered. She sighed and closed her eyes. She had taken this walk to relax...but instead, she had only run into more trouble.

Alison spent the night tossing and turning, and eventually she just gave up trying to sleep and sat up in her bed.

She didn't turn on a lantern, for Elizabeth was sharing the room with her and was sound asleep.

Or so Alison thought.

"I can't sleep either," she said, startling Alison thoroughly as she sat up in her own bed.

Alison remained silent as Elizabeth turned on the lantern. As the light shone on her face, Alison noticed Elizabeth's tearstained cheeks and realized she must have had silent tears running down her face all night.

"I just can't stop thinking about Will," Elizabeth admitted. "I spent all this time worried that he hated me, and we only just made up, and now he's gone...and your sister, too! It's just all too horrible!"

Alison saw tears welling up in her eyes, and she reacted quickly to comfort her friend. "I know, it sucks...but Will's going to be okay, I know it."

Elizabeth smiled weakly at Alison. "Really?" she asked tentatively.

Alison nodded, smiling. "He's been through a lot. He knows how to handle himself."

Elizabeth gave a little laugh. "Then I think your sister will be okay, too," she said softly.

"What, because she's with Will?"

"Yes. They have a good friendship. He wouldn't let anything happen to her."

Alison nodded in agreement, knowing full well that Will Turner would keep anything from happening to Michelle.

She just hoped Jack Sparrow would do the same with Monica.

Alison didn't get much sleep that night, but at least she didn't spend the night worrying about the predicament Beckett had put her in. Well, it wasn't too bad of a predicament...

Alison had spent her waking hours considering Beckett's proposition. Sure, he could have her locked up, but how long would she stay? She would return to her own world soon enough. Then, Beckett would think she had somehow escaped and might go on a manhunt. Alison rather liked the idea of that evil man searching relentlessly for someone he could never find...well, not for 300 years, anyway.

Then there was the choice of taking Norrington in. Sure, she was mad at the man, but could she throw him in jail again just to save her own skin? Well...

Alison spent most of the day trying to avoid Norrington, which wasn't hard, as he seemed to be doing the same thing himself. Although he did seem to be doing it just to piss her off.

For example, the next day, Alison came down for breakfast, weary from her night of lying awake contemplating her options. She didn't notice that Norrington was coming in the front door of the inn to eat, too.

She pulled out a chair and plopped down, her thick spun gold hair swinging in front of her face so that she didn't see Norrington sit down in the chair across from her.

As she tucked her hair behind her ears, she noticed his dirty jacket and looked up slowly, her face darkening. Her eyes finally moved up to his smirking face, and she immediately shoved her chair back from the table, got up, and left.

She turned and headed for the door that led out of the main room of the inn, but Norrington met her there, and they both stopped in front of the door.

Norrington smiled sarcastically down at her. "Ladies first," he said sweetly.

"Go right ahead, then," Alison replied without missing a beat.

She later felt guilty. That was a lame old comeback where she was from, but now Norrington was surprised to hear it.

Alison took lunch at a late hour in hopes of missing Norrington. She was lucky--no one knew where he was. This caused her to worry a bit--had Beckett's men taken him in?--until she remembered his insensitivity, and she ate lunch happily with Elizabeth and Weatherby.

After dinner (which passed without incident), Alison slipped off from the inn to meet with Beckett again.

Luckily, she had memorized the way to where she had met Beckett the night before, and she made her way there quickly, keeping her head down as she passed the occasional commoner taking a nightly walk.

She reached the spot more quickly than she thought she would, and she suddenly felt foolish, standing there in the middle of the road for no apparent reason.

Until she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around, ready to speak with Beckett again.

But she was surprised.

Norrington was walking towards her, not at all his formal commodore's walk--more like a swagger.

Alison said nothing, but turned and started walking in the other direction.

"Hey--wait!" he called after her, but she only walked faster.

Norrington jogged to keep up with her long strides and soon caught up with her. He touched her arm in an effort to get her to stop, but she only wrenched it away.

"I just wanted to--" Norrington began.

"To what?" Alison interrupted, whirling around angrily to face him. "To go on disrespecting my sister? To make fun of the way I actually care about her?"

"I wanted to apologize!" he said loudly, raising his voice above hers.

This shut Alison up. She stared up at him, trying to read his face in the moonlight, looking for any sign of lying--but he looked sincere.

"I know I wasn't very gentlemanly earlier," continued, panting slightly from jogging. "But I realized how rude I was, and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am."

There was a silence, only broken by their heavy breathing from nearly running down the street. Alison tried to hold his unwavering gaze, but found she couldn't and looked away.

She realized how stubborn and closed-minded she had been and felt extremely guilty. As usual, she had let her temper get the best of her and take her on a wild ride of anger and angst.

"Alison?" he asked softly, trying to get her to look at him, she supposed.

