Anyway, that's not what she came here for. Tearing her eyes away from the skeleton, she takes a few cautious steps forward to begin searching the other side of the cabin… And freezes about halfway there, eyes widening in fear as the ship groans and tips forward a bit.

Before she can figure out just what to do about this, footsteps reach her ears, echoing down the corridor, before a voice gasps in shock.

"Emily?"

She'd know that voice anywhere. Brows furrowing, she spins around and stares in shock at the familiar figure hovering in the doorway. "Uncle?"

"Uncle, what..."

"Emily, what…"

"…on earth are you doing here?" They finish off at the same time.

Emily stares at her Uncle blankly. "Well, er, there's this Navy ship, and Captain Barbossa…"

He starts at the same time as her. "Ye'll never believe what ship I've been on, with ole Black Beard no less…"

Emily stops as the ship they're currently on groans ominously beneath their feet. "Never mind, we don't have the time." She takes a few steps towards her Uncle in an attempt to keep the ship from tipping forward again, then begins looking through the shiny odds and ends piled around the room. "All this treasure." She is in awe, she has to admit. "The chalices have to be here somewhere." She mutters.

"Did you mention Barbossa?" Her Uncle asks belatedly.

Emily rolls her eyes. "That would be the only thing you get out of all this."

"And I suppose Ana's out there somewhere as well?" Now he sounds wary.

Emily turns to him, giving him the look he says mimics one of her fathers. "Aye. We were escorted here on the Sea's Queen by Barbossa and his new friends. Don't tell me, all that's going on and you're afraid of her?"

"I've plenty reason to be afraid of the so-called-gentle-sex in general 'ere lately. Devil's in pretty little disguises, the lot of ye."

"'Ey." Emily feigns indignance. "I should think you've got rather bigger things to worry about if you've been on the Revenge."

"Indeed I do." His expression turns somewhat grimmer. "Which is why you and I have a bit of a problem, lass. I need the chalices."

Emily grimaces as well, but shrugs. "We've an even bigger problem than that, I think. I don't suppose you've any idea where they are?"

Her Uncle looks around, as if it only just occurred to him that they don't even know what the chalices actually look like. "Well… er, no."

"Could you stay put a moment, Uncle?" Wondering if her Uncles weight might keep the ship balanced, as Emily naturally weighs considerably less than a grown man, she takes a few experimental steps towards the other side of the cabin. When the ship creaks and groans but remains steady, she continues on, searching through the rest of the treasure pieces. Then she spies the box. It's no less shiny than the rest of the boxes around, silver plated with all sorts of beautiful engravings– and Emily has a feeling. Unfortunately, it's sitting on the bed, right next to the skeleton that once was Ponce de León. She doesn't want to go anywhere near it, but forces herself to move forward anyways.

There is an ominous creaking beneath her feet. Her Uncle shouts for her to be careful. Her heart seems to skip several precious beats as she is abruptly pulled downward, unable to regain her footing as the rotting wood beneath her foot gives way and her leg sails straight through the floor. Her hands shoot out to grip the bed for support and for a moment she just freezes that way, one leg half swallowed in the dark hole that's just opened up, the other bent and shaking as it tries to keep the rest of her in place.

"Emily!" Jack shoots forward as if to help her, but the ship tips forward again.

"No!" Emily stops him. "Don't, the whole ship will slide! I'm alright." She pulls herself out with wire strong arms - and nearly collapses as she tries to stand on her leg. Burning pain shoots up through it. She tries to keep a level expression, taking a breath. "I think I found them." She says as she grabs the box and tries desperately not to limp on her way back over to her Uncle.

She sets the box down at the foot of the bed and pauses, glancing at her Uncle as he moves forward. They both need the chalices, after all, and Emily isn't above snatching them up and running for it at this point, so she knows Jack won't be either.

"Together?" Her Uncle suggests.

"Sounds fair." She agrees. They each take a corner of the lid and pull it up…

… and Emily nearly throws the thing against a wall in her frustration upon realizing they're too late. There is space enough in the velvet lined box for two chalices, but now there are only a few rocks there to replace the weight. "I don't understand. We've only just got here. Where could they be?"

"The Spanish." Her Uncle mutters. "They beat us all here."

