Hey guys! Thank you so much, to everyone who reviewed, please keep them coming! You guys just have no idea how much I look forward to your encouraging words. They meant to world to me. Honestly. Thank you so much for your continued support, and I hope to update sooner this week. Thanks!

-Han

They couldn't stay in their own world forever, and when their lips drew apart, reality moved in. Anna's skin felt cold with Jack's absence, her soul yearning to be close to him again, to assure him that she loved him, that she cared. To prove that she wanted to let him in, wanted him to see every scar she wore on her heart, every wound carved in her consciousness by a man that should have been her protector. She wanted Jack to see her.

She would be lying if she said she'd been afraid, before, that he would hate what he saw, hate the huddled, desperate shadow of herself her father could turn her into. She was afraid that Jack wouldn't bother to fix her, wouldn't bother to try. And then she would be left empty. She would rather not risk it.

She hadn't known it was affecting him, that her unwillingness to speak was impacting his interpretation of him, of them. He thought she didn't trust him, thought that they weren't close. And the worst thing, to Anna, was that he was willing to wait for her, to hold every emotion in his chest until she was ready to take down her own walls.

Anyone who said that pirates didn't feel was lying.

She broke their kiss unwillingly, a gasp of breath drawing into her lungs like a piece of heaven and her body shuddered. Jack moved back slightly, his eyes flicking to the broken and dusty room, the place she had known as prison. His gaze moved back to her, and his eyes had never looked deeper, like she could fall into them and find what heaven there was, find a god, find meaning in the life they lived. She tried for a smile, the action weak and shaky.

"I'll tell you everything," she whispered, and there was weight to her words. "I can't keep running from it, the farther I go the closer I get to the heart of it all. I can't keep ignoring the past." Her voice grew stronger as she spoke, her fingers twitching anxiously under his scrutiny.

Jack nodded slowly, a flicker of something that seemed like hope, seemed like passion, before it was eradicated. Like the tides had turned, the pirate in him was back, a coy look and a spark in his soul that flooded through his veins like fire, like flames licking away at his abandonment until he was flying freely with no restraints.

"The past can wait," he said, his voice softer than the look in his eyes. "Until London is far behind us."

"Thank you," she whispered, a gentle smile rising to her lips, something that went further than skin deep, went all the way to the heart she only let Jack see. She hoped he understood that. She hoped Jack could see that he was the only one allowed to know her, allowed to read her skin and her soul and gain what knowledge he could from it. He was the only one she loved, the only one she trusted, cared for.

She prayed he knew that.

"I believe I saw a window across the way," Jack commented lightly, moving further away from her to the door, his steps even and assured, as if trying to prove to Anna that everything was okay with body language alone. Their moment had passed, carried away on a wind only they knew of. A soft smile crept to her face at the thought, because she was the only one Jack showed this side of himself to. She was the only one he trusted enough to bare his own scars, wounds on his heart and on his soul, the secret reserves of his mind, where he wanted a gentle touch and soft words. Pirates weren't supposed to want that.

But she could give it to him, without him ever having to ask. Maybe that made up for her own silence, her own unwillingness to let him in.

The click of a lock drew her back to earth, as Jack opened the door slowly, poking his head out into the hallway to check for movement. They'd wasted too much time, and she could hear the distant thunder of boots on the marble flooring. They would start checking rooms, pushing open ornate doorways and scanning each bedroom with quick, decisive eyes. She and Jack were running out of time.

She was moving before she really knew what she was doing, pushing Jack out of the way gently, and sliding out into the hallway with decisive movements. Jack knew to follow her, matching her steps with his own until they made it to a window, the view of London's dingy streets almost overwhelming to her, but she pushed on.

Jack almost called out, almost let panic take over his vocal chords and voice his distress when Anna didn't slow as she approached the windowsill. She jumped, vaulting herself out into the heavy air of London, twisting her body mid-air to grab onto the banners hanging over the streets. He couldn't see her body, once she folded herself into the mold of a hanging flag.

The sound of coming guards was growing, a cacophony of sound bearing down on his eardrums, and making his heart pump faster, thrumming through his body at a rate he couldn't begin to describe. He moved onto the window, his hands gripping the frame tightly. He caught a flash of red in his vision, the sound of muskets clinging against each other as footsteps gained speed.

He jumped, his fingers gripping the rope tightly, calluses coming in handy as his hands fumbled to gain a steady grip. He could hear a faint snigger from Anna as his eyes blew wide and his mouth opened in a silent scream of panic as his fingers slipped. He slung his legs over the rope and clung to it, his muscles shaking from the strain as his breathing struggled to stay even. He cast his eyes behind him, and saw Anna in the same position, her body crumpled in on itself in an attempt to make her body smaller.

