AN: Look! I've finally written another chapter! I am SO sorry it took like...what...three months to update? Way to long, I would think; but school was terrible, and finals worse. But now...schools out! So maybe I'll be able to finish the story before long! Don't worry, not many chapters left.

Once again, I would like to thank all you faithful readers that have continued to read and wait. Thank you!

As always, enjoy.

"So, the map?"

I sat down on the large chair by the desk and looked at Dawson warily, glancing toward Jack as well. Sighing in frustration and embarrassment, I reached down into my dress to pull out the map, no longer looking at either man. This was a rather awkward situation.

Dawson grabbed for it, sneering slightly, but I pulled it back. Instead of grabbing again, the pirate looked at me suspiciously. "Sparrow had no idea where it was?"

I blushed at what he was implying. "Of course he didn't know, you freak."

Dawson frowned. "Freak?"

I rolled my eyes. Modern slang. "Never mind."

Jack, thankfully, had the decency to remain silent.

"And the key?" continued Dawson.

"I have the wrong key. And I'm wondering how you plan to open it without the right one," I answered evenly.

It was, in fact, a rather big problem. As I had gone through the negotiations, I had forgotten this pivotal fact, not remembering until just moments ago. Now I was faced with the decision of whether to act surprised (not so much acting), or be completely calm and reasonable about the matter. Since I was facing one greedy and impatient man (Jack), and another greedy and bloodthirsty man (Dawson), I decided to go with the reasonable response.

Dawson hardly seemed fazed, which was not quite what I was expecting. "Wrong key? That is a problem." Reaching into his coat pocket, he took out a small key with a ruby at the end. I stifled a small gasp; the ruby matched the one on the map. That was the right key. He had taken it from Barbossa, the last owner I could recall.

After a brief pause, Jack lunged toward him, but Dawson was faster, and he avoid him with ease, smirking viciously. "Seems like I have the key. We negotiate how I wish."

I froze, but there was another brief pause, and we all three looked at the map, which was now lying defenselessly on the desk. Simultaneously, we all grabbed at it, heads smashing and arms bumping, but this time I was the quickest, and soon backed away, map in one hand, my previous dagger in the other. "I have the map. Negotiations remain the same."

"Exactly the same," repeated Jack, waving his fingers repeatedly in Dawson's face. For a small moment, I understood why Barbossa just might hate Jack.

"Very well," he snarled, his eyes almost turning red.

"Key," I demanded.

Dawson did nothing.

"You're outnumbered mate, even if it is two to one," said Jack as another long silence stretched. This did not seem to affect the pirate in a particularly positive way: in fact, he began reaching for his sword.

I tried a different approach. "Every second we waste arguing is a second the Commodore will have time to catch up."

"The Commodore doesn't know where we are," countered Dawson, hand still wavering above his hilt.

"Barbossa is looking for this treasure too; obviously information you were aware of," I glanced knowingly at the key, "and if Belmont isn't following us, he certainly will be following Barbossa."

"And how will Barbossa know of us?"

"The man sticks to me like a plague," interjected Jack. "He left soon after the Pearl left port. We haven't seen him for a few days, but I'm sure he's tracking us."

Dawson glared down at the floor before tossing the key to me. "It seems that I am indeed at a disadvantage."

Sighing with relief, I took the key, and after a slight nod from Jack, opened the map.

I wasn't really sure what to expect. Initially, I had been thinking something to the effect of Stargate; plug in the symbols (in this case, the key), and some grand explosion would take place and open up a gigantic map. Then I considered something like Treasure Planet, where you fool around with it for a while, and a great hologram pops out. But then came the problem about technology…

Whatever I had thought, it was all wrong. No, the map was not grand, magical, or special in anyway. When I opened it, a tightly folded piece of animal skin fell out.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who had been expecting something magnificent; both Jack and Dawson had something to the effect of confused disappointment on their faces. Taking the skin, I smoothed it out on the desk to look at it. The ink wasn't smudged, showing many small islands, and a dainty line connecting a few, along with directions next to the lines. Turning the skin over, I saw an enlarged island with more lines leading to a certain point, and at the certain point, there appeared to be a map of a maze, with a whole line of directions as a subscript.

Both pirates were entranced, and Jack gently shoved me out of the way to get a better look. Peeking over my shoulder, Dawson grunted angrily. "Well, we have the map. But I can't make out a word of those directions!"