Emily vaguely remembers Barbossa mentioning something about a Spanish ship. Sighing, she shuts the box and shoves it aside, frustrated, before the map in the skeletons hands catches her eye again. Maybe she doesn't have to go back entirely empty handed. She turns back to her Uncle, who meets her eyes. Apparently, they have the same idea. She skirts back around to the other side of the bed, mindful of the hole she'd half fallen into, and ends up climbing onto the bed so she's sitting next to the skeleton. She tries to keep a little distance from it as her Uncle does the same.

Her leg still hurts. She dares not look down to inspect it. She has a worrying suspicion… but she doesn't have time to think on it now.

"I wonder why they left this behind." Her Uncle murmurs as he grabs the map and tries to remove it.

The skeletons hairy skull turns slowly towards him in silent warning.

"Uncle!" Emily exclaims out loud, exasperated, wishing he could sense what she can about the skeleton. She mouths when he looks at her. 'Don't. Touch. The map.'

He puts it back and mouths 'sorry', holding up his hands. The skull turns back to its original position.

"They must already know the path if they were able to move so quickly." Jack points out.

Emily inspects the map as closely as she can in the dim light.

Her Uncle eyes her. "Who taught ye to read a map?"

"It's usually safe to assume Ana's taught me anything useful I know." She replies, not taking her eyes of the map. "How much would you be willing to bet that's where they'll make camp?" She points to an island area with what appears to be an old fortress of sorts.

"Smart little thing, ye are. Just like yer mum."

Not too long ago such a comment might still have made her blush a bit. Now the comparison that comes with it sours her stomach. "We'd best get moving." She carefully climbs off the bed and makes her way out of the cabin. She can feel her Uncle eyeing her, as though trying to figure her out as he follows.

…

They are traipsing back through the jungle again. It's quite dark now, and it should probably make Emily nervous combined with such an unfamiliar setting, but she's got too much else on her mind, including her leg, which still hurts.

"That was a bit 'arsh." Her Uncle says, seemingly out of the blue.

Emily glances at him blankly. "What?"

"Ye said anythin useful ye know ye learned from Ana. Seems a bit 'arsh, don't ye think? Yer papa didn't do so bad a job."

"Oh." Emily has to think on that a moment, as most of her concentration is on trying not to show any sign she's in pain and it's not fading. "Well, yes, I suppose he did teach me how to use a sword at least."

"Come now, that can't be all."

"Uncle, must we have this conversation?"

He pauses, and when he answer he is all too serious. "I think perhaps we do, lass. S'bit disrespectful, is all, makin it seem like 'e didn't try."

Emily doesn't want to think about this. Not now, at least. "If he did try, it wasn't very hard, if you ask me, but then there's a reason no one did. I was too young to know what was happening, right? Anyway, it's all long since over now, I'm hardly angry over it any longer."

He seems to ignore her last sentence. "Ye were young, but ye've always been too smart for yer own good."

"Papa didn't seem to think so."

"Perhaps ye just weren't payin enough attention."

"Well maybe that's because I was too busy worrying about what trouble he'd get himself into while drunk." She snaps back

"Thought ye told me ye weren't angry?" Her Uncle replies quietly, and silence ensues.

"Why are you defending him?" Emily asks finally.

"Because there are those out there worth holdin grudges against. Ye're papa's not one of 'em. He did the best 'e could, believe it or not. Try savin all that venom for someone who deserves it, eh?"

Emily thinks on this silently as they continue onwards.

…

"Gone. They're gone." Emily jogs forward as fast as her leg will allow her to and looks around the small clearing. "They were right here, I swear it, where would they have gone?"

"S'pose ye were gone for quite a while." Jack looks around. "Maybe they thought…"

"No, Alex wouldn't have given up on me so quickly." She remembers the way he'd looked at her just before she'd left the group, the angry way his brown eyes had narrowed at her. "Would he have?" She mutters.

"He may not 'ave 'ad a choice." Jack points out gently. "If Barbossa decided it'd been too long…"

"Well – what do we do now, then?"

"Keep movin. We know where to go. We're bound to run into someone eventually. Let's just 'ope it'll be your little group and, well, not mine."

Emily takes a breath and makes as if to trudge onward – but her bad leg finally gives her away. It gives out as she tries to put her weight on it again, and she sails towards the ground with a soft shriek.

"Emily!" Jack shoots forward with surprising reflexes; she never hits the ground. With his arms under hers, he lifts most of her weight easily and helps her over to a large rock where she can sit. A tear rolls unbidden down her cheek, either from the pain or frustration or perhaps both, and he shushes her gently. "Come now, love, none of that. Why didn't ye tell me?"

