"I can't blame the boy." Jo tells her plainly. "Respectable young women simply don't get up to what you did last night, Peg."

They are in the tavern Emily and Alex had spent hours in the night before, Jo pointing out that Emily would probably do well to eat something. Emily is sitting slouched back in the chair with her arms crossed, a plate of barely touched meat and potatoes sitting on the table before her. "To be fair, I didn't actually get up to anything." She points out, somewhat dejectedly, and Jo gives her a look. "At least, not all the way." She adds, sheepish. "Technically." And there goes the eyebrow. Emily huffs. "Well, who in their right mind thinks respectable looking at me?"

"I'm not talking about you're warped view of yourself, I'm talking about how your brother sees you. You should be happy he cares enough about you to want to defend you. I'm just not sure leaving him here is… but then it's no business of mine, is it. And goddess knows how rarely you listen to me."

"Actually, suggestions would be more than welcome."

"I suppose there is no easy answer. You can't well have your – erm, Alex, and your brother at each other's throats, either."

"Oh, dear. I know I'm in trouble when even you can't help."

"Oh, don't be cross with me, it's your mess, I want no part of this one."

"Perhaps…" Emily heaves a sigh. "Perhaps I should've just let Joshy think it was all Alex's fault."

Jo scowls. "He'd have been the only one you were fooling with that lie, and besides, where would it all have gone from there?"

"Well, he'd have tried to kill Alex I suppose, and failed miserably, and possibly learned some sort of lesson, problem solved?"

"You must still be half drunk if you think it would've been that simple."

Emily shakes her head, standing. "I give up. Our goddess warned me things'll be a bit more dangerous now, I'd never forgive myself if he was hurt, anyway. He's staying here."

"He won't be happy, especially when he finds out Alex is going to be with us." Jo follows her out of the tavern.

It's Emily's turn to scowl. "I love Joshy but I won't let him take away my freedom any more than I let Alex. He'll just have to live."

…

"I thought you said we'd be a family." He says, and he sounds sad, not angry. She finds herself wishing he was angry. She could've handled angry.

"We are. I'll send letters. And visit, when I can. You have to understand Joshy, there's men after us now. After me. You know, if you were to get hurt on my watch your mother would probably find her way all the way back to us just so she could have my head?"

He chuckles a little. "She would."

"There, see?" She smiles. "This is for my safety as much as yours."

He abruptly gets serious again. "He's going with you, isn't he?"

"Joshy."

"Emmy! No! He's – he's bad for you!"

"Joshy, how can you possibly…"

"You know it's true! I've never seen you like that before!"

"You don't know Alex like I do…"

"Only because you barely talked about him and then he just happens to be here when we arrive and the first thing he does is get you –"

"Joshua Turner!" She finally bursts out in a half growl. "No one bloody well got me anything, can't you understand? I can handle Alex, and will handle him anyway I like, and I will not have a boy who's not quite ten trying to lecture me!" Silence reigns for several moments as he takes a few steps back from her, startled.

"That's why you're really leaving me here, isn't it? It's easier that way. You can just do what you like then."

Emily takes to wondering if she was this difficult as a ten year old. "You can think what you like, Joshy. It's not going to change anything. You're staying here for now." He won't look at her now. She doesn't blame him as she runs over the entire conversation they'd just had. My goddess, I sound like Papa. Softening, she kneels down in front of her brother. "I'm sorry. I promise, I'm not leaving you, not like Papa did us. I'll be back."

He nods but still won't look at her. "When are you leaving?"

"Some time in the next few days." She goes to place a kiss on his forehead, but he pulls away. She tries not to sound hurt as she goes on. "Come on, then. Let's go see about meeting the woman who'll look after you. Alex says she's nice, reminds him of Mrs. O'Malley. I'm sure you'll get along with her just fine."

He nods again and turns to start walking off in the general direction of the small complex of hallways that is Teague's home. Emily trails after him with slumped shoulders, wondering if she could possibly be better at ruining anything good.

