Time. There simply isn't enough time. The Dutchman's restless captain is already preparing for a fight, but Emily's not ready. She will be, soon, Calypso has faith in her favorite blessed one. But these things can only be hurried along so fast. Something must to be done. If she is not allowed enough time – disaster may ensue, complete and utter disaster.

Calypso is only allowed so much interference. It seems, however, that she did indeed spend too much time among the funny mortal outlaws – following the rules set for her no longer seems to be her strong suit.

.

The sun is bright and beautiful. The sea laps at the white sand shore, the waters perhaps a little choppy, the only indication of any unrest on the goddess' part. A light breeze slips past the coconut trees dotting the jungle making up the center of the island, rustling the leaves. The scene is peaceful and pretty… And Captain Swann scowls, glaring around at it all. It's been so long since she's been here, she can't bring herself to be anything but suspicious. What's Calypso up to now?

No sooner has the thought crossed her mind than the wind picks up, just for a moment, and then she becomes aware of a familiar, powerful presence.

"Mmm, 'tis always nice ta see yeh too, my Lizzie."

Lizzie sneers back. "Why am I here?"

"Because I have a bargain to make with yeh."

"Bargain? I don't need anything from you."

"Don't you?" The goddess struts forward, reaching out to catch one of the snakes writhing atop the captain's head. It hisses and snaps at the goddess, who only snorts. "I would think there is nothin yeh wouldn't give to be rid of what ye brought 'pon yehself."

Lizzie pauses at this, intrigued to spite herself. "And you're saying you could? Would allow for me to be rid of it?"

"It is the best I would have to offer yeh." One of the goddess' hands trails down, slow and steady, until it rests over the empty cavity that would house Lizzie's heart.

Lizzie gasps as she feels the serpents atop her head fall limp – long, golden brown strands replace them, falling to frame her face. She holds up one shaky hand, finding skin, pale but very human, instead of the scales she's grown used to. For a moment she's tempted to agree on sheer impulse, but she catches herself. Now she knows Calypso is up to something. The hand she'd been staring at comes up to grasp the goddess' wrist, her grip surprising strong and remaining so even as the hand becomes scaled and webbed again. "Such a gift wouldn't be given without a steep price, I imagine."

Calypso glares down at her hand darkly, and seems almost grudging in her response when Lizzie doesn't let go. "No. Never without a price. My price for dis is time."

"Time?" Lizzie scoffs, growing impatient. "I have plenty, speaking in general. What are you asking?"

"Yeh plannin to confront yeh daughter, steal back de compass. I am only tryin to be sure de fight is fair."

"Fair?" Lizzie laughs outright at this. "You talk to me about fair? Life is anything but fair. If Emily hasn't learned this by now, I'll be only too happy to teach her myself."

"Have yeh no love left for the chil' yeh labored so long to bring into de world?" The sky grows cloudy and the wind picks up as the goddess' mood darkens. She wrenches her hand free, glaring darkly at Lizzie. "I do not recall dat young Emily ever did yeh any wrong."

Somewhere locked away in a deep corner of her mind, the little that remains of Elizabeth cries out that yes, of course there is love left for her daughter, there will always be that! But Lizzie ignores her as always, refusing to be cowed. "All the same. Every day brings her closer to running off and finding the Chest, and I won't allow that. Not even for what you offer."

Calypso studies her, and the clouds clear away, the wind dies back out, but Lizzie knows her. The waters lapping at the shore grow more restless, the waves further out swelling higher. She's got the goddess worried. "And if dere was more?"

"More? What more could you possibly have to offer?"

There is a pause, as though the goddess is hesitant. But she's a goddess. Goddesses don't hesitate. This must be big. "William Turner."

"Is long dead." Lizzie snaps back, impatient again.

"Is alive and well," the goddess corrects, "tanks to yeh very determined daughter. I will restore yeh beauty and hand him over to yeh, to do wit' as yeh please. In return, I ask only for two weeks of patience."

Lizzie takes a moment to process this. Will – is alive? Emily had stolen him back? No doubt the very same way Will and Lizzie had once rescued Jack Sparrow. Her first instinct is to hunt him back down – but two weeks doesn't seem so long a time when you know you are immune to time itself. Two weeks, and the goddess will simply give him back? Well. She'd be foolish to protest with the trouble she'd be saved. "Very well."