She only shakes her head. He gets down to inspect her leg and is silent for so long in doing so that Emily gets anxious. "How-how bad?"

"Seems it could be worse, though I can hardly see too well in this light."

"I don't understand. I can't get hurt. My goddess' blessing – I heal quickly."

"Somethin about this place's stranger than what yer used to, Emily, perhaps Her influence is lessened 'ere. Ye've made it much farther than most would already, seems to me She's doin what She can."

Emily wipes away another stray tear, takes a breath, and reaches down to untuck her shirt, ripping a few pieces off the hem of the far oversized garment and handing them off to her Uncle. He takes them silently and begins binding the long, deep gash on the inside of her calf. Neither of them decides to comment on the possibilities of infection setting in; perhaps, like Emily, her Uncle tries to simply put the thought out of his mind, as there is little either of them can do about it. When he's finished, she heaves herself back to her feet – and ends up clutching her Uncle's arm for support as the pain momentarily makes her dizzy.

Please, my goddess. She prays silently. I have to keep going. As if in direct answer to her plea, the burning pain dulls a bit, just a bit, but enough that Emily can see straight again. Taking a breath, she lets go of her Uncle's arm. He seems to know better than to ask if she'll be alright. They trudge onwards.

Alex is worried.

He's tied up to a tree – along with the Captain, Adrienne, poor little Charlie, Barbossa, and the few of his men that are left – and the Spaniards have been very thorough in taking all their weapons. They also have the chalices. Alex knows little to nothing about the chalices or why they're even here, and what little he does know came from Adrienne, which bothers him. Emily had to have found out about all this when she met Adrienne's father on the Navy ship days earlier, so why hadn't she said anything to him? Up until just recently, he thought they told each other everything important.

None of this is what really has him worried, though. No, what really has him worried is Emily herself and whether she's alright. That old ship had not looked very steady. He's wishing he'd offered to go in her stead. Normally he would've without a second thought. But nothing lately has been anything close to their version of normal. When Adrienne told him about what her father had told her, about the deal that Emily had supposedly made with him – the thought had turned his stomach. Realizing Adrienne was telling the absolute truth when Barbossa volunteered Emily to go searching for those stupid chalices?

That made him furious. And he didn't usually do furious, especially not when it came to his Emily.

And yet, even knowing that Emily is planning to betray Anamaria, their Captain, the woman who'd actually done quite a lot in taking care of them both up to the recent point where they could handle themselves… He can't help but be worried about her. A part of him knew things like this might happen. They are pirates; the life they are living comes with those risks. But he cares for Emily (more than that; he feels something for her that's so strong he's afraid to try putting it to words). He's not sure he can stay angry with her, even though he's pretty sure he should.

Then again, he figures as he stares at the ground before him, feeling helpless, if I 'ad gone for the chalices instead of 'er, she'd be 'ere instead of me. That makes the whole point entirely moot.

He just hopes they'll make it out of this somehow. Suddenly he can hear Emily in his head – of course we'll make it out of this, Alex, you've heard our parent's stories. If they made it through all that, how can we not make it through this? Except her parents didn't really make it through. Her mother's a fish-faced madwoman and her father's dead by said madwoman's own hand. He really, really hopes he can convince Emily to run away with him when this is over. He has a feeling she secretly enjoys the adventure, but he feels he's already had enough of it for one life time, thanks very much.

"What's that look?" Adrienne, who is closest to him, asks with a scowl.

"What look?"

"That look. We are stuck here all tied up and instead of that look you get when you are planning something you look like somebody… er, kicked your puppy or something."

"I don't 'ave a puppy, love."

"That is beside the point. I know you are worried about her, but shouldn't you be a tiny bit more concerned with getting us out of here."

Now it's his turn to scowl. "What makes ye think I can get us out of 'ere?"

"Well, Emily seems to think you are every bit as mad as your father, I am for once hoping that she is right. If she is, now would be as good a time as any to show off."

Alex looks around and heaves a sigh of exasperation. His hands are tied around the thin tree with the rest of him bound by a separate coil of rope. Maybe, if he could… and then what? Think like dad, think like dad, think like dad. "Why do ye 'ate 'er so much?" He says to fill the silence.

"Who?"

"Emily. Who else would I be talking about?"

She pauses. "I – don't hate her." He gives her a look. He knows her better than that. She insists. "Really, I do not. It is just – forget it. It's not important."

"Well, between the two of ye, I really might go mad. And, if I'm to be driven mad by two beautiful girls, it'd be nice if they could at least grace me with a reason for it."

