They still sleep together most nights. How they manage to not get caught is anyone's guess; Emily's almost willing to chalk it up to pure, dumb luck for all that her goddess really has been a much more distant presence as of late. They know they shouldn't. But there's a thrill that comes with knowing they could get in trouble for it; there's more than one reason why they can't resist.

This particular night is different, though, because they'd come across another ship, a Company ship, and Emily had been all too eager to see what her new Queen could do. The other ship was destroyed a little too easily; the Queen's cannons blasted straight through to the powder magazine. The ship went right up in smoke and then sunk steadily into the water. Jo had been impressed. Joshy had snuck up on deck just in time to watch the other ship sink and had been mesmerized. Emily's papa had seemed some odd mixture of impressed and worried.

But Alex… Alex she couldn't read at all. And that was something. He hadn't followed her to their cabin when it was time to turn in. Refusing to be bothered by him, she simply goes to bed.

She's draped herself in the window seat, the window swung open to let in the cool night air. Staring up at the pretty white crescent that is the moon, she sings softly to herself the tune her mother had taught her once upon a time.

'Drink up me hearties, yo ho.
Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.'

A pirate's life for her. And she knew, now, exactly how she was going to continue that life just as it was. So what if Alex Sparrow didn't like it? It wasn't his plan, wasn't his decision. It was hers, and she could live with it. She would. It was better than the alternatives, at least. Really, it was. And Riley… he'd be fine. She'd release him when it was all over and he'd be fine. And what did Alex know, anyway?

The bottle clutched in her hand is more than half empty, but she doesn't care, not tonight. In fact, she's half hoping to be good and passed out if Alex decides to come for her, so she brings the bottle to her lips and…

"Something tells me you've had enough."

…and nearly chokes to death on the spicy liquid at the soft but scolding voice that should not be coming from anywhere in her cabin. Too startled to even recognize it, she reaches for her sword and staggers to her feet. "Who's…" But there's no one. She stares into the relative darkness enveloping half her cabin, swaying a bit on her feet and only growing more confused.

Then there's something just behind her. A creak, the sound of her desk chair sliding across the deck beneath it. Whirling around with her sword still at the ready – she staggers a step back and blinks slowly, once, twice. "Oh." She manages to articulate, brows furrowing. "Please tell me I'm dreaming."

Boostrap Bill Turner is sitting just before her, studying her intently and with perhaps a hint of curiosity. "Do your dreams often involve rum and dead men?"

Putting her sword away, she plops herself back down on the window seat. Glances around her cabin, down at the bottle in her hands, attempts to collect her thoughts. "There…sort of… is no 'usual' with my dreams. If this isn't one…grandfather, what are you doing here?"

"You have something your mother can't let you keep." He reaches forward and gently pulls the bottle out of her loosened grasp, setting it aside and out of her easy reach. "She's coming for it as we speak."

She's coming as we speak…she's coming…

Gasping awake, Emily's eyes do an instant, frantic search of her cabin. She doesn't find her grandfather, or any rum for that matter. This does nothing to stop the frantic beating of her poor heart. The purpose of that vision was a little too clear for her liking; the clock is ticking, and whatever the plan is that she's apparently going to come up with, she needs to get to the thinking up of it. Soon.

There proves to be many a problem with Emily's new and still evolving plan right from the start. The biggest of these problems comes in the form of Riley telling her where they are likely headed. The Admiral, it seems, is fairly well known for his power by now; his family is situated somewhere in a newer and very wealthy district in London. This may be her only chance to get to him and have the upper hand while doing so – but she'll have to risk going into the lion's den to do it.

As if that isn't enough, Jo points out that it'll be all the harder for Emily to pass herself off as being a lady if she has to do so in a proper ballroom full of London's upper crust. And that's not even mentioning how heavily guarded the Admiral will doubtless have his mansion, or the fact that he'll be likely to have at least half the guest list full of Navy or former Navy men. And then there was the fact that if anyone recognized her and she was locked up – there might not be any getting out, not in London, not right out from under the nose of the King himself. But she has a chance. She'll have to get it all just perfectly right. Reason says that it's nigh impossible.