Alex wants to go with Emily. He really, really does. But the more he thinks about it, the more he isn't sure he should. This act he's putting on for her wouldn't be so awful hard to keep up. Up until their conversation in her cabin earlier, it had actually been somewhat fun. The problem was, well, that conversation. The things she'd said. The way she'd begun undressing in front of him, entirely shameless.

"Your salty, scarred little sea girl not quite so appealing in the day light when you can see her clearly?"

He can't get past that single sentence. Is that all she thinks of herself? Or was she trying to manipulate him. She wouldn't play a game like that with him, would she? And if she was, why would she think she needed to? Why couldn't she let this one thing just happen? It could be so simple, he'd told her he…

But she wouldn't allow that word. And now he's found himself avoiding it like the plague. And that isn't all. He'd been nervous when he saw her ship at the docks, so nervous that he'd gone to his grandfather and asked his advice. Which was madness. He's flirted with other women before by now, plenty of times. Much more than just flirted, in fact. It's so easy – when it's anyone but Emily. His grandfather had seemed amused and informed him that the only cure for what was ailing Alex was, perhaps, a bit of liquid courage, and then to just go see the girl already.

He wonders if Emily had been able to smell the rum on him when he'd made such a scene in front of her crew. If so, she certainly hadn't missed a beat for it. And then there was the tavern, and he can't help but wonder at how normal a thing she'd made it look, drinking like that. He remembers the girl who'd tried to refuse a sip of rum even with her leg a bloody, painful mess and compares her to the pirate who'd asked for a tankard of it the night before as if it was an everyday thing. When had that happened? What could possibly have changed so in just a little more than a year?

And now she's leaving her brother behind because she wants Alex to be with her. He feels guilty for that. Why exactly, he's not sure. He probably shouldn't. She'd have plenty of reason to leave him even without Alex.

"Your salty, scarred little sea girl…"

If she's going to keep talking like that, keeping up his act is going to be far more exhausting then he'd first expected. But she'd seemed so happy to see him. And if it will make her happy, he's ready to do just about anything.

What worries him is what anything might end up entailing. With that thought in mind, Alex can't quite shake the feeling that he might, just maybe, be in a little over his head when it comes to his feisty little Captain Turner.

She doesn't say goodbye to Joshy. Goodbye would feel too much like it really was, well, goodbye. And she fully intends to be back for him eventually, so she makes a point of treating it that way. She sings him to sleep the night before she plans to cast off and even gets in a kiss and then leaves him in what Alex assures her is the quite capable hands of the older woman that works for his grandfather. She half expects Joshy to come running for a proper goodbye that morning, but he doesn't, and before she knows it they're off again.

She always feels better out on open waters, with the ship swaying gently beneath her feet and the salt sea air ruffling her hair. Out here she can pause and take a breath and really believe that everything will be just fine.

She'd been so excited to have Alex back at first that she very nearly went ahead and made him her first mate. She has no doubt he'll jump at the chance when she finally does. The problem is, he can't seem to look at her and get the word 'captain' out without sounding entirely sarcastic about it, and it's already getting on her nerves. She can't understand what's wrong with him. She could best him in a sword fight with one hand behind her back! She'd been second to Ana for months before their little adventure with the Fountain! Why is it he's the only one who can't seem to take her any kind of seriously?

She's tempted to simply ask him. But she's not sure it's a conversation she even wants to bother having. Any conversation with him lately tends to leave her half infuriated, and she really can't understand what's gotten into him…but at the same time she finds herself enjoying it on some level. She can handle this little dance they've begun. If it means she can have him and not have to worry about whether he's going to do something stupid, like ask her to run off with him again, or to marry him, goddess forbid… then by all means, Alex. Let's dance.

She is terrified. Her mother is standing before her all slimy skin and seaweed hair and so very, very not human, and Emily is terrified. Captain Swann's sword is already drawn and the Chest rests somewhere behind her, well out of Emily's reach, and Emily knows this is all just insanity. "Mother. Mother, please." She is pleading, but her voice is low and steady. She's nothing if not determined. "I don't want to fight with you."

"I can't let you do this, Emily. I won't." Her mother might well be even more determined. With all that's happened, Emily isn't surprised her mother would be just as afraid of death as her victims.

