It felt really good to be on a ship again; Elizabeth couldn't deny that. She woke to a beautiful ocean that glittered in the morning sun, and she worked hard during the day which gave her a sense of purpose – something that she didn't have on Shipwreck Island. She'd felt so lost there, but on the ship, she felt like she was home. She was the only girl, but that didn't worry her – she knew the men, and she trusted them. She knew that she had their respect, as well, so that added to her comfort. A few of them she even considered a sort of friend.

Friends. Elizabeth hadn't had many. She remembered a couple girls that she'd played with back in England when she was little, but after moving to Port Royal, it had been difficult to make any, especially being schooled at home. She had been somewhat close to a couple of the maids, but her title as "governor's daughter" had prevented her from being closer, and she regretted that.

Will had been a friend, but again, her title had gotten in the way. He'd been respectful, but too respectful, if there was such a thing. She'd tried to get him to talk to her more – she'd even tried to convince him to meet her when she'd sneak out of the house – but he always chose the side of propriety.

Thinking of her husband made Elizabeth rather melancholy. While he was ferrying souls – a charge that he would do properly even though it wasn't what he truly wanted – Elizabeth was back on a ship pirating. She felt a little guilty for doing something that she enjoyed while Will could not do the same, but staying on that island was driving her crazy. She'd been more than thrilled when Barbossa asked her to join the crew, and there was no way that she was letting the opportunity pass her by.

Elizabeth looked over at Barbossa where he stood talking to Gibbs. He was different somehow – he was not the same as he'd been the last time that she'd seen him. He was still loud and obnoxious out on deck – he was a captain through and through – but when they'd dine together in his cabin, his demeanor was calmer, less gruff, in a way – and she enjoyed conversation with him. Well, except for the other night when he'd asked about her marks; that had annoyed her. She couldn't blame him, though – if she'd noticed something unusual about him, she would probably have asked about it, too.

Was Barbossa a friend, though? Elizabeth supposed he was at that point, and it made her smile. They did have a certain camaraderie, and she knew that she could trust him – mostly.

Then why don't you tell him about what happened?

Elizabeth focused on the rigging that she was tying up. She could tell him, but she didn't want to tell anyone, really. Telling someone meant admitting that she'd done it, and that just wasn't something she was ready to do. She wanted to forget that it ever happened.

No, you don't. If you didn't want to remember, you wouldn't have marked yourself.

Elizabeth sighed. So she did want to remember – she just wanted it to be less painful when she did. The anniversary was coming up, though, and that was always the hardest.

"Mrs. Turner, you all right there?"

Elizabeth whipped her head around to see Ragetti looking at her quizzically.

"What? Oh – yes – I'm fine," she said, smiling apologetically. "Why?"

"You've worked on that knot for some time now," he said, motioning with his hand. "I thought you might need some help."

Though a little quirky, Ragetti was genuinely a nice man. "I would appreciate that. Thank you."

"You're welcome. We're playing hombre tonight after dinner, if you'd like to join us."

Elizabeth had learned the card game on the way to World's End, and while she wasn't very good at it, she did enjoy playing.

"I'd love to."

"What be yer rush tonight?"

Elizabeth reached for the goblet of wine to wash down her bread.

"Playing hombre tonight."

Barbossa smirked before popping a couple pills into his mouth and chasing them with some rum. "Aren't yeh pretty bad at that game?" he asked, remembering that he'd beaten her many times when they'd played.

Elizabeth shot him a look of annoyance. "Very funny," she said. "I still like to play, even if I lose sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Barbossa chuckled. "It be a good thing that they're not playin' strip hombre, aye?"

"Strip hombre? What's that?"

"Each time yeh lose, yeh take off a piece of clothing," Barbossa explained with a twinkle in his eye.

"That doesn't sound fun," Elizabeth said.

Barbossa shrugged. "Depends on who yeh play with. We could play strip hombre in here, and I bet it would be a grand time."

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. "For you, maybe." Remembering the pills he'd just taken, she asked, "What were those for?"

"What?"

"The pills you took."

Barbossa looked away. He should have known not to take them in front of her. "They be medicine."

"Are you sick?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what are they for?"

Barbossa lifted his eyes to hers. "What are those marks on your wrist for?"

Elizabeth had finished eating, so after wiping her mouth with her linen, she said, "That's all right. You want to know worse than I do. I'll find out eventually."

