AN: Once again, so sorry for the late updates...but once again, school is at fault. (It's so nice to have an inanimate thing to blame all of your problems on). Anyway, this chapter is much longer than usual to make up for all the lost time. As always, enjoy!

I suppose the trip could have been worse.

Aside from having to avoid the drunken mongrels that would stare at me below deck and working so hard it made my hands raw and blistered, the voyage was slightly enjoyable. Jack would still talk to me, but I didn't have an uneasy feeling when he walked into a room anymore. Every now and then he would flash a smile in my direction that would make my heart do a somersault, but otherwise our interactions were more or less normal. He still annoyed me once in a while, but seeing as he no longer inflicted his presence upon me twenty four seven, it was easier to stand him.

Gibbs proved to be rather pleasant, always telling some silly sailor's tale or teaching me some sea chantey. He taught me how to scrub the deck without working my hands raw (but I still did), how to mend ropes, how to manage the rigging (though I wasn't quite strong enough to be of any use). He was the one whom I spent most of my time with, though more often than not, Jack was standing close, always with a clever remark or teasing statement on hand.

For once in a long time, I was content and carefree, even without any close friends. The crew may have been made up of rather shady characters, but they did as asked and we were making good headway. We would soon catch up to Barbossa, and then Ella would be safe. There was only one thing I was worried about: would this crew risk their life to save a girl they didn't even know, for a captain they had only been under for a few weeks?

The question troubled me for some time. If I had been in their shoes, I would definitely been hard pressed to do what Jack was asking of them. However, I was extremely hesitant to question him about it, seeing as last time I did that…well…I didn't dwell on that thought too often. It still made me squirm to think about it.

It was during dinnertime on a very long day that I got my chance. I had finished early, and, wanting to get away from the rambunctious crew, flew up onto the deck, expecting to be alone. Instead, there was Jack, holding his compass, and staring out to the sea.

"Hey," I said softly, coming up beside him.

"Hello, Finn." He creased his eyebrows together and shook his compass before smiling gallantly again. I peeked over his arm to see what was wrong.

"That doesn't point north!" I exclaimed. "Surely you aren't leading us across the ocean with that."

Jack only grinned mischievously. "We aren't trying to find north, now are we?"

"You're mad! Do you have any idea where we are?"

"Just off the coast of the Virgin Isles. I'm not totally helpless as a captain, luv."

"Of course," I agreed halfheartedly, deciding not to ask for further explanation. "I just don't want you getting lost when we are trying to save Ella." Jack snorted, obviously a little insulted. I twiddled my thumbs a few times before continuing. "Speaking of which, how do you know the crew is going to fight for you? If I were them, I would not be terribly inclined to put my life on the line for something that doesn't really concern me, if you don't mind me…asking."

"They're getting paid. It's enough of an incentive for them."

I glanced sideways nervously, wondering if I should ask the question that was begging to be said. Softly, I said, "Don't you ever want a crew that will fight for you because they care about you?"

At my question, Jack went slightly rigid and a little glossy eyed. "That would involve getting attached to them. If I did, then I would lose the one thing that mattered most to me: freedom. You know," he turned to me, more at ease now, "I think that's your problem. You get attached to people too easily. You're tied down. Now, as for me, I have absolutely nothing, allowing me to fly to my heart's content."

"You're attached to the Pearl," I countered. "You speak of freedom and flying, yet here you are, following some silly boat across the Caribbean."

Fire erupted in his eyes at my statement. "The Black Pearl is not some silly boat. She's my ship."

"My point exactly. You care about that ship." Jack breathed in sharply, obviously mad that I was clearly right. "It's not in human nature to not care about something. You'll never be able to escape that."

We stood in silence for a time, just watching the sun sink below the horizon, casting golden rays through the lapping waves. It was a clear evening, and soon stars were peeking out shyly in the east, and a full moon rose out behind them.

"Don't you get lonely?" I asked quietly.

"Why would I get lonely?" challenged Jack gruffly.

"No friends."

"Of course I have friends."

"To have a friend, you need to care about them," I answered. "Otherwise, they're really just acquaintances."

Jack didn't answer. Instead, he flipped open his compass, shook it again, then closed it. "What about your family? Do you care about them?" I continued.

"I had four sisters and one brother, me being the oldest. A flu epidemic swept through the village we lived in. I was at sea, and when I came back, all except my father and mother were dead, and they had gone off to who knows where. I was never particularly close to my folks."

"I'm sorry." It was a weak answer, and I was ashamed only give it to offer. Maybe Jack's life was harder than I had imagined.