"But I'll fix this. I have to fix this." And she believes she can, really, she does, if she can just get her hands on the heart. "Please believe me, mother, I know…"

"You know nothing!" The hag snarls.

Emily recoils. "Please. It would be so simple."

"Simple?" Her mother's tone turns mocking. "Tell me, just what is your plan, then?" She begins pacing a slow circle around Emily. Like a shark, Emily thinks, about ready to drag some pour soul down to the depths to be its dinner. "Are you to replace me," her mother goes on, "and give up the freedom you've grown so accustomed to? Or would you give up your Alex? He would give himself up for you, he's so in love, the fool." She comes to a halt just in front of Emily again, realization dawning now. "Or is it someone else you had in mind, an innocent perhaps? One who doesn't know what exactly is going on? Could you be so selfish?" She sounds hopeful, as though she wants Emily to simply say yes.

Emily would never give her the satisfaction. She squares her shoulders. "I would never ask Alex to do such a thing."

"Ah," her mother sounds almost gleeful, "but that does not leave out the third option, does it?"

Emily schools her expression, forcing herself to give nothing away. "Stop stalling, mother. I need it. I don't want to fight you, but I will if I must." She draws her sword and begins the familiar dance with her mother, right across the deck of the Dutchman as the waters beneath start to roil and the clouds above begin pouring down rain in sheets. Everything is a blur of lightening and the slippery deck and her mother's relentless attacks. She gets past Emily's defenses several times – slicing through the side of Emily's stomach, then her left arm, then adding a cut to Emily's cheek. And then it happens: Emily feels her mother's blade slice into her arm, the one she's fighting with. Much to her horror, Emily's sword goes flying. It clatters to the deck and tumbles away, and Emily is quickly being backed into a corner. Until this point she had allowed herself, on some level, to believe this wouldn't happen, to believe there was something left of her mother in the creature advancing on her. But there isn't, that much is made clear by the murderous glint in Elizabeth Swann's still human eyes. Painfully, Emily takes out her pistols and aims both of them at her mother and fires in a blind panic, but she'd taken an impromptu swim earlier, the powder inside them is as wet as she still is. Before she can think to do anything else, Captain Swann lunges forward, and then there is nothing. Just cold and wet and blackness and, faintly, her mother's voice, soft as it was when Emily was still very small. "I'm sorry."

Emily's eyes fly open as she shoots into a sitting position, her heart pounding something fierce and her chest heaving. Shaking hands fly up to feel along her chest as she can almost swear she feels how the dream should end – with her dying, another one of her father's swords sticking out of her own heart.

The dream repeats itself so often that there is no doubt her goddess is sending it. Emily almost can't even believe it. She wants so badly to believe there is something of her mother still left in the Dutchman's captain, and she can't believe her mother would really try to…much less actually…

But the terror that comes with the dream is so vivid, she begins to fear falling asleep. The strange thing is that she has the same dream every night, except she's not always on the Dutchman. But the fear that comes with this dream, along with the way it ends, has her barely remembering the other one, the one that is a bit different. She thinks, perhaps, her goddess is trying to tell her something… but what exactly? And if it's so important, why can't she just tell Emily in person?

She tries exhausting herself. Her goddess had wanted Emily to get the Admirals attention, so Emily throws herself into that with a fierceness she's never quite matched before. They don't encounter too many Navy or Company ships, which is strange. But Emily doesn't worry about it. They take on whatever ship crosses their path, as long as she thinks the Queen's chances are fair. Sort of. Fair enough, at least.

But that doesn't work for very long. The dream still comes. Sleep begins to hover further and further out of her grasp. And the terror she feels in the dream is so vivid, it begins to haunt her while she's still awake.

She begs her goddess to just tell her what it's all about. But Calypso remains silent.

"I knew it."

Emily jumps at the sound of another voice so close behind her on the quiet deck. It's the middle of the night, and everyone should be asleep, but she can almost never count on Alex to be exactly logical, now can she? She turns to him and crosses her arms. "Knew what?"