She did, grudgingly. "I forgive you," she said darkly, not wanting him to realize how he had touched her by coming after her to apologize. Most guys she knew just laughed it off and kept coming up with excuses for their behavior until she was the one who looked insensitive. "But I'm still mad at you."

A relieved smile broke across his face. "Good," he said, looking genuinely happy. "Now can we please get out of here? If you haven't noticed, we're on a paved road, which means we're in the nicer part of this damned place, which means--"

"Beckett," Alison breathed.

She had spotted him walking toward them over Norrington's shoulder, looking exactly the same way he did last night, but with a decidedly more accomplished look on his face.

"Well, well," he said as Norrington turned around and stood protectively in front of Alison. "So you did want to keep up your own end of the bargain after all."

Alison's eyes widened as she realized that Beckett thought she had brought Norrington to get herself out of going to prison--but she was surprised as Norrington spoke.

"This isn't what it looks like, I swear," he said, and Alison was puzzled to hear a note of alarm in his voice.

"Really?" Beckett said calmly. "Then what, may I ask, is this? Because it seems to me that you brought the girl."

And then Alison realized...and let her temper flare again.

"You've been working with him?!" she exclaimed, looking at Norrington furiously. "To get me?!"

"No, that's not--" Norrington began, but Beckett interrupted him, walking closer.

"You're right, Norrington, that's not what it is," he said, raising his voice over Norrington and Alison's arguing. The pair turned toward him, Alison looking furious and alarmed, Norrington looking desperate.

"Allow me to explain," Beckett continued in his sickeningly calm manner. "I told Miss Connors I would arrest her if she didn't bring you to me. I told ex-Commodore Norrington I would give him his job back if he brought you to me," he said, looking at Norrington, then Alison. "Yes, it seems Mr. Norrington wasn't below jumping through hoops for me to get his old job back," Beckett said arrogantly, a smile spreading across his face.

"I didn't come here to bring her to you," Norrington spat bitterly. "Believe me, there's no good reason I would ever want to come within 10 feet of you."

"Same for me," Alison said, cocking her head to the side slightly and glaring at Beckett through narrowed eyes. "But the truth is, you're so short that I doubt I'd be able to see you if you weren't within 10 feet of me...that is, unless the moon reflected off that ridiculous piece of fluff that you call a wig."

"Charming," Beckett said, his smile only fading slightly from his face. "But I'm afraid I'm not in the mood for witty banter. You see, now that I have both of you here, it will be even easier than I thought to have you both under my control."

"What do you want with us?" Alison said defensively.

Beckett sighed, as if relating all the details of his evil plan was tiring. "You are both very strong, very influential people," he said. "All the better to lock you up, don't you think?"

"You think we're a threat to your power?" Norrington asked incredulously, taking Beckett's meaning.

"Ah, I wouldn't say that," Beckett said, his smile reappearing. "It's just better to have you out of the way so you won't...rally up any opposition, I suppose."

"What's left to rally? Weatherby Swann is still the rightful governor of Port Royal," Alison said.

"Exactly," Beckett said, smirking. "But with you two here, that's two less people in the way for my men to take him out."

"You're bluffing," Alison said, not daring to believe it.

Beckett shook his head, still smiling. "No...poor Elizabeth is so torn up about her fiance leaving her, do you really think she'll be ready to fight my best men? And those other less than savory characters you travel with...drunk most of the time; they'll be no help. No," Beckett said, allowing himself a little laugh, "Governor Swann will be dead, and with his death, no one will be there to stand up to me."

Alison drew her pistols and pointed them at Beckett. "You should have tried to actually take us out when you had the chance," she said as Norrington drew his own pistol.

Beckett sighed again and clucked his tongue. "Now, Miss Connors, did you really think I'd come here without backup?"

And with that, four menacing-looking men stepped from the shadows along the street behind Beckett, who smirked at Norrington and Alison's alarmed faces.

"Gentlemen, you know what to do," he said, looking highly amused. "Only, try not to make it too bloody--I want to watch."

Alison and Norrington backed up together as Beckett's four cronies advanced, all drawing their own pistols and pointing them at our heros.

"Got a plan to get us out of this one?" Norrington muttered, pointing his gun at each one of the men as if judging which one of them to take out first.

"Other than start shooting?" Alison murmured back, looking up at Norrington and grinning.

He grinned, too. "I like the way you think."

And they started shooting.

Alison was first, and she fired off her pistols one by one at the men. She hit one of them in the leg, but the others had dived out of the way.

Norrington then took his shots, hitting one easily in the arm who had rolled behind a crate and popped out again to fire.

Two down, two to go, Alison thought. Not including Beckett...

Suddenly, Norrington barrelled into her, sending her flying into the mud on the side of the street. Landing with an "Oof!", the pair scrambled behind a group of barrels and remained there, panting.

Norrington edged his face around one of the barrels to see where the men were, and he ducked back behind them with a yell as a bullet pierced the wood.