I looked at my hands, blistered and red from all the sudden strain I had put on them. It was strange, really, to be working again, like I used to. Back at home, I would work all the time in the yard with my father and in the garden with my mother. I missed them.

"Why do you care?" asked Jack out of the blue. "Why does it matter whether I feel 'lonely' or not?"

"Because I hate to see people hurting," I muttered.

"But why me?" he pressed. I was a little alarmed by the forcefulness in his voice, and shrunk back slightly. "No one has ever really given a damn about what happened to me, not even my own parents. I'm a pirate, a criminal! As far as anyone else is concern, I ought to be hanging from the gallows."

"I…I don't know why." I stared at him, apprehension creeping up. His eyes were dark and sharp, and for once, he looked…worried. Or was it fear? I couldn't tell in the fading light. Maybe it was anger, or…excitement? I gulped, afraid to look away from his piercing gaze. "Would you prefer I didn't care about you?"

Jack smiled a little at my banter. "Is that possible?"

I blushed, and my insides began to squirm. Again. What was wrong with me? "I don't know," I finally stuttered out. "I don't know why I care about you. I mean, why I care about what…happens to you."

I glanced out of the corner of my eye, utterly embarrassed and dearly wishing I could just disappear. Jack wasn't looking at me, but was grinning and stroking the railing affectionately. "But you do care?" he asked softly.

My insides felt like a furnace and I was sure my face was the same color as a strawberry. This conversation had gone much deeper than intended, and I was afraid of what would happen if I told the truth. Unfortunately, I couldn't just lie to a question like that, and deep inside myself, I knew the truth. "Yes, I care." My voice was quiet, blending in with the wind that whipped around us, but I knew Jack had heard the answer.

Just like that, all the awkwardness melted away. For once, I felt I was talking to a real human being, not the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow. Yet, I was frightened. The two of us had opened ourselves as far as we could go emotionally in front of the other. Why had I done that? Never before had I allowed anyone to get that close to understanding me, even if it was only in a few words. Why him?

"I suppose it's nice to have someone who cares," he whispered.

I turned my head to look at Jack, not sure if I was suppose to hear the comment. He was staring intently at me with his dark, warm eyes, moving ever so slightly nearer. Reaching out, he took my hand and pulled me toward him so our bodies were only inches away. I felt like I was going to up and fly away at his touch, and I couldn't understand why.

If Gibbs hadn't barreled up the stairs singing "15 men on a dead man's chest" at the top of his lungs, I think I just might have sprouted wings. Before he could see it, Jack had let go of me and was waltzing over jauntily to Gibbs.

"Cap'n!" he greeted drunkenly. "Fine night for some singing, eh?"

"I wholeheartedly agree, Gibbs. Why don't you assist me in getting a bottle of rum, and we can sing to our hearts delight after?" Taking him by the arm, Sparrow led Gibbs to his cabin, but not before turning to me and flashing a magnificent golden smile.

I had to force myself to remember how to breath before leaning onto the rail for support. "What's wrong with me?" I gasped softly. "What's happening?" What was it about this man that he could be unbearable to me one minute, then have me completely entranced the next? The twisting, raging uneasy feeling was thick in my stomach, and refused to melt away as I stumbled toward my hammock, nor when I closed my eyes to go to sleep.

After our heart to heart that night, my time with Jack was minimal, and for once, it wasn't because I was attempting to avoid him. As we neared the Pearl, nasty whether seemed to zone in on us. For the next three days, our sloop was stuck with no wind or cloud cover. To say the least, it was utter and absolute hell. With the sun beating down on us combined with the sweat and heat and blisters and sunburn, and with worse conditions below deck, I was about ready to take a pistol and shoot myself. On the second day, after seeing that the situation was not going to be changing any time soon, Jack had the crew get to work on pulling the ship forward by means of rowboats and sweeps.

Originally, he wouldn't let me help, saying this type of work was for the men folk. Well, after being on a ship for more than a month, my old, hardened muscles were coming back from my teens years, and I insisted that he let me help manage the sweeps, saying I would rather die trying to get out of this mess than sitting and watching. The speech must have had some sort of affect (or he was too tired to argue) because soon I was between him and Gibbs, rowing along.

"I have to say, for being a rich brat's governess, you are sure full of surprises," huffed Jack. It was late afternoon, and we were still plodding along at a horribly low speed. He had stripped his shirt off, and now instead was coated with sweat, perspiration dripping down the sides of his flushed cheeks.