But since when has she ever listened to reason?

In all honestly, this is probably, properly hopeless. But, as everyone well knows by now, Emily Turner is nothing if not stubborn.

"What is the point of this anyway?" She huffs, frustrated, as the books that had been precariously balanced atop her head crash to the floor beneath her again.

"Grace and balance. A young lady your age should have long since learned to pace a room without the books falling." Jo explains calmly from where's she's seated on a small, pretty sofa, drinking tea and looking rather dainty at first glance. Emily thinks she looks odd in her dress now, though. Something about the way she's sitting maybe, too relaxed, or her hair, left free and loose, or her skin, browned by the sun; she just looks out of place somehow. "Although, to be fair, any other girl of nine and ten years would have both her legs." Jo goes on, though Emily's only half listening.

"I don't know how they could manage with two!"

"…well, they'd also have the advantage of simply not being you." Jo stands and raises an eyebrow at Emily before retrieving the books and placing them on top of her own head.

Emily glares as the older woman crosses the room easily, the books remaining perfectly balanced. "I hate you."

"Yes, well, I'll live. This was all you're idea, remember." Jo hands the books back to Emily. "Again."

"I'm never going to manage this."

"You said you're at my mercy on this one. You can't afford to not have this routine down perfect, Peg, you know what happens if they catch you. Again. Alex should be here soon, we'll practice your dancing as soon as he is."

"Dancing. At least that might be halfway fun." Placing the books back on top of her head, she straightens herself up the way Jo had shown her and tries again. "And anyway, I still think you should be with me. Least that way I'd be less nervous." The books come crashing down – again – and Jo tells her to pick them up and keep trying.

"I suppose I could, but I'd be –," Jo hesitates, grimacing, "a bit out of place without an escort. If I say I've never been married I'll be a spinster, if I say I have there'll be other questions I can't answer."

"We could find you an escort. Bet that fine Captain of yours would do anything you like if it meant seeing you in a dress." The books already lying at her feet, she turns to give the older woman a suggestive smirk.

Jo blushes. "He's not mine. And he could be anywhere by now. Besides, it would mean having to get our hands on another two invitations. The invitations for you and Alex alone are costing us a small fortune."

"He can't have got that far, and between Alex and I coin isn't a problem. You should send him a letter."

Jo shakes her head, scowling. "We've already got enough to worry about. Again."

Emily rolls her eyes, picks up the books, places them atop her head, works her away very slowly across the room. "Wonder where Alex is anyway."

"He mentioned something about your brother and sword practice."

Eyes widening, Emily whirls around, reflexively holding out her arms to catch the books as they tumble down. "What?"

The boy means well. Alex knows this. He understands. They all, in their own separate ways, want what's best for Emily. The problem is, they can't keep up like this, not all three of them. Emily won't have it, and goodness knows that if she isn't happy, no one else is either. So, he intends to simplify things. Because Joshua Turner – really is just a boy. And with the eldest Turner around to worry about Emily now, Alex has enough to worry about himself. To begin with, it really is just practice. He ropes the boy into it by finding him a real sword to practice with; Joshy can barely lift it, but refuses to back down.

Alex doesn't want to hurt Joshy. Block, swipe just over Joshy's head, sweep to the side to easily avoid the younger boy's blade. Block again, twist and send Joshy's sword flying across the deck.

Joshy stands a moment, looking startled, before retrieving his sword. "Emily was right." He admits quietly. "You're fast."

"So is she. D'ye know she can beat me easy as I just did you?"

"I know she could." Joshy brings his sword up again. All is silent save for the clashing of steel for a moment as they go at it again; Joshy seems to try mimicking some of Alex's earlier movements, and lasts a bit longer for it, but his sword eventually ends up flying across the deck gain.

