CHAPTER 21 - Of Curses, Plans And Beds

You'd returned to the lounge a while back, now dressed in dark, loose fitting pants that are just a tiny bit too big for you. You also found a plain, fawn coloured cotton shirt from the pile that Nora had brought for you. You'd liked it the best, even if it had sleeves long enough to nearly reach your fingertips. Sitting on one of the sofas with your bare feet pulled up, your heels propped against the edge of the cushions, you nibble on a small biscuit as you listen to the others talk. Jack is sitting on your left side, leaning against the backrest in rather casual manner, while Lucky is occupying your right side, curled up on the sofa so that his back is against your hip. Will and Elizabeth are sitting on the other sofa that Anamaria and Gibbs occupied earlier while you ate; Lizzie's head is resting on Will's shoulder as he holds her hand in his, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb absently.

Ana and Gibbs had left a while earlier and returned back to the Pearl, despite Nora's request to stay overnight in the cottage. Gibbs had appealed to wish to sleep in his familiar hammock over the lulling waves, and Anamaria had claimed that she felt better if she got to check the ship for herself, claiming that the men aboard the Pearl knew not a first thing about how to keep a vessel in perfect shipshape. The blunt comment was however said with a small, humorous smirk, signalling that Ana didn't honestly think that way. She just enjoyed putting in a little barb every now and then, that was part of her personality.

Before Gibbs and Anamaria had left, the rain had eased a bit and then died away entirely, as if allowing the two to get back to the ship without getting soaked on the way. But now it was pouring again, and the droplets drum rhythmically against the window screens of the cottage, bouts of wind howling outside occasionally. Yet, the sitting room of the Fowlers cottage is cosy and warm; the flames crackle in the fireplace, licking the logs set inside and casting warm glow around the room, hues of orange and yellow dancing with the dark shadows on the walls.

Your right arm is resting limply across your lap, and Jack's right hand is absent-mindedly toying with your fingers that are half-hidden under the sleeve of your shirt, although his attention is fully focused on what Lucas is saying. The small, most likely unconscious gesture feels almost nonsensically pleasant to you, and makes you want to smile. After your return from the pond, you and Jack have kept contact with one another regularly; just these small, spontaneous touches every now and then, like the one currently occurring. It was like neither one of you wanted to stop touching the other. The feeling was so new and strange to you, but you still enjoy it immensely.

Had someone told you a few years ago that you'd be feeling this contented today, you would've probably laughed in his or her face. But you do. It's truly uncanny. You're not about to turn this thing between yourself and Jack into what it probably may not be, but at the moment your perfectly satisfied with what you do have; a special connection unlike any you've ever felt before. This was more than you could've ever asked for, more than enough.

You start paying closer attention to the discussion as Jack asks Lucas about the curse in the treasure of the Abyss. Although you'd been listening all the time, one part of you was still sorting out your newfound emotions and, yes, still being a bit dizzy over the fact that you and Jack had indeed been intimate not even a full few hours ago. That just still felt a little unbelievable to you. Pushing those thoughts aside, you fix your gaze on Lucas who's seated in one of the armchairs across the sofa you and Jack are sitting on, on the other side of the table.

"Aye, the curse," Lucas acknowledges with a slight nod. "There is one, but as you might recall, it's not in the treasure itself. 'Tis only in Aeneas' sword, the one that took Cassandra's life after Queen Dido had cursed the said weapon."

You remembered the tale Lucas had told you in the Faithful Bride; how the Queen of Carthage in her jealousy over Aeneas' affections towards the beautiful prophetess, had cursed the sword that caused the men aboard the Abyss to turn against each other and how one of the men had tried to kill Aeneas. Cassandra had, however, stepped between the two men and sacrificed herself in order to save her beloved, getting stabbed by the cursed sword. Nora, who'd been sitting quietly on another armchair next to Lucas now got up, walking in the adjoining room that looked like a library in the faint light from the fireplace. You make a mental note to yourself to see it tomorrow with better light; you've always liked books a lot even though you rarely had a chance to read them.

"So what kind of curse are we dealing with, this time?" Jack asks, small smirk pulling the corners of his mouth.

"A very vicious one, I deem." Lucas replies wryly. "Actually, I'd better get me book-" he says, starting to get up, but Nora returns from the adjoining room at that exact moment with an old book, giving it to Lucas.

"Here," she says with a smile.

"Ah, my thanks, dearest. Yer a mind reader," Lucas returns the smile and takes the book from her, while Nora hums in amusement and sits back down on her chair.