I really wasn't looking much better. My chocolate hair was plastered to my sun burnt face, and my shirt was sticky with sweat on my aching body. Gibbs, that lucky devil, had the shady spot on the bench, and was neither particularly sweaty or red.

"I wasn't a governess my whole life, of course," I answered weakly. "Work isn't exactly a foreign pastime for me."

"Where did you live before hand?"

"America." I had learned through experience this was a safe answer, seeing as very few folks really cared which colony I was from.

"Which colony?"

Dang it.

"Um…what do you think?" I asked slyly, deciding to make it a guessing game.

Jack glared at me, the sun framing his face. "Don't do this to me right now, Finn."

"Well…I'm not really in a colony…" I said weakly as he stared expectently at me.

"Your family criminal then?" piped up Gibbs. Jack seemed upset at the question, but actually, it made perfect sense to me, thanks to my amazing history teachers. As the colonies were being formed, certain ones, mainly Georgia, became a drop off for criminals from England. Also included in this were the Scots and Irish, many of whom went off to settle to Appalachian Mountains, instead of staying in the colonies.

"Scottish, actually," I answered.

"No you aren't," Jack cut in. "I've met a few fellows from there. The accent is so strong, you can't understand half of what they're saying. Now that I think about it, I haven't heard your accent anywhere."

"I don't have an accent," I grumbled.

"Yes you do, Miss Delaney," said Gibbs. "And it certainly isn't Scottish."

"Where are you really from?"

I stayed silent, reviewing everything I had ever learned in history. Before coming here, I had lived in New Mexico, but at this time, it would have still been Spanish territory, and if one thing was certain, my accent wasn't Spanish.

"Finn?"

"You've never heard of it."

"I've probably traveled to more places than you even knew existed. Try me."

I bit my lip and squinted toward him. He was focused on me, waiting for my answer impatiently. "Ask me again when we aren't sweaty and ready to scream from frustration, and I might just tell you."

"I'm holding you too that."

I didn't believe him. In fact, I was counting that he was going to completely forget the conversation due to the fact that his attentions would be entirely taken by the time consuming situation at hand.

I was right, of course. After the third day of no wind, it finally picked up…only to blow in a raging storm that kept the already tired crew up for a day and a night. When that finally blew over, clouds seemed to follow us where ever we went, drizzling nonstop for a week straight. It was nice; for the first two hours. When everything was either soaked or damp, I was about as miserable as I had been when the sun was turning my body into a crisp.

Oh how I missed land.

Finally, the day came where the constant dripping of water ceased, and the sun shone brightly, bring strong wind in its wake. The sky was a crystal blue, dotted every now and then with a bleach cloud. Dolphins were following the sloop, exciting the crew, for they were supposed to be some fortune of good luck.

And indeed, good luck did come, in the eyes of our captain that is. That day the man in the crow's nest announced a frigate to be heading our way from the north with the name of Flying Fortune.

How this could be good, I didn't know, but the crew went into an absolute frenzy at the announcement. They were whooping and shouting and yelping like it was Christmas time.

Then I remembered, oh yeah, I'm traveling with pirates.

Then I also remembered we were in a sloop.

And that that ship was a frigate.

"Jack, are you crazy?" I shouted as I ran up the steps to the helm. He was just standing there, enjoying the cool breeze that was blowing thru, smiling like a little kid who had just seen Santa Claus.

"Why would you think that?" he teased.

"I may not be a sailor, but I have enough sense in my head to realize that this sloop is going to be turned into kindling by the cannons on that frigate. How many do we have, ten? Twelve?"

"Fourteen, to be precise."

"Okay, and frigates can hold anywhere from…oh, twenty to forty guns! You're sending us to our deaths!"

"You forgot one very important thing, luv." He held out his hands and smiled winningly, "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

I wasn't buying the charade. "So? Are those words magic? Do they suddenly increase the size of this sloop? Do they double the cannons? Honestly, Jack, do you really think you and your legend can make that much of a difference?"

Sparrow peered out of his spy glass before collapsing it and turning once again to me. "Oh ye of little faith." I must have looked shocked, because he continued, "And please, don't faint. Yes, I have read the Bible once in my life."

"I don't care what you have and haven't read!" I fumed. "Why in the world are you going to attack a frigate?"

"If you think Barbossa is going to give the Pearl back without some sort of trade, you, my dear, are terribly mistaken."

"But…a frigate?"

