Jo Gibbs really is just full of surprises. Emily's beginning to wonder if she'll ever figure them all out.

She'd known that the older woman had something up her sleeve ever since London had first been mentioned, but hadn't asked. As loyal and honest as Jo had been to Emily for the past year and half, Emily feels it only fair that she step back a bit and just trust Jo in return. After all, Emily was so properly clueless when it came to dancing and ball gowns, she was fairly useless on her own.

With less than a week until the ball, Jo finally pulls Emily and Alex in to explain what she'd been up to. Apparently, her friend – the woman whose house they'd been occupying – is actually the governess of the girl the ball is for. She'd come to know the mansion itself, as well as its occupants, all too well over her time spent there. In other words, she'd been more than willing and happy to draw them up a rough map of the place and tell them as much as she could about the family she worked for, and had sent Jo off with a very genuine good luck.

"It's his youngest brother's daughter. Adelaide. She's just reached eight and ten year so the main purpose of the ball is for her to be thinking of suitors; it'll be mostly made up of wealthy businessmen, maybe some Navy men, but they'll all be paying more attention to her than anything else."

"You'll enter through the front entrance here. The invitations are genuine, as you know; the people they were actually for had to leave London on very, ahem, sudden and decidedly urgent business in the countryside. As a show of respect to the Admiral and his niece he sent…"

"… his daughter, Elizabeth Appleby nee Thackery and her husband, a Mr. Alexander Thackery." Their driver rattles of as he hands the man at the gates the invitation.

Alex is the first to step down out of the carriage pulled by two large, pretty brown horses. Taking a moment to keep himself good and together, he stands tall and adjusts the fine, gold trimmed jacket he's wearing, and carefully adjusts the hat placed just so over his dark hair – curled at the sides and pulled back in a neat cue. Then, turning back to the carriage, he holds one large, tanned hand out. A smaller and somewhat daintier hand takes it, and the young woman who steps down out of the carriage next is – far too beautiful at first glance to be anything other than the fine young lady her gorgeous, blue, French styled dress suggests. In fact, the fine embroidery, beading, and bows its sporting suggests a young woman who knows well the latest fashions and enjoys dressing like it.

Taking a moment to brush out the front of said dress, Emily thinks she's glad she isn't quite as fond of rum as her men are; the fact that she hadn't spent all her coin on it is what had allowed her to afford the dress. She knows she's a little out of place even still, with the lingering gait of a boyish sailor and the too-pink complexion of her sun-kissed skin. They'd come up with a story behind that, though. They'll be frowned upon for it, perhaps, but it's a plausible story, and that's all that matters.

"They aren't going to like your accent at all, Alex, so try to tone it down as best you can, like we practiced. Other than that, just try to act as though you belong. It shouldn't be too big a problem."

Taking Alex's arm as he offers it to her, they exchange a look as they begin walking towards the entrance to the fine, Grecian columned mansion. "I 'ope you know what ye're – you're – doing 'ere, Mrs. Thackery." He says nervously.

She hopes so too. "Of course I do." She reassures with a confidence she doesn't feel. "You just – concentrate on being the young Lieutenant Thackery."

"Lieutenant. Right." He takes a breath as the large, carved wooden doors open – and in they go.

It may take some time to spot the Admiral, assuming he really will be there. Your best bet here is to take it slow, and don't be afraid to put those dancing lessons I gave you to good use.

The ballroom itself is large and beautiful. A fine, polished piano sits in one corner where a small orchestra is also set up. The ceiling in the room is high, with a large crystal chandelier in the center. Tall windows draped in heavy curtains tied back with ropes line the walls, sconces set between them with candles flickering. The people the room is filled with are all dressed quite similar to Emily and Alex, the dresses varying in color some.

The young woman the ball is being thrown for is unmistakable – she's dressed the most finely in gold embroidered silks, and is just about always on the arm of a man. Emily and Alex make sure to stay well out of her way. However, there is no shortage of other people around. The conversations all end up going something the same…

"Oh, good evening! I had thought I knew everyone who was coming to see young Adelaide this evening. I'm…" Any one of a hundred names they hear this night.

"Alexander Thackery and my wife," he only stutters the first few times he says it, "Elizabeth."

"Pleased to meet you." Emily adds, demure and polite, with the slightest, obligatory curtsy.