"Alright. Best we start small and simple." Ana sets a small book on the table cleared just for this purpose.

"The most common way our magic shows itself is through levitation." Jo adds. "This should be easy."

Emily stares at the book. "What do I do exactly?"

"The easiest way is to command it, out loud." Ana answers.

Emily thinks this is ridiculous. She'd promised Ana she'd behave and listen, though, so she takes a breath. "Come." Nothing. At all. Emily turns to Ana, annoyed.

"Oh, don't give me such a look." Ana scolds. "It takes practice. You have to feel it."

Feel it? Like she'd felt it on the Queen with Peter? She tries to remember the feeling, that strange pressure. Turning back to the book, she straightens up and uses the tone she would while giving orders. "Come!"

Well, she gets something this time. More than she was looking for; the whole table flies up and sails towards her. She ducks on instinct, hands coming up to shield her as she braces herself, expecting to get knocked back – but it doesn't happen. Relaxing slowly, she looks up to find the table and the book only made it halfway to her and are now floating in midair. Standing, she notes Jo off to the side, looking amused with hands on her hips, and then Ana, with one hand held out before her, keeping the table where it is.

She lowers her hand slowly. The table sets itself back on the floor, the book landing on top of it with a soft thud. "Again." Ana says. "But – let's try just the book this time."

Emily blushes.

The entire crew has gathered on the deck of the Queen just to watch. The pair fly across the deck with their swords, swiping and blocking and jumping and dancing. The older boy laughs, taunting playfully as his opponent tries to match up. The Captain watches, one hand over her mouth, the other on her hip, caught between worry and amusement.

Joshy is a fierce little thing for all that he refuses to give up. It's impressive how long he lasts, until Alex finally trips him up and the younger boy falls on his face, his relatively harmless practice sword flying across the deck to land just at Emily's feet. She picks it up, ready to hand it back to him, expecting he'll be frustrated, raring to go again. She's not wrong, he takes it back eagerly and goes to face Alex again, but there is a grin on his face to match the older boys.

Emily allows a happy smile to spread her lips. Her boys, it seems, are finally beginning to get along.

Now, if only she can get to her papa…

It's a beautiful night. The moon shines down, bright and just about full as Emily sits at the docks, one bare foot dangling in the water. She'd been unable to sleep – not that this is anything new – and so had decided to go for a walk. Funny how she's come to feel the most at peace like this, under the stars in the dead quiet of the night.

All this business with her magic still isn't sitting right with her; in fact, she hates it the more she's forced to learn to use it. The thing is, it's not that she doesn't want to use it. Really, it's just the opposite. She can see, so very well, just how useful it could be, what she could do with it. She's already caught herself wondering how she could use it against the Admiral, getting creative with what she'd like to do him. Perhaps, with all he's done to her, she can be forgiven this, but she still doesn't like it, doesn't like thinking what she might be capable of.

She does not want to be her mother.

It all leads back to this singular thought, and her fists clench. That strange pressure builds in her gut. She doesn't always know what's going to happen when the power builds inside her; if she gets upset, there's no telling what could happen, she's finding. She can't stop it once it starts, though, so she only tries to ensure it's nothing bad. This time, at first, it seems it will come to nothing at all. She stares down into the water before her, a little confused – and then her eyes widen as the water itself begins to form long tendrils which climb up her leg and continue traveling upwards until they come to her hand, where they form a sort of ball.

This is…new.

She tries to remember if Jo or Ana had mentioned anything about being able to control water in some way. She isn't sure they have. Tilting her head as she holds her hand out over the water, she tips it as though pouring water out of a glass. The sloshing ball in her hand loses it shape, all at once, and slides back to the sea beneath her with a soft plop.

She's almost curious enough to want to try that again, to see just what she can do with this…but she scolds herself sharply. She's here to learn control, that's all. Once she's got that down, she has no intention of using her magic at all.

