Note: Potentially controversial chapter with a bit of sex and gore in it (not at the same time), so I repeat, please read responsibly. Explanation at the bottom of the page.

Elizabeth had written in the journal for a long time, but then had put down the quill and relaxed against a tree for a while. The warm sun collaborated with the wind shushing through the palm trees and the sound of the surf to lull her into a relaxing doze.

She'd been asleep for a couple of hours when heard Jack call her name frantically. She woke with a gasp and leaped to her feet. She grabbed up the long skirt of her shift, and ran full-tilt toward the other side of the island.

Jack was sitting on the ground in the shade of the palm trees. He was sitting up in a fetal position, with his knees drawn up in front of him and his head resting on them, rocking back and forth. He was muttering things like "Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!" and "Not listening!" and every so often he lifted his head, eyes clenched shut, and bellowed out her name again.

"I'm here, Jack!" she cried, running over to him. She slid to her knees in front of him and wrapped her arms around him as he rocked. "I'm right here."

His head whipped up and he stared at her. "Are ye real?" he demanded.

"Yes, of course I'm real."

"Prove it." At her puzzled look, he clarified, "Prove that I'm not imagining you. Tell me something that I could never have imagined."

Elizabeth thought a moment. "When I was a child, I used to play pirates with Will. That is, until Father found out."

Jack's mouth curled up, but he shook his head. "I have no trouble whatsoever imaginin' that, darling. Tell me something else. Something I'd never even dream of."

Elizabeth remembered something and smiled. "When you sacked Port Nassau with no shooting, my father laughed about it all morning. He'd been at school with the governor of Nassau and hated him. He was cheering for you that day, my father was."

Jack was startled into a laugh. "That works—I could never have imagined that!"

He blinked and sobered, and then his dark eyes bored into hers. "That means you're real!" He threw his arms around her and clutched her tightly. "You're here. You're real. You're not leavin' me, love?"

"I'm not leaving you, Jack. I'm here. Right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"You're stayin' with me?" he pressed, sounding a little plaintive.

"'Till death do us part," she reminded him.

Jack breathed in a huge sigh of relief and dropped his head down on her shoulder. His arms clutched her convulsively, a little too tight as he hauled her up against him. He kissed her, roughly, and gathered a fistful of her hair to move her head out of the way. He attacked her neck with his lips and teeth. He leaned back in the sand and pulled her on top of him, running his hands down her back and pressing himself hard up against her.

So far, Jack had been gentle with her, his touches teasing and sweetly suggestive. This was very different. He had never been so forceful before, so frantic. What on earth had happened to him? Elizabeth wondered as he pulled her down for another unrelenting kiss. If this were just his fierce ardor, Elizabeth would be thrilled. This wasn't just passion, though. This was something completely different, and it was worrisome.

He rolled her off him and pressed her down into the sand, kissing her insistently while he unbuttoned his flies. She realized what he was doing, and at the same moment, realized that she would let him do it. She knew that if she asked him to stop, he would stop instantly. She knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. However, he was badly frightened and apparently needed this reassurance. She put her arms around his naked shoulders and drew him closer, kissing his jaw, his cheek, his temple. He reached down and roughly pulled up the skirt of her shift, almost tearing it in his haste.

He took her right there in the sand with no further preliminaries, and for the first time he didn't give any attention to her pleasure. It was not lovemaking as she'd experienced it so far. It was a thing of fear and desperation, and Jack didn't seem to enjoy it much more than she did. He was nearly sobbing as he moved over her, and when he finished he collapsed on top of her body and she felt his tears dripping down her neck.

She held him like that for a minute or two, and then he rolled off and lay beside her, propped up on his elbow so he could look at her. He wiped his face impatiently, and then ran his fingers through her hair and began to kiss her. Brief, sweet, tender little kisses, on her lips, cheeks, eyelids, chin, nose. He paused and gazed into her eyes seriously as he caressed her hair and neck with gentle touches. His eyes had that soft, open expression that she loved, and he smiled tenderly at her before he kissed her again as if he couldn't help himself.

Elizabeth was mystified, but decided that kissing was a good place to start figuring out what was wrong with him. She rolled onto her side to face him and pressed her body against his. "Jack," she whispered between kisses. "You know I love you, don't you?"

He nodded, kissing her again with gentle lips and soft tongue.

"And I know you love me."

