It would be easier, she thinks, if Alex wasn't trying so hard. If he was being careless about it, if he was trying only to get her into bed with him again, if he would only give her a reason to keep being good and angry. But he isn't.

He's a gentlemen. A perfect one. He calls her Captain. He stays out of her way when that's what she wants. He starts to buy her things – fine chocolates off another one of the many ships that make port at Shipwreck for one reason or another; flowers, she has no idea from where; earrings to go with her necklace; silk sheets for her bed.

It really only makes her want to strangle him. How dare he think he can buy her back? She's not sure what would make her take him back at this point. She's decided she really is finished. She's going to be hard now, so no one will be able to touch her like he could, not ever again.

Emily Turner is just simply done. The only problem now is, Alex Sparrow just simply isn't getting that message.

"I mean, he just won't give up!" Emily growls as she thrusts forward with her sword, impaling her invisible opponent. It's a cloudy day, the promise of an eventual storm hanging in the thick atmosphere. The docks are sparsely populated, and Emily and Jo are the only two above decks on the Queen as Emily attempts to vent some of her frustration through sword practice.

"I don't know what you want me to say." Jo sighs from her position sitting on a barrel well out of Emily's way, legs spread wide like a man. Emily would normally be inclined to tease the older woman about how unladylike she looks, but she's too annoyed and preoccupied on this morning.

"Say I'm right. Say he's an awful, stupid cad."

"You're right and he's an awful, stupid cad." Jo replies flatly.

Emily huffs, spinning around to face the older woman, the hand that's not clutching her sword coming up to rest on her hip. "Alright, fine, forget what I want you to say, what are you thinking?"

"You won't like it."

"Tell me anyway."

"You haven't given up on him, either, is all."

Emily scowls. "I've been telling you, it must be the past two hours now I've been telling you…"

"I know what you've been telling me, and I'm telling you, you've got it wrong. You can't possibly have given up on him if he can still make you so angry. The opposite of love is indifference, not hate, Peg. What your feeling is too intense for a woman who's given up."

Emily rolls her eyes. "Honestly, Jo, where do you come up with such things?"

Jo is scowling now, at herself it seems since she isn't looking at Emily. "By the old gods. I sound like my mother." A smile pulls at Emily's lips. Jo looks back up at her, blushing lightly as she shrugs. "Well, she usually knew what she was talking about."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Just – give Alex a break. He loves you, but you've only just bothered to say so back. Now that you've finally got that out of the way, maybe…"

"Maybe. I'm starting to get sick of 'maybe'." Glancing down at the sword still in her hand, she sheaths it with a huff. Practice hadn't helped much.

So far, not much has.

Transformation spells are not too hard power wise. Emily has quickly found that no type of magic can, in fact, easily exhaust her power. This is one of those things about magic – and particularly her own magic – that frightens her most. So that's not what the trick is with transformations. No, the trick with these spells is concentration.

The funny thing is, she's actually gotten better at control and focus since she and Alex had had their big fight. But she can't always keep herself focused on the right things. A books cover ends up made of silk because that's the gift Alex had presented her with that morning. Too embarrassed to refocus her thoughts, she puts more power behind it and ends up making the entire book made of silk, with an embroidered flower that looks like the ones Alex had got her. Embarrassed and getting quite sick of Alex being the only thing she can think about, she allows more power to build than she's dared to before and watches as the silk reforms itself into flowers – which is to say, they appear to be flowers with real stems and silk petals. The sight is so odd that Ana stops her there and asks if she can keep the odd bouquet.

And that's not even the strangest when it comes to her misadventures with this particular magic. Ana presents her with a small old bird she'd been keeping as a pet, and Emily first turns it into a kitten because there'd been a cat trying to makes its home on the Queen. (It's small and brown and rather mangy, but it seems to like Emily, and she's contemplating letting it stay.) Ana scowls – the idea had been to make the bird young and healthy again, although the smooth transformation into an entirely different animal is impressive to say the least. Emily wonders if she'll even be able manage turning it back now, but tries again anyway. But she's still thinking of the cat. A cat could be useful for taking care of rats down in the hold, she's thinking, and so the poor creature before her ends up a large, ugly bilge rat – with wings and a birds beak and a mouth more like a cats. It even starts mewing.