"And you, Missus." The random noble replies, pointing at Alex. "You, lad, have the look of a sailor about you."

"I suppose I ought to, sir. I'm a Lieutenant, me. Just received my commission."

"Oh. Congratulations, good sir." And if their lucky, Alex's accent hasn't incited a grimace at this point. "And what of you, Missus? It does look as though you get no shortage of sun yourself, if you don't think it too rude of me, my dear."

"Not at all, sir."

"A touch spoiled, my Eliza is. Her father's only child, you see." Alex cuts in quickly. "Would much rather be out ridin 'er beloved mare than in the kitchens. Might well be why I love 'er so."

… Sometimes it's another woman they are speaking with and the focus is a little more on Emily than Alex. Just about all comment curiously on Emily's sun-kissed, lightly be-freckled skin, very few don't cringe lightly at Alex's accent (though none actually comment on it) and almost all have the boisterous or pompous air that is all too typical of the upper class.

Emily wants desperately to get ahold of one of the servants around to grab a glass of the wine they're carrying on silver trays by about the fifth of these encounters. Alex, determined to be entirely the reasonable one in Jo's absence, refuses to let her.

Eventually, Alex gets caught up in a somewhat deeper conversation with another sailor, and Emily takes the opportunity to slip off and search the ballroom out a bit. She hasn't seen the Admiral yet, but the night is still fairly young. It's possible he'd decided to finish up his work for the day before coming to see his niece. She wanders a bit, ending up at the tables set up in the back of the room.

That's when she catches just a glimpse…

A taller, somewhat older man. He's wearing a wig this night. But she could swear that's… it has to be him. She'd know that man anywhere. Following him from a distance absently, one hand preemptively inching toward the dagger hidden in the folds of her petticoat, she isn't watching where she's going, and….

"Oh!" A servant exclaims as she runs right into him, making him drop the tray in his hands. "E-excuse me miss, please forgive me miss, I didn't…"

"No, no!" Emily replies, cursing herself as she's now lost sight of the admiral, and what would she have done without Alex if she'd managed to follow him, anyway? Sighing, she turns her attention to the man she'd run into. "No, that was my fault. I'm terribly sorry, I was a bit distracted. Here, let me…" She goes to kneel down and help him, but can't quite manage it with her skirts and the full boned stay she's unused to wearing.

"No, I will get it, miss. Please." He holds up a hand, staying her.

She nods, backing up a bit – and running into one of the tables.

"I'd quit while you're quite ahead if I were you." The voice is just a touch condescending.

Emily turns around to find there's a woman sitting calmly at the table, sipping at a glass of wine. "Beg pardon?"

"My brother." The woman explains, calmly placing the glass down on the table. "The man you just had your eye on? There's a reason he's yet to take a wife. No woman can stand him long enough to get to the proposal, much less the wedding. No woman worth the having, anyway."

"I wasn't…" Emily almost laughs. "Goddess." Sensing something different about this woman, she shakes her head. "Milady, trust when I say, marriage is the last thing on my mind."

"Really? Well. I'd be quite interested to know what is on your mind then, I can think of few other reasons why any woman would wish to talk to him."

"I'm afraid the business I have with him is… personal in a much different way."

Now the woman eyes her, one eyebrow just raising as she reaches for her glass again. "Indeed. In that case, I should say you'll have to get in line."

"I'm sorry, miss…"

"Norrington. Laurel Norrington. I've never been married, I'm afraid."

Emily freezes. Norrington. That name again. The author of that book, so long ago…but that's not why the names familiar. Norrington. Where has she heard that name? Laurel, she knows from what Jo had been able to explain – the youngest of the family's nine siblings. A surname, though, was the one detail that had been oddly overlooked. But Norrington… Well, anyway, now she has a proper name to put to the Admiral. "Miss Norrington." She can't quite decide what to say next. Looking around, she grows curious. "Why are you sitting all the way back here when you could be elsewhere?"

"Never married." The strange woman reiterates. "My brother, the sod, insisted I be here but 'out of the way'." She holds up her glass. "So I decided I'd simply sit and enjoy the wine." She sips from it again.

"Right." Enjoy it a little too much, by the look and sound of it. Emily doesn't blame her. "Well. I'd best go – find my husband." She does stutter. "If you'll excuse me, milady."