"Ye know yer sister can take care of 'erself." Alex points out as the younger boy goes to retrieve his sword again. Joshy only nods. Alex goes on. "Then why don't ye simply let 'er?"

Joshy is silent for a moment again, apparently thinking. "She's been different since you came. She never even talked about you before, and then that night… and she left me. Twice. She never would have done that before, I know it."

"Things just 'appen sometimes. People change."

"Not for the better."

"Maybe not in this case, but no one said that was for you to decide. And leavin ye be'ind – she was only tryin to keep ye safe."

"I'm not stupid." Joshy grips his sword a little tighter, bringing it up to face Alex again. "She just wanted me out of the way to…"

"To what?" Alex asks, perhaps a little condescending now. "Ye don't even 'ave the words."

"So she could have you!" Joshy finishes, angry now. He comes at Alex with enough rage to actually be a bit of a problem, though not a serious one.

Alex twists and turns, dodging the sloppy, rage-fueled attacks. Concentrating on foot work more than his own blade, he backs Joshy up until he trips over a set of barrels and tumbles to the deck on his bum. Then, with one long slash, Alex cuts open the sack of gun powder resting on the barrel right next to Joshy; the powder spills out right into Joshy's thick auburn locks, leaving him coughing and momentarily half blind. Hoping to drive the point home, Alex pulls his pistol out and aims at the younger boy's head, though he doesn't cock it.

Joshy scrambles to his feet, sword clutched in both hands and held out before him, but he freezes with wide eyes as he finds himself looking down the barrel of a pistol. Now, he drops the sword.

"I don't want to 'urt you." Alex tells him. "So don't go givin me reasons to need to. Peg can 'andle 'erself, and even if she couldn't, it'd be between me n' yer papa, not you." He lowers the pistol. "Savvy?"

Joshy glares up at him a moment, brushing the powder out of his hair, and Alex half expects the younger boy's going to say something about how the move Alex just pulled wasn't fighting exactly fair. It seems like just the argument a boy like Joshy would make. But he doesn't. Instead he just nods.

Alex puts his pistol away. "Clean that up. Peg would be mad as 'ell if her shiny new deck were left a mess like that."

Joshy continues to glare, but nods again. Satisfied that he's accomplished his mission for now, Alex leaves, remembering what Jo had pulled him aside to tell him earlier. Apparently, he has a date with a girl and piano, and if he doesn't get on his way by tonight, he'll be quite late for it.

He only gets about halfway through good ole London town before he's stopped right in his tracks by a single, simple piece of parchment. It's not a huge surprise. Things like this were bound to crop up. It is worrying, though, if only just a little.

It's stuck up in an alley just down from the shop where Emily had probably gone to get fitted for a gown, though it can't have been there the whole time, Emily wouldn't have just left it. Its message is quite simple; the word WANTED across the top, written in bold script, with a short description of why below a drawing of her. He curses quietly as he slips into the alley to get a closer look. Oh. Oh, that's her alright. And the script below; piracy, treason, escapes from jail. He laughs. So just being a general nuisance, then, oh yes, that's her. Quite a list for all that she hadn't been at it too long. And a description, too, which tells of her leg and all.

Glancing around to ensure no one's being nosy, he tears down the wanted poster, tucks it safe into his vest, and gets on his way again, this time with a little more haste.

"Alex, where have you been, Jo said something about you and Joshy, but I know you wouldn't dare…" Quite the little shrew, his Emily. Always ready for a fight.

"Aye, ye're brother and I 'ad a little talk, came to an understandin I should think, if 'e 'as 'alf a brain to speak of 'e'll be stayin out of our business from now on. And don't ye worry ye're pretty 'ead, the only thing I 'urt was 'is pride, assumin that even counts for much in a boy not even ten." He presses a kiss to her forehead, then pushes past her into the small house owned by some friend of Jo's. "Jo. Lookin a right vision today, not that ye don't usually." He greets with a playful wink before taking the poster out. "Ladies, I believe we 'ave here somethin that may, just slightly, resemble a conundrum."