He could see her limbs shaking behind her bravado, that same, archaic fear in her chest wanting to rise, wanting to consume her. Jack had seen her change, the deeper they got into the castle, seen her revert into the child she used to be, the one who bent to her father's will. Jack wondered if her father would ever be anything other than the abstract thought he was to Jack, an unnamable force in the dark, a shadow in Anna's eyes. He wondered if he would ever meet the man behind the fear in his lover's heart, the monster she feared more than death, more than anything they'd ever faced together.

He took a breath, trying to steady himself and trying to gain the confidence to move again all at once. They couldn't stay here, hovering above the scum-ridden streets like the guardian angels the people didn't want. Like warriors who'd fallen from grace. He heard Anna curse, felt the rope he clung to jerk violently as her body slipped, her legs dangling in the empty air and kicking in an attempt to right herself.

It was too late. A guard had seen her, and the shrill tone of a whistle broke the chaotic peace of the streets. Eyes landed on them, guards and peasants alike aware of their presence, the snakes in their midst. Anna breathed deeply, gripping the rope she held to tightly, her skin feeling the strain as the rope burned against her calluses. She heard the frantic shouts of guards as if from a distance, their words muffled by the blood rushing through her ears and the sound of a sword hacking away at rope. Their rope.

She cursed again and braced herself, praying that Jack wouldn't fall on top of her. She didn't think she could handle any more bruises. Not since their brief, but dangerous stint in the Amazon jungle, where they found that Jack couldn't speak the tribes native language. Nor did they think of them as gods. It was times like that, that the pirates missed the Pelegostos.

She felt air beneath her, rushing too quickly past her body, and felt a hoarse scream rip from her throat and bounce off the buildings around them. She heard it echoed in Jack as they plummeted towards the ground. Anna jerked her body, using the rope as leverage to swing them out of the way of a young boy, and slamming her body against a carriage door, drawing a deep hiss of pain from her body as she struggled to gain hold on the roof. She fleetingly saw Jack dive into the window, landing him face-first on a society woman's lap. Anna smiled dryly, wondering what piece of jewelry Jack would steal, and started climbing. Her fingers slipped, the frantic beating of her heart drawing out her panic as she fumbled for a grip. Her boots skidded across the polished wood door as she lifted herself up on to the roof of the carriage, the edge biting into her stomach as she pushed herself to her limits.

Finally, she stood on to the roof, breathing deeply with her arms extended for some form of balance as the driver maneuvered through the busy streets. Her heart pounded in her ears, an attempt to prevent her flight instincts, her wish to run away from the impending threat of her father and of the gallows the red soldiers represented as they slithered their way towards her. Before she could take another breath, Jack was beside her, crouched catlike with an earring dangling from his lips. She rolled her eyes and took it from his mouth with nimble fingers. He allowed her to, watching her with interest as she moved her hair to put on the piece of stolen jewelry.

He sent her a quizzical look, one that bordered on exasperation as she finished. She shrugged, wondering when exactly they moved from speaking with words and voices mingling with each other in the salty air to only a look to communicate their thoughts.

"What? It was pretty!" she defended, watching him roll his eyes with a small smile. He stood, eyes scanning the moving maze of the streets just below them.

"Next turn," he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear as they crouched low as the carriage tipped to the right on a sharp turn. Standing again, Anna could see Jack's move before he made it, and gripped his hand in hers, soft skin and calluses pressing against each other in a moment of mutual companionship. She wondered what onlookers must be thinking as she took the step, and jumped from the roof to land evenly on another carriage. Jack's boots impacted the carriage only a moment after her, but she could feel his imbalance through their joint hands. He stumbled, his other arm swinging wildly in the attempt to regain his sense of equilibrium. She jerked him back, keeping him from falling to the blurring streets below as their carriage gained speed.

A shot fired from one of the soldiers, and Anna jerked her body away, her hand separating from Jack's. The space between their fingers seemed like lifetimes, seemed like years between them as Jack fell backwards, landing on the original carriage as it banked left. He skidded across the polished surface, tumbling off of the other side while Anna's loud curse of worry and anxiety threaded in and out of his ears. He landed in a coffin, something he had prayed to never end up in again, after what he went through to retrieving the drawing of the key that would set him free of his contract with Jones. Had that only been a year ago?

It seemed like a past life, like the ghost of his old fears coming back to haunt him in the form of an empty coffin in the middle of the heart of London. He scrambled to stand again, casting his eyes around the chaos in an attempt to find Anna. He grinned when he found her, kicking a guard and using the momentum to vault herself onto a coal cart. He laughed, a full and free sound when she started throwing pieces of the hard rock at those chasing her.