Jack sniffed and bent closer. "They seem to be of a native dialect…or…Italian? No, that can't be right…doesn't matter much since I can't read Italian…navige vesper pro quintum passum…gibberish…"

"Good grief, it's Latin!" I gasped. "Navige vesper pro quintum passum? That's…" I squinted as I remembered my vocabulary, "…sail west for five miles." I leaned over to look at more of the directions. "…lets see…keep to the south side of the island…go north for twenty miles…turn west, again…for…eighteen miles, yes, that's right…"

"You can read this?" asked Dawson.

I raised an eyebrow. "Of course I can read this. There was a reason I'm a governess."

"Then you are going to be my ransom," snarled Dawson, snatching me up by my hair. I shrieked and tried to get away, but he pinned me back to the chair and stuck a muzzle under my chin.

"We already had it figured out!" I cried. "Why are you changing it now?"

"Let her go mate, or a blast a hole through this map and no one finds the Fountain," threatened Jack, who now possessed the map and was holding it his pistol.

"You won't do that," Dawson cackled, digging the muzzle in deeper to my throat, "because you want it as much as I do."

There was clearly an internal struggle happening for Jack; eyes stony and mouth, for once, not in a cocky grin. Yes, he didn't want something to happen to me, but…yet…something in the back of my mind told me that no matter what he said to me, there was always going to be something else. What more could I expect? He was a pirate.

So that's what it was to be. His hand was already lowering the map, and the faintest look of defeat had entered his eyes. Jack wanted the Fountain more. There was no way around that fact.

Swallowing, I forced myself to think of something to do. Long ago, I might have been deeply hurt, but now, I was letting my emotions wash over me. Jack was a pirate, and I could expect nothing more than that from him. And while I was certainly disappointed, I knew it couldn't stop me from my problem at hand. I had bigger things to worry about than a relationship that couldn't work.

First thing was first, get Dawson talking. He seemed to enjoy doing it.

"Why me as a ransom?" I asked, leaning away from the barrel.

"You can read Latin, which means that you could be very well leading us on a wild goose chase and know exactly where we are! I'm not about to risk such a venture." Grabbing my shoulder, he forced me to stand up in front of him.

"You're assuming I know how to sail, which I don't."

"But the sailors do."

"You're observant," I retorted, which earned me a jab from the pistol.

"You could easily lead us to Port Royal to get us arrested," he continued.

"Wouldn't you realize if we were going there?" I asked.

"But the Fountain might be near there. However, I wouldn't know, because I can't read Latin."

"Then I'll translate this for you right now, then everybody knows where we're going."

"You might lie. And no one on this ship would be able to check if you were right or not."

"What incentive do I have to lie?"

"To get help from the Royal Navy, or any friends you might have."

"Let me explain something to you," I sighed, turning to face him. "I have come to the Caribbean only a month or so ago. All the friends I have are as follows: Elizabeth Swann, who I cannot seem to locate; Ella Bronte, who is now trapped by Belmont; Richard Tremaine, who is on this ship; Clarissa, who is either still kidnapped or in a completely useless position for me; and Jack Sparrow, who is standing right there. As far as the Royal Navy is concerned, one of its highest ranking officers happens to be trying to kill me right now, and we are on the infamous Black Pearl, which also happens to be one of the most wanted vessels sailing the seven seas. From where I stand, the only way I am going to be getting out is this mess is if I travel to the Fountain, correctly. Why in the world would I lie?"

To my great surprise, this little speech of mine left Dawson silent, staring carefully at me, until he spoke slowly, "Very well. But just to make sure there is no mischief happening, I'll have one of my crew members stay on board, to watch you. Understood?"

"Fine, whatever. I don't care."

"Now that we have concluded that Miss Delaney is virtually friendless and extremely virtuous," interjected Jack, pulling me out of Dawson's hands, "I suggest we continue with the daunting task of interpreting the map. My dear, if you would," he motioned toward the chair again, and after quirking an eyebrow, I sat down and smoothed out the map.

The Latin was hard to understand; fairly basic, for those who know how to read it. It wasn't long until I had the entire course charted, and after going over it again, Dawson made a copy for himself, and went out to pick a crew man. Both Jack and I were left in the cabin.

"I don't understand," I mumbled under my breath. "Why Latin?"

He leaned over me to get a better view of the map, his chin grazing my ear. "Well, I'd imagine it was to keep it hidden. Not many can read it."

I snorted. "Just because you aren't able to read it doesn't mean nobody can. There's a whole class of people quite capable of understanding this." I smoothed out the skin again. "I wonder if that's why it's in Latin; so only a certain group of people could ever reach it. But," I studied the backside, the one with the maze, "this is strange. A maze? It's like someone found it and wanted to make sure no one else could find it. So they created this, one great puzzle."

