Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean is not mine. If it was, I would have replaced the peanut with a pistachio.
Jack: Luv, isn't that a trivial matter?
MidnightDreamer1988: Not really...I despise peanuts.

Sigh...I know I haven't updated in two years, but let's just say that LIFE happened. Anyways, I found this chapter while cleaning out my hard drive, and it's the last written out chapter I had (that isn't saying much, huh?). I kind of feel motivated to start up this story again, but my mind tends to hop, so hopefully this time, I'll be able to stick to this story long enough to finish it...

That being said, a hearty thank you to all of you that have reviewed so far (especially if I didn't thank you personally), and perhaps I might still have a following of readers who will bother to read this :). But sincerely, thank you to anyone who has read and reviewed the story. The reviews really perked me up, and I hope that should I continue this story further (keep your fingers crossed), you'll continue to support, encourage, (and perhaps criticize) me.

So here we go!

Come To Join Me Crew Lad?

In which Elizabeth decides whom to trust in the matter of saving Will, James discovers the dark side of ambition, and Jack's thoughts are…well, simply all over the place

As Jack bellowed for Gibbs to secure the rum, Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh softly at the sheer terror she could hear in Jack's voice. He had been in so many dangerous situations, yet today had been the only time she had heard the slightest of tremors in his voice. Strange what rum could do to that man…

However, out of kindness (and perhaps pity as well), Elizabeth steered clear of the hold and made her way to the sleeping quarters, only to discover that the sleeping quarters entailed either the floor, which was extremely dirty and questionable, or the few hammocks that were strung about. She shut her eyes tightly and desperately prayed that she would not have to be one of the unfortunate crewmembers that had to make do with a piece of floor. Granted, it would probably be somewhat soft, because it most certainly felt like her boots were slightly sinking into the floor, but she did not want to spend her nights on the ship wondering exactly what it was that made the floor she was sleeping upon softer than wood was meant to be.

"Smith!"

Elizabeth whirled around to see James beckoning to her from the corner of the room, and she immediately walked towards him to see that he had thankfully staked the corner as theirs and had set up two hammocks. She glanced at him gratefully, but before she could utter a word, James chuckled.

"Don't say a word. There is enough gratitude in your eyes that words would simply ruin the effect of your deepest thanks," James joked, a small smile gracing his face. "No doubt you too were somewhat apprehensive about the wooden floors."

Elizabeth laughed, pitching her voice a bit lower to make sure that the laugh didn't sound too feminine, and then shed her coat happily, for it was extremely hot below deck. She wasn't too worried about the loss of her coat, and her shirt and vest were baggy enough to hide the female attributes of her figure. After all, she had spent a few days and nights on the Endeavor, and had managed to avoid being noticed. She balled the coat into a makeshift pillow and then hopped into her hammock, pulling the hat over her eyes so that darkness and sleep would overcome her.

"Goodnight James," she murmured softly, her eyes fluttering to a close.

"It would do you well to call me by my last name. Goodnight Smith." James too, climbed into his hammock and within minutes, had fallen fast asleep.

An hour later, Elizabeth was frustrated, exasperated, annoyed, aggravated, irritated, and many other such synonyms. Despite her best efforts, the past hour brought no sleep whatsoever. She had done everything humanly possible, which included counting to high numbers, imagining (or perhaps daydreaming of) soft luxurious beds, and even trying to remember the most banal and mundane societal edicts in all history, but was unable to fall asleep. It really was an unprecedented event; every other time she had reviewed all the edicts of etiquette for women of breeding, she had managed to go into a rock-like sleeping state.

After a few more minutes of trying to will herself to sleep, she finally sat up, rolled her eyes at her own inability to fall asleep, grabbed her hat, and immediately hopped out of the hammock. Once she was quite sure that nothing seemed amiss about her appearance, she maneuvered around all the men and headed up the rickety wooden stairs. Halfway up though, she felt something banging against her hip and reached down to find the compass, which had been strung from her belt securing her breeches. She stared at it for a moment and then ascended the stairs once again, breathing in the fresh salty air that invaded her nostrils upon reaching the deck.