…at least, that's certainly what she tries to tell herself…

She avoids Riley. She doesn't want to. In fact, she's finding at times, now that the rules have been changed up a bit, she'd love nothing more than to spend time with him. She thinks it would be nice, to try just being his friend. The problem is, she doesn't know that it'll be so easy to remain only his friend any longer. She hates herself for it, but it's the truth. Somehow, she gets the impression he's avoiding her as well, and it's enough to make her wonder if perhaps, just maybe, he feels the same about her.

None of this, it appears, goes unnoticed by Alex – or her papa.

"It is hard not to wonder." He says one evening, coming to sit in the now empty chair next to Emily. They are in a tavern – Jo had been sitting with her, but Captain Kristoff had come up and asked her for a dance as a lively tune had been struck up.

"Wonder what?" Emily asks absently, unsure of what he means and rather preoccupied. Riley is sitting not a few tables away with some of her crew, who have, it appears, coaxed him into trying some of the rum they have been enjoying.

"Why you have yet to let them go."

It takes her a moment to figure out what he could mean, but she scowls when she does. "Let them – after what Andrews tried a few days ago? I have half a mind to keelhaul him! In fact, I'm very much contemplating it."

"Just Andrews?"

"Well, no, that midshipman too, of course."

"Of course."

She finally turns to him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"When I said 'let them go', Emily, I meant all three of them. They are all Navy men. Company men. Right?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Then why is that one now allowed free reign of your precious ship?" He points to Riley.

Riley looks across the room to her, as though he can sense he's being spoken of. He meets her eyes and smiles, a little shy. Emily returns it without thinking and she has a feeling she knows what her papa is getting at. She tears her eyes away, the smile fading as she reaches for the mug set before her – but her father snatches it out of her reach. She glares at him.

"I was hoping for an answer." He says, unperturbed.

"Because he's – different. And if I send him back now he'll be hanged. I have to find another way." She waves him off.

"Different." Her papa repeats, skeptical it seems.

"Yes, different, alright, I don't expect anyone else to understand."

"I do understand, Emily. He seems a good boy. But he's young for you, perhaps in more ways than age implies. And I suspect you know all too well, what you could do to him."

She doesn't answer, doesn't need to. If she lies, her papa will see right through it, if she tells him the truth, she will only be giving him what he already knows. She only huffs and tries snatch her drink back. He studies her a moment. "I'm only trying to make sure you know what you're doing."

Emily snorts, wondering what her papa would think if he knew he was repeating back to her Alex's very own words. "Believe me, papa, no one hope's for that more than I do."

Something about that answer seems to satisfy her papa at least somewhat. He stands, sets the mug back in front of her, places a kiss atop her head, and leaves her to her thoughts.

She dreams of her mother. It's not the usual dream; it's a bit of a blur, pouring rain, her papa shouting, glimpses of herself as she tries with shaking hands to perform some sort of ritual with her mother's heart beating on the table before her. That last gruesome sight is what sticks in her mind, the haunting thump-thump and the sound of an organ being played.

In honesty, this particular dream could be less an actual premonition and more Emily's mind simply being jumbled with apprehension. Whatever the case, it's what she wakes to find that worries her the most; when she opens her eyes, there are books floating about the room. Wait, no. Not just books. Anything that isn't large and heavy – cushions from the window seat, an empty bottle, it's all swirling chaotically about the room. Even the lanterns on the walls pull at their hooks. It's madness. She almost laughs when she sees her peg leg sailing through the air. And just like that, it all stops, falling to land with quite a jumbled clatter. Thankfully, the only thing that's breakable is the bottle, and it doesn't.

Right then. No chance she's getting back to sleep anytime soon. Might as well clean this mess up while she's got nothing better to do.

Her leg brace is now sitting halfway across the cabin, well out of her reach. She'll have an interesting time trying to get to it unless she attempts to use her magic – but then there's a chance she'll summon it and all the books it's surrounded by. Goddess, this is ridiculous. She laughs at herself, probably sounding half mad, but that's alright, there's no one around to care.

Bringing a hand up, she takes a breath. "Come!"

She's going to tell him. Emily's going to march right up and say it and pull Alex in for a kiss, and then she's going to tell him just what she really thinks about him having run off with Adrienne. She's going to tell him that what she wants more than anything is for him to be hers and only hers and it won't be too much to ask of him because he loves her too so it will all be good and…

…and maybe, just maybe, she'll forget about Riley Connelly, because she really, really needs to.

