Jack rushed into the cottage. Sure enough, a small pine tree with some apples and biscuits and strips of silver met his eye, along with a petite woman with gray just beginning to streak along her blonde hair.

Elizabeth glanced over at him, her eyes filled with concern. She weaved through the group to make her way to him while he contemplated if it was better to meet her halfway or approach the stranger first.

"Jack," the woman said, coming over to him. He breathed a little. Hearing her call him Jackie might have been enough for him to let out a long, anguished shriek. "I'm Maike. It's an absolute pleasure. I'm so happy your family and your crew could come here for Christmas. I know how hard it is to scale those rocks." Her accent held a trace of English familiarity, pleasant to hear, he admitted to himself. No, he corrected himself. Don't start liking the usurping…usurper.

"How do you do?" he asked, removing his hat and tossing it over one of the hooks by the door. He picked up his sack and spun around the room looking for who had Cora at the moment. Ragetti. Good, Jack thought. That will make this easy. He turned his back to Maike…the woman, he corrected himself again, and gathered up his daughter. She cooed up at him and grinned, but he would return the affection later. "As anyone can tell, this little one needs to settle down and be tended to."

Elizabeth excused herself and followed Jack down the corridor to one of the guest rooms, the one usually reserved for them.

"Jack." She closed the door behind her and turned, only to bump right into Jack who was busy undoing her buttons. "Jack!"

"Not that. Cora's hungry, and those are for my and her eyes only." He tapped her exposed breasts and positioned Cora for her.
"Jack…"

"Ah! The purpose of my being here rather than visiting. It's simple, darling. Throughout the years, Teague and his ilk, namely some thoughtless members of the crew, have not exercised discretion when it came to females and female…domestic issues. Thus, someone else must exercise discretion in order to prevent said parties from exercising indiscreetly." He stood with his back against the door while Elizabeth sat on the bed, Cora taking advantage of the situation.

"You should at least hear how they met and when they married," she said.

"All of that could have been explained in a letter."

"I think by now you realize that was the surprise he was referring to."

"Surprise!" He threw her a disgusted face. "Only he could associate surprise with bringing in a…" He searched the room for the right words. "A usurper!"

"She's a very hospitable usurper, at least," she said with a tentative smile.

"It's no use, Lizzie." Jack fell on the bed next to her with a sigh.

"This was a long way to come just to turn around and go…" He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling. Silence, not good, she thought. Pouting, she bumped his leg with hers. It might be prudent to give him his present now, especially since she had tortured herself for the last few months with thinking it up, planning how she would do it, and actually executing it. Finally ready to present and Christmas, in his mind, anyway, was ruined.

"I wish there was something I could do," she began.

"You could use your Kingly privileges and dismiss her."

"I should shove you for that."

"But seeing as you're occupied with other matters," he said, sitting up with a sly smile. "You'll just have to wait until your arms aren't so full." He caught her lips with his for a split second. "We won't leave."

"I should say not."

"After much thought and consideration." He stood. "I shall be civil to Teague." Waiting for her to nod, he continued. "And I shall refrain from being openly rude to that stranger he has bamboozled into thinking he's worth marrying, saving any slights against her for moments when my heirs are not present."

"A Christmas miracle," Elizabeth snapped, rolling her eyes.

Billy roamed the house with Teague, rummaging under beds and in bureau drawers, letting all his senses examine each exotic treasure—clay pots from far west of the colonies, French colognes, Indian sitars, obtuse-featured masks from the darkest, most hidden places in the world. And coins. Billy stacked them, tried to read the tiny inscriptions and value marks on each one.

"This one is a fake," he said, on his knees, holding up a gray, faded, cast coin.

"You sure?" Teague seemed to smile at his sober nod. "An eye for detail, you have."

"I hope so."

"How's that?"

Billy leaned over to Teague and framed his mouth with curved hands, perfect conspiring distance. "I'm giving Mum a painting for Christmas. The Pearl."

"Sounds like she couldn't have asked for a son with a better eye for detail," Teague said, stroking his chin.

"Don't tell her."

"Oh, no worries there. I give you my word as…" Teague trailed off as he held up his right hand.

"Not a gentleman."

"No! Certainly not. My word as Keeper of the Code."