She rolls her eyes. "To tell you the truth, it is not just Emily, it is girls like her in general. No sense of what is decent. I…" She seems to be debating with herself, then finally goes on. "My mother was a noblewoman. I had many friends, but only two that I was close to. One was not French, or of noble blood, I never knew who she really was. Her name was Josephine, and she was esprit libre – spirited, like Emily. The other was a boy I knew from birth who I was to marry. I had just come to love him, to feel I was prepared to be his wife… but they had been planning to run off together. It was too late to stop it by the time I found out."

Well, that actually explained… a lot. "Emily would never do that to anyone. Doesn't seem fair, takin it out any other girl who 'appens to be different."

"Life is not fair. Besides, how can you be sure of that? We have already established that she is not the same anymore, no? Besides, I think I have already showed you how much more I have to offer than her."

Adrienne can be rather maddening when she wishes to be.

Alex breaks into a triumphant grin to easily match his father's in the hopes that it will throw her off, as she is beginning to look a bit smug. Sliding his hands – which he has just managed to work free – forward, he holds them up. "Adrienne Barbossa." He tests the name out on his tongue, and decides it does seem to fit. "Since ye are, at this particular moment, rendered entirely immobile and therefore without the means to slap me, I feel the unyielding need to tell ye that ye really must get over yerself." It works. The smug expression on her face morphs to one of sheer incredulity – perhaps at his words, probably at the fact that Alex is now using his legs and the rope that still binds his arms to shimmy up the tree backwards. He really has no idea what he's doing, he's just making this up as he goes along, but if its madness Adrienne wants, then its madness he'll give her.

His fellow prisoners are all staring up at him now, looking astonished – except for Ana. She just has that look that's half amused and half exasperated, like she gets when he mentions his father. Alex pays them all no mind as he continues to make his way up the tree. He's not entirely sure what good this will do him. Assuming he can make it all the way up to the top and slide off, how on earth is he going to get down?

That question stops bothering him the minute the tree decides he's a bit much for it to handle. This – was not part of any scenario he could've imagined, not that he'd allowed himself the time to imagine very many. His mind races ahead as the tree begins to bend backwards, but there is little he can do. He shimmies up as far as he can, until the rope loosens and he can slide out. Then he carefully, hanging on for dear life, continues to climb to the top, bringing the rope with him as far as he can. Grabbing onto the branch of another nearby tree, he pulls the one he's on as far back as it will go. Managing to undo the rope to some extent – it's still tied, but he's got it looped around the tree and has it coiled a few times around one wrist – he lets go the other tree…

And goes flying. And definitely does not let out a particularly unmanly scream. And loses his grip on the rope around his wrist. And, finally, lands and ends up doing a wobbly summersault – right into the middle of the Spanish camp, his back against a stone wall, the ruins of the fort. That…did not feel good. But he's got bigger problems.

Eyes wide, he scrambles to his feet and looks around at all the Spanish officers now staring at him in disbelief. He brushes off his shirt and clears his throat, still trying to get over the fact that what he'd just tried actually worked. Is that how his father survived all those adventures of his? Sheer, dumb luck? Alex thinks he could live with that explanation. "Right. 'Ello. Perfectly fine, I am, in case any of ye were wonderin." Something catches his eye, just behind all the Spanish officers that are staring at him, a familiar figure creeping up with two swords in hand; one of them Alex's. "Ye know, I s'pose, bein Spanish an' all, ye may not 'ave 'eard the name Sparrow before, but let me tell ye, gents, ye won't forget the name Alex Sparrow after today." The figure tosses the sword over the officer's heads, and Alex reaches out with impressive reflexes, catching it easily. A few swipes and he has two of the officers disarmed before they can register what's going on. "Do ye want to know why?" He grins when he sees the others, set loose by someone (Emily, a part of him hopes), sneaking around the preoccupied Spaniards. "Because this would be the day that ye almost caught 'im. And 'is friends." He adds somewhat more slowly, stalling for time until the last figure darts out of sight. "Who ye may want to check on, by the way."

To his surprise – and immense relief – they fall for the bate, turning, if only very briefly. By the time they look back, Alex is… well, gone as far as they can tell. Really, he's just used his height to his advantage and vaulted over the crumbling wall to hide behind it. His captors disperse when one starts calling out orders in their native tongue, but Alex stays put, trying to figure out his next move.