She was back on sea…after two long years of dreaming of the adventures she had with Jack and Will, after being cooped up in a society where only money, breeding, and etiquette mattered, she was finally back in the one place where she was free. There was no one to remind her that she was a governor's daughter, a proper woman of breeding (especially not with her cross-dressing), she was just herself, just Elizabeth Swann (or Edward Smith, it didn't really matter, seeing as they were the same person), and nothing else.

After years of being know as Miss Swann, Governor Swann's young and impetuous daughter, it was quite a relief to escape from all those rules and titles.

Elizabeth smiled and reveled in her solitude for a few minutes as she made her way to the mast and leaned against it, sliding her back down until she was seated on the wooden deck. The stars were gorgeous tonight, twinkling brightly and clearly, for there were no clouds to mar the pure light that shone from them. She gazed at them fondly, but moments later, her own worries began to claw at her heart again. Despite her freedom at sea, she and Will were still wanted fugitives.

Even if Will wasn't a fugitive, he was still in trouble, wasn't he? He was in terrible danger, what with being press-ganged into Davy Jones' crew! And through some strange circumstance, it was only she that could save him, only she that had the strongest desire to save Will, and therefore had the strongest desire to find Davy Jones' beating heart. Sure, the scheme seemed rather strange, but then again, everything associated with Jack Sparrow had a bizarre or peculiar undertone and overtone, so was it really any surprise that this Jack-concocted scheme seemed so odd?

And what about what James had said? In a way, James was perfectly correct – Jack could be incredibly selfish, sometimes even malicious, a pirate of the worst sorts, a man not to be trusted – yet he had come through for Elizabeth each time they had faced danger. She knew that beneath the layers of kohl, sweat, grime, and probably unwashed clothes, there was a good man with a heart of gold beating under his skin. He claimed to be a pirate, a man with the worst intentions that were only sung in pirate ditties, yet there was a quality about him that didn't quite fit the visage of a cold-hearted pirate.

Both men could not be right…but exactly who was she to trust? Both James and Jack were hidden under the layers society had endowed upon them, yet she knew them both well enough to know that the true men were hiding beneath all those layers, all the false titles and rumors. One claimed the heart was the best way to go, the other claimed the heart was a rubbish folktale. She had to admit, the story sounded so unbelievably unreal, yet then again, had she not once said that she didn't believe in ghost stories, only to find herself trapped in one? Both men were dear friends to her, but they were enemies of each other, and she had to choose between one of them, had to place all her faith in one of the two good men.

For Will's sake.

She stared at the compass, her eyes boring into the design etched into the wood, before she finally yanked the lid off and watched the arrow spin and wobble until it pointed firmly in a direction ahead of them, the very direction the ship was heading at that moment. She gazed at the arrow for a few minutes and then snapped the compass shut, her decision made.

The arrow had pointed in the same direction as it had on the docks, and since the arrow echoed the desires of her heart, there was nothing else to do but follow the arrow. She silently apologized to James, because despite everything he had done for her, she was going to go against his advice and trust in Jack's scheme. That was the only thing she could do to save Will, to feel his strong arms embrace her once again, to feel his lips on her once again.

She shivered slightly as she imagined her soon-to-be husband by her side, and she could not discern whether it was the wind or the passion that induced her shiver.

James' initial reaction was sheer terror when his eyes scanned the hammock beside him only to realize that it was perfectly empty.

What had happened to Elizabeth? Surely he couldn't have failed to protect her so early into their journey, although she did seem to have a knack for getting herself involved in ridiculous schemes. First she got kidnapped by pirates, then tried to escape said pirates by allying with other pirates, was marooned on an island with a pirate, climbed down from the safe naval ship to assist a pirate, helped a pirate help a pirate escape a hanging, was soon to marry a pirate…

Looking back, he really should have realized that her obsession with pirates as a child would lead to a rather unhealthy (and unavoidably pirate-filled) future.