Satisfied, Billy nodded again and scampered to his feet.

"Now, why don't you run out into the parlor and join everyone and I'll get this mess all straightened up, hmm?" Teague gathered the coins and let them sift through his fingers back into their box.

"I should help."

"Aye, normally. But you go on ahead." He hesitated at Billy's anxious expression. "I got to make sure Father Christmas didn't hide anything in here ye shouldn't be seeing, eh?" With brightened eyes, Billy ran out of the room, back through the corridor, and into the parlor where the new woman, Maike, his…step-step-grandmother, he supposed, was lighting candles on the dining table.

"Hello."

"Oh! You scared me!" She clutched her chest. Billy couldn't help but giggle just a tad; stealth was a mark of a true adventurer and explorer, and would surely come in handy when the time came for him to use his knife. She patted his shoulder and handed a long white candle to him, motioning for him to light the others in a wreath with it. Wincing at how hot the wax already was, he braced the table with his small hand and reached the wreath.

"That's a helpful boy," Maike said. "We'll have some plum pudding ready for tonight. I heard your grandpa tell me that was your favorite."

"He's not really my grandpa," Billy said, torn between hurting Teague's feelings and the truth. "He's my step…"

"I was filled in on everything, my dear." She smiled. "We're both so happy you were able to come join us for Christmas. You can come help me set the table if you like." He followed her into the kitchen where she handed him a large stack of dishes. "What's a helpful lad like yourself asked Father Christmas for this year?"

"Maike," he said, his voice wavering. She must have noticed, he thought, because she turned so attentively, so warmly. "Last time we made port, there were these older boys, and I heard them talking, and they were saying Father Christmas isn't real."

"They did?"

"But just now Teague talked about Father Christmas, too. You…you're from Bavaria, Teague said?" He took her silent, concerned face and her bent-over position as confirmation. "Did you ever see Father Christmas?"

"Oh, all the time, I did," she said with a hint of mystery, taking napkins out of the drawer and setting them on the counter. "Every year I saw that coat green as the forest and that beard white as the snow. We set out reisbrei on Christmas Eve while our mother put up the tree, and every time, Father Christmas came and put presents under it for us all. You know, Shipwreck Cove shouldn't be too hard for him to find."

Grinning, Billy took the napkins from her into the dining room.

"Blasted beads!" Pintel shouted, slamming a few of them down onto the hardwood floor. "Don't shush me," he said to Ragetti just as the other man brought his finger to his lips. "They don't want to stay on the string. Now how's we to make a fancy bracelet for Elizabeth if it's just a string with no beads?"

Ragetti lied sprawled on the floor, scratching words onto some scraps of parchment.

"What you workin' on?"

"I said I had a nice poem in mind. It looks mighty pretty all penned out." He blew on the parchment and held it up before him.

"Go on then. Let's hear it. Who's it for?"

"I thought for a long time, and I think it's best suited for the captain." Pintel let out a low whistle, sharing in Ragetti's trembling. "All right then, here I go." He cleared his throat. "It's a sonnet."

"Classy," Pintel said.

"We sail around the whole big round wide world

Our ship goes round the world that is so wide

And when the waves rock and sway and some then curl,

We're glad you're captain, as sure as the tide.

'Tho I got but one eye and me mate

Is quite short, we see a diamond in the rough.

That we are your crew is a kind of fate

We are so glad you don't partake in snuff

We also are glad we're on the bejeweled vessel

The fastest ship in the entire sea

Thank you, Jack, for not viewing us as pest…els

We hope you've enjoyed being this poem's addressee

If this be error and upon me proved

I never writ, nor no man ever loved"

Gibbs and Marty passed, oblong mugs in their hands, and rose bewildered eyebrows. Shaking their heads at them, they meandered into the dining area.

"Never mind. Ain't for them anyway," Pintel said with a wide grin.

"I borrowed the last two lines from the Bard, Shakespeare." Ragetti shrugged.

"I couldn't tell."

The last dinner dish was placed on the table right as the sun sank below the rocky cliffs of Shipwreck Cove. A few candles and lamps revealed roasted ducks and rabbits, pickled oysters, mincemeat pie, corn and plum puddings, pecans, chestnuts, and walnuts, sausage and mushrooms, with wines and brandies in hefty supply. After a most awkward grace led by Teague at the head of the table, the crew served themselves in silence.