Barbossa grinned. "So will I." Actually, I already know what they mean. I just don't know the story behind them.

"Confident, are you?"

"Very. Don't lose too badly tonight."

Elizabeth stuck her tongue out and then left. She did have to admit the idea of strip hombre had her curious, but with her skill, she'd be the first one naked, and she didn't think that would be a very good idea.

Maybe she and Will could play someday.

When Barbossa noticed Elizabeth's bad mood the next day, he initially thought her losses from the night before must have been great, so he didn't miss the opportunity to tease her.

"Lose more than usual last night, did yeh?" he asked with a grin.

"What do you know about loss?" she spat at him before stomping away.

Barbossa was stunned into silence. She'd been jovial about her lack of skill the previous evening – what had her in such a huff? Something told him not to press her, though, so he headed back to the helm.

Barbossa watched Elizabeth all day. While she performed her duties adequately, she said little and barely acknowledged when someone spoke to her. He also noticed that she rubbed her wrist often – the marked one – as if it pained her. She hadn't hurt it that he was aware of, so he began to wonder about her earlier response. Something more than a card game was on her mind, and he knew that those damned marks were involved somehow.

Barbossa had tried to convince himself that he wasn't interested – that he didn't care – why she had marks or the story behind the words beautiful baby. He told himself that it didn't concern him in the least bit.

What did concern him was Elizabeth not being sharp. He was the captain, which meant his concern was the ship and the crew as a whole. He could not worry about every mood swing of every crew member, and that included the king, marks or not, baby or not.

Nope. Barbossa wasn't interested one bit.

Sometime after midnight, Elizabeth ventured out to the deck. She'd tired of pacing in her cabin when she couldn't sleep, and she'd thought that taking a walk might help. She breathed deeply the salty air and wrapped her arms around her body when the dampness chilled her. She'd tried to push it aside all day, but her turbulent emotion was bubbling dangerously close to the surface – it was only a matter of time before it spilled over. Not ready to return to the confines of her cabin, she decided to go below deck. By the time she reached the brig, she was unable to contain her sadness for a moment longer and broke down sobbing. Stepping inside, she leaned against the rusty bars and dirty wall and allowed her sorrow freedom as tears streamed down her cheeks. She tried to escape it, but it always caught up with her. She wondered if the pain would ever lessen.

Thirty minutes later, the sound of heavy boots descending the wooden steps nearby made Elizabeth frantically wipe her face and stand up. Dammit. She was certain the brig would have provided a little privacy.

"May I ask what yer doin' in here?" Barbossa inquired as he stood in the entrance. It was dark, but there was enough candlelight to reveal Elizabeth's tearstained face.

"I'd rather you didn't." Elizabeth – still sniffing from her tears – started to walk by him to return to her cabin, but he reached for her arm to stop her.

"Losin' a child must be horrible."

Elizabeth whipped her head around to glare at Barbossa through teary eyes, both shocked and ashamed at his comment. How the hell did he know? "For your information, I didn't lose one," she spat angrily, narrowing her eyes at him. "I killed one three years ago today. There – now you know. Happy?"

Barbossa's face expression did not change at her admission. "This guilt yeh be harborin' is not gonna help me or the crew," he told her, trying to ignore the barrage of questions flying around in his head. "And I will not allow it to continue, king or not." It wasn't that he didn't have sympathy, but he had a ship full of men to worry about besides her, and her becoming self-destructive, as she was on the path to do, would accomplish nothing. He also knew that women were very different than men emotionally, so he could not treat her like he would one of the men. "I be a scabrous old dog, Elizabeth, but I can still listen."

Elizabeth gnawed on her bottom lip as tears spilled from her eyes again. His voice was unusually gentle in the dark, and her resolve disintegrated. She had to tell someone, and he was the only one that she trusted with such private information. Hanging her head, she took a deep breath and said, "I was pregnant when Will returned to the sea. When I first found out, I was happy about it, but then when I'd go market and watch the fathers with their children, I was reminded that our child wouldn't know Will until he was ten years old. Will would have missed his own child growing up. He would have missed everything – all of the firsts." She shook her head and sniffed. "It just wasn't fair. They would be nothing but strangers to each other. I couldn't allow either of them that heartache." She wiped more tears, remembering the day when she'd broke down in front of Jack's father and told him of her condition and how she'd felt about it. "So, Teague sent me to a woman that he knew in Ap Lei that helped dock walkers."