"You do realize I am a captain?" Jack had taken my arm and was leading me down the stairs briskly. "Now, this is going to be a little…messy. Do me a favor, luv, and barricade yourself in my quarters. Wouldn't want anything happening to that pretty face of yours, hm?" He pinched my cheeks lightly before going back to the helm, leaving me annoyed and blushing furiously.

I did as he asked of course, seeing as I wasn't particularly excited about going into battle or any of that nonsense. Truthfully, I wasn't much of a fighter unless I became really aggravated. Heck, I felt guilty after killing spiders.

Soon cannons could be heard blasting the wood to bits, and I curled up on the floor, flinching with each boom, though I wasn't exactly frightened, just dearly hoping I wasn't going to be pummeled with shrapnel or splintered wood. Boom after boom was heard…then it was quiet. I crawled over to the door, wondering if it was safe to go up on deck. Had Jack really beaten the frigate? Just like that?

Then I heard the gunshots, loud, earsplitting blasts that made me jump. Boots were heard pounding the wood above me, shouts piecing through the smoke and gun powder that surely filled the air.

And here I was, crouching down in this cabin. I wasn't mad that I wasn't out there fighting, I didn't want to fight. However…I was terribly curious about what was actually happening out there. Who was winning? That fact that I was stuck here, having to guess, not being able to watch with my own eyes, was making me restless and itchy.

When things were sounding more subdued, I let temptation take over. Opening the door a crack, I saw I was gravely mistaken. Soldiers were fighting the pirates for all they were worth…and from the looks of it, winning. I opening it wider, I scanned the deck, trying to find Jack. He was no where to be seen.

"Oi! A lady!"

It appeared a young fellow had spotted me, and was now proceeding to run over and, from the determination etched on his face, rescue me. Unfortunately, I was too shocked that I had been noticed to explain to the poor guy that I really didn't want to be rescued. So, seeing as I wasn't doing anything that resembled struggling, he grabbed my arm roughly and began trying to lead me through the carnage.

We didn't get very far. As soon as I was out on deck, there was a heavy thud behind me, and a tanned fist shot out from behind my head to punch the soldier in the back of the skull, which then proceeded to snatch my waist and hold me to him.

Of course I realized it was Jack and began to relax…until he put a gun to my head.

"STOP!!!" he bellowed, making my cringe.

"Jack, what in the world--" he pressed the pistol harder into my head, and I stopped talking, shaking like a leaf, praying that I would be alright.

Amazingly enough, it took all of twenty seconds before both crews were staring dumbstruck at my ashen countenance in silence. "Now, here's the deal," continued Jack in a loud voice, "You hand over the frigate, supplies and all, to us without trouble. You don't, this girl dies. Savvy? Now, you fine men wouldn't want her blood on your head, would you?"

This was ridiculous. What right did this criminal think he had to use me as a bartering chip? Fury was filling my insides, and I began to struggle, screaming and twisting to try and escape his grasp.

It was at this point that I truly appreciated how strong Jack was. He moved his arm up so it enveloped both of my arms and squeezed hard, almost pushing out all of the air in my chest, stopping both my screaming and my struggling. To top it off, he replaced the muzzle so it fitted snugly under my chin. "Well, men, get moving!" ordered Jack.

"You will of course be letting us have the girl?" shouted the other captain.

Jack smirked evilly, giving me a quick pinch on the side. "Now, why would I do that?"

After maybe twenty minutes, the two parties had switch ships entirely, and Sparrow was now leading me across the gangplank, the pistol still securely under my chin and his arms still holding my body. "Wonderful doing business with you!" said Jack cockily. "Best of luck, mates!"

The sloop had turned and sailing away when Jack mumbled, "I can't believe I didn't think of that sooner." He released me and stretched contently. "Well that's that. Wonderful acting there, luv."

"That wasn't acting," I hissed dangerously.

"Oh." He furrowed his brow uncomfortably. "Then I can assume you are not particularly pleased with me?"

"Correct," I growled, stalking up on him. Seeing this, Jack began to back away swiftly.

"No need to be physical, darling. You know I was never going to actually hurt you. It just needed to look realistic."

"That's Miss Delaney to you!" I snarled, successfully cornering Jack against a wall. Tilting my head up slightly, I continued in a threatening voice, "I cannot believe you had the gal to do that! Do you have any idea how frightened and confused I was?" Jack, for the first time that I can recall, actually looked really, truly sorry, but I didn't give him time to explain. "For you to turn on me like that! The least you could have done was explain what was going on! You think I enjoyed having a gun pointed at my head? You bast--"

"Now, now, Finn, no need to be vulgar," interjected Jack, stopping my insult with his hand. "You're a reasonable women and--"

That was the last straw. Pulling my arm back, I punch him squarely in the cheek, sending him reeling to the side. Pain flared up in my knuckles, though I did see a trickle of blood dripping from behind Jack's hand as he cradled his face, giving me a small ounce of satisfaction.