They've been at shipwreck for nearly two weeks. Ana and Jo have been relentless in trying to drill several books worth of new knowledge into Emily, forcing her to use her power even though she isn't any more comfortable with it than she had been upon first being told she had it. In fact, she's growing less comfortable with it the more she practices its use. The result of this has been a lot of headaches all around, and after a particularly frustrating session involving a lot of broken glass and a fire lit quite on accident, she'd stormed off. It's far from surprising that a bit of aimless wandering actually lead her down to the docks; she always seems to end up pacing the deck of her ship when upset.

What was surprising was running into Riley, who had been down in the brig, talking to Andrews and trying to make 'something-resembling-peace' with the boy who had been his fellow midshipmen.

"Peace?" She'd asked, incredulous and grasping at the chance to focus on problems that weren't her own. "He threatened to shoot you, Riley."

"Yes, but what happened was my fault as much as his. I had to try and talk to him."

"Your fault? Riley, don't be ridiculous. If you hadn't been the victim, someone else would have, and the fact that you were was really my fault besides."

"No, I mean… there was a reason I came up to talk to you that day you took me down to your cabin, Miss Emily." He'd started to look uncomfortable, averting his eyes. "Andrews had sent me, it was to be my last chance. I was to convince you to just let us go, by whatever means I thought necessary, or he would go forward with his own plans. But you – I mean, I let you…"

"You were rather distracted." She'd softened. "Still. Very much my fault. But I get the impression you and Montgomery were friends. He didn't seem to feel any guilt for it, holding you at gunpoint."

"He didn't. He still doesn't." Riley's fists clenched. "Peter thinks me no better than – well, you. His words, Miss Emily," he added hastily, "not mine. The point is, he said…" He'd trailed off, looking conflicted, clasping the rail next to her as he stared out to sea.

"What?" Her hand seemed to have moved of its own accord, covering his gently. He looked just – so sad. "Riley, what is it?"

"He said he hoped to be there when I hang one day." He finally got out, the sadness turning to anger. "I almost wanted to hold him at the point of a pistol for it. See what side he'd choose if forced to in such a way." His eyes had widened as the force of his own words sunk in. "Forgive me, Miss Emily. I've – never felt so conflicted before."

"Riley." She hated her own weak, very female heart as it hurt for him. Hoping to put a smile back on his boyish face, she'd taken his hand in her own, squeezing gently. "You know, I think I'd almost take captain over 'Miss' anymore. Honestly, you make it sound so formal. I'm a pirate, not some fine lady."

He turned to her, then, and a smile did indeed grace his lips, if only a small one. "Wasn't it you, though, who told me not to get too comfortable? I should think my mother would be far more grateful if you took care to bring her back a gentleman."

"And I happen to know that mothers of any kind would not be able to manage anything even resembling 'gratefulness' when catching a glimpse of me, particularly knowing I had been keeping their son company." She'd given him the smirk of the devil's daughter. "As well they shouldn't."

He'd laughed, but his answer was quite serious. "Well, sometimes you have to look a little beyond ones appearance. I should think I've learned that lesson very well these past months. Any man would be lucky to have you, Miss Emily, they'd need only to be patient enough to discover it for themselves."

She was blushing. Genuinely blushing, at a silly little compliment. "Riley. How do you manage to always be so charming? I know of no one anymore who can make me blush as you do."

She'd seen it coming. He'd given her plenty of time to pull away or push him away or simply say 'no', but she didn't. His lips covered hers, hesitant and sweet, nothing like kissing Alex. With Alex it was all burning heat and clawing passion. Riley was shy, more delicate, as though he thought her precious, something special. No one had ever treated her quite this way before.

And her heart leapt and that strange, wonderful sensation had gone traveling down through her body – but that wasn't right, because Alex was the one that did that to her, only Alex.