"That somethin's wrong. Ye haven't been sleeping." His brows furrow as she only shrugs. "Or…is that normal?"

"Yes. And no." She turns back to stare out to sea again. "Only when my visions get strange – er. Stranger, than usual I mean."

"I see." He comes up to stand next to her and there is a long pause. "So what is it ye've been seeing this time, then?"

"That's what's so strange. It's basically the same dream every time, but…" She trails off, not sure she wants to go into this. Not with Alex. Not with anyone. The last thing she wants to do is make it anyone else's burden to bear.

"Emily. What is it?"

She shakes her head, turning to him. "I'm sure you and I could find something much more interesting to talk about than another one of my blasted visions." It comes out with more frustration than she intends to let on. She goes on quickly to keep him from pushing further. "Why are you awake? Did you stay up just to catch me?"

"No." He replies defensively. She gives him a look, and he breaks easily. "Yes. As it happens, I know enough of the wonderful and perplexing creature that is woman by now to recognize when one is particularly troubled."

"Oh, really?" She says, skeptical, trying not to smile.

"Yes, really." He assures her with playful pride, then gets a bit more serious. "That, and Jo 'alf put me up to it. Strange woman, could swear she's never 'appy unless she's worryin over something. S'ppose she thought I'd 'ave better luck findin out what was wrong than she would. Least now I can tell 'er ye're no less stubborn with me."

Emily sighs. "I should've known. And I am not being stubborn, I just…" She looks up at him, then leans in on impulse, pressing her lips to his.

He brings a hand up to brush gently against her cheek before pulling away a bit. "Are ye sure ye want to…"

"I was perfectly certain all the other times. It's you I'm beginning to wonder about."

"I only mean – ye just said ye haven't been sleepin, and somethin has ye vexed."

"You could take my mind off of it." She murmurs in response, deciding she doesn't have the energy to play their game tonight.

"I'd rather ye tell me what it is so I can help." His voice lowers a bit in that way it does when he's getting frustrated.

"I'm sure you could persuade me to tell you. If you'd only try." She takes his hand and guides it to rest on her waist as she steals another kiss, them murmurs against his lips. "Come to my cabin."

His hand drops as he takes a step back, his expression unreadable. "Not tonight, dearie."

Shaking her head, she turns on her heal and stalks a few paces away, her wooden leg thumping against the deck beneath them louder than usual. A thought strikes her before she gets too far and she whirls back around to retrace her steps. "What is it with you, Sparrow?" He winces. He only becomes 'Sparrow' when she's really angry. She plows on. "You talk like the men now and drink with them and goddess, there are times you sound so much like Uncle it's frightening, but the only time you've looked at me the way I want you to is the two times I've seen you drunk. So – so what is it?" Her voice drops to barely above a whisper. "I suppose I couldn't hold your attention for very long to begin with, and now… There's nothing desirable about a skinny girl with only one leg, is there?"

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that." He replies tightly. "Please, don't say things like that."

"But it's the truth. Isn't it?"

"No." He says, firmly. "No, it is not." He startles her, closing the distance between them with a sudden conviction and pulling her in for another kiss, this one fiercer, hungrier. "And you." He near growls. "Are either incredibly stupid for saying such rubbish, or far too clever for knowin me reaction. I can't for the life of me decide which anymore."

She stares up at him, searching his face, and finally heaves a tired sigh. "I'm sorry. You're right." She brings her hands up to bury her face in them. "I'm exhausted, now isn't the time. I'll just –," she peeks back up at him, "will you come to bed with me anyway? Just to sleep, I swear it. Only I'm so used to having someone close by when I do sleep and I keep remembering that one time, in the crow's nest, do you remember?"

He softens a bit, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "Drinkin the fancy French wine I'd nicked from all those crates of it that'd been in the 'old, 'ow could I forget." Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he begins leading her back to her cabin. "Just to sleep. Ye need to sleep, darling."

"Just to sleep."