Jo rolls her eyes as she crosses the room, hands coming up to rest on her hips. "You sound more like your father every day."

"Was that meant to be insultin?"

"We sailed with your father, I couldn't possibly mean it as a compliment."

"Oi, there are worse things I could've gotten from 'im than 'is silver tongue."

"I happen to know there are worse things you did pick up from him, and they could be summed up in the name of one pretty little whore," Emily – or perhaps more Peg – interjects with all her usual bite, and she's adorable when angry, "though I doubt she's the only one, now Alex, if you have something to tell me…"

He narrows his eyes at her before turning back to Jo. "She 'asn't been drinkin today, 'as she? She gets snarky when she's been drinking, you know."

"Not today, she hasn't, though I suppose I could be missing something. She has been having a rather excessive amount of trouble with those books." Jo's hazel eyes dance with thorough amusement. "Though, if I'm honest, this is mild for her."

Emily pinches the bridge of her nose. "If you two keep this up, I might just need a drink. Alex. You had something to say?"

"Somethin to show ye actually, though I can't say as it'll do much in the improvin of yer mood, might be better for me 'ealth if I 'old off." She glares at him. He places a kiss on the thin line that is her lips before taking out the poster. "Ye're pretty when ye're angry. Which might explain how ye always manage to be so beautiful. Right then. Our may-be-a-problem." He spreads the poster out. "Peg Leg Turner, ye're probably the most wanted woman in England. Which is to say, ye're quite possibly the only woman in England to have 'er likeness on a wanted poster. S'pretty impressive in its own way, ye ask me."

Emily scowls, leaning over to examine the poster. "Not that impressive. Bounties not that high."

Jo snorts. "You say that as if it's a bad thing."

"Higher the bounty, the more worried I've got the Admiral. With a price this low I'm definitely not trying hard enough. Considering I'm holding his favorite little lackey captive, I'm almost insulted."

Jo only rolls her eyes.

"Fortunately, they've only barely got ye're likeness down 'ere." Alex puts in. "Get ye all dolled up and pretty like the rest of the bonny lasses at this ball, they may not recognize ye based on this alone."

"One can only hope." Emily replies with a sigh. "Was this the only one you saw?"

"Aye, though where there's one there's bound to be others. I'd be smart about where I show my face if I were you."

"That's alright." Jo puts in. "She'll have plenty to do right here, as will you. Come on, both of you. Best get practicing those dances I tried to show you on the way here."

(Emily groans, but it isn't so bad, because sweeping across a dance floor doesn't feel so different from sweeping across the deck with a sword in her hand, and Alex is finding that he can enjoy anything if he has Emily as a partner.)

He keeps up appearances so well even Emily can almost believe nothing's wrong. In fact, she really, truly wants to believe nothing's wrong, because goddess only knows that she has plenty enough to worry about as is. But he still won't call her Emily anymore, and he won't really look at her anymore either. And if they're going to pull off this plan of hers, she needs to not be worrying about him.

"You know," she starts, curled up on the sofa Jo had been occupying earlier, a cup of tea growing cold in her hands, "it does get rather frustrating, having to ask you what's wrong. Seems like it's always something with us, doesn't it?"

"That might be because it is always somethin with us, dearie." He replies.

She laughs softly, staring down into her teacup. "Point taken. Well, you might as well just tell me what I did this time, then."

His eyes dart up sharply to meet hers for the first time in what could be days. "Nothin. If ye'd done somethin, I'd've said. I think it's me that's the problem." He turns to stare down at his hands again.

Setting the tea she hasn't touched aside, she shifts around to make room on the sofa. "Alex. Come over here and talk to me proper."