"As I was sayin'," Lucas continues, glancing down at the book with worn leather covers, the pages seeming yellowed and dog-eared. "This book was given to me by me grandfather just before he passed. He'd gotten it from his father, along with the Fowler's half of the map, the one you found from the Pearl. You might r'member that José Delgado's father stole the map, and while grandfather's father retrieved it, it was torn in half and our piece got lost. Anyhow," Lucas says, flicking his hand dismissively, exactly like Jack does sometimes.

"Like I told ye, grandfather always recalled the tale of the Abyss whenever Joshua and I met 'im. Since Joshua wasn't really interested in old fables, the ownership of this book befell to me. Now, long the years many have tried to find this treasure and few researchers 'ave studied the nature of the curse. This book contains what's been found out about it by translatin' some scrolls found in Carthage. It says; when removed from its scabbard, the curse in the sword is unleashed. Even the gentlest of person is capable of blind fury and fierce anger once driven into it. The curse permeates the minds of its victims and pushes the hidden, primitive fury to the surface, causing the ones influenced to raise their hand against even those who are dearest to them."

There's a moment of silence as everyone considers this. You didn't like the sound of that at all. Somehow, this curse seemed even worse than the one in the stone chest hidden in Isla de Muerta.

"The sword needs to be unsheathed for the curse to affect?" Elizabeth breaks the silence.

"Aye," Lucas agrees, nodding once. "But that's not all there is to it. There's actually a prophecy of kinds that's connected to the sword and the curse, an' it goes like this; the curse, once unleashed, can only be broken by the one who unwittingly initiated it and drove Queen Dido into blind jealously, causing her to place the mighty curse upon the weapon. To cease the bloodshed, there must be bloodshed. This of course refers to Cassandra; the curse was broken as soon as the blade was stained with her blood. The only ones the curse did not affect were Aeneas himself and Cassandra. Dido apparently counted heavily on Cassandra's love for the man."

Jack's dark eyes narrow in thought. "Assumin' this curse would be unleashed once again, how does one break it without the blood of this prophetess who has, in fact, been but a pile dust for quite a few centuries already?" he says, the underlying sarcasm in his tone causing you to smirk.

"Ah, now that is a very good question, lad," Lucas smirks. "See, there's more about that in the book, listen to this. Queen Dido's curse will damn the sword for ages yet to come, until she has achieved full retribution. The spirits of Aeneas and Cassandra shall rise to the heavens while their bodies fade and vanish, and kept there until allowed to possess new form and new existence during times forthcoming. The past shall yet repeat itself, but once the sword again tastes blood for one last time, the curse shall be lifted and remain gone for all eternity."

Another silence ensues at this. Jack's hand that had been absently caressing your fingers during all this now pauses for a moment, before picking up the motion again.

"So basically, if the book is to believed, Cassandra and Aeneas will be somehow… reincarnated, or something?" you ask, frowning in suspicion.

"Mm, accordin' to the book," Lucas affirms with a small shrug. "Though, this prophecy's ancient, and who's to say when this 'time forthcoming' will be takin' place…"

"'The past shall yet repeat itself'," Elizabeth recites thoughtfully. "Might that refer to the fight aboard the Abyss and the death of Cassandra?"

"That's the only thing that makes a bit sense," Lucas replies slowly, and Nora snorts while shooting a wry look at her husband.

"None of that makes any sense, in me opinion!" she states, shaking her head. "I think the whole matter it's nothin' but rubbish."

"Now, now, darlin', we don't know that," Lucas counters with a small smile.

"Well, rubbish or not, curses are matters not to be taken lightly," Jack speaks up, his tone low as he glances towards Will and Elizabeth. "If there's one thing we know, it's that."

"That's true," Will agrees softly, and you notice that he distractedly sweeps his right thumb over the palm of his left hand; the one he cut in the cave to break the curse of Isla de Muerta.

"Oh well, suppose there be no point in talking 'bout that blasted curse any longer," Lucas states determinately after a moment of silence and slams the book shut. "Without the other piece of the map, you won't be able to get to the treasure anyway. One needs both parts of it to correctly decipher the location of the Abyss."

"Aye, and I know exactly how to get it," Jack announces with the characteristic grin gracing his features, one that speaks of his habitual mischievousness and a tad arrogant self-confidence.

You turn your head to look at him, raising a brow. "You do?"

There's a sparkle in Jack's brown eyes that almost matches the glint of the fire reflecting from his gold-capped teeth, revealed by the broad grin. "Oh, yes."

Setting the old book on the table in front of him, Lucas smirks. "Aye, and if me memory serves rightly, your plans always used to send ye headin' straight into trouble!"

"Mock me if you will," Jack replies evenly while pointing a forefinger at his uncle, unruffled by Lucas' comment, "but this plan is sheer brilliance."