She doesn't entirely believe him, she decides, when he turns his back as she reaches down to remove her leg brace. It could be, perhaps, just him being a little more sensitive than she sometimes remembers he is. Giving her privacy now that she'd let on she was a little touchy about her leg. But some dark, cynical part of her just won't entirely believe that. She slips under the sheets before telling him he can turn around, and he sets his own things aside before sliding in next to her. She hesitates to cozy up to him at first, but he wraps an arm around her slender frame, and she gives in, curling into him. His scent washes over her, the sea and something distinctly Alex tied in with the faintest trace of rum. Safe in his arms, she is asleep within moments.

He feels rather stupid himself when he has the chance to think about it. He'd told her he thought she was beautiful, but they'd already worked out that simply telling her wasn't going to work. And he should've known her leg would be an issue. He gets a little – almost squeamish about it, but only because it is Emily, and he can't look at it or think about it without seeing her laid out on the surgeons table again, pale and feverish and so very close to death.

But even it isn't ugly. Nothing about her is ugly. Her leg is only an outward sign of how strong a woman she is. And that strength is arguably the thing that attracts him to her most.

It quickly becomes a most impertinent routine, him sleeping with her, in her bed. The crew seem, oddly, relieved to see them emerge from below together, murmurs of 'it's about time' rippling across the deck, but Emily doesn't seem to mind them thinking whatever they will, so he forces himself not to care either. He can tell her sleep is still quite broken even with him so close by, but when she does sleep she tells him it is a little more restful, and at least he's there to comfort her when she wakes from the night terrors.

She still isn't herself, though. Jo worries about her no less than he does, but says she's learned that confronting Emily about it blatantly will simply never work. They'll just have to wait for Emily to come to them. He only hopes, for Emily's sake, that this will happen sooner rather than later.

It's certainly not the first time they've encountered another ship at night. Emily has a normal routine for this, just as she does for anytime another ship is involved; generally speaking, she tries to act with what little honor she does have. She's been blind-sided that way before by privateers; attacked at night when the watchmen only just had time to rouse her and the crew. The Queen had made it through that battle just as they had all others, but only barely. Emily has no wish to do the same to another unsuspecting ship – as much as pirates are hardly known for fighting fair, not all are as ruthless as the worst are. So, unless the other ship makes the first move, her instructions, usually, are to leave it at that.

This time is different. The ship heading their way is on the larger side, and though it's too dark to see their colors if their flying any, Emily has a feeling, a feeling that wakes her up even before any watchman can. Her goddess whispers. It's a Company ship, and a show of muscle is in order. Emily really doesn't like this. These ships run heavily armed and can be even more ruthless than most other pirates Emily's encountered. But her goddess insists. So, Emily makes sure to grab her sword and both pistols as she wakes Alex and tells him to do the same. Then she wakes Jo down the hall from her, and goes off to rouse the crew.

Fear and the usual excitement that comes before a raid make for a potent mix. Emily has to work a little to keep her own head as she orders any light on deck to be doused and tells her men to be silent as possible while they get ready for a battle. Maybe, if their careful and smart, the other ship won't have noticed them just yet. Maybe, just maybe, the Queen can get a head start on them. And then, just because she naturally only allows herself so much faith in her men, she sends up a prayer to her goddess. Don't let them see us yet. Somehow, let this work.

Jo doesn't bother questioning her; she recognizes the look Emily gives her easily. This one was on their goddess. Nothing more needed to be said. Alex, on the other hand…

"Are ye sure about this, Captain?" He hisses but still manages to sound a little mocking at the end. The ship is quite visible by now – quite visibly larger than Emily would normal bother with, and he's not used to just trusting her like her crew is.

She doesn't bat an eyelash. "It's not for nothing that they felt the need to take me prisoner, Sparrow." She steps up to take over at the helm, sparing him only a glance. "Now I'd suggest you make yourself useful. Find a cannon to load or something."

He scowls at her flippant attitude, but does as she'd suggested. Jo comes up to Emily and hands off a spy glass, which Emily uses to look out on the other ship. To her pleasant surprise, she only sees the very beginnings of movement on it, watchmen scrambling to get their crew mates moving. Taking a breath, she addresses her own crew. "Alright boys, we've been spotted now, hurry it up! I want those cannons loaded and ready to fire, we're going to hit them fast and hard! Sink them if you will, bring me a prisoner or two to boot and it'll be drinks all around when it's over! Either way, let's make sure they think twice about writing off a little ship like ours from now on!"