"Good luck, Ms. Turner." Emily freezes, uncertain now. Laurel goes on calmly, tone lowered a bit. "If you're intending to take on my brother, you'll certainly be needing it."

Emily turns back to face the woman slowly. "How could you have known?"

"You have been the foremost thing on my brother's mind for some time, now. He's quite obsessed. And I, at least, know a sailor when I see one, man or woman. Lucky for you, none of these other mindless fools are paying such close attention."

Nodding once in understanding, Emily reaches for her dagger again. "So, then, Ms. Norrington. What happens now?"

"Well, I suppose I could call for my brothers friends. But then, he would hate for me to make a scene, and since he was so terribly insistent upon my fading into the background." She grabs her glass again, settling back into her chair. "I suppose, for my own safety, I shall just have to plead for you to spare me any trouble and be on your way." The sarcasm is scarcely veiled at all. Emily thinks she likes this woman. "By the way," Laurel continues, conversational now, "there's a lovely study just down that hallway there and to the left. My brother had the walls to that room made thicker. Perfect place for a private conversation on a night like this, I should think."

Unsure of how to respond to that, Emily simply darts back off to get lost in the crowd of the ballroom floor. Her mind races. She'd just met the Admiral's sister. She'd just met the Admiral's sister, and the woman knew who Emily was and had sent her off like it was nothing. The Admiral's sister, and she was obviously not very fond of her brother at all. Emily's mind begins flying through all the possibilities, for surely, there are many ways this new little tidbit could be put to good use.

Right now, however, she has to find Alex. Time they put their plan to action and hope to her goddess they don't get caught.

…

It's all very, deceptively tricky, really. The crowded ballroom, while being the very reason that their plan is so dangerous, is also the very reason that it has any chance of succeeding. Now that they're here, all that's left is for Alex to get close to the Admiral, just close enough…

Alex hadn't liked this part at all. Emily was banking on the Admiral not wanting to make a scene. If he's anything like the man she thinks he is, he'll not want to admit that a known fugitive, a woman no less, managed to slip into his mansion on a night like this, totally unnoticed. Alex is worried that the Admiral's desire to see Emily caught or killed will trump his pride. She can see where this would make him so nervous; if she makes the Admiral angry enough, he could have both Emily and Alex taken out to the edges of his mansions grounds and then disposed of, quickly and quietly, just to be done with it.

But even that would require him to call for his men and have Emily and Alex forcibly removed from the party. Someone would notice something going on, Emily would make sure of it, and questions would be asked. And the Admiral won't want that. Emily's certain of it.

The music being played changes up and the other party guests form rows to begin weaving around each other, switching partners every so often in another dance that, thankfully, Jo had shown them. Emily catches Alex's eye and gestures subtly towards the other end of the room, where the Admiral has stepped aside and is speaking with an older man in a Navy uniform. Nodding in return, Alex slips into the mix of dancers, joining them seamlessly and working his way across the floor to where the Admiral is.

Emily, trying to appear calm and collected as possible, begins inching her own way back past the tables and the woman, Laurel, who glances in her direction. She makes eye contact with Emily for one rather curious moment before getting to her feet, turning in the direction of the single servant-that-looks-more-a-guard posted outside the hallway Emily's heading for. Staggering drunkenly in a way that, to Emily's eyes, looks deliberate and exaggerated, she slips over to the guard and begins talking to him, rather animated. Several moments pass, and then the guard, looking embarrassed and exasperated but not surprised, takes her arm and begins guiding her away.

Leaving the hallway wide open. Emily slips down it, turns to catch Alex's eye from across the room (he appears to be having a simple, pleasant conversation with the Admiral, but Emily knows better). Then she turns and darts down it to the doorway Laurel had said lead to the thick-walled study. The door, of course, is locked.

Sighing, Emily glances around a bit before reaching into the pocket hidden in the folds of her skirts. Taking out a few small, simple metal pieces, she crouches down and begins picking the lock. It opens easily enough, she'd taken time to practice that new skill a bit, and she slips inside.

It takes several long and heart-pounding moments, but soon she hears footsteps. Letting out a breath as the door opens again, she crosses her arms, leaning against the fine wooden desk dominating the far side of the room, allowing a smirk to play at her lips. Now this – is the trickier part.

