A library. Shipwreck Cove, infamous, legendary haven for pirates, had a library. Elizabeth shook her head, pouring over the volumes and volumes of texts, some handwritten with a monk-like calligraphy. She stood on one of the rolling ladders, combing through a shelf full of references she knew would say nothing about the location of the vial.

On the other side of the oval room, on his back, Jack sifted through a bottom shelf, pausing to take a swig from the bottle to his side.

"Even if we find something, there's no telling where Beckett will be," she said out loud, her eyes scouring the pages of one of the open books, scanning for the right words.

"He'll be in Port Royal."

"That sounded awfully sure."

"Wouldn't that be where'd you go back to, darling?" He positioned himself on his knees, moving up a shelf. "Most of his ships destroyed, the only place he knows to a moral certainty none of us are, gives him a safe place to regroup, I should think."

"Then that's where we'll start once we make way. Could…could I have some of that?" She jumped off the ladder and stood behind the bottle.

"Troubled, love?" he asked with a smirk. "I shouldn't like to see ye reduced to a 'complete scoundrel.'"

"Wouldn't you?" She took a sip.

"That was a very coy thing to say, Lizzie," he said, turning back to her, his eyes taking on a wanton quality she rather liked. It was all too easy to be taken in by that smile, she laughed to herself, standing over him. He stroked the small of her back as he rose to his feet. He slunk behind her and kissed the back of her neck before crossing over to the other side of the library.

"Oh! I found it!" she cried, her hands trembling underneath the pages.

Jack ran back to her and cocked his head to see the same illustration.

"'…whereby it disappeared after a ship of former slaves-turned-pirates, the reward for such three thousand guineas...' Fancy that," Jack breathed. His eyes widened, jaw tensed in thought. "Could it really be that simple? Yes, it could." In one motion, he placed the book back on the shelf and, with an arm around Elizabeth, led her out of the library. "It's here."

"Here?"

"Yes, yes. Jocard has it."

"How do you know that?"

"Oy! Do you doubt me?" he pouted. "Jocard and I go way back, love, and I'm rather surprised your extensive research on all things pirate-y did not tell you just what kind of plunder the man prefers to all others."

"He accumulates vials?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, not so much vials so much as…" He glanced down at the floor with a grimace.

"Don't tell me you're embarrassed to say it." Good Lord, she thought, if Jack was embarrassed then…

"Sauces."

"What?" He clamped his hand over her mouth to quiet her laughter.

"Sauces, spices—any and all manner of potions which, let's face it, are a hot commodity, easy to transport, and inconspicuous to sell. He pilfers them and then sells them for double the price. Who is to say a small, tiny insignificant looking bottle looks more like a mystical liquid eradicating immortality than an innocent spot of Tkmali, eh?"

"I have two questions." She summoned a serious, stern expression. "One, how do we know he has it here with him and two, how would we go about finding it?"

"Lizzie, love," he said. "One of a plethora of reasons I looked forward to marrying you was so that the melding of our wits could impart upon us a certain degree of unstoppability, rather than having us constantly pit them against each other." He gave her a wily grin.

"Captain Jocard?" she asked, mustering as innocent a tone as possible. It gave her a certain satisfaction to see the man clad in python skins jump.

"You startled me, King." He held his staff with both hands, his large earrings and scars briefly capturing her attention. "What do you wish of Gentleman Jocard?"

"I just wanted to thank you for suggesting to Captain Sparrow he accompany me on my quest."

"Ah," he said with suspicious eyes. "Jack can be quite useful, but be warned—it is humiliating to owe one's life to such a jester. And it seems he is rather taken with you."

She bit the insides of her cheeks.

"Yes, well, I've heard rumors you are a most talented cook."

"Cook? Gentleman Jocard takes offense." He straightened his torso, bare save for the animal skins draped over his back. "Gentleman Jocard is a chef."

"That is a rare talent," Elizabeth said. "I don't suppose I could trouble you to make something before you set sail? You see, I grew up in a governor's household." Seeing his eyes twitch in surprise was rather flattering. "It's been so long since I've been able to really sit down and savor my food, give it the consideration owed to the chef. Yes. Those were such times…"

"The King wishes me to make her something?"