"Aye, I do," he whispered back. "My lady. My love. My sweet, ruthless, beautiful pirate lass. My Elizabeth." He stroked her hair, smiling at her with such love in his eyes that it brought a lump to her throat.

"So you don't have to be afraid to tell me… what was all that about?" she asked, nodding at the spot beside them where he had crouched so fearfully and then claimed her body with such desperation.

"Oh." Jack actually blushed a little. "I'm really sorry about that, sweetheart. Didn't give you fair value, did I? Needed you too much. But I'll make it up to you. Next time will be all for you, I promise."

Elizabeth sat up and straightened out her shift. "I couldn't care less about… er, 'fair value,' as you put it, or about next time. What I want to know is what happened to make you need me so much, this time? What were you afraid of?"

"Nothing," Jack replied uncomfortably. "Don't worry about it. It'll be all right, love. I'll take good care of you next time."

Elizabeth brushed aside his concern. "Jack, I said I don't care about that. Not when you were so hurt and frightened, and then you went at me so… urgently. I don't care about getting fair value as long as you're all right. This—it wasn't nothing. Did we have visitors I don't know about? Is the island haunted? What happened to you? Tell me, love. I want to help." She leaned forward and took his hand, holding it tightly in both of hers as he lay on the sand looking up at her.

Jack was silent. He opened his mouth a couple of times and started to speak, but closed it again.

"You don't mind?" he asked finally. "I mean, about—" he gestured toward the spot where he'd taken her, and then realized his flies were still undone. He pulled his other hand away from hers to re-button them as he went on, "'Cause I kind of got something for nothing, just then. Doesn't feel right."

"I'm your wife, Jack, not a business transaction. We don't have to worry about keeping things even between us. I'm yours if you need me—for anything. You don't owe me anything, except that I'd really like to know what happened and that you're all right."

He sat up and took her hands again. "Not sure how to tell you," he admitted.

"Just say it."

"If I tell you, you might leave me, and that'll make it worse," he argued.

"I've already said I'm not leaving. You're mine. You're my Jack."

The endearment seemed to reassure him, and he took a deep breath. "Thing is, it isn't the island that's haunted. It's me."

"You're haunted? You mean… literally?"

"Aye. Literally. I have ghosts."

"Tell me about them."

"It happens whenever I'm alone for any real length of time. I tend to go a bit weird."

"Weird, how?"

"You know. Mad. Off me head. I start talkin' to meself and seein' things what aren't there. It isn't every time I'm alone, mind. Bein' alone for an hour or two is one thing—I like it, and even need it once in a while. But much longer than a couple hours and I start to go off again."

"Any idea why?"

"O' course. It's 'cause of the Locker." At her troubled look, he squeezed her hands and went on. "I was in Davy Jones' Locker for nearly a year, all by me onesie. No one else around, ever, and the loneliness drove me round the bend for a long time. I started hallucinating, imagining copies of myself, all over the ship. Talked to some of 'em, killed some, got killed by others. Even after you came and got me, some of 'em were still there with me. Little ones, livin' in my hair and whatnot. Took me ages to get rid of 'em. But the thing is, they were all me—different parts of me. Well, all except for the chicken," he added thoughtfully. "I have no idea where he came from."

"What chicken?" Elizabeth asked.

Jack waved aside her question with a dramatic gesture. "Ignorance is bliss, my darling. You're happier not knowing."

"So what are the ghosts that haunt you?" she asked.

"Well, they're always me, aren't they?" Jack replied. "Just like in the Locker. They only show up when I've been alone for a while, and they talk to me. Tell me things. Try to get me to do things, foolish things. Argue with me. Argue with each other. They keep hammerin' and hammerin' at me till I'm almost ready to scream! And it just gets worse and worse until someone comes and I'm not alone anymore. In the Locker I went completely barmy and tried to off meself more'n once. Just wanted them to shut the hell up. Never worked, though, 'cause I was already dead."

He shook his head. "Thing is, Liz darling, bein' by meself for very long—well, it's a bit like torture for me."

He told her about the quest for Ponce de Leon's ship, when Blackbeard had sent him off into the jungle by himself to find the silver chalices. He had found the ship and turned to share the news, but there was no one there. He'd had to run and run and keep on running the whole time he'd been gone, just to keep the hallucinations from catching up to him.