The Admiral is the first through the door. Alex throws him forward roughly, quickly shutting the door, and making sure the pistol aimed at the Admiral is – well, still aimed at the Admiral.

"You'll never make it out of here alive, boy, how dare -," and then the Admiral spots Emily and instead of the full rage she's expecting he stands tall and brushes out his coat and looks pleased. "Ah. Captain Peg Leg Turner? Is that you? What a wondrous sight for sore eyes you make; one might almost believe you to be a lady."

Ok. So, she wasn't expecting him to just go along with it all, but Emily does her best to keep the smirk. She has the upper hand. Not for long. But she has it and she intends to enjoy it while she does. "Mmm, just as one might believe you to be a gentlemen, until they see what you're capable of with that shriveled, black thing one might mistake for a heart. How strange that I am 'captain' now. I seem to recall being only 'the little harlot' when last we met."

"A lady just until she opens that mouth." He doesn't miss a beat. "Indeed, you were, but then you escaped and absconded with that lovely little boat of yours, so I won't deny you've earned it. Now, you haven't much time until I am missed. What is it you want?"

Emily eyes narrow at the insult to her Queen, but lets it go seeing as he hasn't seen her new ship. "I have a friend of yours."

"I have many friends, Captain."

"Oooh, but I should think you've very much missed this one by now, especially considering what he was carrying."

Realization dawns; now there's anger in his eyes, but his tone remains pleasant. "Ah. The letters. If it's a civilized discussion you were looking for, I may have considered giving it to you had you only been polite about it."

"Oh, but this way seemed so much more fun." Emily taunts back. "And it really was too easy. All those silly little posters you've got around and not one of your spoiled guests noticed a thing wrong." That's a lie. It had gone rather smoothly, but it hadn't been easy by any means either, and she's sure not a few of the people she'd talked to had noticed something at least a little off.

"Well, I can hardly blame them. They do, I'm sure, have better things to occupy their minds with. Scum such as you and your men," he glances back at Alex, eyebrows raising upwards briefly, "are my concern, not theirs. Now, tell me, did you read the letters yourself? Because I can assure you, Captain, I am quite serious with the bargain I am offering to make."

"Oh, I'm sure you are. What I want to know is why."

"Why? Because you intrigue me. Because I believe you are far more valuable than first glance would imply. Because my only other option would be to have you hung and that would be a downright shame for a young woman so beautiful as you. Take your pick, my dear."

"Valuable? What do you mean, valuable?" Emily snaps in response, growing tired of his cryptic non-answers.

He eyes her a moment, his head tilting curiously. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Oh, splendid! That's somewhat of a relief, I must say. If you don't know than my telling you now could change everything. My dear, dear Captain. I'm surprised this goddess of yours hasn't seen fit to explain it all."

Ok, she's had about enough now. Alex holds the pistol up to the Admirals back, ensuring he stays put and Emily stalks across the room. Taking out the dagger, she holds it up to a rather delicate place just below the Admirals belt. "Let me make something very, very clear. You have not been missed just yet. There's still plenty of time for me to lose my temper, and none of your little friends are currently around to protect you. So the next thing out of your mouth better bloody well be something useful." She puts a little more pressure on the dagger and finds, in that moment, that she is very, very tempted…

He freezes, holding both hands up in surrender. "Easy now, Captain." A little more pressure, now he winces. "You…you're the child of Her newest little pet, you see. Now since your mother very much exists, and is alive enough to run her ship, I should think it's safe to assume all those old legends are quite true to some extent. And if they are, than you my dear, are very, very unique."

"Unique how?" Emily half growls.

"Patience, patience." He chides, though he glances down at the dagger nervously. "These legends suggest that Davy Jones was not the first to be given the job your mother is now meant to be doing. He was only unique because the lover that was his anchor was the goddess herself, and he fell to the curse as a result."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"The legends also suggest that any children begat by the ferryman were – well, it's a curious thing, isn't it? Your mother has no heart and therefore is dead by any standard science has so far set, and yet she was just alive enough to conceive you. And I do seem to recall, upon our last encounter, that any wounds you received were gone within a remarkably short period of time."

"I am blessed by my goddess to heal quickly." Emily says, growing confused now.