He nearly jumps right out of his skin when a hand grabs his shoulder. "I suppose you think you're quite clever, pulling such stunts. You could've killed yourself." A familiar feminine voice reaches his ears, sounding unimpressed.

He suppresses a grin. "Ah, but I didn't, did I?" He turns to his new companion and tries not to look too relieved.

"You're as impossible as Uncle."

"Nice to see ye too, love. Don't s'pose ye've got a plan when it comes to where to go from 'ere, eh? I seem to be fresh out of ideas."

Emily rolls her eyes. "Come on."

"Ye're hurt." Alex points out, matter-of-fact sometime later, when the sun has begun to climb back up the sky.

"I'm fine." She scowls, frustrated, not so much with him as with her whole, current situation. The pain in her leg seems to grow worse with each moment that passes, and she doesn't even have the chalices to show for it; Jack had found them at the Spanish camp and then run off (for which Emily damns him, albeit half-heartedly and out of annoyance more than anything else).

"Ye're limpin. Maybe I could…"

"Alex, whatever you're thinking, don't."

He heaves an exasperated sigh. "Why must ye always be so difficult?"

"Because if I weren't then every man I come across might think I'm made of glass, and then where would I be?"

"Pampered like the goddess that ye are, as such pretty girls should be." He murmurs in response, but she thinks she must have heard him wrong, so she pretends to have heard nothing at all. "Are ye sure ye're alright?" He goes on, louder.

"Alex!" She huffs, frustrated.

"Don't 'Alex' me, woman, I'm only tryin to –," he breaks off abruptly as she trips over a tree root and goes flying forward, only just avoiding a literal run in with Adrienne in front of her. Adrienne notices what's happened just in time and side steps Emily neatly, watching with amusement as Emily falls to the ground.

"Graceful." Adrienne says, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Alex crouches down, holding out a hand to help Emily up. She works her way into a sitting position and takes it grudgingly, scowling. "And that," Alex says pointedly, "would be exactly why I worry about ye."

"Well, perhaps if you hadn't been..." She trails off slowly, her scowl fading as she stares at the large plant leaves in front of her. "Alex…"

"What?" He says, brows furrowing as he follows her gaze. "Oh. Erm..." He tilts his head, releasing Emily's hand in favor of reaching out to catch a dew drop as it slides off a leaf – except it doesn't drip downward and splash to the earth. Instead, it climbs upward, remaining intact as it slips through Alex's fingers and continues its journey skyward. "Well. Now that's…interesting."

Emily climbs to her feet. "Captain!" She calls, not sure of exactly who she is referring to and not caring so long as she gets some ones attention. "You're going to want to see this."

…

With all the things that have already gone wrong, Emily is half worried they won't be able to find the Fountain at all, or that if they do… well, she doesn't know. She just has a feeling something's still coming. She's not sure why she's so relieved when she sees the Fountain and realizes it can't be the source of her unease. She has no interest in eternal youth; her short life up to this point has been adventurous enough. As much as she may, sort of, secretly enjoy all the madness, she's not sure she'd want it to last forever.

She feels a presence surround her, familiar though not nearly as strong as usual; her goddess whispers, a touch of destiny, and suddenly Emily knows why she should be relieved. She's going to have a choice to make later. For now, however, she just has to do as she's told.

The Fountain itself is beautiful in the simplicity of its set up, a stone arch with a steadfast downpour of pure, crystal clear water spouting from its center. The massive cavern housing it is filled with growth thicker than the forest outside, impressively tall trees and colorful, exotic plants. Emily finds herself forgetting why they are even really here; the deal she'd made with Barbossa, all the trouble with her parents… it all seems very far away here in this strange place, at least for as long as the peace lasts.

The really good news: they made it here before the Spanish. The truly bad news: Blackbeard and his ragged men are facing them with weapons drawn, apparently raring for a fight.

"Ye know… we could run." Alex murmurs in her direction as they draw their swords.

"And go where?"

"Anywhere but 'ere. Got a bad feelin 'bout this place."

"I'm not going anywhere."

And now she knows neither is he, not of his own accord if she's not with him. The pirates charge, so they do to, and then… chaos.

Gasp! Another chapter written in a timely manner! Well, I'm amazed at least. I'm sorry I took some of our favorite captain's thunder and gave it to Alex, but Alex was just begging me to let him have a bit of fun. Hope you enjoyed, and thanks to my reviewers: VesperLogan12, Adidaskicker, ( and there was someone else, I know, if you sign in next time I'll gladly thank you properly.) :)