"So ye said about the other ones, too," Lucas mutters under his breath, and Nora reaches out to thwack Lucas on his shoulder with her hand, giving him a look that all but says to quit taunting her favourite lad. Lucas rolls his eyes and you bite your lower lip to keep from chuckling. "A'right," Lucas relents with a small sigh. "Let us hear this brilliant plan of yours."

"It's simple, actually. I'll just take Delgado up on her offer," Jack says, causing everyone to stare at him in stunned silence. Jack grins impishly, enjoying the shocked reaction.

"And…?" you prompt after a minute.

Jack's grin curbs into a small smirk that pulls the corners of his lips up as he speaks. "Delgado wants the piece, so I say we'll give it to her, then. Or, at least that's what we'll tell her. We'll set up a rendezvous with the wicked hellion, claiming we wish to take her up on her… generous offer. She shows up with her dinky galleon and the assorted bunch of Spanish Amazons, but unfortunately gets waylaid by none other than our good friend Norrington and his able mariners. It's goodbye to the gallows with Delgado and her lot, Norrington gets glory, 'Lizabeth gets justice, Lucas gets the map and I… I get my pardon and a share of the treasure," Jack finishes while leaning back a little and making a flourish gesture with his hand, grinning. "And so it's peace on earth again, everybody wins. Now, what say you to that?"

Everyone is quiet again, pondering Jack's seemingly a bit too simple plan. Would Delgado fall for such stunt?

"Well," Lucas starts, "It has certain possibilities."

"It could work," Will offers his opinion.

"No, not could, but will work!" Jack corrects with a raised finger. "You'll see."

Quirking a brow, you level a speculative gaze on Jack. "You really think you can convince Delgado that you truly want to join forces with her?"

A slow, lopsided grin spreads across Jack's lips as he looks at you in the eyes. "Luv, if there's anyone on Gods green earth who can do just that, it would be me. After all…" he pauses for emphasis, smirking. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!"

A collective groan echoes through the dim sitting room at those words.

* * * *

Later, after you'd all spent a good while on discussing other matters, like the upcoming wedding of Will and Elizabeth, as well as doing a little fine-tuning on Jack's plan, Nora and you were idly trailing around the cottage, talking this and that while Nora showed you the house. Will and Elizabeth had retired to their room earlier, and Nora had insisted she gave you a tour around the cottage which proved to be a lot larger than it looked on the outside. Granted, you didn't doubt Nora sincerity, but you had a small feeling that Nora mostly asked you to come with her so that Lucas and Jack could catch up in peace. Wanting to give Jack some time alone with his uncle, you'd gladly obliged and went with Nora.

"Can I ask you something?" you ask Nora while trailing behind her, stepping down the stairs that led to the underground floor of the cottage. It was rather dark there, and the only light came from the lantern Nora was carrying with her.

"Ask away, sweetie!" comes Nora's good-natured reply.

"Why did you give Will and Lizzie a shared room when they're not even married yet?" you enquire curiously.

Nora chuckles. "I ne'er believed in that chastity before marriage -nonsense," she glances at you behind her shoulder and grins. "I'm not conservative like that. Suppose that comes with hanging around that pirate of mine for some thirty years. I think that if two people fancy one another like those two do, why should they be kept apart? 'Sides," she pauses for a second, shooting a wry glance at you as you reach the end of the stairs. "That lad is too much of a gentleman to try anythin' even if they were in the same room."

You laugh. "Aye, that's Will, alright. Though, he's been around Jack for a while already, I think he's starting to unwind a little."

Nora makes an amused sound from her throat, quirking a brow. "Speakin' of, I have a feeling Will and Elizabeth ain't the only ones sharin' a room tonight if it be up to Jack."

You blink, taken aback by the blunt statement. Nora's way of going straight to the point reminded you somewhat of Anamaria. "Uh, err…" you stammer, for once finding yourself loss for words.

You could hold you ground perfectly while bantering with Jack, who's beyond doubt the wittiest person you've ever met, but now Nora's simple opinion suddenly leaves you unable to retort? What the heck was up with that? Maybe it had something to do that the woman in front of you was like a mother figure to Jack, and talking about things like that with her was just a little uneasy.

"My dear, so shocked!" Nora laughs, the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly as she does so. "Aw, calm down, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

You smile and shake your head. "No, I'm not, it's just…"

"Yes you are," Nora cuts you off with a knowing smile. "But you don't have to be, dear. Like I said, I'm not too conservative like that. And I was just statin' a fact, by now I have a fair idea how that boy thinks."