She should've pulled away right then, as soon as the realization had hit her, but she hadn't. She'd let herself pretend, just for a moment, that she could have him, that she could deserve a boy like Riley Connelly, that she could be the kind of girl he would be happy with. It went no further than the kiss. Riley pulled away eventually and struck up a more trivial conversation, blushing and somewhat awkward, but that was part of his charm.

But she felt, somehow, every bit as unfaithful for it as she had the day she'd almost made a proper lover out of Riley. And this is a problem she can't ignore.

.

So she's going to track down Alex and tell him. Three little words. 'I love you'. They are no less true than they had been, of that she is certain, so it will be simple. She'll get out the words and then they'll be able to work the rest out, maybe not easy, but they'll be able to. She just needs to do this, to solidify whatever it is they have, make it a real thing. Pirates or not, she's decided, she's going to demand this one thing of him – that he be hers and only hers and if she has to let him put a ring on her finger for it, than that's just what she'll do. She thinks, knowing him as she does, that this is probably all he's been looking for. Running off with other women – maybe he'd just been trying to get the right reaction out of her? She hopes that this isn't too much to hope for.

She searches everywhere – the maze of rooms and corridors that makes up Captain Teague's home, the docks, several other nooks and crannies and areas full of small shops of sorts. She even circles back around to the Queen and checks there after a while, but he's nowhere to be found. Finally, left with no other options, she wanders into one of Shipwreck's few taverns. He isn't much for drinking, or the general atmosphere that a tavern full of other pirate's holds. He tries to pretend he is, but she knows him, is beginning to see through his façades she thinks. Oddly, nights out like that have become more her idea of fun than his. But she can think of nowhere else for him to be by now.

Several of her men are scattered in small clumps about the room and she is offered a drink several times, but she declines. She's on a mission this night and wants to be clear of mind when accomplishing it. In fact, considering the worried and vaguely disgusted looks Alex has been sending her whenever he catches her drinking, she's almost thinking she ought to give it up entirely. She would in a heartbeat if he would only voice his opinions out loud.

It's funny, how easily such resolve can be crumbled sometimes. Emily wants so badly to simplify things, thinks perhaps she'd been the problem all along, but it seems she's not the only one keeping them complicated anymore, if she ever really was.

Alex is in the tavern alright, sitting with some of the Queen's crew, but that's not his only company. There's a woman, Emily's age, perhaps but a few years older, who makes herself comfortable in his lap just as Emily lays eyes on them. Anger takes hold of her, hot and raw. She doesn't stay long enough to watch him accept the sleazy strumpet's advances; she spins on her heal and storms back out of the tavern quickly before any tears can make their way to her eyes.

…

He sees her. She's already spinning on her heel and storming back out the way she'd come with fists clenched, but that was Emily alright, and it's possible he's in trouble.

The woman currently occupying his lap is the mischievous daughter of another captain visiting Shipwreck. He's not even sure why he's been flirting with her – she's acting and is currently dressed like any common whore one might find on Tortuga, and not even one of the ones he himself would normally bother with. It's just that he's seen the looks Emily and Riley have been exchanging, even after the last night Alex had spent with her, and if said looks are anything to go by then Emily might have been telling the truth. He's tried to catch her attention again. He's tried, rather desperately, to convince her that nothing had happened with Adrienne – so many times, the argument that's ensued is starting to get maddeningly redundant. He's put up with her practicing magic – sometimes on him – and kept his mouth shut about the other habits she's picking up that are worrying him. But it's not working.

The woman in his lap is nothing compared to Emily – because, honestly, no woman could compare to Emily – but flirting back is his first reaction now. Bad habits, it seems, are all too easy to pick up, and extraordinarily difficult to drop. But he's beginning to wonder if he should bother trying. Emily's beginning to make him think she really doesn't care what he does now. And if that's true, he no longer has a reason to care either. But then, just now…

Maybe she does still care, and he's just an idiot.

"Who was she?" The woman in his lap – what was her name? Marion, Marie…he's forgotten already – turns his face with one dainty hand so he's looking at her again. "That was a girl, wasn't it?"

"Yes." He answers absently, then focuses back on her, brows furrowing in belated confusion. "What?"

"She stormed off in an awful little fury there, looked like." Mary – no, Marion sounded closer – he's too preoccupied to remember. Whoever she is, she places a hand on her hip. "Yeh might've mentioned if there were someone else. She yeh're wife or somethin?"