Barbossa nodded. "Herbs." It was a dangerous option, but not uncommon, and he'd known a few women who had used them when they'd found themselves in trouble.

Elizabeth met his eyes then, still crying. "I killed our child," she lamented quietly, shaking her head. "I'm heartless and cruel and selfish." She winced and shamefully whispered, "Pirate."

"Elizabeth, yeh were thinkin' of someone other than yerself," Barbossa tried to tell her. That's not –"

"Yes, it is," Elizabeth exclaimed, yanking her arm out of Barbossa's hold. "It's the most awful thing that I could have done! The child still deserved to live! What honorable woman does such a thing? I had no right to play God, and I will probably suffer for the rest of my life because of it. Will would never have agreed to it, even though he's at sea for years at a time – never!" She sniffed and continued wiping tears.

Elizabeth was inconsolable, but Barbossa tried, anyway. He knew that it was a hard decision for a woman to terminate a pregnancy, but she had made the right choice, whether she thought so or not. "Takin' care of a baby alone wouldn't have been easy," he said, hoping she could see reason. "Women that have babies with no husbands around have a very difficult time. They –"

"And how would you know anything about women having babies and what's easy and what's not?"

Barbossa narrowed his eyes at her petulance and spoke in haste. "Because there was a lass in Puerto LaCruz that bore my son, and she had nothin' but hardship. That's how I know, missy!"

Elizabeth's eyes enlarged in surprise. She'd never considered that Barbossa could be a father. "You have a son?" Her shock trumped her anger.

"Aye," Barbossa confirmed, irritated with himself that he'd told her of his child. No one on the ship knew, and he hadn't planned on anyone ever knowing.

Elizabeth blinked a few times and wiped tears. "I didn't – I had no idea." She'd never thought that they could have anything in common regarding her decision. She really was quite stunned and unsure of what to say.

"It be no matter," Barbossa told her gruffly, not caring to explain a history that he hadn't planned on sharing. "But what yeh did was not all bad, Elizabeth. Yeh saved yerself even more heartache, I promise yeh, and the child, too."

Elizabeth wiped more tears and took a deep breath to try and calm herself. "That's what I tried to tell myself," she replied. "But some days that's more believable than others. And the anniversary date is always the hardest."

"Well, if you had kept it, you'd still be in Shipwreck Cove," Barbossa reminded her, hoping to get her mind off the child. "Instead of headin' to the Colonies for some long-overdue plunderin'."

Elizabeth offered a tiny smile. "I have missed the sea." It was a truth that she couldn't deny. It was the happiest that she'd been in three years.

"Exactly. So, try to forgive yerself some, aye? Yeh not be so bad." Then Barbossa winked at her. "How about headin' back to bed? We've a long day tomorrow, and yeh need to sleep."

Elizabeth gazed into Barbossa's eyes longer than she'd intended. Usually they were cold and guarded, but they were warm and gentle at the moment. She'd never be able to explain it, but she felt something shift between them then, and – somehow – she didn't feel as sad as earlier, as if his acceptance of her awful deed made it less awful. It was oddly soothing, but she was surprised by that. "All right," she gave in as they left the brig.

They walked back through the ship towards their cabins in silence. When they reached her door, Elizabeth met Barbossa's eyes once more. "Will you tell me about your son?"

Barbossa smirked. He'd known that she would ask, and he had no reason not to tell her. It would be good to talk about him with someone – he never had. "Aye, but not tonight. Good night, Elizabeth."

"Good night," she replied. When he turned towards his cabin, she called out, "Captain?" Barbossa faced her once more. "Thank you," she added quietly. She meant it.

Barbossa tipped his hat towards her before closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The next morning, Elizabeth was late getting up, but Barbossa chose not to wake her as he usually would have. When she eventually rushed out of her cabin, still frantically tucking her shirt in, he chuckled to himself.

"I'm sorry for oversleeping," she told him in a rush. Even though she was 'king', she was still part of the crew and followed the same rules that they did. "I didn't mean to –"

"No worries, Elizabeth. I'll let it go this time." He caught her eye and winked.

Elizabeth smiled. Yes, something between them had definitely shifted the night before, and there was a little part of her that hoped it would remain shifted.