"You haven't ever heard the stories then," answered Jack. "Spanish conquistadors have been coming ever since gold was discovered. Numerous ones never came back, except for a few crazed men, of whom no one believed a word. It was those few that came back with these objects," he motioned to the map holder (time traveling device), ruby key, and emerald key. After that, a lot of speculation has happened, but from personal experience, and after seeing the map for myself, my extremely educated guess is that the native people created the maze to stop the conquistadors. The emerald key is probably the key to the Fountain itself, and the map was created by the remaining conquistadors, in Latin, so that only high class citizens could ever reach the Fountain."

"And the pocket watch, or the ruby key?"

Jack stepped back and shrugged. "There's rumored to be treasure with the Fountain, but no one is sure. However, if these men made it to the Fountain and came back alive, then these items might have come from this vast treasure, and just happened to be the objects in which the map was kept."

I picked up the pocket watch, and sighed in frustration. "It looks so…pointless. I just wish I knew how it worked. Then I could…" I trailed off and glanced up at Jack.

The look on his face was sobering; too serious of an expression than had ever graced his features before. "Still don't know what you want?"

My mouth opened before I had time to think. "Do you know?"

A look mixed of disgust, guilt, and annoyance was seen as he huffed, "I always know what I want." He snatched the pocket watch out of my hand and tossed it in the air.

"That's because you've only ever cared for yourself." I grabbed for the object, but he kept it successfully from my grasp.

"And you don't?" He was definitely angry now, eyes flashing dangerously.

I gritted my teeth in frustration, trying to understand how we had both become so short so suddenly. "I strive not to."

"The same could be said for many, including myself."

"I'll believe that when I see that," I spat, finally taking the pocket watch back.

He faced me sulkily, his mouth in a twisted, painful grin. "You don't trust me anymore?"

"Only in certain situations," was my soft answer. I was dying to really turn this into a fight, and I was stressed enough, that at the moment, it seemed that it might in fact be enjoyable to scream and hit and scratch, but I knew that it most certainly would not be a good idea. And to a small degree, I was frightened. Angry Jack was not someone I was accustomed to dealing with, and in truth, I didn't really enjoy fighting…

"Such as?"

I swallowed and walked toward the cabin door. "Getting us to the places you want to go, and helping the people who would be most profitable to you."

"In essence, you are accusing me of having no heart," he answered quietly, but fiercely.

"I think that you are so used to one way of life, it is hard for you to change," I retorted. "People are quite able to ignore their heart."

"And I am more accustomed to it than others?"

Jack seemed to be sneering, a nasty, horrible look that was truly frightening me. Hot tears were rimming my eyes, and in the darkness, I was sure he couldn't see them. Humiliated and miserable, I turned to the knob and tried to open it, only to find it was no longer there. Oh, yes, it had been blasted off.

But he must have sensed was I was trying to do, because Jack quickly shut the door. "So in answer to your problem, you try to leave. How…cowardly."

I had damaged something; either his ego, or himself, I wasn't sure which, and I was sure that was what the cutting remarks were attempting to hide. But this only amplified the hurt, and sobbing, I begged, "Let me be. I don't want to be here, so just let me be."

He stepped further away from me, but didn't release the door. "I don't understand you, Finn. I just don't understand."

"I don't understand myself either, okay?" I cried. "Everything about this has made me feel so…lost."

It was silent, a thick, heavy silence that crept all around me, making it harder to breath. Finally, Jack spoke.

"Well, you best make your mind up about something soon, or you're going to feel like that for a very long time. As for myself; I know what it is I want, and I don't intend to lose either of them."

"What if there was a choice? What if you couldn't have them both?"

Jack smirked. "I won't have to make that choice. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

I wanted to scream, but instead wiped away my tears. What was wrong with this man? One moment defensive and angry, the next, cocky and…once again, adjectives failed me. And how could he be so sure?

Dawson boomed in, the door ricocheting off of my head, and I tumbled to the ground clumsily, yelling in anger and pain.

"Time to leave, Sparrow," he cackled gleefully.

Two arms lifted me up, and I came face to face with Jack, his usual arrogant grin plastered on. "Trust me now?"

"I have nothing else to trust," I remarked sourly, shooing his hands off of me.

He chuckled, and after glancing at Dawson puckishly, kissed me full on the mouth before strutting out jauntily.

Wiping off not only tears but my mouth, I glared at the map that was lying on the table. "You are too much trouble," I mumbled before collapsing on the bed.

Dawson kept a good two miles away at all times, and while I could see his ship, I couldn't tell whether or not any other ship was following.

But I was sure of it.