Well, maybe if he'd had his way to start, but… "Ah, no, darlin, what she is…" He stands, lifting her slight weight as he does and placing her back on her feet, "…is my Captain and I think I'd best go see what's got 'er in such a state, ye'll 'ave to excuse me…"

She howls indignantly, and if he'd stayed put long enough he might have gotten a sort-of-maybe-deserved slap, but he doesn't. He's already leaving the tavern and striding down the corridor after Emily.

"Peg!" He shouts, jogging to catch up to her fast-retreating figure. "Peg, wait, stop!" He grabs her arm, forcing her to turn back to him.

She whirls around with a tiny, hard-clenched fist. It collides with his stomach, sending him stumbling back, doubled over in pain. Alright, so he did deserve that, and he should've known better than to grab her like he had.

"Miserable, filthy, lying son of a – a gargoyle!" Her voice is shaky as she pushes him hard, and he stumbles back into a wall, sliding down it with both hands still clutching his belly.

"Thought ye said," he coughs out, gasping for the air that had been knocked out of him, "ye didn't care!"

"I shouldn't. I should hate your miserable black guts!"

He looks up at her now, in the dim light of the lanterns lighting the hallway. There's a single tear sliding down her cheek. "But ye don't?" It comes out sounding more a question than he'd intended.

She shakes her head even as she glares at him. "I've been all over looking for you, just to find you all ready to take your pleasure from… as if I'm not right here!"

"Looking for me? Why would you be looking for me?" She has Riley now, right?

She scoffs, shaking her head. "Sometimes I wonder how you could possibly be so incredibly stupid."

"Sometimes I wonder 'ow ye expect me to just know what ye're thinkin." He snaps back. "Ye're the one with the magic, but I'm expected to read minds."

"I came looking for you because I love you, you stupid, stupid idiot!" She finally gets out, and then stops abruptly, as though she'd startled herself.

He climbs to his feet , clutching his stomach again – she's annoyingly strong for a woman – and takes a slow steps towards her. "I might be pushin me luck 'ere," he says slowly, "but would ye mind runnin that by me again?"

"I was going to tell you. I meant to tell you the night you ran off with Adrienne, too. I love you."

He searches her eyes. "You've been drinkin again." He can't really tell, but that's the only explanation he can come up with for this whole strange conversation.

Another tear slides down her cheek. She wipes it away and goes back to glaring, so cold he thinks she could freeze Hell over. "Not a drop. But if you need some excuse to forget what I just said, go ahead, let it be that, think a drink is just what I need about now anyway. Goodnight, Sparrow." She turns to walk off.

"Peg. Don't…I didn't mean…" He grabs her arm again.

She pulls it away with vehemence this time, turning that glare on him again. "Don't you touch me! Don't you even think about it! You'll be lucky if I can even stand to have you looking in my direction any longer!" She storms off.

"Wait, please!" She doesn't look back, and he doesn't bother to chase her, only mutters a feeble, inadequate 'I'm sorry' as he watches her disappear.

"Peg!" Jo exclaims the next morning as Emily shoots up the steps of Anamaria's tavern. "You're late."

"I know." Emily breathes as she slips past the older woman. "I'm sorry, I didn't sleep very well, but I'm here now, so what it's to be today?"

Jo and Ana exchange a look, and Emily ignores it as she crosses the room to the book sitting open on a table, pretending to look over what's in it as she ties her hair back with the bit of string that's been clutched in her hand, or tries to as her hands are shaking. She'd recently afforded herself the luxury of a small mirror to hang in her cabin, so she knows full well how much a mess she looks. Her hair is a knotted fright as she'd had no time to try brushing it out and braiding it; she'd thrown on her old vest instead of bothering with a corset. The necklace her father gave her is sitting forgotten in the drawer of her desk where she kept it at night, afraid she'd break it as she tossed in her sleep. And as if all that weren't enough, there are dark bruises beneath her eyes, which are reddened – from allowing herself a cry, she's prepared to excuse if forced to, not that this isn't at least partly the truth.