"Oh would you?" She threw her arms around him, the long braided strands of his beard hitting her forehead. "I can just taste it now. Thank you, sir!"

His large, bracelet-clad hands clenched her arms to pry her off of him. He took a step back, regarding her with a completely befuddled face, but she maintained her grateful, childlike grin at him.

"What would you like?"

"May I come aboard your ship and see what ingredients you have on hand?" She clasped her hands together. "Please? I have such varied tastes, you see."

There was such a long pause, Elizabeth feared Jocard would change his mind. Unsure whether he meant to humor a madwoman or provide a personal service to his King, he extended his hand and led her out to the docks.

His ship drifted back and forth against the current, rocking against all the other ones, its sails catching the light breeze and sending it down onto the deck. The descent into the hull encased her in such darkness she stumbled onto one of the steps, but caught herself. The smells of downy feathers and lemons tickled her nose, followed by an overpowering mixture of nutmeg and curry powder. Past a modest rum cellar, he stopped in front of a much smaller rack with more little cubby holes.

"What does the King fancy?"

Kneeling down in front of the rack, she sorted through the vials, rotating them with her fingers to keep them from sliding out and smashing onto the floor.

"Pork," she blabbed, rolling her eyes at herself. "Pork with…" Bloody hell, where was it? Was it even here? Would it be less than subtle to ask for a red sauce to accompany it? About to ask him for his recommendation and see if it led anywhere, she heard footsteps. Right on cue, she thought, but no less frustrated.

"Jack Sparrow," Jocard murmured. "To what does Gentleman Jocard owe this…pleasure?"

"Debt," Jack said, holding out a brown leather sack. He placed it in Jocard's hand and mimicked his confusion. "Don't tell me ye forgot I owed ye money."

"It is not the fact you owe, Jack, rather that you paid."

"I've gotten into a habit of paying me debts," he said, his hands bent around his belt. "Entertaining our King, I see?"

"Yes." Jocard turned back to her. "Did you choose yet?"

"I also meant to speak to ye about the quality of your cargo." Jack put his arm around him and whirled him back around, his back to Elizabeth. Sighing, she skimmed another row of vials. Cassia. Cloves. Saffron. Ginger…

"What do you speak of my cargo?"

"I mean, mate, some of your pigs look a tad rancid and they're not even dead yet. You should have seen the one giving me the evil eye when I came down here. Devil-pig, to be sure! Apt to give me nightmares."

At last, Elizabeth's fingers dusted the label on a red-filled vial marked "unknown." She blinked, musing that her eyelashes would bat more dust off of it to reveal it to be nothing more than watered-down paprika or a Mexican, spicy sauce of some kind, but noted next to the large letters that made up "unknown," she saw someone had written, "test on enemies first."

Pocketing it, she pulled out another, larger bottle and trotted back into the hold with it.

"Captain Jocard. This is the one I want." She held it out to him.

"This is what you want?" He frowned at the vial. "Might I suggest something a little sweeter, King?"

"Oh, yes, by all means." She brushed her hair out of her face, her heart racing to the point she squeaked out the words. She followed him back to the rack where he pulled a few vials out and held them between his fingers. Returning whatever she'd pulled out herself, she stood back up and smiled at him. "I just know it will be absolutely delicious." Jack caught her eye, looking ready to laugh at a moment's notice. Still feeling the effects of her mild adrenaline rush, she raised an eyebrow at him and turned back to Jocard. "Thank you. If you don't mind, I should like to stay and admire your collection. I can let myself out."

"King's prerogative," he sighed, sharing a masculine sort of look with Jack before climbing back up the steps. "The crew will be down momentarily to prepare for our journey."

"Naturally!" she called up to him.

"Well?" Jack edged over to her.

"Well what?" she sang with her hands behind her back, taking a precious long time to lift the vial from her pocket. Jack grinned at her.