Emily and Jo both end up too busy laughing to reverse it. Ana's the one who finally puts the poor thing out of its misery as it attempts to fly across the room – a flick of her wrist and it turns back into the small bird, perhaps just a bit healthier than it had been before.

Emily's still determined that she won't be using her magic once she learns all Ana's insists on trying to teach her, but has to admit, if ever she feels the need to put it all to good use… transformation could be a useful way to do it. Provided, of course, she can manage to make the transformation into something vaguely useful.

"Emmy, Emmy!" That's her brother's voice, just outside Ana's door. He's pounding on it, sounding frantic. Ana crosses the room quickly to let him in. He stops short upon seeing her. "Sorry, miss." He stutters before peering around her. "Emmy, you have to come quick, it's Alex and that – that other boy, Riley, papa says they'll kill each other!"

Jo's the one who answers him first, scowling at what he must mean. "Oh, it would be just like Alex to start a duel, wouldn't it?"

Emily doesn't answer, just shakes her head as it sinks in and then she's darting across the room. She slips past Ana, who says nothing as she moves out of the way, and Joshy follows close behind her.

"Alex didn't start it!" He's quick to correct, and Emily never thought she'd see the day when her boys even sort of got along, much less started defending each other. "Riley's the one who wanted a fight!"

"Oh, I could strangle them both!" She near growls as she storms down to the docks, her baby brother hot on her heels.

…

Riley's not usually this hot-headed. Really, he isn't. In fact, usually, he's the one trying desperately to avoid a fight. But Miss Emily had told him about Alex and what had happened and she'd asked him to leave it alone, said she was fine, but she isn't fine. Everyone can see she isn't. And he knows this won't fix it, but seeing the pretty, tough little captain such a mess and having the cause of it standing right in front of him – it makes him angry. Angry enough that for the first time, a fight is exactly what he wants.

He's got one, now. He just hopes he can win, because judging by the hard, mean glint in his opponent's eyes – losing isn't an option.

Alex is good. Very, very good. So is Riley, but he's not half as experienced, though he'd never admit it. And he's wiry, not as strong. Alex is a young man, grown and tall and strapping and – and about as moveable as a brick wall. Riley's only advantage is that he's a little quicker on his feet, but he's not dead yet, so he figures it's advantage enough and just keeps moving and maybe if he can tire the older boy out…

They both freeze, involuntary, at the sound of a pistol being fired.

"What do you two think you're doing?" Her voice, which would normally be music to his ears, is low and dangerous calm.

"Miss Emily." Riley stutters a bit, glancing in her direction, but he's not stupid enough to turn away from Alex just yet. "I can – it's just –"

"This whelp," Alex interjects, "thought 'e could pick a fight with me and win. I was just in the process of provin 'im dead wrong."

Riley brings his sword back up, not liking the way 'dead' had been stressed.

"Put the sword away. Both of you." She snaps, demanding. "Riley, you're an idiot. Alex, if you hurt him, you'll never step foot on my ship again."

Alex makes no move to do as she'd asked, so Riley doesn't move a muscle.

"Alex!" Emily exclaims. "I could force you!" She adds. "Both of you, like I did with Peter. I will if I must!"

Alex glances in her direction now, and there's something behind his eyes that maybe, just a little bit, resembles fear. He lowers his sword. Warily, Riley does the same and turns to Emily.

She relaxes a bit, scowling at him. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Riley glances at Alex, standing tall. "I wasn't going to get myself killed." It doesn't come out with as much confidence as he'd hoped. He goes on none the less, stronger this time. "Besides, you're worth it, Miss Emily."