She's greeted with a chorus of 'aye Cap'n's, music to her ears. She pulls the Sea's Queen right up alongside the other ship and doesn't give her men time to start rethinking things; the minute the first of her cannons are in range, she gives the order to fire. And fire they do. As the cannons flair, she catches glimpses of the men on the other ship pulling out rifles with the usual military efficiency, and their cannons already being loaded as well, but the Queen has just enough of a head start. Before the Company men can get in any good hits, the Queen's cannons are already blasting holes in their deck – and their men. Emily normally tries to be a little more careful of that, but she reminds herself this time is different. This isn't some innocent merchant vessel. The Company is involved in all sorts of much nastier business. They don't deserve the same sort of sympathy, not by a long shot.

With this in mind, she shouts at her men as some begin to hesitate. "Get over there, you cowardly dogs! I said bring me prisoners! What do I have to do, load you into those cannons?"

Alex looks up and locks eyes with her for a moment, shakes his head, and draws his sword. "Come on then, gents, ye 'eard the lady!" He grabs a rope and swings over, which is just enough to prompt a few to follow – and then a few more as a result.

"Jo!" She calls the older woman over and hands off the helm to her before jogging down to swing over to the other ship herself. After that, the chaos nearly defies description. Bullets whiz past her and the arm holding her sword seems to wield it without her even thinking about it. The sailors she's fighting are little older than her and Alex in several cases, but excellent with their blades, and they don't stop to ask questions. Swipe, block, parry, finally disarm, spin around and cut the legs out from under a sailor hounding one of her men, spin around again and bring up her sword when someone bumps into her – realize it's Alex as their swords clash, bring up her pistol to shoot a man under Alex's arm while he sends his sword sailing through the air over hers and she thinks she feels blood splatter across her back, all while avoiding cannon fire from her own ship.

A bullet grazes her arm, but she barely flinches as her goddess's blessing does its job and the flesh instantly begins knitting itself back together in that morbidly fascinating way that it does. Alex's pulls her out of the way of another cannon ball and she turns with him just in time to watch it sail into the Company ships mast. She sends a brief glare in the general direction of her own ship; that would've been an excellent shot had it not almost hit her. Alex shouts above the chaos as he promptly fells another sailor, asking if she's alright.

Her goddess whispers to her again, turning her attention to a man up by the helm; the Company ship's captain. Apparently, if captives are to be taken, Emily would do well to ensure he's one of them. Pushing past Alex, she brings her own sword back up and begins making her way to the helm.

Emily disappears so abruptly it sends Alex into a bit of a panic when the fighting starts to wind down. The Company ship is in flames and won't last much longer. The men who were crewing it are abandoning ship, and Alex can't fathom how the little Queen actually managed this, but he's currently more preoccupied with making sure Emily's around to gloat about it.

He thinks he remembers her making for the helm. Dodging pieces of the burning sails and skirting around flaming debris, he jogs up the steps leading to the wheel. "Emily! Please tell me you've already crossed back over." He'll have to do so himself if he can't find her.

His eyes widen in surprise when a large man wearing a captain's uniform steps out from a door apparently leading to his cabin – with Emily right behind him, her pistol aimed at his head. In her free hand is a small wooden box, which she tosses to him before shoving the other captain back down to where the Sea's Queen has set up a gangplank. "Move." She tells him firmly. He does, but stalls halfway across, glancing down at the sea below them. Emily snorts. "Please, do jump. Give my regards to my mother."

The large man sends a deathly glare back at her, but gets moving again. Emily follows, with Alex close behind. Emily orders him thrown in the brig the second they set foot back on the Queen, and then joins Alex along with everyone else as they watch the other ship go down in awe. Alex glances at her, and the look on her face suggests she can't believe they'd just done that any more than he can.