"Just what is it you picked for us to eat?" he asked, backing her into the bulkhead.

"I'm not even sure," she said, her eyes locking in on his lips.

"And when do we set sail?"

"In the morning. We'll make sure the Pearl is ready tonight."

"We're taking the Pearl, are we?" he asked, pausing their flirtation. "Or do you mean I shall be on my ship and you shall be on yours? If that be the case, that's going to do a number on my morale."

"Heng is going to captain the Empress, Jack," she said, turning her hand to graze up his thigh, the hot bulge at its side pulsating against her touch. He leaned in more to her and took her wrist, guiding her hand over it even more. "There's only one ship I love…and I suppose her Captain is all right as well." His fingertips caressed her jaw bone as he kissed her, hard. She shivered at the sensation of his hands sliding down her front to unlace her belt.

Her bare thighs never shivered once, the heat of the moment so scalding she wondered how she would even manage to stand. Jack must have read her mind, though, lifting her legs off the ground and positioning himself in between them, her back pressed into the bulkhead of the ship, her arms around his back.

"Just all right?" he tested her between kisses.

"We'll see," she teased, gasping at the sudden impact between her legs. "Oh, Jack," she breathed. "How could you ever think you're just all right?"

"You're not going and that's final!"

"Elizabeth, you are being most difficult. There is no reason in the world not to go…"

"It's dangerous! It was just, just…happenstance that nothing happened to you during the battle!"

Jack could hear the argument over his father's guitar, over all the other private-but-loud conversations echoing throughout the great hall. Governor Swann, well, Jack paused in his thoughts. Was he still a governor at all? Mr. Swann seemed…crude somehow. Governor Swann had refused to leave Elizabeth's side all evening, badgering her to no end about going with them to Port Royal once she informed him of the plan.

"I have many contacts in Port Royal, most of which have expressed a great deal of animosity towards Beckett. I can be of use!"

"That's not what concerns me, Father!" That was Lizzie's way of saying, "you could be killed," he told himself, taking a step towards them, planning out the best way to interfere and convince the Governor he would be far better off here.

"And what concerns me is that you think you can just make berth in Port Royal as if nothing happened, taking your pirate husband along with you!" And that was Governor Swann's way of saying, "at least let me compensate for your overly rash decision that I was overly stupid to condone," he thought.

"You were barely above being Beckett's prisoner yourself!" Elizabeth screamed at him. More heads were turning in their general direction. "You think Jack and I will be caught and hanged as soon as we step on the pier but you'll be able to just waltz right in!"

"There has to be a better way. That's all I'm saying," Governor Swann sighed, the volume of their heated discussion diminishing. The drinking and card playing resumed and Jack swaggered back over to them.

"Aye, there must be a better way," he said. "The only word that can describe the idea of us entering Port Royal undetected would be 'naïve.'"

"Jack," Elizabeth said.

"For it may be due to my long…very long absence from polite society, but am I wrong to assume that portraits are still done of the rich and powerful?" He propped himself up on the table and looked at both of them. "I must ask, Lizzie, because I'm curious, but when was the last time you've been to good, wholesome Port Royal?"

"Last year."

"Same with you then, I take it, sir?" He waited for Governor Swann to nod. "Ah. Now, it is quite certain, nay inevitable, that both of you would be recognized. Therefore, I propose this compromise that all the Swann family may go on the journey, but none shall set foot off the ship."

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth snapped.

"Captain Sparrow," Swann began.

"Jack, if ye please, sir."

"Jack, what are you getting at? You're not suggesting you be the one to set foot on Port Royal."

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting, mate!" He patted his back. "Or do ye not think I can pass for a proper English gentleman?" His eyes danced at melting Elizabeth's stern face into an amused one. "Now, I won't wear a wig. That's number two on me list of things Captain Jack Sparrow refuses to do, second only to revisiting the Locker, but there is some genteel finery around here that could be taken with us, don't take long to un-dread me hair…"

"Cover up your brand," she suggested.

"I think you of all people would know, love, how restrictive proper attire can be. There's always a ball or some fancy to-do in which I might run into Beckett, am I right?"