"Is Cora napping?" Maike asked, spooning herself some nuts.

"Yes, a stroke of luck she's asleep just in time for supper," Elizabeth said, helping Billy cut up his sausage. "You didn't have to go to so much trouble with the feast. It's really too much."

"Speak for yourself, lass," Gibbs said, already cutting his meat. "There's something to be said for months and months at sea and then sitting down to a home-cooked meal. Much obliged Mrs. T." His eyes darted back to Jack. "Madame."

"It's no trouble," she said.

Jack felt a sharp nudge against his boot that felt like the end of Elizabeth's.

"No trouble, though it may be, it must have been a nigh-overwhelming task to do single-handed."

"Jackie…" Teague stared up from his brandy.

"Actually, the meal is a gift from both of us," Maike said. "John is a fine cook."

"Ah, my mistake. What was your name before you squandered…"

"Did you have any family before you married, Maike?" Elizabeth asked, rolling her eyes at Jack while she swallowed.

"Elizabeth, pretty bird that you are, there's a fine line between polite, civilized dinner talk and the witch hunt you're stalling," Teague snapped, his predatory eyes never leaving Jack. A hush fell on the dinner table, a few members of the party sipping their drinks and eyes downcast. Even Billy refrained from gobbling up the rest of his plum pudding, deciding it would make more noise than simply looping his spoon over it. In a moment of gumption, his eyes drifted upward to his left to see Jack had not moved, had not shown a noticeable reaction.

One by one, the guests resumed their meal, taking tinier bites than before. Billy swallowed a mouthful of plum pudding and smiled across the table to Maike, her eyes glistening above the flickering candles. The corners of her mouth turned up.

"Did you make the plum pudding?" he hissed in a loud whisper.

She nodded, gulping, her chin quivering. Rarely had Billy seen crying, other than his half-sister. There were memories, distant ones, of his mother crying into her pillow, so sure he was in the next room asleep. Thinking then tears could only stem from falling or bumping one's head on something, he ran over to her and hugged her, mimicking the soothing noises she made when she comforted him. Of course, he knew better now. Five was much, much more mature than whenever those memories began, and that had been before Cora, before Jack. Always looking forward to Jack's visits, it had been a dream come true when his mother came back with him from a quick voyage and told him Jack was now his stepfather…who also didn't look very happy at the moment.

"No sense in putting it on now," Teague grunted, hunched over a chair in his room, hands on his chin like a pouty child. He patted Maike's hands when they rested on his shoulders. "I'd like nothing more than to strike that kid of mine sometimes."

"We can't blame him for feeling the way he does," she said. "Besides, it will pass. There's still a little boy in the house that is beginning to doubt the very essence of Christmas. I'm sure his parents wouldn't be that opposed to you spreading some cheer and making him happy, hmm?"

Sighing, Teague rose and stared with folded arms at the enormous coat strewn over the bed.

A/N: Okay, I actually did a lot of research on how people in England the colonies celebrated Christmas, and stayed true to many of the customs. However, I was very disappointed to find out that virtually none of the carols we sing today were around back then. Even ones that were like "Joy to the World" had different melodies go with them. So if you know a lot about the history of Christmas and something doesn't add up to you, well…I fudged it. "I calculated the odds of this succeeding against the odds I was doing something incredibly stupid and I went ahead anyway," to quote Mystery Science Theater. I also ignored the fact that, back in the day, children, employees, etc, weren't expected to give gifts to those considered above them in station. Parents gave to children, bosses gave to employees/slaves, and wealthy lords threw parties and handed out extra food to people that worked on their lands, but no reciprocity was expected. But these are pirates, and they aren't much for tradition or convention.

Billy is Elizabeth and Will's son, and he is about five in this one. Eventually, she married Jack and Cora is their child, who is just at the one-year mark. Please see my other stories for more details.

Ragetti's sonnet…jeez, it took me almost as long to write that damn sonnet (it's supposed to be bad) as it took to write the entire story…borrows a couple of lines from Shakespeare's Sonnet 116.