Unfortunately, neither Barbossa nor Belmont would be a good choice to have pursuing us; worse if both. Barbossa probably wanted to kill me for leaving, and while Belmont had Ella, he had made it very clear that I was in certain peril in his presence. Dawson was trailing us for sure, and from every way I looked at it, I was pretty much toast.

Naturally, the next few days were rather stressful.

If the simple worry of making through this venture wasn't enough, three other things were constantly bugging my mind.

First was the incessant crew member Dawson had insisted on leaving with us. He was a chubby, short fellow with virtually no teeth and the greasiest mop of hair I had ever seen. Almost every step I took had him lumbering behind, and after the third day, Gibbs took pity on me and both he and Richard remained my constant bodyguards.

Second was the pocket watch thing (I can really think of nothing else to call it). I knew that if I could just figured out how it worked, I would be safe, and be able to save those who I cared about. But I could not, for the life of me, remember what had caused it to activate four years earlier. It wasn't long until I realized that the whole event must have been an accident, meaning that I had not even a clue to what the cause could possibly be. Maybe nights were wasted with me sitting in the cabin, tapping, rubbing, squeezing, anything to get a glow. Nothing.

Third was, as seemed to be common now, Jack. Once again, my mind was a blur of thoughts and emotions, and combined with my current stress level, it was a ticking bomb, ready to explode. Most of the time I simply tried to forget about him, telling myself over and over that while he might be a good man, he was not the best man, and was most certainly still a pirate. I told myself that obviously nothing could really happen; he cared too much for things that I stuck my nose up at, and his regard for others could certainly use improvement. If anything, my main concern was that he just didn't love me enough, and I wasn't about to commit myself to someone who would leave on a whim.

But, as always, it did no good. Everyday, when I checked the compass, it pointed directly at the Midas.

Soon, it was the last night before landing. A good two weeks had passed (the Fountain was no where near Florida, but closer to South America), and we were scheduled to land the next day at noon.

However, not long after night had fallen, I discovered I had mistaken a certain number by a great deal when looking at the map once more.

"Gibbs! I have a problem," I hissed, tapping him on the shoulder. It was around midnight; the only time I could be sure that grease ball of a pirate wasn't following me around.

He mumbled, turned, and finally woke, sitting up grogily in his hammock. "Problem? Of what type?"

I shoved the map into his lap. "Directions. I mistranslated. Instead of just south, its south, and then turn west three degrees, and then go the ten miles. We're going to have to turn at least ten degrees to get back on course. Thankfully, it's the last stretch, but how much a difference will it make?"

Gibbs rubbed his eyes and brought the map up to the lamp. "Three degrees west? Ten degrees? That would give us…another two days. We wouldn't be arriving until the morning of the third day, at the least." He sighed and rubbed his cheeks wearily. "Dawson is going to notice."

"Can't we send a message over, telling him that I made a mistake?" I moaned.

"That man is looking for any excuse to kill Jack and us," explained Gibbs. "Our best bet is if Mr. Druth (grease ball pirate) doesn't raise up the warning flag. Dawson might think that he wrote the directions down wrong, and just keep following us."

"Maybe, but that pirate is going--" I stopped and faced the door. Shuffling, very fast shuffling, had been heard. "What was that?"

Gibbs was still. "If I didn't know better, I'd say someone was spying."

We remained there for another split second before I blitzed it to the upper deck, leaving Gibbs to wake some of the men.

It may have been midnight, but a bright full moon was directly overhead, and in its light was Mr. Druth, fumbling around with the red warning flag. Even in the darkness, Dawson would be sure to see it.

Without thinking, I charged him, tackling him to the ground. Within seconds, we were in a messy struggle, and soon he had my throat and was suffocating me with the flag.

I jab and kicked with all my might, but the fact of the matter was, I just wasn't strong enough. My sight was going blurry, and as I tried to get air, my arms began flailing helplessly.

All of the sudden, he wasn't choking me anymore, and as I lay there, regaining full consciousness, a sickening stabbing sound was heard, and commotion ceased. Turning around, I saw Richard, flanked by two other men, holding a bloody sword, with Mr. Druth crumpled to the ground, no longer moving.

Mr. Gibbs came to stand beside me. "Well, that's the end of it. Richard, clean up the body and bury it before the sun comes. Mr. Cotton, please turn us ten degrees to the west. And Miss Delaney, we best be figuring out what to do next."

I stood up shakily and followed him to the cabin, wondering what was to become of us, and of Jack.

We decided that nothing could really be done. If we were to send word to Dawson, telling of the mistake, he might ask for Mr. Druth to confirm, and seeing as he was no longer available, a fight might ensue. For us to sail as if nothing was happening was really the only way, though now Jack was in grave danger. With these thoughts running through my head, I went into a restless sleep until about mid-morning when cries of surprise woke me.