"They'll expect you to have a lady," Swann argued, although Jack noticed the defiance in his tone was just about gone.

"Have a lady?" Jack eyed Elizabeth with a smirk.

"He means…"

"Nay, say no more. Now, since you will not be taking such a foolish risk," he said to her, "I believe I know another young lady around here what could benefit from our venture."

The Flying Dutchman rose from the waters and glided her way into Shipwreck Cove's harbor, the crew whistling and laughing so much Jack decided it looked almost like any other crew. Almost.

"William!" He waved his arms. "William!"

"This had better be good, Jack," Will said, lowering the planks for him to enter. "I do have a job to do, you know. How's Elizabeth?"

"Beautiful and yet burdened as always," he said, skimming the deck. His hands rubbed along the railing. It felt just like any other ship, the rough, patchy texture of coral nowhere to be felt. Pondering that distracted him from pondering Will's specific situation. Already he seemed wiser, otherworldly and yet, at the same time, every bit the gawky, eager boy who challenged him in a blacksmith shop. "I need to borrow Mary."

"Borrow me, ye say?" She appeared between them, causing Jack to jump. "Listen here, Jack, I may have been a lot of things, but whorin' me-self out to ye, a married man, well, that don't beat all."

"It's nothing of the kind."

"No, no." Elizabeth shook her head and gave her father a bemused look. Pintel and Ragetti held their arms up in the air.

"What was wrong with that?"

"Listen, if you're going to make sure Jack doesn't get hurt, you're going to have to pass as proper gentlemen," she said, once more taking Ragetti's hands. "Captain Teague, please start again."

Teague resumed playing the Volta from his throne-like chair, watching his daughter-in-law whirl Ragetti around the room, leading. What an odd woman Jackie had picked, he thought, smiling at her. Lady and pirate both.

"Now put your foot there, Mr. Ragetti," Governor Swann said, pointing to the floor. "That's it. Very good. No, try not to look at the floor. Look at your partner. That's it! Very nice. Like true ballroom dancers."

"This ain't so hard," Ragetti said with a shy grin, stumbling to avoid stepping on Elizabeth's foot.

"Distract yourself with some small-talk," she suggested gently. "Talk to me about the weather."

"Ye think it's going to rain?" he asked.

Teague snorted as Elizabeth snapped her eyes shut and let out a hearty laugh, not stopping until tears streamed down her face. Swallowing, she nodded that she was ready to continue dancing and took his hands again. Daft girl, he thought. Daft like her husband.

"Out of the question," Will said. "A few hours of being mortal in such a dangerous situation? Mary, do you want to risk it this way?"

"It sounds a bit like one day ashore, ten years at sea by my way of thinking," she said, eyeing the vial. "No pistols or anything?"

"I'd have the pistol," Jack said. "You would just have to hang on me arm, dance a dance with me or two, and naught but a second drink would render ye back to the angel ye are now and we'd put ye back on the Dutchman as Mrs. Captain Turner. What say you to that?"

Will clung to her, his forehead against her transparent cheek. It might have been his imagination, but Jack wondered if Will saw her better than the rest of them. He certainly didn't seem to have any problems holding her and touching her like she had a normal body.

"It's up to you," Will whispered to her. "Beckett does need to be stopped."

"Just one drop?" she asked, picking up the vial, her wings folding.

"Just one drop," Jack said.

A/N: Yes, I am fully aware that "unstoppability" is not a word. I chose Jocard as the pirate lord who had the vial all along because, after playing around on the POTC wiki page, he was the pirate lord whose jurisdiction was the closest to Jack's, so they would probably know each other well, and also because it says at one time he was the Black Pearl's chef. Naturally, I had to have him cook! Who says pirates can't be multi-talented? Tkemali is the Georgian name for cherry plum, as well as a sauce made of cherry plums. Tkemali is made from both red and green varieties and is used mostly on meat and potatoes, kind of like Ketchup..or catsup if you prefer (I don't). The chapter title comes from All's Well That Ends Well.