He looks like he may protest, but there's never been a real doubt of who's in charge between the two of them; they both know he won't deny her. Rolling his eyes in resignation, he gets up and crosses the room, settling himself next to her. Taking one of her tiny hands in his large ones, he stares down at it as he speaks. "You know I love ye."

Her reaction is instant, instinctive; she flinches, attempting to pull her hand away. "Alex, I…"

"No." He cuts her off, not letting her hand go. "No, just let me… I know – knew – Emily Turner. I knew when she was upset, could easily figure out what was wrong. I knew 'ow she'd 'andle things when she was angry, and 'ow to 'andle her when she was angry. I knew... 'ow she felt, could see it in 'er eyes when she looked at me."

Brows furrowed, Emily squeezes his hand softly. "Alex. I'm Emily. For you, I am always just Emily."

He finally looks up to meet her eyes again. "No. Ye're not. We aren't the same anymore, either of us. We stopped bein children; children couldn't 'ave cooked up this scheme of ours. The moment I made the mistake of sayin I love ye, I think. That's what did it, all at once."

"That's just what happens I suppose." Emily says, a little sad.

"It is." He replies. "It's just… it changes everythin, is all."

She hardens herself, preparing for what she thinks might very well be coming. "You're not – if you're thinking to leave again just because I won't keep up some pointless fantasy with you, Sparrow…" She snatches her hand away and shoots to her feet, fully prepared to slap him if he says the wrong thing.

Now, he laughs. A real laugh, as if he's really, very amused. "Sometimes ye me make me think… 'Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry.'"

Her anger fades, just a touch, dulled by pleasant surprise – but only slightly. She snorts indignantly, turning to stalk across the room, but she simply can't resist responding in kind. "'If I be waspish, best beware my sting.'"

His footsteps chase her slowly to the small window by the door. "'My remedy is then, to pluck it out.'"

She very deliberately ignores his approach. "'Ay, if the fool could find where it lies.'"

"'Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail.'"

She's holding back a smile now, but refuses to stop being angry. "'In his tongue.'"

"'Whose tongue?'" Alex wraps his arms around her waist, whispering in her ear.

"'Yours, if you talk of tails," she forces her lips not to twitch upward as she slips out of his arms and makes as if to go off to bed, "'and so farewell.'"

"'What, with my tongue in your tail?'" He grabs her arm and pulls her back, arms circling her waist again, her facing him this time. "'Nay, come again, Good Emily; I am a gentlemen.'"

She meets his eyes and for a moment they just stare at each other. He's the first to break into laughter; she follows almost instantly, hitting him playfully. "I had no idea you'd ever read Shakespeare."

"There are, in fact, plenty of things ye don't know about me, darling. That was actually the first I'd read of him. Me granddad 'eard me talking about ye and apparently couldn't resist suggestin it."

Emily snorts, glaring up at him, half playful. "So, it's a shrew I am, then?"

"Aye. My beautiful, untamable little shrew. Always all spit n' fire. But I'm not goin anywhere, Peg. I still love you. And I know ye love me too, but I don't expect ye to say it back, I can live with this. Just… it's taken me time to figure that out, is all."

"But you wanted…" She wraps her arms around him, laying her head on his chest. "You wanted to run away from all this."

"I did." He confirms softly, bringing a hand up to run through her hair, pausing a moment. "But never without you. And I already said. We've both changed."

She pulls back slowly to look up at him again. "What about my papa? What we have… it was fine before I stole him back. I don't want to have to sneak around forever. But I don't want either of you to get hurt."

Alex's eyes harden. "Well, sounds to me like we've got two options, love." Love. He called her 'love'. She thinks she could live with him calling her 'love' again. She forces herself to pay attention as he goes on, hating how easily he can distract her. "We can run on back to me granddad soon as this whole business with the ball is over and done with. He's still a captain, he could marry us up quick, and that'd be the end of it."

Emily scowls. "Except that would just be giving in. And you know how I hate just giving in. Besides, papa would still be a problem, he'd never just agree to you marrying me."