"Are you? Your goddess can do much in the way of protecting those she gives her blessing, but of the few others I have met, none could heal as you do."

This information is startling to say the least. She'd always figured… but wait, no, that's just it. She'd assumed. But Ana had scars lining her body left and right. And Jo – she'd fallen ill, Emily remembers now, some few months before they'd met up with Alex at Shipwreck again. The older woman had pulled through, obviously, and it could even be presumed that their goddess did have a hand in that, but she was bed ridden for weeks. Emily had never fallen ill like that, at least not that she could remember, excluding the time she lost her leg. "Oh." She murmurs, lowering the dagger.

The Admiral relaxes visibly. "Indeed. You're valuable, Ms. Turner, because like your mother, you are not quite dead or alive. You are something in between. Although you may continue to age, it is quite possible that you cannot be killed. And that, my dear, presents me with an opportunity I could not possibly pass up. An invulnerable captain, protected by a goddess no less? It's almost enough to make the fact that you are a woman quite irrelevant."

A fresh wave of anger washes over her and she brings the dagger back up to its threatening position. "And what the hell makes you think I would ever even consider joining you?"

Now he's smirking, and her stomach twists itself into a knot. "Because though you are, above all else, wonderfully clever, you have too soft a heart to maintain the position you've put yourself in. There will come a time, very soon I think, when you realize that you have one very simple choice to make: take my offer, which will remain quite open for the time being, or watch everyone you've come to love die."

Emily chances a glance back at Alex, but he's not looking at her. He's too busy glaring holes into the Admiral's back, the pistol shaking in his tightly clenched fist. "Die?" He growls in that low, danger voice of his. "What are ye goin to do, send you're fleet after us, have 'em sink us while ye sit back and watch like a coward? Why don't ye find us a pair o' blades to use, see which one of us is the one who really ends up dead?"

The Admiral glances back at Alex, his eyes darting down to the pistol. "Pull that trigger and I can promise, you'll never make it out of here. Well, not alive, anyway."

"Easy, Alex." Emily says, quiet but firm. "He's right."

"Contrary to what you might think, I have no actual wish to see you dead, Captain." The Admiral confesses. "I wasn't lying when I said you intrigue me. Why don't you take time to think over what I've told you? We'll meet again soon enough, perhaps then we can have a talk where knives and bullets are not so much necessary."

Emily eyes him, calculating, trying not to show her own exasperation. He'd explained everything and nothing all at once. So she is invulnerable to harm. She already knew that. He wants her because a captain who is quite possibly incapable of dying could prove useful. That makes sense. But useful for what exactly? What is it he's planning that would have him willing to put a woman – a woman with the bad blood of not one, but two pirates running through her veins, no less – in charge of one of his actual, official vessels?

She's desperate to demand more answers, but she's pushing her luck where time is concerned as it is. Heaving a frustrated sigh, she puts the knife away. "Fine. Until next time, Admiral. Alex." He keeps the pistol trained stubbornly on the Admiral's head, and she's never seen him look so murderous. "Sparrow!" She snaps, tone more commanding this time.

He lowers the pistol slowly. "Aye, Captain."

Stalking past the Admiral, Emily pauses at his side to glare up at him a moment, then allow her smirk to slide back into place. "Oh, and as for my so called 'boat', feel free to send more of yours after me. We had loads of fun with the last one. Didn't we, Alex?"

"Went right up in smoke, it did." He agrees. "Almost too easy."

The Admiral's brows furrow at this, anger brewing behind his eyes again. Alex hurries her out before her mouth can get them into any real trouble.

…

She's only half paying attention as they slip back out; Alex guides her with a firm hand to the small of her back, and they are stopped a few times on the way, but she doesn't remember any of the conversations.

…not quite dead or alive. Something in between. Unable to die.

She thinks this should, maybe, be good news, great news. Maybe she doesn't have to worry about her mother. Maybe all she has to do is make sure no one – Joshy, her father, Jo, Alex, goddess forbid – else is around when they finally have the stand-off her goddess had been warning her about. Maybe they can't kill each other and they'll have to find some other way to fix things, somehow.

But the words keep echoing in her mind. Not quite dead or alive. Unable to die. Something in between.

Something in between.

She kept calling herself the devil's daughter. Maybe she really hadn't been so far off. Perhaps the thought should be a relief in some way. But she really feels anything but relieved.