Jack raised his head to glare at me after a moment. "That was uncalled for, women."

I blinked at the sudden harshness in his tone, and the way he addressed me. I suddenly felt terribly guilty for hitting him, and frankly, was becoming uneasy.

"You do realize that to hit the captain is a terrible offense? I do believe that in the navy, the punishment is death."

"Well, we aren't in the navy," I answered softly, backing away a little.

"Sometimes, I think they have a few things going for them," Jack mumbled under his breath. I doubted it was an answer to my comment, and I probably wasn't suppose to hear it at all, but the comment stung. Hard.

I didn't say anything. I don't think I could have anyway. Everything that had happened, that was happing, seemed too surreal to be true. Maybe I shouldn't have lashed out so crudely at Jack, but when he was pretending to threaten me, I was scared. Really, truly scared for my life. I had never trusted Jack entirely before, or his crew, and to have him do that to me had been horrible, terrifying. I couldn't seem to think straight. Is this what happened to people when they go into shock?

Of all things to start thinking about, it was my first aid training from high school. Elevate the feet, keep them warm, talk to the victim and sooth them, tell them everything is going to be okay.

Well, I certainly didn't have anyone doing that for me. Gritting my teeth, I walked away, Jack still glaring fiercely at me, holding his cheek gingerly. The crew was silent, watching, almost waiting for something to happen. Nothing was going to happen, that was for sure. All they were going to get would be a sullen mask.

I walked down below deck and curled up in my hammock the best I could. I wasn't going to cry, not now of all times. But despite my resolve, a few tears escaped. I brushed them away, trying to suppress a scream of frustration and an emotion I couldn't quite put my finger on, but was bursting inside of me.

I missed Ella so badly. If she had been here, we would be laughing away the events of today, making a joke or too, saying what a grand time we were having. But for whatever reason, things did not seem so grand when had no one to share them with. It wasn't until that point I realized that I was truly, utterly alone. Or maybe I had realized it, and decided to ignore the fact. I was very good at ignoring things I didn't like.

But I couldn't ignore this anymore.

No, I was scared, and worried what was going to happen to me. Would Jack hold true to his promise? Then again, how could he really break it? Biting my lip, my resolve to not cry broke, and soon I was asleep, tear stained and miserable.

Jack twirled a chain round and around his fingers, watching it blankly as it twinkled in the candlelight. His cheek was swollen now, and still stinging, though he wasn't so sure if it was from the pain or from something else.

So, maybe it had been a little rude to use her like that. Wincing, Jack begrudgingly decided it was a lot more than 'a little rude', something he dearly didn't want to consciously admit to himself.

But still…punching him…even Finn had been justified in that. The whole ordeal had obviously shaken her quite a bit, even if she was expertly hiding that fact. He had seen her become angry, flustered, annoyed, all of which she had tried to hide, but not successfully. However, he had never seen her scared and frightened, and she had hidden those to emotions very well behind a mask of anger and annoyance. It made him wonder how many times Finn had pretended one thing while really concealing what she was really feeling.

The other aspect that truly bugged Jack was that she clearly had no trust for him, or anyone on the ship for that matter. It was, in truth, a very smart move to make, and Finn was no fool, but all the same, it was annoying. Women usually fawned over him, believed everything he said, yet here was Finn, critical and sharp, never letting down her guard with him for a second.

Well, maybe she had once or twice. Smiling, Jack rubbed his cheek gingerly, recalling their encounter many nights ago on deck. She hadn't been hiding anything then; that had been the genuine Finn speaking to him, no mask, no pretending, just the truth.

Not many women spoke like that to him.

And at the same time, he had been speaking the utmost truth as well, though it was embarrassing to remember. Though he didn't dare say it to anyone else, he was a little lonely. And knowing that Finn cared, for what reason he didn't understand, helped. It helped a lot.

Now that he had considered it, the moment had been rather nice. In fact, almost perfect. Just the two of them talking, nothing to hide, just them.

Jack growled softly, wanted to punish himself for being to sentimental. Next thing he knew, he was going to actually be attached to this women, something he certainly couldn't afford. Not only would Finn never allow it, but it would be silly. Preposterous.

But still, the look in her eyes this afternoon, it made him cringe inwardly whenever he recalled it…