She only shakes her head, clearly exasperated as she turns away from him and storms over to Alex, standing toe to toe with him. Alex has several inches on her, to spite Emily's being a bit tall for a girl, so it's rather strange to think that Emily's the one who looks mean and intimidating and very much in charge. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"What am I thinkin? He came after –"

"So help me, Alex, if you're going to tell me he started it, gods above, what are you, ten?"

He glowers at her, seeming unfazed by her attitude. "He came after me, what was I meant to do, let 'im skewer me?"

"No, of course not, but you could've sent his sword flying across the deck in seconds, I should know, we've practiced that move enough, you were toying with him!"

Riley abruptly feels very out of place here. The way they talk to each other, the way neither seems perturbed by the other being so close – it never occurred to him before, just how well these two must know each other.

"...s'not my fault he's got it in 'is 'ead defendin you is 'is job, s'ppose I shouldn't blame 'im either, eh, with the way you've been battin your eyes at 'im!"

"With the way I've been…what about the pretty little strumpet you had fawning over you a few nights past? Don't you dare think you can go scolding me for…"

"Miss Emily." Riley says, raising his voice just a bit.

"What!" She snaps, rounding on him.

"I'm sorry." He says, more subdued. "I'm – not sure of what came over me. Only, you've been so upset these past few days. It just, it made me angry. You deserve better. But I understand. It wasn't my place to try coming to your rescue."

Alex scoffs, looking incredulous as Emily softens a touch. "Oh, Riley." She sighs. "You're right. It wasn't your place because it is nobodies place now," she glances at Alex, "if it ever was." She comes forward, and Riley braces himself – but there's no need. She merely studies him a moment, big brown eyes turning sad as she takes his hand. "No bodies place but mine, alright? Promise me you won't try anything like this again, not over me."

"But – Miss Emily…"

"Riley. Promise me." She says, more firm.

What is it about this woman that makes her impossible to refuse? "Alright. I promise."

She nods, locking eyes with him a moment, still looking so sad. She squeezes his hand, lets it go, turns to glower at Sparrow one last time, and then leaves them both where they stand.

"What's this about, then?" Will Turner is standing right before him. His arms are crossed and his eyes are hard but he's willing to listen. He's willing to listen.

So why can't Alex get anything to come out of his mouth? What is it about Emily's papa that has Alex's belly twisting it's self in knots as his hands grow slick with sweat? Perhaps it's Emily's fault, this fear. She cares what her papa thinks, although Alex can't fathom why at this point, but she does. If Alex wants Emily Turner to be properly his, he has to have Will Turner's approval first, and he really doesn't think he'll ever earn that, and that – is frightening, truly. Trembling under the older man's expectant gaze, Alex takes a breath. "Right. S'ppose I'd best just come out with it. Sir, I'd like permission to marry yer daughter. Or," he adds hastily, hating himself for the way he stutters, "or at least, sir, I'd like to know what I could ever do to earn that permission."

He expects the older man to be angry, but he doesn't appear to be. He studies Alex a moment, very calm. "Well, coming to talk to me is a start, I'll give you that. I suppose she sent you?"

"Sir?"

"Emily. I know she was hoping for the two of us to have a proper conversation."

Alex lets out a nervous laugh. "No. Emily didn't – Emily's not even talkin to me just now, sir. That's why I want to propose, see." Turner looks skeptical now. Alex holds his hands up in surrender, plowing on. "I know it sounds strange. It's just she thinks I don't love 'er. She thinks – aw, I don't know what she thinks anymore. Thing is, I thought she wanted a pirate, wanted me to be more the rogue." He never babbles like this, but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, if he can explain somehow… "And I'm good at it, I'll give ye that. I make myself sick with how good at it I am sometimes. And she seemed to like it for a while but the other night we…she told me otherwise, is all, and I'm worried about 'er cause she gets impulsive when she's upset like she 'as been so I figure if I ask to marry me and mean it maybe we can start to fix it."

Silence again. Turner scrutinizes him again, so intense it sets Alex to squirming. "Do you love her?" He asks finally.

"More n' I could put into words." Alex replies without hesitation. "Certainly more n' than the whelp she's been runnin' round with." He adds, voice lowering to a growl.

