I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, Disney does. I only own the characters who weren't in the movies. You know, the ones I made up. I also do not own Ambassador Alexander Swann, Isabella Swann, or Count Philip Rochester, who belong to Vilofied. Furthermore, I do not own the song, 'A Pirate's Life for Me'.

"I'm not going to tell her." I said heatedly. "She's in bad enough health as it is! It will break her!"

"He's her husband! She has a right to know!" Isabella argued back. "There is a possability that it will maker her stronger, more detirmined!"

"Get your head out of the clouds! It won't-"

"Stop this immediately! You two are acting like children, and Oliver, I will not stand for your speaking to my daughter like that!" Alexander scolded from the doorway of James's study. "There is a very ill, young woman upstairs, and hearing shouting and arguing isn't going to help. The both of you should be ashamed!" he said a bit calmer.

Both of us hung our heads like children that had been caught with our hands in the sweets jar.

"Now," he said, completely calm, "What is the item in question that you wish to or not to give to Chrissy?" he said, holding his hand out.

I looked at Isabella, and then at the letter in my hand, before placing it in Alexander's large palm. He took it with a sincere 'thank you' and opened the folded, faded piece of parchment, and began to read silently. His brow creased with confusion, before turning to sheer concern and worry. I looked over at Isabella, who wore the same expression, looking exactly like her father. I could tell that both of them were pondering ways they could tell Chrissy what was going on.

"So...who will be the bearer of bad news to the ill, young woman upstairs?" I asked quietly, breaking the silence as Alexander dejectedly set the letter aside.

A sigh passed his lips, and he removed his gray wig to wearily run a hand through his cropped, deep brown hair. "I volunteer." he told us, placing his wig on James's desk.

Despite our earlier argument, I took Isabella by the hand before following Alexander slowly up the staircase. I couldn't help but notice how all of our footsteps were sluggish, and heavy. I wondered if Alexander and Isabella knew just as I did that if Chrissy got too upset over the bad news, she could die due to her already struggling heart.

Mum was, unsurprisingly, laying in her bed when we entered her room. This time, though, she was laying on her side, her hand resting lightly on her babie's back. At our somber expressions, the frail smile, the first smile that I'd seen on mum's face in who knew how long, wilted. "Why do you all look upset?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

I was the first to step away from our small group, and placed myself lightly on mum's mattress. Alexander followed my example shortly after, taking a seat on the other side. Isabella walked forward and gently scooped up Melody and sat near the foot of the bed.

"I am afraid I have some unfortunate news." Alexander said quietly.

Chrissy, who was still slightly delirious, furrowed her brows, and struggled into a sitting position. "Wh-what is it? What has h-happened?"

I looked away sadly when her eyes found mine, and began to rub her back, I could tell that this wasn't going to be easy.

"I..." Alexander sighed. "There aren't any easy ways to say this, dear, so I am just going to say it. James and his crew have been captured by the pirate threat, and are being held for ransom. If the ransom isn't seen to, starting next month, they will begin...executing crew members. I am sorry, dear." he said softly.

I watched mum for a moment, wondering if her delirium was interfearing with her understanding of what Alexander had told her, because she wasn't reacting.

She was reacting, however, it had just taken me longer than it should have to realize it. If one looked closely at mum's neck, one could see the vain her neck was pulsing much more rapidly than it should have been, thus showing one that her pulse had quickened.

"Mum?" I asked loudly and clearly. "Mum, calm down! Deep breaths, Mum! Breathe!" I said urgently as I eased her down on her side again. "Mum, just relax. Everything is going to be alright."

I watched with dread as mum's body began to tremble, and tears finally made their way down her cheeks. Her breathing became labored, and her hands clutched at her chest. Not knowing what else to do, I eased myself down in front of her and pulled her hands away from her chest and onto mine, and pulled her tightly to me, trying to make it impossible for her to hurt herself.

"Why did I let him go? Why didn't I beg him to stay?!" she wailed.

"Shh..." I soothed. "None of this is your fault. You know James, we've all heard the stories about the miraculous 'Scurge of Piracy'. He'll make his way back to you, I know he will."

"I shouldn't have let him go." she continued mumbling. "My fault. I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have..."

When she only continued mumbling, I knew she was lost in her own little world once more. I sighed shakily and stroked her hair, mumbling what I hoped were comforting things in her ears.

"I won't let anything happen." I whispered with detirmination.

"James." I whispered with a smile from within those warm, strong arms.

The figure holding me grunted slightly, and shifted. I shifted as well, and furrowed my brows. It wasn't like James to not say anything to me, or not show me affection. I reached up and stroked his face, and whispered a bit louder, "James."

Again, the figure holding me only repeated his actions.

Confused, I sat up, those warm arms falling from around me, and squinted at the figure's face through the darkness. To my surprise, James wasn't James at all; it was Oliver. I sat back as a sigh of depression passed my lips, and stared off into the darkness of the room. I must have cried myself to sleep, and Oliver must have fallen asleep whilst comforting me.