He eased himself out of his hammock and gingerly stepped around the grimy crewmembers that had strung up their own hammocks or had resorted to sleeping on the floor. Thanks to all his swordsmanship, his footwork was quite impeccable, and it only took a few moments for him to creep up the stairs and stop in his tracks once the deck was in sight.

There was Elizabeth, perfectly safe and intact, staring up at the stars above. While the expression on her face was troubled, the scene itself looked so peaceful that James was afraid of intruding on her thoughts and interrupting whatever it was that was troubling her. He had to remember that she was a young woman thrust into a strange situation, and that while she was incredibly strong, she had her weak moments too.

And while he would always be ready to offer her support, there were times where she just needed to be alone.

He carefully crept downstairs and navigated around the men, congratulating himself once again for making it through the snoring crowd perfectly when he suddenly stumbled, his own feet unable to provide balance. He winced and shut his eyes, ready to brace himself for the pained shouts and the harsh curses of the nearby pirates, but all he felt was something suspending him in the air. He opened his eyes to see himself sprawled over Elizabeth's hammock.

Perhaps it was a good thing she was not in her hammock at the time. He managed to disengage himself from the cloth, but knocked her coat down in the process. With a sigh, he kneeled down to gather up the folds of the coat, and was ready to toss it back onto the hammock when a pristine sealed envelope lying on the most questionable floor of all history caught his eye. He stared at the letter and then at Elizabeth's coat, confident that she had been toting the letter around all this time. He picked up the envelope, ready to tuck it back into her coat pocket, when the seal suddenly caused him to fall into his own hammock in a daze

What on Earth was she doing with an envelope that had been sealed by the Royal British Navy? The image of the seal was perfectly ingrained into his head, for he had seen it countless times on his own paperwork, but Elizabeth had no affiliation with the Royal British Navy whatsoever, so why was she bearing this envelope?

Curiosity overcame him, and before he knew it, he was sliding his finger under the seal, prying open the flap and spilling the papers out onto his lap. His jaw promptly dropped upon seeing Letters of Marque dancing in front of his eyes, reminding him of a time when he had power and dignity at his command, yet at the same time, taunting him about his terrible downfall and losses. He quickly perused the letters, trying to see whether they were counterfeit, but no, they bore the signature of the king, the signature of Lord Cutler Beckett, and the seal of the Royal British Navy.

And there was currently no name filled out in the blank which was supposed to state exactly who the letters were intended for. Elizabeth had mentioned that both she and Turner were being accused of crimes against the crown, and that her freedom lay in Turner handing Sparrow's compass to Beckett, but where did Turner's freedom lie? Was that why Elizabeth had procured papers – to guarantee Turner's safety? And if so, how did she manage such an indomitable task?

James slid the Letters of Marque back into their envelope and inserted the envelope into one of the many pockets of Elizabeth's jacket, making sure to ball up the jacket so that it looked undisturbed. However, for the rest of the night, James knew no peace, for there was a constant gnawing at his heart and conscience, a tiny little voice within him that was urging him, telling him, "There is no claim to the papers; just fill in your name, and your honor, dignity, and prestige will return to you! What's there to lose?"

And James couldn't honestly think of any losses that he would incur if he signed his name in the blank.

Over the many years he had been a pirate, Jack had come to discover that while flair and drama were indeed wonderful traits of any man, sometimes, the best disguise was simply silence and acting inconspicuous. Sure enough, in this case, the disguise worked beautifully. He had been standing at the wheel for some time now and from his post, he could look across to see Elizabeth staring out into the horizon and gazing at his compass, so engrossed with her thoughts that she had yet to notice an audience. He had even noticed the delightful Commodore troop up the stairs, stop in his tracks, and then retreat. No doubt Norrington was worried about Elizabeth's absence from the sleeping quarters.