Jo clears her throat as the long boats holding the Company ships surviving crew come into view, slowly rowing away. "Cap'n? Do ye want us to…?"

All eyes turn on Emily, who seems to shake herself a bit. "No. I've already got all I need. " She turns to begin barking out other orders.

Alex turns his attention to the box she'd handed him earlier, frowning as he opens it and doesn't immediately catch a glimpse of anything other than some papers. Why would Emily have taken this? Before he can come up with any possible answers, she clears her throat from just in front of him, causing him to look up. She's standing with arms crossed, expression, perhaps, just a tad smug. He rolls his eyes. "A lot o' lucky shots, that's all that was. If we'd try that in daylight we'd be rowin away instead o' them."

Now she just looks annoyed, snatching the box out of his hands. "Or maybe, just maybe, I know what I'm doing. Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

It's not. Actually, with the way she'd fought earlier, there's no denying she knows exactly what she's doing. Something about that is what scares him. He doesn't voice any of this, though, of course. "Ye know…" He starts instead, then pauses, adding a smirk as he looks her over – but it fades in the next second as he glimpses something over her shoulder. "Emily…" He points, looking thoroughly confused.

Emily turns to where Alex is pointing and just stares. There's another ship coming. Another very large, rather close ship. Too close to have gone unnoticed before. The night is dark with only a sliver of moon, so it's difficult to make out much about the ship at the angle… but something about it is terrifying familiar. Eyes wide, she jogs back up to the helm where Jo has taken the spyglass back out.

"Colors?" Emily asks, praying she's wrong.

"She's not…" Jo stutters a bit as she lowers the spyglass. "Not flying any."

Scowling, Emily sets aside the box still in her hands and snatches up the spyglass to take a look for herself. She catches glimpses of the ships strange figurehead, the even stranger crew on its deck, sails tattered and barnacle encrusted… And then what could be a woman, emerging from below decks, cutting a strange figure with the spikes on her arms.

The rest of the crew begin murmuring as they spot the other ship as well.

Jo glances at Emily, nervous. "Cap'n?" She prompts. Emily doesn't respond, can't make herself. She's frozen, hands shaking as they clutch the spyglass. The ship is coming closer, faster than seems possible. Jo goes on, sounding a little desperate. "Cap'n? Give us something, what should we do. Peg? Emily!"

But Emily can't think, she isn't ready for this, not now. She knows that fight, the one in her dream, can't possibly be getting ready to happen now, but she is terrified all the same.

Jo, giving up, turns to address the crew herself. "Brace the sails, we need to bring her about, come on, step to!" She takes the helm herself and begins impulsively turning phrases colorful enough to match her father's when the men don't move fast enough for her liking.

"Belay that." Emily squeaks, her voice cracking. She clears her throat, tears her eyes from the ship fast approaching and turns to, finally, address the crew herself, squaring her shoulders. She can't break now. She's spent the past few weeks doing her best to be strong, and she won't break now. "Belay that! Steady, lads!" She comes up beside Jo. "It's no use." And her voice, by some miracle, comes out strong and steady. "She'll catch us either way, better to stay put and see what she wants."

"Are you mad?" Jo hisses. "What she wants could be to send us and this ship down to the depths for all we know, and who's to say she won't!"

"If, for some reason, that were true, she would have stayed below the water until she was right on top of us and we'd already be sunk." Emily replies back snappily.

"Well, do you have any idea what it is she does want, then? Because I don't."

Emily can understand Jo's frustration. With the visions their goddess gives them, they are a bit spoiled, used to knowing. When they don't, it's like having their legs cut right out from under them. Emily turns to look out at the other ship again and only shakes her head as the fear grips her again, irrationally intense and crippling. "I don't know. I don't…" Hands shaking again, she turns away and begins heading for her cabin.

"Peg?" Jo calls out, adding another colorful insult. "Where are you going? Peg!"

Emily ignores her as she slips below.

And it's a cliff hanger for you! Ah haha! Really, though, it's just late, I have a headache, and this chapters long enough as it is. Next one should be up soon, I'm having fun writing for this fic. Thanks for reading!