"And then when Gibbs found me, he got angry and demanded to know why I was working with Barbossa. Well, I had to lie to him, didn't I? Told him it was for Angelica's sake. Me best mate, and I couldn't tell him that as long as I was with Barbossa, none of the doppel-Jacks would find me."

"Oh, Jack!" Elizabeth said, her heart breaking. "I am so very sorry, my love. I'm the one who sent you there! It's my fault!"

"It's Davy Jones' fault," Jack corrected gently. He sighed and let go of her hands. "I didn't intend to trap you into marriage with a bloke what's off his head some of the time, honestly I didn't. It's just that I haven't had any ghosts for a long time. Well, maybe one or two," he conceded. "But I just didn't think to let you know about 'em 'cause it's been so long."

"So I take it you had them return today, while I was over there writing?"

"Aye. Two."

"What did they say to you?"

"They both thought I shouldn't've married you."

"Why not?"

"One of 'em thought you were no better than a whore and had tricked me into marrying you for your son's sake. The other one thought you're as far above me as the stars in the sky, and that I've spoiled and sullied your angelic purity by draggin' ye down into piracy with me."

Elizabeth chuckled. "Yes, but do you hear me complaining about it?"

Jack's mouth curled up on one side, but then the smile disappeared again.

"And you say they're both aspects of you?" Elizabeth asked. "So there is a part of you that thinks I'm just like all the other strumpets, and another part that thinks I'm an angel?"

"Not the rational parts, love!" Jack hastened to explain. "I did say I'd gone quite a ways round the bend, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did, so it's obvious that I won't be able to convince those parts of you by rational means." Elizabeth thought a moment, and then stood up. "Come with me," she ordered. "Bring your dagger."

Jack scrambled to his feet, dagger in hand, and followed her.

Elizabeth led him to the beach beside their fire ring, where they had first made love together the night before. She knelt down, pulling him down next to her. She took the dagger from him, tested the edge, and in one swift motion, cut open her palm. It was the same palm that Barbossa had cut years before, thinking she was Bill Turner's daughter. She held up her hand and let the blood drip down onto the sand.

"This is where we came together on this island, so here is where I make you this promise… in blood, Jack. No matter what I may ever have to say in front of other people, during a negotiation or what-have-you, you can always know that I'm telling you the truth right now, here on this spot. Are you listening?"

Jack nodded, his expression rapt, his eyes intent on hers.

"You have my love, and you have my loyalty, as long as we both live. You and I are two sides of the same coin, as you've pointed out to me more than once. No matter what the crazy parts of you try to tell you, I'm telling you here and now that I will not leave you, and I never want you to leave me." She smiled. "Savvy?"

Jack nodded. "Aye," he replied hoarsely. He took the dagger from her and sliced open his own palm. He let the blood drip down and mingle with hers on the sand. "You have my love and my loyalty, 'Lizabeth, for as long as we both live. I give ye my word, no matter what the crazy parts of me try to get me to do, that I will not let them drive me from you. We're peas in a pod, darling," he reminded her with a smile. "I give ye my own blood oath on it, right here on the spot where I 'worshiped you with my body'… well, one of the spots, anyway," he said, glancing around the island. "Under the trees was nice, and there was the rum cellar—but this here's the first one. That's symbolic, innit?" he looked back at her, his expression so hopeful that Elizabeth had to smile.

"It's just perfect, Jack."

He reached out and clasped her hand in his, with their cut palms pressed together. "Until we have a child together, this'll have to do as a symbol of our joining. You're a part of me now, Lizzie, and I'm a part of you."

Elizabeth reached out with her other hand and pulled him in for a deep, thorough kiss, still keeping their palms pressed together.

Jack gave the kiss his full attention, hugging her close as they knelt together on the sand. When they finally parted, she smiled at him.

"Why do I feel like we just got married all over again?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Bit more primitive than our other wedding, but it felt like the right thing to do." He let go of her hand and grimaced. "Ouch!" he said. "Painful, too."

Elizabeth bared her teeth. "Yes, that's what I was thinking, too. It's all symbolic and primal and I'm glad we did it—I just hope they don't get infected. Who knows what's been on that knife?"

Jack stood up and offered her his good hand to help her up with him. "I hate to say this, sweetest of Elizabeths, but in order to keep 'em from getting infected we'll have to wash 'em out in seawater."

"What? In salt water? You want me to pour salt water into a huge cut?"