Over the next couple days, Elizabeth felt somewhat lighthearted. Admitting what she'd done to Barbossa and then him telling her that she'd made the right decision helped her feel better. His acceptance didn't change her regret, but it did ease her guilt. Even though Teague hadn't said much when she'd told him that she wasn't keeping the baby, she could still sense that he hadn't agreed with her choice completely, and the woman that had administered the herbs to her had made her feel a little guilty with some of her questions, too. Barbossa hadn't made her feel anything bad towards her choice.

Elizabeth had to admit to herself that another reason that Barbossa's acceptance made her feel better was because she valued his opinion; World's End had caused that, working together and spending so much time around each other. It was odd – sometimes she missed those days. She knew it was crazy, but she had very fond memories from then. The way that they'd come together to defeat Beckett meant a great deal to her. Funny how Will was missing for much of that time, Elizabeth heard in her head.

That was true, but it hadn't been because Will didn't want to be; he'd been desperately trying to save his father, and Elizabeth would never fault him for that. She would have done anything to save her father if she could have.

Even though her father had been too constrained, Elizabeth had loved him dearly. He'd done the best that he could raising her on his own, and though she'd never have all the fancy dresses and servants again, she'd always be appreciative of his doting on her like he had. She missed that.

Elizabeth looked up from the chart that she'd been working on and sighed heavily. She was alone, and she hadn't gotten completely used to it yet. From as far back as she could remember, she'd been surrounded by people, but she had no one now. No father, no family, no servants, no guards to watch over her. She had a husband, but he was gone, too. Being alone changed how one viewed one's world, though. Elizabeth had no one to worry about. No one could tell her what to do. When making decisions, she had no one to consider but her. She had to admit that, in a way, it was a relief. Even though it was just her, she'd finally gained the freedom that she'd always longed for.

You're not completely alone. You've got Barbossa, her inner voice reminded her.

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. She did, for the next number of months, anyway. But it was better than being stuck on that damned island.

Since finding out Elizabeth's big secret, Barbossa's opinion of her had not faltered. If anything, his respect for her had grown. He'd always thought that too many women had babies just because they were with child – not because they truly wanted to raise a family. And as far as he was concerned, an unwanted child who suffered was worse than an aborted one. And he was relieved to finally know what had happened. He'd tried to tell himself that he hadn't been interested in what those marks meant, but he had been – and it had been driving him crazy. The fire that burned with her – the desire to live life the way she wanted – was one of her best attributes; he hated to see her look so dejected and sad.

That's because you care about her more than you should, he reminded himself.

Unfortunately, that was probably true, but Barbossa was a pirate – he knew where to draw the line. There might be some part of him that cared for her, but he knew his place and hers.

When he heard the knock on his door, Barbossa smiled. Her place tonight was at his dinner table.

"Will you tell me about your son?" Elizabeth asked after they'd finished eating. It had been a week since their revealing conversation in the brig.

Barbossa wiped his mouth with a piece of cloth and took a sip of rum before leaning back in the chair to get comfortable. "In me early twenties, I found meself in Puerto LaCruz quite often. Met a young lass sellin' shiny green apples in the market." Elizabeth lifted one eyebrow in a silent question to which Barbossa chuckled and nodded. "Aye, she be the one that started my love for the fruit. Anyway, we got real friendly, and I stayed with her whenever I was in town. Weren't long before she was with child. I showed up one day, and she was about seven months along."

Elizabeth pictured the look of shock that must have been on his face when he came ashore and saw her. "What did you do?"

"I stayed with her for six months," Barbossa answered with a small shrug. "What else could I do? She had very little family, and I just couldn't leave her to endure childbirth alone." He'd never forget how alarmed he was when he saw her round belly full of his son. There had been a tiny part of him that had wanted to run back to the ship.

"So, you were with her when she had him?"

Barbossa nodded and winced at the memory of the blood curdling screams that he could still hear. Most would think that his experience as a pirate would have made witnessing childbirth easy, but it had not. "And it not be somethin' I ever want to witness again."

"What was her name?"

"Catherine."

"And your son?"

"Nathaniel."

Elizabeth stared at the gruff pirate and imagined a younger version holding the tiny baby in his arms. "I bet they were beautiful."

Barbossa smiled as he pictured them in his mind – a luxury he didn't usually allow himself. "Aye, they were."