"…unique? What's that meant to mean, unique?" Jo glances in Emily's direction, brows furrowed.

Emily rolls hers and says nothing, only stares down at the dagger in her hand that she's been fiddling with. Almost. She almost… She could've had him…just the flick of her wrist…

"We don't know, Jo." Alex replies for her. "I mean, I've never 'eard anythin like what 'e was talkin about. He mentioned somethin about 'er mum, about how she's not quite dead or alive."

"Well, what did he say exactly? Surely there was more."

Alex glances in Emily's direction. She still says nothing, just continues to play with the dagger. He shrugs. "Poppycock, Jo. Rubbish. That's all it was. He wants 'er because she's a woman and she's bested 'im twice now, 'e'd probably 'ave said anythin if 'e thought it might get 'er to stay with 'im."

"Alright. Maybe. With the way Peg's been baiting him," they're beginning to talk like she's not even in the room anymore, "that wouldn't surprise me. But I'd still like to know what exactly he said."

"Jo, I'm tellin ye, it doesn't matter."

"I think it does. Alex, I've heard something about this before. There may be a way to…"

"To what?" Alex scowls. "Don't think I've forgotten what I caught ye with the night after…"

"I didn't…that was…I told you…" Jo shakes her head, looking a tad sheepish, but she doesn't back down. "Blast it, Alex, why can't you just tell me! We might be able to help her!"

"I'm still here, you know." Emily speaks up dryly, causing both Alex and Jo's eyes to dart to her. "He said I was some sort of… I don't know." She shakes her head, frustrated. "He seems to think that, somehow, I'm – not quite alive. That since my mother is… My mother. Damn!" Fist clenching around the hilt of the dagger, she brings it up and throws it in frustration, watching as it spins neatly and embeds itself deep in the door across the room. "I don't want to be her daughter! I'd rather…goddess, I'd rather turn out just like papa!" The anger fades as quickly as it came and her shoulders slump as she buries her face in her hands tiredly.

All is silent for what seems an eternity. After a few moments Jo sits herself down on the sofa, and Alex's heavier footsteps cross the room to retrieve the dagger, then make their way back over to her.

"I'm sorry, love." He says softly. "I didn't even realize…"

She forces herself to look up, shaking her head. "No. I don't even want to talk about it."

Jo's staring down at the floor, thinking apparently. "But wait. I think…I know…my books. I'd have to talk to Addy."

"Jo, what are you going on about now?"

"I used to be a maid for this wealthier woman in France, but that's not important, what is important is that when I left I had some books that talked about…" Alex, Emily notes, narrows his eyes at the older woman at this. Jo notices too, and clears her throat. "But, right, the point is, I think I need to get my hands on them again. But I'd have to ask an old friend about them. And she won't be happy to see me."

"Good." Emily replies on impulse. "Sounds like fun to me. I could use a distraction. Where could we find this friend, then?"

Jo looks sheepish again. "Well. You see, you already know her. Although, I didn't, apparently, not as well as I thought. I mean, honestly, she was such a sweet girl to begin with, you'd never believe…"

"Jo! You're giving me a headache. The point?"

"Her name was Adrienne. Adrienne Barbossa, I suppose, now. And she'll be looking to have my head on a platter, so if it's a distraction you want…" Emily and Alex just stare at her. Jo's hand shoots up to begin playing with her raven curls as she grows more flustered. "Right. So, then, there's still some things you haven't told me?"

Emily glances in Alex's direction. He rubs the back of his neck and suddenly grows very interested in the wood floor beneath them. "Maybe…just a thing or two…" He mutters.

Emily's curious as to why Adrienne Barbossa would want Jo's head on a platter, but doesn't bother to comment on it since she'd still love a good reason to have Adrienne's head on a platter. "Well, then. She'll be with her father still, I'd assume, so. Either of you heard tell of the Queen Anne's Revenge, by chance?"

Surprise! One new chapter, a bit earlier than usual, and I already have the next one written right up, so there you go.

So, yeah, remember that scene way back in chapter 38 where Alex gets himself thrown out of a tree and right into a camp full of Spanish sailors? If this last scene confused you, go re-read what Adrienne told him just before all that happened… aaand now it should make a little more sense. :)

Thanks for reading!