When was this going to end? When would my James come back to me? Frankly, this was getting rediculous. My earlier saddness was gone, and was replaced with anger. Three months. Three months I'd laid in bed sick, and two weeks I'd been...crazy, I guess you could say.

I still felt a bit crazy, or delirious, whichever one would prefer to call it. My head still felt a bit light, and my heartbeat still increased or decreased when it pleased. I didn't care, however. I was angry, and I wanted to go for a walk. I shakily got to my feet and stumbled to the changing screen in the corner. My body was trembling badly, as though I'd been thrown in a glacier infested ocean, which made it very difficult to get dressed. But, detirmination can take a person very far. Before I knew it, I was dressed in a simple pair of black breeches, and a faded, cream-colored shirt.

I grabbed a ribbon on my way out of the bedroom, and tied my hair back when I reached the top of the staircase; and oh, how intimidating the staircase looked! My vision was slightly blurred, going in and out of focus, making it difficult for me to clearly see the rectangular steps that led down to the main floor. I bent my knees a bit to make myself a few inches shorter (and closer to the floor), and grasped the finely smoothed and polished banister, and began to slowly make my way down.

When my bare feet finally touched the smooth, wooden floor, I noticed light flooding from James's study and out in the hall, like rich butter being poured over a pancake. Brows furrowed, I crept down the hall silently, like a predator fixated on its prey, and peeked around the doorframe of my beloved's study. It appeared that Alexander, Isabella, and Philip were having a conversation as they sat near the lit hearth, the flames sending their shadows dancing across the walls. Why were they all still up? What could they possibly be talking about? I flattned myself against the wall near the door, stressing my ears to pick up anything they said.

"But how are we going to pay the ransom?" Isabella said, voicing her worry. "He hasn't given us enough time!"

"I know!" Alexander groaned as he rubbed his temples. "I don't know, darling. We must try, though. I am very detirmined that James is going to get back to his wife, and is going to see his daughter again. The poor child has only known her father for a few hours."

"And we have Chrissy's health to consider." Philip added. "I think if we could get James back, she could pull through."

The three adults paused upon hearing the soft sound of a baby cooing, and so did I. Due to my blurred vision, I hadn't been able to see Melody laying quietly in Isabella's lap. I couldn't help the swell of pride in my chest at little Melody's soft baby sounds. It made her sound as though she was putting in her own thoughts on the matter. In fact, she cooed and made other sounds for quite a while as though she was trying desperately to tell something to the three adults, before she began crying.

I pressed myself hard against the wall as my heart began to ache for my baby. What would they do if I stumbled into the room, my arms outstretched to her? What would they do if I got down on my knees at Isabella's feet, asking if I could please hold my baby? One of the men would lift me from the floor and carry me back to bed, that's what. They would carry me back to bed, and tell me that I needed rest, that I was ill, and that Melody was in perfectly good hands.

"Shh, little one." Isabella cooed. "You're alright. You're perfectly alright here, with us."

Defiantly, Melody cried louder, as though telling the woman, "No, no I am not!"

Suddenly, I didn't care that one of the men would carry me back to my bed, I didn't care if they told me I was ill, and I didn't care if they told me that I needed rest, that Melody was in perfectly good hands. My baby was crying for a more familiar face, for familiar arms...her mother or father's face and arms. With a deep, reassuring breath, I stumbled slowly into the room. The three adults looked up at me like startled animals, taking in my clothing and pale skin, and, just as I knew they would, the two men started walking in my direction.

"Baby..." I mumbled weakly to them.

After a brief exchange of glances between Alexander and Philip, Alexander nodded, and the two men took me gently by the arms and helped me to one of the three settees. A few moments later, Melody was eased gently in my arms, and I couldn't help but smile when her crying eased to small hiccups.

"There, now." I whispered against her little forehead. "I'm here, sweetheart, stop your crying."

Though my eyes were closed, I could tell Alexander was shooing the young couple out of the room, and I was thankful for it, for my eyes were burning with tears. When I heard the doors close, I allowed myself to cry softly against my babie's blanket-covered belly.

After accomplishing the task of convincing Philip and Isabella to leave the room, I turned tiredly to Chrissy. The poor woman seemed dazed, and I found myself wondering once again what on earth was causing her illness. She'd seemed fine until James had left, and then everything had gone down hill from there.

Shaking my head, I sat down next to her, and began rubbing her back in long, slow strokes. "Chrissy, have you any idea what may have caused your illness?"

Chrissy looked up me with her seemingly drunken gaze, and shook her head. "N-no. But I ha...haven't eaten in days, and I f-feel much better."

"You feel better...since you haven't eaten?" I questioned.

She nodded. "Much."

Letting off another sigh I looked down at the softly cooing bundle in Chrissy's pale, weak arms, and smiled. "She's missed you."

For the first time in a while, Chrissy smiled, and dropped a kiss on the infant's forehead. "And I her." she stared at the infant for a few moments more, before bringing her dazed gaze to me again. "She looks and acts just like her father. Do you know where her father is?" Looking back down at her baby, she said, "We'll have to find him, aye? Yes, we just might have to go look for him." she murmured.