Jack wasn't close enough to read the emotions on Elizabeth's face, but given his intuitive sense of discerning actions and determining the characters of people, she was no doubt wondering whether she should trust in him, or whether she should take the practical advice of Norrington. And all this thinking was for the sake of foolish William, a man who had not once taken the time to think about whether his actions would benefit his woman.

Well, time to put an end to all that useless thinking and utilize her mental effort for better purposes. Jack scanned his surroundings and successfully found Cotton sleeping nearby, so he silently shook Cotton awake, motioned to the ship's wheel, and left the navigation of the ship in Cotton's capable hands while he tiptoed towards Elizabeth's rigid figure.

"Bit late in the night to be thinking so deeply Smithy, eh?" His voice rung out authoritatively, and had the desired effect. He saw the tremor of surprise run through Elizabeth's shoulder as her head jerked to the side to see him standing right next to her.

"It's never too late for collecting one's thoughts Captain Sparrow."

Someday, when the ruse was up, Jack would have to tell Elizabeth just how much he enjoyed hearing her address him as "Captain" rather than just plain old "Jack", as she was prone to doing. He grinned and then plunked down next to her, bottle of rum in hand. He glanced fleetingly at Elizabeth and almost chuckled when her gaze fell upon the bottle, especially when she rolled her eyes in exasperation. Clearly, she still couldn't have cared less about rum and all of its pleasures. Jack uncorked the bottle and took a swig of the rich, spicy drink before resuming the conversation with Elizabeth once again.

"Still thinking about your dear teacher?" Jack teased, ready to resume a set of jokes about her attraction to males. Elizabeth rolled her eyes once again, but instead of the retort Jack was expecting, she pushed away from the mast and rose to her feet, making her way to the edge of the ship and leaning over slightly to get a better view of the horizon, where the beginnings of sunrise were emerging as the dark blue slowly lightened.

"I'm thinking about his failed marriage…" she whispered softly.

Jack cocked his head curiously. Failed marriage? Yes, Will and Elizabeth had been in love when he last left them in front of the British navy, and yes, he had anticipated them marrying, but why would the marriage had failed? Had one of them refused the other?

"Failed marriage?" Jack repeated, a slight smile playing at his lips, thankful that whatever had happened, the marriage that had been planned had fallen through. He would not have had this opportunity to take Elizabeth for himself otherwise. "Mate, I thought your teacher and his bonnie lass were in love…why would their marriage have possibly failed?"

"Not so much a failed marriage then," Elizabeth answered with a grim smile. "More like a thwarted marriage…did Mister Turner really say nothing about what had happened before he met you?"

Jack could hear the slight degree of hurt in Elizabeth's voice, and his conscience started eating away at him once again. He had already lied to Elizabeth once, when he had told her earlier that William had not mentioned anything about her being in the gallows thanks to her role in letting him escape. William's first words had indeed been, "Elizabeth is in danger," but now that he recalled the conversation they had before he had led the boy to Davy Jones, he realized that while the boy had mentioned Elizabeth being in danger, he had never mentioned a potential marriage ruined.

So therefore, it's not really a lie to tell her that you didn't know a thing about this marriage, his conscience encouraged him. You'd be telling the truth, and at the same time, you'd be unraveling her confidence in dear William…what's there to lose?

"Mate, I can attest to you that he said nothing about marriage," Jack replied with a drawl. "He seemed intensely focused on taking my compass to Beckett, but that was really the extent of his conversation."

Elizabeth was a wonderful actress, Jack had to admit, but even she could not possibly hide the flicker of hurt that passed through her eyes upon hearing Jack's words. However, he only witnessed her hurt expression for a fleeting moment; in a matter of seconds, she had recomposed herself, and she pushed away from the edge of the ship. "I suppose it is of no consequence then," she muttered, her eyes almost annoyed and angered now as she began to walk away from Jack. "I think I should retire now, so-"

"Oi Smithy, just because the whelp didn't speak about his failed nuptial vows to his beloved doesn't mean that I don't want to hear the entire story." Jack grinned to himself as he heard Elizabeth's footsteps halt for a second and then grow louder and louder. He felt her hand grip the neck of the rum bottle he was holding and immediately relinquished it, watching the girl take a practiced swig from the bottle before settling down next to Jack.

