THE DREAM SCENE. There has to be one. Always. This one I found increasingly entertaining to write. It was originally going to be Will having a wet dream, but the image of Jack all dandy poped into my head and wouldn't leave.

Fear the Caffeine.

True to your Heart

Will was dreaming. He knew he had to be dreaming, because the earth was rolling steadily beneath him. Back and forth, the rolling of the sea. Under normal circumstances, his smithy didn't roll like that. Usually. Unless he was extremely drunk, in which case nothing was certain. This time he wasn't drunk, however. At least not that much. He was about as drunk as he normally was. Which was odd, because he could distinctly remember not drinking at all before a certain pirate came into his life.

But that wasn't the point. The point was, this had to be a dream. Had to be. Because Jack was in it. Just standing there, wearing one of Elizabeth's dresses. The yellow one, with all the frills. The one that made her pass out and fall off the castle. In any case, Jack was wearing it, all done up nice with his boots polished and yet he was still wearing that God damn hat. Will was trying to convince him to take it off and put on Elizabeth's bonnet.

"Come on, Jack! That hat doesn't go with that dress! It might be well and fine to go about wearing whatever you want out on the ocean when no one cares what you look like, but this is your wedding, for God's sake!"

"I will not!" Jack pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. Or at least he tried to. The corset was too constricting, and he had to give up after the third attempt. "I'm a grown man. I can dress how I damn well please. And besides, this isn't my wedding. It's yours."

"What?" Will frowned. "I'm not getting married."

"Oh yes you are. To that bonnie lass right there." He gestured to a picture that had appeared upon the wall, one that Will had seen in the governor's mansion. Elizabeth sat, all dolled up and looking beautiful as always. But she had a piece of dirt on her nose, right on the very tip. Just sitting there. Bothering him.

"She's got dirt on her nose."

Jack leaned in, frowning just a little.

"Why, by Jove, you're right! There is dirt on her nose! Imagine that! I guess we'll just have to take it off." Jack reached down into his bodice, searching around for something.

"Uh… What are you doing?" Will blinked.

Jack gave up looking in his bodice and hiked up his skirt, wrestling with the seemingly endless layers of petticoat.

"Looking for a knife. Got to take off that nose. 'ts got dirt on it. Just has to go."

"Don't let him hurt me, Will!" The painting wailed. "Save me, Will!"

"But…" Will looked between them.

Jack gave an exclamation of delight, pulling a random carving knife out of who-knows-where. The painting wailed and moaned. The dirt was spreading. It now covered her entire nose, not just the tip. Even as he watched, it was moving, covering more and more of her face as it went.

"Got to take it off." Jack muttered, taking the painting down from the wall. "No other choice, that dirt's got to go."

He now held the painting, still whining, in one hand, and the knife in the other. After several awkward attempts at cutting the picture apart, Jack seemed to give up.

"Here, you do it." He shoved the knife into Will's hands.

Will looked down at it, shocked. He looked back up at the screaming Elizabeth, only to find that it was no longer a picture that Jack held. He had her by the arms, holding her tight to his chest to prevent her from fighting him.

"Do it, Will! Get rid of it." He grinned, flashing his gold teeth. "Get rid of the dirty."

Will frowned, looking at Elizabeth. She didn't seem to have the dirt on her any more. It had sunk in, obviously. Beneath the skin. He had to cut it out.

"No! Will! Will! Stop!" She screamed, struggling against her captor. "Don't do it! WILL!!!"

The knife bit into the flesh of her face, only instead of drawing blood, it ripped right through, like canvas. Underneath, there was nothing at all.

"Will!" Elizabeth looked at him, concern etched into her face.

He blinked. He was in the smithy still… or again… or… He didn't know. He was awake, though, that was for sure. His pounding headache was more than enough proof of that.

"Elizabeth? What are you doing in my shop?" He groaned, rubbing his head.

"It's almost noon." She pulled away, allowing him to sit up on his cot. "I was worried about you. Edward Jacobs said you had a bit much to drink last night. When you didn't answer my messenger, I assumed the worst."

"Edward Jacobs?" He frowned, squinting at the light coming through the slats of his door. "The furrier's son?" Elizabeth nodded. " Strange. I don't remember him being there."

Elizabeth sighed.

"You wouldn't. He showed up just in time to carry you home."

"Oh." Will winced.

Elizabeth could tolerate his new-found habit, to a point. She had come to believe that it was all men's doom to fall into the bottle sooner or later. Still, she had a point after which she just couldn't tolerate him any longer.

"What's gotten into you, Will? You used to be such a… well, nice boy. You didn't drink at all." She paused, looking hurt. "It's me, isn't it? It's me that's made you drink." She looked away, tears welling in her eyes.

"No, Elizabeth! It's not you at all! In fact, it has almost absolutely nothing to do with you in any way." He pulled her to his chest, letting her cry against his shoulder. "I just need to figure out some things before we get married, all right?"

Elizabeth sighed, taking a deep breath.

"All right, Will. I've waited for you eleven years. I can wait for you a little longer. But no more drinking, all right? You know how I hate it."

"I know." He sighed. "I know."