"When did this turn into a western?" Alison asked breathlessly, crouching on her knees to steady herself in the mud.

"A what?"

"Never mind," Alison said as she felt a bullet hit the barrel she was currently crouching behind. Sure enough, she heard the sound of a liquid splashing onto the ground as rum poured out of the hole.

Norrington cupped a hand and thrust it under the miniature waterfall, quickly bringing it back to his face to slurp up the small amount of rum.

"Cheers," he said, winking at Alison and running out from behind the barrel.

Eyes wide, Alison watched as Norrington easily took out one of the henchmen who had been crouching behind a small cart.

"Nice one!" she said as he dove back behind the barrel, dodging bullets that came from the dark.

"Thanks," he said. "Now we just need to find that other one..."

The bullets had stopped, and there was silence but for Norrington's and Alison's labored breathing.

"Guess he ran out of bullets," Alison said, panting slightly.

Norrington poked his head above the barrels, looking around warily for the last man standing--the others, clearly not as tough as they were made out to be, were laying on the ground where they had been hit, writhing in pain.

"No sign of him," Norrington, crouching down again and looking at Alison. "Or of Beckett, for that matter..."

Alison was about to reply when a bullet cracked through the middle barrel of their barricade, whizzing through the wood to send a spray of rum shooting between them.

"I guess he reloaded," Norrington said ironically.

"And I guess he's closer," Alison replied, cocking her head at the hole in the barrel. The other bullet had only peirced one side of the barrel, but this one had gone all the way through.

"Might as well take care of him, then," Norrington said, standing up to face the man.

Wide-eyed, Alison watched as he tried to shoot--and nothing happened.

Norrington looked curiously at his pistol and pulled the trigger, but there was nothing but a small "click!"

"Oh, come on!" he said, looking incredibly dejected.

Just as he sat back down to inspect his gun, a bullet whizzed right where his heart would have been.

Alison peered above the barrel and made a guess as to where she thought the bad guy was. She squinted, took steady aim, and fired.

She heard a yelp of pain and let out a whoop of triumph, earning an appreciative laugh from Norrington.

"Aww, I wanted that one," he said, pouting mockingly.

"Hey, come on, that's two for each of us," Alison laughed.

"And two for me," a voice said above them.

Alison and Norrington looked up in unison to see Beckett pointing a pistol down at them from above the barrels.

Beckett chuckled. "I had no idea I'd kill you, after I hired those men to do the job...but here I stand... and if you so much as think about pointing those pistols at me, it will be the last thing you ever do," he said quickly as he saw Alison's hand slowly move for her pistol.

Alison swallowed hard, wondering what to do. She didn't notice that Norrington already had a plan.

"Not that it matters, of course," Beckett continued airily. "Swann is probably already dead, and that just leaves me to deal with you two."

He cocked his pistol. "I'm sorry I couldn't get your job back, James," he said with mock regret. "Even with all those propositions I gave you, you just weren't cut out to get it back."

"I've got a propostion for you," Norrington said, looking up at Beckett.

"Oh, really?" Beckett said, sounding amused. "And what would that be?"

"Go to hell," Norrington said.

And he shoved the barrel Beckett was standing behind with all his might, sending Satan's little helper flying.

Norrington got up quickly to go after him, and Alison followed suit, twirling her pistols anxiously in her hands. She spotted Beckett's pistol on the ground next to his hat, which had been knocked off his head, and kicked it away.

Beckett had escaped the barrel and was now scrambling back from Norrington on his back, his boots scrabbling on the slippery pavement as he tried to pull himself along with his good arm. Norrington was advancing on him slowly, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying seeing one of the men he hated crawl on the ground.

"I could kill you right now, you know," he growled, raising his pistol to point it at Beckett's head. Beckett had gone pale, and Alison could tell he was trying not to lose his cool.

"James...James, please!" he said nervously, still backing up; his cloak scraping the ground, his wig askew.

"Don't do it, James--he's not worth it!" Alison found herself saying.

Both men turned to look at her, looking surprised, and Alison found herself rather caught off guard, too. Sure, she didn't like the man--he had ruined so many lives, after all--but she couldn't bear thinking of Norrington killing him.

"Oh, thank you, thank you," Beckett said breathlessly, but Alison wasn't listening to him. Instead, she was staring hard at James, willing him not to kill this pathetic man.

James was looking at her, too. Then he said: "Since when do you call me 'James'?"

Alison opened her mouth to reply, but Norrington pointed his pistol at Beckett again, whose face seemed to lose all color.

"Don't--!" Alison began, rushing up to James and grabbing his arm.

But he dropped his pistol on Beckett's chest, making him cry out in surprise.

"It's not even loaded, you idiot," James said, sounding even more disgusted by the man blubbering on the ground.

And he stepped over Beckett and walked down the street, Alison by his side.