"Believe me, I'm not looking forward to it either but it has to be done. Cuts can fester and turn septic awfully quickly here." He kept hold of her hand as he walked toward the sea.

"No, wait! I'm sure it's not that bad! Your knife is probably very clean! It won't fester, I'm sure of it!" Elizabeth was frantic.

Jack was inexorable. "Come on, love."

"Jack! It's going to hurt!"

"Aye. Best get it over with." He pulled her after him into the water.

"But there's blood! It may call sharks!"

"We'll be quick," he promised, dragging her deeper. The water was up to her waist now, her skirt swirling around her legs in the waves.

"Honestly, Jack, I don't know why I put up with you!"

Jack turned to her. "It's because if I didn't want to wash out my cut, you'd do the exact same thing to me that I'm about to do to you."

"What's that?" she asked, fearful.

"This." He leaped at her her and tackled her directly into the water. They both came up sputtering and dripping, with their hands stinging fiercely.

"Ouch!" "Owww!" they both yelled in pain at once. Holding their cut hands below the level of the water, they both grimaced and clutched each other until the throbbing lessened a bit. It took several minutes.

"Damn, that hurts!" Jack hissed, lifting his hand out of the water and looking at it. "Remind me not to do that again!"

"And how do you plan to keep your cut from putrefying next time, then?"

"I could just use the rum," he said, starting to slosh his way back to the beach. "'Course, that'll likely hurt a hell of a lot worse."

"Isn't that just like you?" she groused, following him out of the water. She lowered her voice and imitated his usual drunken-sounding, working-class accents. Dramatic, Jack-like gestures completed her delivery."'Oh, there's something painful coming up? Well, let me run right towards it! Going to cost me eternity for the sake of thirteen years? Sure, Mr Jones, I'll make that deal! Sao Feng feels insulted? Let me walk right into that face-punch! Terrified woman wants to chain me up for a sea monster? Oooh, how wonderful! I think I'll give her a kiss! Gigantic kraken opening its maw five feet away? Here, let me dive right into that! Evil woman from my past wants to kill me? Oh, I simply must swim over to her in the middle of a giant sea battle to give her the chance! Just can't help myself! Sea goddess wants to kill me to bring back the woman I love? Why, absolutely, Tia, be my guest!'

Jack had stopped dead and slowly turned his head to watch her. He drew his brows together and he gave her a glare.

Elizabeth gulped, thinking she'd gone too far.

His cold, flinty gaze swept down her body and then back up to her face. He turned fully around to face her. "Are—you—aware—" he growled, each word enunciated and deliberate. He let the sentence hang for a moment, while Elizabeth seemed to shrink a little, and then he finished it in a normal conversational tone. "—Of just how transparent your shift is?" He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her roughly close to him so he could plant a loud, smacking kiss on the side of her head.

She laughed a little in relief, and looked down. Sure enough, it was hiding nothing. "Jack, you didn't even give me time to take it off first. Now it's all wet and clammy," she griped.

He shrugged. "So take it off now. I don't mind."

"But then I'll get sand all over me."

"Stay on the blanket, and I'll see you don't get bored while it's dryin'," he urged. He waggled his eyebrows, and she giggled.

"You still don't owe me anything, you know. I let you take me like that because I love you and you needed me, not for any sort of payment. I'm not a whore."

Jack reached out and started unbuttoning the bodice of her damp and clinging shift. "Never said you were, love. It won't be payment. You did say you'd accommodate my needs, remember; this will just be my needing you in a different way."

"What way?"

"The kind of way that makes you writhe and squeak and come apart in my arms. If nothing else, it'll take your mind off the cut on your hand. See? Now it's my turn to help you!"

"Well, when you put it that way…"

Note: The "comfort sex" was a little abrupt, but I want to emphasize to the more sensitive readers that it was completely consensual. I was using this scene to go a little deeper into the concept that it's a very healing experience, emotionally, to have sex with someone who has just made a public, lifelong commitment to you. Even though Jack has had plenty of sex before, none of it would have been like this. In my mind, he'd be worried that she'd leave him because he didn't please her this time, so he's a little hung up on the idea of having to please her so she'll stay. Instead, she doesn't care about his not pleasing her, she's staying anyway, because she can see how obviously wounded he is and wants to help him. To speak plainly, his mental health is far more important to her than an orgasm. That's a level of generosity and acceptance that he has never had before.

Again, potentially controversial topic; take it as you will.