Stumbling out on to the deck, I came up the Richard, rubbing my eyes awake. "What's wrong? I heard shouting."

He turned to me with a sober face, and my stomach did a few fearful turns. "Dawson's ship. It's fallen behind. Look."

I followed his finger to a distant dot on the horizon, which could only be the Midas. "What does it mean?"

Richard shrugged. "Everyone is confused. Last night, when Cotton changed directions, the ship did too. They must have been following us through most of the night, but just stopped around early morning."

"That's when Dawson would have woken up," I sniffed. "He noticed." Collapsing on a barrel, I held my head in defeat. So the Pearl was safe; Jack was probably dead. Taking out the compass, I opened it, fully expecting it to be spinning or pointing elsewhere, but instead, it was still pointing toward Dawson's ship.

Richard was watching carefully. "What does that mean?"

"Jack is still alive," I muttered. "Maybe Dawson didn't care…"

"Man overboard!"

Both Richard and I looked up at the crow's nest, and then down to where he was pointing. Under his breath, I could hear Richard mumbling, "Who was stupid enough to fall over?", but more of my attention was focused on the man floating toward us, or more specifically, on the hat the was now bumping up against the side of the ship.

Gibbs had recognized him too. "Why, it's the Captain! Lower a rope! Quickly, men! And get the hat!"

Soon Jack was on the deck, coughing up water, and clutching his belt. Relief washed over me, and I ran up to him. "Jack! What in the world happened?"

He coughed a few more times before smiling at me. "Get me some rum and a blanket, and I'll tell you."

The requested items were sent for, and almost the entire crew was seated around him, like a kindergarten class waiting to be read a story. Jack took a deep draught from the bottle before looking over the men appraisingly. He was obviously enjoying the attention.

"Well?" prompted Gibbs.

"Well," began Jack, "during my stay at that filthy, rotting ship, I was fortunate enough to be allowed free roam of the deck, provided that there was always someone watching me. Well, it remained like that for most of the time, except for once or twice when Dawson had it in his head that I needed to spend the night in the brig. However, last night was not one of those nights, and as I was sleeping, I awoke with the sense we were not going the same direction. And so I went onto the deck to see for myself."

I snorted. Yeah right he woke with that feeling. He was probably just trying to hunt down a bottle of rum.

"When realizing that we were, in fact, not going due south, I determined that when Dawson saw this, I would most likely be shot. So I set to work disabling the rudder and tearing up the sails, after knocking out the night guard, of course. I finished sometime before dawn, and have been swimming since." He smiled grandly and took another swig of rum before continuing, "We won't have to worry about Dawson any longer mates. However," another drink of rum was taken, "we do have two more ships following us, or Dawson, to be precise. Dear William seems to have taken an interest in this venture, and of course, Barbossa is tracking us.

"The Dutchman?" asked Gibbs. "And Barbossa?"

Jack nodded happily. "It seems that we are at a distinct advantage to our enemies with all three objects in our possesion. If we sail fast enough, we can easily lose all three. What d'ye say, men?"

A roar of consensus was heard, and soon everyone was up and working, but I was worried. "Jack, if we lose all three of them, how will anyone know where we are?"

"That's part of the plan, Finn," he answered, patting me on the cheek, "Trust me."

My anger flared at his mocking, and grabbing his shoulder, I hissed, "What about Ella?"

He raised his eyebrows. "What about her?"

"She's with Belmont! If he doesn't get what he wants, he might kill her!"

Jack sighed and began to walk up the stairs to the helm, me trailing frantically behind. "Jack! Jack! Aren't you listening?"

"Luv," he answered behind his back, "if Belmont is anything like me, which, most likely, he is, then he is not going to kill Ella just because. While certainly not a comfortable position, she is most probably safe with Belmont, for the time being. We'll find the Fountain, and then worry about your bonny lass friend." I glared up at him. "Finn, you worry too much."

"I have good reason to worry. Unlike you, I'm not in this for eternal youth or whatever the Fountain is suppose to give you. I'm in this to save my friend. And I've done a rotten job so far."

Jack just smiled into the brisk wind. "I told you I intend to keep the things I want most, one way or another, and I'm willing to do anything to keep them. Just this once, luv, trust me. Completely."

I narrowed my eyes and folded my arms defiantly. "What's that suppose to mean?"

He laughed. "You're a smart lass. Figure it out."

I was very tempted to slug him, but instead stormed down the stairs, away from Jack. If there was anything I wanted, this adventure certainly was not it.