"Hey." Jo says softly, coming up behind her and taking the string from her hands. "What's wrong?" She combs through Emily's hair with her fingers a bit before tying it back as neat as can be managed.

Emily takes a deep breath and lets it out slow, willing the fuzzy edges of her harried thoughts to come back into focus. "Nothing." She turns back to Jo. "Bit of a rough night, is all, like I said." She glances at Ana, who looks even more skeptical than Jo. "I'm fine." She insists. "Honest."

Jo looks ready to push the issue, but Ana interjects before she can. "Alright. Let's get to work, then. I wanted to start showing you how to do transformations. They'll tire you out quick, but can come in handy in a pinch."

On any other morning, Emily might've been at least intrigued by this, but on this one she's not sure it's the best idea. She feels such a mess she's not sure how much in control she'll be of her power. For all she knows, as exhausted as she feels in more ways than one, she won't be able to make anything happen at all. But she doesn't know how to go about articulating this without having to explain a whole lot of things that she doesn't currently want to, so she only nods.

"You know the drill by now." Ana says. "Why don't you send the book over to me?"

Since levitation is the easiest and most emotion-controlled way her magic shows itself, a demonstration of her growing control with it is always the first thing Ana asks her to do. Up to this point, Emily had thought she'd gotten a much better hold of it since that night she'd woken to find every book, stray bottle, and seat cushion in her cabin flying through the air around her. This is becoming routine. She turns to the book and points with two fingers, commanding with a gesture for the large, leather bound tome to rise into the air. It does nothing. Huffing, she straightens up and gestures a little more forcefully. Now it rises up, floating lazily a few inches above the table. Emily sweeps her hand through the air, meaning for the book to float over to Ana. It stays put, stubborn as she's known for being. "Oh, come on." She grumbles in a burst of frustration. "All the way!" She sweeps her hand through the air again, toward Ana…and this time, the book follows, a little too fast with Emily's sudden mood swing. Ana darts out of the way as the books sails across the room and hits the wall before falling to the floor.

"You're fine, eh?" Jo asks, hands on her hips as she sends a raised eyebrow in Emily's direction. Emily only stares down at the book. "Alright. Where's Alex and what's he done this time?"

"I don't want to know, and nothing, he's done nothing. I've just got smart and given up on him, is all. Sorry." She apologizes to Ana. "That won't happen again, I promise."

"Given up?" Jo looks shocked. "What do you mean 'given up' on Alex? Peg, what did he do?"

"Nothing. Jo, I'm telling you, Alex was just being Alex, I realize that now." She shuffles over to the sofa and sits herself down, shoulders slumped. "I remind everyone else all the time, that I – we're – pirates. But I wasn't really applying that to him. And now I've realized I've been expecting too much of him and that's that."

"That's that?" Jo repeats her again. "You're just…giving up?"

Emily shrugs. "I've got my ship and a loyal crew and a sister in my first mate. I can go on just fine without him being anything to me. More than perhaps a friend, that is, eventually."

"That's a hard learned lesson," Ana says quietly, "but it's one you were going to have to learn with the life you've chosen, I'm afraid." She comes over to plant a kiss on Emily's forehead, sitting next to her and wrapping one arm around her shoulder. "I learned it first with Jack, and I was hoping you wouldn't with Alex, but like father like son I suppose." Alex's voice echoes in her head. We are not our parents. Yeah. Sure. She allows herself just a moment to lean into Ana, accepting the bit of motherly comfort. Ana goes on after a quiet moment. "We can skip lessons just for today if you'd like."

Emily pulls away, forcing herself to be Peg, the tough lady pirate. It's easier that way. "No. No, I need the distraction." She stands, feeling a little calmer and more collected now that she'd got all that out into the open. Holding out her hand, she silently commands the book to do her bidding again, and it does without hesitation this time, floating slow and easy into Ana's lap.

Ana sets it aside with a nod of approval. "That's good, the way you just focused yourself."

"I've been working on that, believe it or not." Emily straightens up a bit, head high. "Now, what were you saying about transformations?"

I'm pretty sure this is coming later than usual, so I'm sorry for that. It's two in the morning just now, so that should tell you how determined I was to get something posted.

Thanks for reading. :)