I shook my head sadly. She was talking to herself. Worst of all, she was speaking to herself about going to find James. That meant I, along with the others, would have to keep Chrissy under lock and key, like a prisoner.

"Chrissy, why don't we find you something to eat?" I suggested.

She shook her head slowly. "No. No food. No good." she mumured.

"Just take it easy, sir."

"You're doing well, sir, we're nearly finished."

These words and other sentences similar to that were spoken to me as I laid limply atop my officer's jacket. I'd taken a fairly bad beating from George to my back, which had left me too pained to move for quite a bit. My men were trying to take care of my wounds as I had their's, and were doing a fine job of it from what I could tell of the satisfied looks on Theodore's and Andrew's faces.

"How...How bad is it...exactly?" I grunted.

"Not bad, sir. We've cleaned more than half." Theodore answered before cleaning one of the wounds near my left shoulder.

"Oye! Dinner time, ya scum!"

I rolled my eyes. It was our 'animated' caterer.

"Dinner time, dinner time for the sea scum." he sang.

Our cell door was momentarily opened, and a bucket of stew was dropped on the filthy floor, causing some of its contents to splatter on both me and some of the men near me.

"Here ya go!" the pirate said, dropping a small cup for us all to drink from. "Yo ho, yo ho!" he sang once more as he shut our door, turning swiftly to Sparrow's cell. He repeated his actions with the other bowl of stew, before walking away at a quick pace. "Drink up me hearties, yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho! A pirate's life for me..."

As the pirate began to jog away, he didn't happen to hear the sound of his keys hitting the floor over his singing. Every man's eyes, on both Navy and pirate crew, were locked on the singing pirate. He hadn't stopped and realized his keys were missing!

"Oye, grab the keys!" Someone in my cell said urgently as Sparrow's crew began reaching for them.

"Don't let them get the keys!" One of the pirates said. "We'll never get out if the Navy scum get them!"

It must have been an amusing sight down there in the brig. Grown men and boys all locked up together were scrambling for the bars, reaching through, reaching as far as their limbs would go. I myself was included in this silly, yet vital task. Of course fate would have it that both Sparrow and I were the two closest to those blasted keys, us being the ones that had already been laying on the floor.

"Come along, sir!" Some of my men were saying. "Our lives depend on those keys!"

"Almost there!" Someone else said.

"Find something long we can use!" Said another.

I suddenly felt like an idiot. At least five minutes had passed of all of us trying to reach those wretched keys, and I'd been laying on my coat the entire time! "My coat!" I said to Theodore. "We can use the sleeves to get the keys closer!"

With a vigorous nod, Theodore yanked my coat from under me, and started tossing it atop the keys, trying to rake them closer.

"I got them!" Andrew shouted.

"Quiet! Get quiet!" Theodore hissed at the men. "George himself might come down here if he hears all of the shouting!"

"Plan! We need a plan, sir!" Andrew said in a voice that made me think he was going to piddle on himself.

"We need to calm down first." I said, wincing as I pulled myself to a standing position, and my shirt on my shoulders. "First things first, we get out and find weapons."

Vigorous nods from my men told me they were clinging to my every word.

"Second, we take Davis hostage. If we get the captain, we get control over the crew."

"Keep going..." An eager cabin boy said from beside me.

"Third, we get this ship turned around, and get to Port Royal with all haste."

"Aye!"

"Huzzah!"

"Here, here!" Came the whispered, but still excited replies from my men.

"And what do you plan to do about us?"

I gritted my teeth at the sound of Sparrow's voice, and turned around to face him. "What about you?"

"What makes you think me crew is going to remain silent through all of this?" Sparrow said with a grin. "Maybe we'll cause a ruckus."

"And where is that going to get us?" One of my crewman seethed.

"Exactly." Sparrow said. "That's why you should release us. We can help."

"And if I refuse to release you?" I asked in a heated tone.

"Like I said earlier, mate. You'll just have to allow us to help you, or none of us will be going anywhere." he replied seriously.

I could feel the right corner of my mouth twitching. Why, why must Sparrow always complicate situations?! I ran a hand angerly through my hair. I had a wife and baby to get to. I had to get out...I had to get home..."What if I assured you that you would recieve a pardon, along with your crew?"

Sparrow shook his head. "Not good enough, mate. I won't be locked up while there's fighting going on anywhere near me."

I glared at the man for a moment, grinding my teeth, pondering what to do. Sparrow seemed to hate George as much as I, along with his men.

"Sir, you're not actually considering..?" Andrew started.

A tug at my shirt tale distracted me momentarily from the tension, and I looked down, finding the young cabin boy staring at me with pleading eyes. "We are going to get out, aren't we, Admiral?"

I sighed lightly through my nose, taking in the boy's pleading gaze, and then looked around at the hopeful gazes of my men. "Andrew," I started. "Give me the keys."

Could this be a possible escape? Could Alexander possibly find the root to Chrissy's illness? There's only one way to find out! Thank you to everyone that reviewed! Just do that again, and you'll be getting another update as soon as I can post one.