Now Turner looks amused. "Whelp?"

"The Navy boy she rescued few weeks back, 'fore we pulled in here at Shipwreck. They've been awful close 'ere lately. Seems like if she's not busy gettin drunk ye can be sure she'll be flirtin with 'im." This is an exaggeration. Ana and Jo have been drilling Emily in her magic so hard, she's scarce been left with too much free time, and he has no real evidence that Emily and Riley have done anything untoward in the past weeks. Worried he's just made the very wrong move, he goes on hastily. "Sorry sir, that was – me mouth 'as a tendency to take on a life of its own, as it were, I just…" He trails off, cursing himself, and finally meets the older man's eyes again.

Turner has his eyebrows raised and, if Alex isn't mistaken, there's a smirk playing at his lips. "Easy boy, I have eyes. I know what my daughters been up to." The amusement fades. "It's good to know I'm not the only one that worries. She tends to make a point of disregarding most of what I say."

"I doubt she'll be much different with me now, sir."

"Would you be willing to consider my advice?"

Some proud, head strong part of Alex wants to say that no, he certainly does not need advice from Emily's papa, of all people, but the fact is… "Actually, sir, at this particular point in time, I'd welcome it."

"If Emily's anything like her mother once was, and trust when I say she very much can be, then all she needs from you is to know that you worry. Her walls only come up when she thinks there's a chance you don't care. You say this display you put on, flirting as she says you do, is because you thought she wanted it on some level?"

"Aye, sir. Honest, it is."

"I can believe it. I did something similar to win her mother over, and, well, we can all see how that ended up. It's a charm they have naturally, and I wasn't her mother's only victim. You want to know what you need to do in order to be good enough for my Emily? Show me you have the guts not to let her back you into the same corner her mother did me."

There's a pause as Alex processes this. "Sir? Ye're saying – ye want me to confront 'er?"

"I'm saying that if you love her, you'll do just that."

"But 'e's killed ole Tom, 'e 'as, and 'e put a bullet it me arm!"

"Yah don't mean ta let 'im get away with it, do yah Cap'n?"

"With all respect, Cap'n, somethin's gott'a be done!"

It's unanimous. The entire crew agrees. Timothy Andrews and Peter Montgomery have to answer for the man they killed somehow. She gets several suggestions, all of them a demand for blood, each one a little more gruesome than the next. She thinks it over hard. She tries to come up with some other way, but the truth is, she agrees with her men. She's allowed this to go on because she's enjoyed toying with Andrews, but enough is enough.

She'll make it quick for Peter, she decides, feeling that allowing herself to be cruel will only make her little better than the Admiral. Quick and fairly painless, with Andrews right there to watch, and then she'll send Andrews off the first chance she gets. Let him run right back to the Admiral with a story to tell. The Admiral thinks he can threaten her and all she holds dear? Well, that's a declaration of war if ever she's heard one, and she intends for the first move to be hers.

(Of course she knows that doing what she needs to will have the side effect of forcing Riley to see the truth about her, but she'll just have to cross that particular bridge when she comes to it.)

The sky is cloudy again. It's well past midnight now, and the resulting darkness matches her gloomy mood perfectly. She's sitting down by the docks again, on her stomach this time, head propped in one hand while her other hangs down to trace patterns in the water, the glow of a single lantern her only source of light and a bottle resting next to her. With only about a week and a half left until her mother's allotted day on land, sleep is hovering even further out of Emily's grasp than usual, and there are some nights that she doesn't even try anymore.

It's boredom that prompts her this time. She's staring down into the water and remembering the night she realized she could control it. Before she has time to second guess or scold herself, she opens the dam and allows the power to build inside her a moment, focusing on the water. Sure enough, just as it had the first time, thin tendrils travel up out of the water, circle her hand hovering above it, form a ball. She eyes the swirling mass a moment, then sits herself up, curious. Turning to the barrel her lantern is sitting on, she hauls back and throws the water ball. It stays intact right up until it hits the barrel hard enough to send it wobbling.