"A failed marriage hardly sounds like an intriguing story Captain Sparrow," Elizabeth finally replied dryly, rolling her eyes. "Surely this time would be better spent resting for tomorrow's journey or performing a substantial or useful task." She raised the bottle to her lips for another gulp of rum.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Jack jovially, his eyes twinkling merrily as he watched the bottle rise. "As I once told the former Commodore and Lizzie, I love weddings
! I even offered to buy drinks all around the ship, but for some unknown reason, the Commodore saw fit to ignore my generosity…"

Elizabeth chuckled as she recalled that scene, where Jack was undoubtedly being as infuriating as possible, although she did have a good laugh at poor James' irritated features when the whole adventure had come to an end. However, she stopped mid-chuckle when a realization dawned upon her – laughter was missing in her life. She knew that Will was devoted to her, and that their love was strong and pure, but he didn't make her laugh. He made her feel cherished, but he didn't tease her, or make jokes, or even tell her humorous stories. Truth be told, while Will could bring the widest of smiles on her face, Jack had been the only man in her life who could make her laugh with his antics.

"Oi Lizzie, are you alright?"

Elizabeth sputtered as she choked on the sip of rum that she had just taken. She stared at Jack in utmost horror. "What did you just call me?"

"Smithy," replied Jack, his brown eyes wide with innocence, though internally, he was chuckling at poor Elizabeth's shock. "Why?"

Elizabeth shook her head, trying to dispel the clouds in her mind. Had he actually addressed her by her nickname, or had she merely imagined his words? And for another matter, when, and why, had he come up with the nickname 'Lizzie'?

"Captain Sparrow," she began, her voice a bit hoarse from her sputtering. She quickly cleared her throat and continued to phrase her question. "Out of curiosity, why have you nicknamed Miss Swann 'Lizzie'? Surely she did not give you leave to do so!"

"What brought that question about?"

"Curiosity."

Jack grinned, his expression positively mischievous. So she wanted to know the purpose behind her nickname... "Curiosity can be a dangerous force mate. But I'll indulge you. I've nicknamed the bonny lass 'Lizzie' because the name Elizabeth doesn't suit her."

"What do you mean Captain Sparrow?" Elizabeth wrinkled her brow in confusion. "Elizabeth seems like a perfectly suitable name for any girl, and is hardly unusual."

"Elizabeth is the name of a woman who is caged, who preens in the face of society, who remains bound by the rules and morals that have come to mean too much in the world of today," Jack answered, his voice velvety and enticing, drawing Elizabeth slightly closer to him with every second, which only encouraged him further. "But Lizzie, now Lizzie is the name of a woman that runs wild and free, one that refuses to let the rules hold her down, a woman that longs for freedom that stretches as far as the sea and beyond."

Elizabeth blinked slowly, and suddenly, as if released from her trance, she realized just how close she and Jack were, how alone they were, and her eyes widened with horror as she flew to her feet, and without an explanation or even a single sound, she ran away from Jack, her heart beating as wildly as the waves of the sea in a storm. During her frantic flee, she failed to see the smirk on Jack's face grow more pronounced, and instead focused on making it back to the hold. The second her foot hit the stairs, she paused to catch her breath, but her heart refused to slow its pace.

For in one single sentence, the very last sentence of their conversation, Jack had effectively summed up the hidden dreams and desires of the young girl named Elizabeth Swann, something that perhaps even Will had not acknowledged about her.

And it scared her deeply that a man who was simply an acquaintance could gain more insight about her personality and character than the man that she was supposed to have married days ago.

I wish I could give you more, but this was all that was written up, and I'm not entirely sure how I meant the future plot to go. That's not to say I don't have my ideas, but I need a little time to flesh it out.

Please review and send me feedback!