Aaand the evil plot begins. Grr... Hector pisses me off. He ain't even done anything, and he pisses me off. Anyways.

"I just don't understand it, Hector." Jack sighed and collapsed into his familiar bed. "I know he likes me. So why doesn't he just... you know?"

Barbossa paused, scratching his scraggly beard thoughtfully. The older man had remained the Pearl's first mate, partially out of convenience but mostly because Jack was too lazy to change it around. Things worked fine the way they were, and this way he could avoid any nasty whispering about favouritism towards Will and Sully.

"Well, ye know, Jack, perhaps yer readin' him, wrong, if ye get me meanin'. Perhaps his interest is purely fatherly, as he says."

"Then why does he blush like a lady with her skirts lifted whenever I get him cornered?" Jack rolled his head about upon the pillow to better look at the freakishly tall pirate without any actual effort. "He practically bled to death out of his face when I pushed him up against the wall today."

"Perhaps it's just the idea o' the thing which has him blushin'. After all, he is a God-fearin' Englishman."Barbossa crossed his gangly arms over his chest.

"English...?" Jack raised a dark eyebrow, returning his gaze to the ceiling. "He speaks an awful lot of French for an Englishman."

The first mate paused once more, leaning back against the rocking wall of the captain's little cabin.

"I've heard quite a number o' tales of Bootstrap o'er the years, an' not all o' 'em are good. Some said he were a spy, grown up on one o' those colonies that's always changin' hands. Half French an' half English an' half God knows what else. It's also said that he's the first to refuse to acquiesce to Cap'n Carter's rather queer desires. That'd be why he stayed a cabin boy fer a good ten years, cause he never let the cap'n 'initiate' him into the crew."

Jack frowned, twirling one of his newer braids around his finger. It made sense, in a strange sort of way. He could recall the night before his own encounter with the captain quite clearly. It was the only time he'd ever seen Bill get drunk, before or after. And yet, how had Bill managed to survive on that ship, especially since his own refusal had landed him in a death grip? Bill wouldn't have had a protector to save him.

"But how...? Why wouldn't Sam just make him?"

"Well..." Barbossa shifted rather uncomfortably, tightening his arms around his chest. "He probably did. I've served with Sam meself, an' I know such a thin' wouldn't satisfy 'im. He'd want 'im ta do it willingly, or at least pretend ta."

"Good God..." Jack sighed, rubbing his salt-grimed face with his salt-grimed hands. "Poor Bill. No wonder he wouldn't want to... He'd think it'd make him like Sam."

"That'd be my thinkin', as well, Cap'n." Barbossa straightened, clasping his arms behind his back. "Perhaps ye should be correctin' his thinkin'."

"You know, Hector, you're right!" Jack sprang to his feet, dark eyes glittering with anticipation and hope. "That's exactly what I'm going to do! If he knows that our situations are nothing alike, he'll want to be together for sure!"

Jack clapped the tall man on the shoulder rather roughly, beaming excitedly up at the older man.

"Thanks a bunch, Hector! I knew there was a reason I kept you around!"

The young man turned and scampered out of the room, off to find his guardian and proclaim their mutual love. Barbossa sighed and pinched the bridge of his long, crooked nose.

"I should 'ave stuck with Wilton. At least he didn't make me deal with teenage angst."