Turning back to the water, she sets a few more tendrils to swirling up and traversing the few inches now between her and the water. For a moment she just plays with it a bit, watching as the tendrils wind their way up her arm, but her shirt remains dry. Interesting.

Something occurs to her. Climbing to her feet, she glances around a bit. There's no one around. It's so late – or early, to be more accurate – that even anyone at the taverns will have long since found some place to pass out. Besides, she's just confident enough with her magic now that she's sure she can defend herself with it if she absolutely needed to.

Preparing to test a theory, she removes her vest, all her affects. Her boot as she sits back down with her feet dangling over the edge of the dock. The last to go is her brace. Taking a deep breath in, she plunges into the water.

It's – rather more chilly than one might expect, but nothing she wasn't prepared for. She doesn't stay submerged for too long, bobbing back up to the surface. She lifts her arm out of the water, runs a hand through her hair. She's thoroughly soaked, as she should be. She'd half thought, since the water swirling up her arm earlier hadn't touched her clothes… but perhaps that had been silly. Ah well.

She's just about to work her way back out of the water when another thought invades her over active mind. She remembers, trying to rescue her papa. After the old Queen had gone over the waterfall, Emily had been under water for so long…

And just now. She'd surfaced scarcely winded at all.

She dives back down, farther, farther…so far her lungs should already being feeling the strain. But they aren't. She's fine. Turning herself upright, or at least what she hopes is upright, as she's lost sight of the dim light provided by her lantern, she works her way back to the surface again at a leisurely pace and makes it easy. No more out of breath than if she'd only been under a few seconds.

Well. Something to do with her being basically immortal? She doesn't know. Her stomach twists at the thought, though. Yet another thing that could come in handy. Resisting the use of the power granted her is starting to sound harder and harder a task. With all the usual fear and uncertainty abruptly twisting her gut again, she pulls herself out of the water, reattaches her wooden leg, collects her things, and hurriedly heads back to her cabin.

He wants to do what Turner had suggested. What the older man said had made a lot of sense, in truth, and Alex is in no position to be rejecting anyone's advice, much less the advice of someone who does have some experience in these matters. Well, someone who has experience and isn't Alex's father, because Jack is Jack. But the thing is, it's not that simple. Emily's – well, Emily. She's avoiding him, and putting on a façade when she doe see him, a very convincing one too.

It's a good thing he knows better. But he has to have a good excuse if he's going to start the argument they need to have if they're to move on. It's about a week and a half until Emily's mother will have her one day when he finally gets his chance, and it's all thanks to Jo that he does.

"I'm almost jealous, really." Jo and Emily are taking a walk, probably just getting some air as Emily's been cooped up all morning practicing her magic. "Transformation is a tiring and complicated sort of magic. I can scarce manage to make a book bigger or smaller, much less keep a living thing, well, living while working on it."

Alex has been waiting to talk to Jo, in truth, but now he hides behind some barrels as the girls approach, pausing just at the start of the dock leading up to the Queen. Emily's started refusing to talk about her magic around him; she'll be unhappy he's eavesdropping, but he's curious.

Emily's eyes flash with something – but it's gone too quick to be identified. She appears unbothered as she answers. "Well, let's not forget the rat-bird incident, that poor creature. I'm not sure I'd be willing to risk transforming anything in a pinch, it'd probably end in nothing but disaster."

"Well, sure, but with just a bit more practice, think what you could manage. I mean, for example, easy as you can make things happen, you'd never have to worry about being caught unarmed, would you? A little practice and all you'd have to do is pick up the nearest object, think 'pistol', and there you have it!"

Emily doesn't share Jo's excitement, Alex suspects, but she's trying to pretend she does. "I suppose. Only, it's really not that easy. I mean, I'd still need loads of practice yet."

"Well, we get through all this business with your mother and we'll keep working on it. You'll have that old Admiral running scared before you know it, just you watch Cap'n." Jo smiles, a little playful. "Any way, come on. Ana's expecting us back before not too long."