"Then I s'ppose we'll go straight to ye're papa and just tell 'im, plain and simple like. If 'e wants a fight, then I'll give 'im one. Ye're more n' worth it, ye know."

"It's inevitable, isn't it?" She huffs. "Then that's just what we'll do, but I do not want either of you to get hurt." She reiterates. "If papa insists on a duel, first blood wins, and I want plenty of others around when it happens to make sure of it."

"Ye'll get no arguments from me, but Peg, there is no losin for me." His tone lowers to the half growl that tells her he's being very, very serious. "I will 'ave you. If I draw blood…"

"I can't promise I won't be angry. This whole thing is bloody ridiculous. If I have to see either of you hurt just because you've decided I can't very well make the decision for myself... "

He presses a kiss to her lips, effectively bringing to a halt the rant she was once again working up to. "'Say she rail; why, I'll tell her plain, she sings as sweetly as a nightingale. Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear, as morning roses newly wash'd with dew.'"

She rolls his eyes. "You think your clever, do you? Anyone can quote another man's words, you know, dearie."

He only smiles, placing another peck on her lips. "Mmm. I love ye too."

It's not a decision he makes on a whim, really, it isn't. He doesn't want to get his sister in trouble, and he knows she'll hate him for this. But he's worried and he really doesn't like Alex Sparrow and it's become plain now that he can't fix this himself, he's too annoyingly, bloody small yet. (The words pop into his head just like that and he can just hear his sister scolding him for it and oh, she'll be so angry with him for this she may not talk to him at all anymore and the thought is so frightening in its way that his stomach churns and he almost doesn't do it.)

But no. Someone has to do something.

"Papa?" He asks shyly one evening, just before bed. He's been sticking close to his papa for the past few days now, because Emily and Ms. Gibbs have both gone off to do whatever it is that needed doing in London of all places.

They're on the Sea's Queen, Emily had somewhat reluctantly left their papa in charge of the ship, and he's in the galley playing cards with some of the other men. He sets his cards down upon hearing his sons voice, though, immediately excusing himself and leading Joshy out to talk. "Yes, Joshua?"

Joshy's first instinct is to correct him, because usually he's only 'Joshua' when he's in trouble, but he likes his name and it's so nice to hear his papa say it. He is silent for a nervous moment, trying to decide what to say. "Emily and Alex... I mean, they're – close. I mean, like-like…"

His papa's brows furrow. "I understand they are a bit more than simply friends, but…"

"You-you don't know. How much more, I mean, you don't know how much more, because no one would tell you that, no one wants to see what'll happen, but someone has to eventually, because it isn't…she's not…" His fists clench in frustration. He just doesn't quite have the words, or maybe, he does and he's just small and too afraid to use them because these are very big words in their way.

"Joshua." His father says, voice a bit more gentle as he kneels down to level with Joshy. "Whatever it is you have to say, say it."

"They're – lovers. Papa – just ask the men, they've been sharing Emily's cabin for months now!"

His papa's eyes widen now. "How on God's green earth would you know that, son?" He asks bluntly.

Maybe he shouldn't tell him. Maybe he should just leave things as they are. The thing is, though, that night… he's been dying to tell someone about it. Someone who'll maybe understand why it had upset him so. And his papa, he thinks, will almost certainly understand. "I suppose Emily wouldn't have told you." He stutters a bit. "You see, the first time I sort of met Alex, they were…" And he goes on to blurt it all out in detail that is undoubtedly far more perfect that what either his sister or Alex can even remember of that night.

Please don't hate me, Emmy. Please.

The play Alex and Emily are quoting in this chapter is the Taming of the Shrew for anyone who doesn't know, and it's one I thoroughly enjoyed. Shakespeare can be impossible to try and read, I know, but this one at least is worth it, I think. There's also a movie version with the lovely Elizabeth Taylor that's lots of fun.

Thanks for reading. :)