Jack moved, violently catapulting himself onto a wooden plank and using the momentum to step up onto a man's head and launch himself onto the coal cart. Anna spared him a smile, a quick thing that lasted only a moment, a moment long enough to assure him she was okay. There was a bruise forming on her cheek, a bloody scrape on her elbows and knees, where her breeches had ripped. But she wasn't beaten, wasn't running away from him and his insanity, the chaotic swell of the ocean he carried in his chest. He would have thought that she would grow tired of him, would have grown to hate the bruises and the scars and the constant living in fear. But she hadn't.

He smiled back, moving quickly to the front of the cart and pushing the driver into the street with a quick jab of his elbow, burring the offending appendage into the driver's ribs. The older man fell the dusty road and Jack took the reins, jerking them off in a direction that suited him.

"Jack you son of a-" Anna's scream was cut off by an abrupt groan as her body slammed into the bars on the opposite side of the cart.

"Sorry love!" he shouted back to her, finding that he meant it. She groaned in response, righting herself slowly and crawling to the front. Her blackened fingers wrapped around the back of the seat as she pushed her body over the barrier and landed roughly next to Jack. He was hard pressed to think of a time she'd looked more beautiful, her hair in disarray and black marks of coal drawn across her tan skin.

"Next time," she breathed, her voice sounding strained and unsteady. "I'm driving." She ducked down suddenly as the order was given for the soldiers to fire. Bullets bounced off of the coal, the reverberating sound of a shot bouncing off of the walls of her mind. She cringed at the sound of shattering glass and the distinctive whoosh of fire igniting the coal they carried. Her body pressed closer to Jack's on instinct, flashes of a burning ship and a need to save the young cabin boy rushing through her system. These things, her past incarnate, built her, made her who she was. She couldn't rid herself of the carnal fears she harbored, the memories she longed to forget, the pieces of her past her heart still held onto.

She felt Jack's arm wrap around her, taking the reins in one hand as he tried to communicate a form of comfort she could understand, a language she could speak. The touch only lasted a moment, long enough for her to believe he cared.

The cart hit an uneven patch of concrete, making it jump violently, catching nothing but air for a moment as Anna let loose a sound of joy and exhilaration. The flames were left behind them as the coal dumped onto the concrete, blocking the guards on foot as the remainder of the soldiers rode their horses through the wall of licking fire like it was the gates to a hell darker than their souls, bringing them closer and closer to the two pirates.

She turned back to face the road ahead of them, when Jack pulled her roughly to the side. Her body impacted the cement roughly, skin peeling away against the stone and her arms sheltering her head. She heard the cart run into a bread stand, knew that Jack had meant to save her. She struggled to control her breathing and dragged herself behind a group of barrels, pausing only long enough to spit out a mouthful of blood.

She shuddered, successfully hiding her body behind the boxes and barrels, her eyes cutting upward long enough to draw a strained chuckled from her chest. Jack was left hanging, swinging back and forth from a bar sign, his face nestled between The Captain's Daughter's wooden breasts. It was the funniest thing Anna had seen in too long.

Jack grinned triumphantly as he jumped down, landing catlike and easy on the cobblestone with a winning gleam in his eyes that instantly faded. A lone soldier stood in front of him, his gun extended, arms shaking under the weight of the situation, fear at the thought of facing the infamous pirate.

"Filthy pirate," he muttered, cocking the gun and taking aim.

Jack flinched when a shot sounded, but felt no bullet ripping through his skin, felt no impending death, no blood flooding through an open wound, didn't feel his heartbeat slowing. Didn't feel anything. The soldier dropped, his body slumping to the ground heavily, blood pooling around his head, staining the cobblestones with the last few seconds of his life.

Jack turned, expecting to see Anna, standing strong and assured behind him. She was there, her body being supported by a shadowed man, who moved carefully into the light, a smoking pistol in his free hand, as the other arm wrapped carefully around a limp Anna. His touch was gentle on her body, careful not to jolt her injuries. Blood trailed its way down her quickly whitening skin, making exotic patterns Jack didn't want to read. Her eyes seemed listless, rapt on the ground as she struggled to control her labored breathing. Her fingers trembled as they fumbled for the grip of her sword, as if the touch could give her the strength she needed to stand on her own.

Jack suddenly wondered how she was still alive, after he'd dragged her over the worlds and back, let her body take hit after hit while he managed to escape the worst of it all. He hoped, prayed, that she would make it out of this adventure, and maybe he would learn to treat her better, learn to work with her, instead of just around her. He couldn't keep pretending that he wasn't too reckless with her, couldn't keep acting as if she wasn't too daring, too on the edge of everything. The combination of both of their lusts for freedom and adventure was going to kill her. And he would be left alone.

"Hello, Jackie," Captain Teague greeted him, saluting his son with the pistol, smoke still curling in the air around them.

"Hello, Dad."