"Ah, I had one of your books in my cabin, there was something I wanted to ask about. You go on ahead, I'll get the book and catch you up."

Jo doesn't seem to notice anything off, but then Emily seems to be getting better at hiding the emotions she usually wears on her sleeve. The older woman only nods and heads off.

Emily boards the ship. Alex follows, stealthy as he can manage. They do end up down in her cabin; her back is angled to the door. She does take out one of Jo's books, so perhaps she hadn't been lying, but it's what she does next that presents him with his opportune moment. Opening the usual drawer in her desk, she takes out a bottle and brings it to her lips for a long drink, her shoulders relaxing visibly as she does.

Well, now he knows why she's got better at hiding her emotions. Steal away for a nip of rum often enough and she doesn't even have to face them herself. Anger swells at how selfish of her this seems.

A board creaks beneath his feet. She spins around, looking surprised more than angry until she realizes it's him and relaxes again. "Oh."

He snorts. "Oh? S'that all I get now, 'oh'?"

She shoots him a half-hearted glare. "What do you want, Sparrow?"

Sparrow. He's always just Sparrow now. He crosses his arms and stands straight and tall. "I want Emily." He tells her plain.

She huffs. "She's right here. Unless I could somehow not be myself."

"No. She isn't. She went away. This," he gestures to all of her, "is not my Emily."

There's the glare again. "Well, not yours anymore, that's for certain." She sips from the bottle again.

"Oh, but see, she went away long before that. Ye asked what I want. I want 'er back."

"Well, I still don't know what you're asking." She snaps back with a sudden burst of her usual fire. The mirror hanging from her wall rattles, and the window swings open seemingly of its own accord. Really, its Emily's magic, responding to her sudden swing in mood. A moment passes as she freezes, closing her eyes. "I wouldn't even begin to know how to bring 'your Emily' back at this point." She brings the bottle to her lips once more.

The tone to her voice, the sudden apathy she's displaying, the casual way she clutches the bottle and swigs the amber liquid… she's reminding him of her papa. Really, really reminding him, the way he's been reminding everyone of his own father. A mixture of worry and disgust and anger settles in his belly and grows heavy until something inside him goes snap and before he can even think about it he's stalking across the room. He snatches the bottle out of her grasp so abruptly and with such vehemence that a good amount spills on their boots, and before she can react he's continuing across to the still open window. He tosses the bottle out of it, takes out his pistol, and shoots it midair, and then just watches as the broken glass and coveted liquid sail into the waters beneath them with a series of splashes that are somehow satisfying.

"What the hell," her tone is bewildered, "is the matter with you, Sparrow?"

He spins back around to face her, shoving the pistol back into his belt. "I'm more concerned with whatever's the matter with you."

"I'm not the one getting trigger happy over a bottle of rum." She places a hand on her hip and eyes him with that 'your completely mad' look she likes to favor him with whenever she feels like not listening to a word he says.

"We. Are not. Our parents." He near growls. "Don't ye understand? Peg, we've got to stop this, both of us, or we'll just tear ourselves apart."

She scowls, but even it isn't as fierce as usual. "Stop what?"

"You know what!"

"No, I don't. You say we aren't our parents? Looked in a mirror lately? I mean, the way you swagger about, spending your nights in taverns with wenches in your lap. I wonder why my papa was so quick to decide he didn't like you." The words are dripping with sarcasm, a sure sign that her most recent dip into the bottle isn't her first one this day. She always gets snarky.

"Have I…" He lets out an incredulous laugh. "Have I looked in the mirror? Why don't you?"

Now her eyes narrow, and there's the hint of his girl he's been hoping for. He's finally hit the right nerve. She snatches up the book on the desk and makes as if to slip past him. "I have to get back, Jo and Ana'll be waiting."

He blocks her path, hovering over her. She looks up at him, eyes hardening further. He stands his ground. "Ye don't get to keep runnin from this."

"Sparrow." There's something dangerous to her tone now, a warning. Usually, he would back off. He loves her and doesn't like to push her, hates fighting with her. But her papa's words echo in his head.