"When did you see them last?"

Barbossa sighed. That was the part that he didn't like to remember. "Nathaniel was six. I was heavily involved in piracy, but I didn't have me own ship, so I was stuck at sea for months at a time. When I came ashore the last time, a neighbor told me that he'd stowed away on some ship, and Catherine…she'd contracted smallpox and had died a few months prior to my arrival."

"I'm so sorry," Elizabeth said sadly. That wasn't the sort of ending that she'd expected, and she almost wished that she hadn't asked about them. She certainly didn't want to bring up bad memories for him.

"I tried to help her as much as possible," Barbossa continued, pushing away the guilt that lingered whenever he thought about them. "When he was little, I gave her as much money as I could as often as I could, but she still struggled. She worked a couple jobs until she eventually went to work at a nearby brothel to keep a shelter over their heads and food on the table."

"A brothel? Oh, how awful!"

"That's why I told yeh that yeh did right by everyone involved. If I'd been there when she'd first found out about the child, I probably would have suggested the herbs, as well. Both of them suffered needlessly. I don't even know if Nathaniel is alive."

Elizabeth could hear the regret that remained in his words, and she understood the point that he made regarding her decision. She wished to lighten the mood that had suddenly turned serious, so she said, "You're sure there were no other children?"

Barbossa shook his head. "Always used me English overcoats after that." They weren't very comfortable, but he didn't wish to relive that experience again.

Elizabeth frowned in confusion. "How did a coat prevent pregnancies?"

"Because it goes over – " Barbossa looked down at his lap, but he noticed that Elizabeth still looked confused. "Don't yeh know what a condom is?" She shook her head. "It's a piece of animal intestine that fits over a man so that when he spills inside of a lass, it stays in the intestines and not her womb." He had to remind himself that she had no reason to know of such things.

Elizabeth blushed at the personal turn of their conversation, but she was curious about it at the same time. "Can I see one?"

Barbossa had anticipated that question. "They be expensive, so if I'm to show yeh, that means I'm usin' it."

Embarrassed by his bold statement, Elizabeth looked away, as her cheeks were tinted bright pink. She awkwardly picked at the hem on the bottom of her shirt. "Doesn't sound like a very pirate thing to do."

Barbossa nodded. "Aye, it's not, but I didn't want another Nathaniel."

"So, you've used one of those every time?"

Barbossa chuckled. "Not that it be any of yer business, but mostly every time, yes."

Elizabeth smirked knowingly. "So, technically, you could have another Nathaniel then."

Barbossa leaned forward as his eyes twinkled deviously, choosing his next words carefully. He momentarily considered that their conversation was quickly becoming too intimate, but he wanted to see her reaction to his statement. "There be other places for a man to spill inside a woman," he told her, his voice an octave lower than usual.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but she promptly shut it. Something told her that she'd asked enough questions for one night, and the tone of his voice made her body react in ways that she had not expected. Her cheeks were hot, and she couldn't look at him.

"I see."

Feeling a bit smug, Barbossa knew that he'd given her something to think about. "Perhaps that be enough conversation for tonight," he said. He wouldn't have minded continuing the personal conversation, but knowing him, he would want to act on it, and that just wasn't going to happen. Better to end it.

Elizabeth was still trying to figure out what he was referring to exactly, but she couldn't think clearly. "Oh…um…yes. It is getting late. See you in the morning."

Barbossa watched her leave his cabin with a satisfied gleam in his eyes. He had to admit that he thoroughly enjoyed getting her flustered. He could thoroughly enjoy other things with her, as well, but he couldn't dwell on them – they would only leave him frustrated, and he certainly didn't need more of that.

I hope you will forgive this delay. Mom passed away in February, and needless to say, I've been BUSY dealing with the aftermath of what happens when you lose a parent, emotionally, legally and otherwise. I have my hands full with Dad, and I have lots of Mom's things to deal with. I will be dealing with them for the rest of the year, actually. I also lost my job; it's both a blessing and a curse. I now have all the time I need to get done all of the important things, but I have to deal with unemployment and eventually getting another job.

Anyway, I've not abandoned my story. I'm working on future chapters, so please be patient with me. The past year has been HELL. Thanks for understanding. I appreciate it.

Reviews for a chapter are like applauding at the end of a performance - no one wants to hear crickets. - C.R. Lewis