"…ye want me to confront 'er?"

"If you love her, you'll do just that."

"Ye're papa an' I, we 'ad a talk. And I'm still alive! How about that? And ye know what? He all but gave me 'is blessin, 'e did. All I 'ad to do is be man enough to tell you that these past months? Since we first met up again right 'ere in Shipwreck? It's all been a lie."

She wasn't expecting this. Her brows furrow. "What?"

"Remember that fun afternoon – two years passed now, can ye believe it? – when I first worked up the courage to tell ye I loved ye and ye panicked and scolded me for…lessee if I'm rememberin right. I believe ye're exact words were 'developin a proper moral compass'. Remember that? Well, see, I really am an idiot, 'cause I decided that if ye wanted some kind of no good scoundrel of a pirate, then I'd give ye one, anythin to make ye 'appy." She winces, but he plows on, relentless. "Only, I've got a little too comfortable, see. Not on purpose, but ye keep up the same act consistent enough and it seems it becomes real. Now, that's my fault, not yers, don't get me wrong, darlin. And I'll fix it. Might take time, but I will."

She continues to glare up at him, guarded. "I'll believe it when I see it." She tries to slip past him again.

"Ah," he moves to block her path again, "but you 'ave to do somethin for me in return."

She places her free hand on her hip, cutting in again. "Oh, this ought to be good."

He opens his mouth, but finds he doesn't know how to go on. It's strange because he's really not used to simply not having the words. It's just – the rum, the games she's been playing with Andrews and Riley, the secrets he knows she's keeping. But he doesn't know how to explain in a way that'll make her listen.

"Were you telling the truth?" She asks when he doesn't say anything. "About Adrienne?"

He huffs, exasperated. "How many times must I tell ye – yes!"

She studies him, then nods. "Alright. No more games, then, tell me plain. What do you want?"

"I did tell you plain." He answers, because it's the best he's got. "I want Emily back. Don't tell me ye don't know what that means. I think ye know very well."

She closes her eyes. "I have to go. Really, I do, Jo'll be getting worried, and then later this afternoon I've got Andrews to deal with again and I – I can't think." She looks back up at him. "Give me time to think?"

He softens, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek gently as he leans down to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Ye're wish…"

She snorts softly and beats a hasty retreat.

Why does he have to keep doing this? Turning Emily's world right on its side, over and over again? And it's even worse this time because she knows it's all her fault now. Alex started out trying to give her just what she'd wanted, so it's all her own fault that she can't stand what she's got out of it. Her hands are shaking, knuckles white as she clasps the book in her arms, her feet taking her back to Ana and Jo without Emily having to think about it.

What happens now? She still doesn't quite understand what he wants of her. 'His Emily' didn't go away, she just decided to grow up. It had to happen. Why can't he just leave it alone?

She stops just outside Ana's tavern, leaning against a wall, closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths. She tries desperately to once again grab ahold of the calm she's been managing to keep; it takes a moment or two, but the shaking stops, and the tears that were threatening recede, probably helped by the rum she'd got down before Alex snatched it away.

Why does everyone keep doing that to her, anyway?

"Oh! I was just coming to find you." Jo loops an arm through Emily's. "You alright? You're pale as a ghost!"

"Fine." Emily replies. "Just another strange conversation with Sparrow, that's all."

Jo looks skeptical, but knows better than to ask by now, and starts chattering on about something to do with Captain Kristoff as she leads Emily back up to Ana.

I can't seem to fix this chapter quite the way I want it. That last conversation with Emily and Alex feels off to me but I'm calling it done so I can just move on. Reviews please?

Oh, and I just realized I've got Captain Kristoff's name spelled two different ways. In fact the way I'm spelling it now is the way I liked it to begin with, although I'm not sure where I got this spelling from because my computer doesn't even recognize it (which is, incidentally, why it changed itself to Christoff the first time I introduced him). Anyway, just wanted to be sure no one got confused. :)