Nora's and Lucas' insistence of calling Jack "boy" and "lad" was slightly amusing to you, since you thought he was anything but a boy, but suppose Jack would always be the little lad Lucas took under his wing all those years ago to the old couple. After all, your father always used to call you "little one" for as long he lived. Though, compared to his considerable height, you indeed were little.

"I think I'm just still getting used to this… whatever it is I have with Jack," you confess quietly to the older woman, knowing you can trust her.

Nora's features soften. "Aw, deary…" she murmurs compassionately. "You've never been in a… relationship before?"

"No," you reply with a weak smile. "Being a member of my father's crew for nearly my whole life, I just never had the time… and neither the interest, I guess. Nobody ever exactly caught my eye. But that's not the issue, really. It's more to do with the fact that first we're best friends, and then… we're not. I mean yes, we are, of course, but… now we're something else, too," you finish your somewhat confusing speech, but Nora smiles and nods a bit in a way that tells you she understood every word.

Taking a step closer to you, Nora looks you in the eyes. Oddly, you only now notice for the first time that she's a lot shorter than you. "Now, let me ask you something in return. Do you wish it wouldn't have happened, and that you'd still be like before?"

Like before… sneaking secret glances at one another? Throwing innuendoes everywhere? (Well, that was mostly Jack's doing) Circling around each other and wishing things were different, but neither being willing to be the first one to do anything about it?

Meeting Nora's eyes, you return her look unwaveringly. "No. I don't regret what happened, not in the million years…" you trail off and cast your gaze downwards.

"But?" Nora prompts gently.

Looking down at your bare feet for a moment, you finally raise your head and look at Nora again. "Truthfully, it scares the hell out of me," you admit slowly.

Nora nods sagely. "I know it does. It always does, I was scared of it, too. And I know it scares Jack, as well, though he hides it well; he's always been good in hiding all his fears and insecurities even as a mere lad. Want to know what else I know?" she asks with a small smirk, and you raise your brows in question.

"I know for certain that you'll get over it soon enough. I haven't known you for too long, but I can tell you're a tough lass."

You give a quiet laugh at this, smiling. "Thanks."

"Think nothing of it," Nora grins. "So, looks like I was correct, after all when I told Jack of your whereabouts earlier…"

Your eyes widen, incredulous cry escaping your mouth, "You told Jack I was at the pond?!"

"'T was a slip of tongue really, dear," Nora convinces.

Narrowing your eyes suspiciously, you purse your lips slightly. "Oh, really…?"

Nora is quiet for a moment, before grinning impishly. "Well. Maybe not."

You shake your head, trying to be stern but can't keep the smile from breaking to your lips. "You're a shrewd, shrewd woman, Nora Fowler!"

Nora laughs loudly, pleased. "Damn but I like you, girl! Haven't met anyone with quite your wit and sass in a long time. I understand perfectly why Jack thinks so highly of you, sweetie. But you ought to be thankful I did!"

You chuckle, murmuring, "Oh, I am…"

"Thought so. Now c'mon, I'll show you the bathroom and everything else we have 'ere," Nora says, starting to walk down the short hallway.

You take a step onward to follow Nora, but suddenly a thought pops into your mind and you stop, calling after her, "You had an ulterior motive with the silk sheets too, didn't you?!"

All you get in response is a delighted laughter as Nora keeps on walking.

* * * *

Jack scrutinized his uncle with his sharp eyes in the dimness of the sitting room, trying to determine how the years he'd been absent had treated the older man. Lucas' hair had more grey, the lines upon his face were more evident, and his movements were not quite so spontaneous and agile any longer. Jack suddenly realized the man who'd been his mentor and like a second father to him had gotten… old. When had this happened? But despite the clear signs of aging, Lucas' nature was still vibrant and his gaze held the same perceptive light as they had always done. Yet, there was a slight, barely detectable air of weariness about him. It troubled Jack more than he cared to admit, more than he wanted to acknowledge. Jack wanted to ask him how he was doing in reality, but knowing that if he did, Lucas would only reward him with indignant huff and claimed that he never needed to be coddled before, therefore he wouldn't need it now, either.

The last time Jack saw his uncle had been about five years ago, maybe closer to six. Jack found himself wondering why hadn't he come to see him and Nora until now? Had he been so selfish in his quest to find the Pearl that he just hadn't cared? No, Jack didn't want to think that; the older man had been in his thoughts. Besides, last time thy saw Lucas had himself told Jack he shouldn't come around in a while for his own safety. Jack had people on his heels then who would've gladly seen him dead at the time, and so they hanged around Tortuga in wait for Jack to visit old Fowler. Most knew of their friendship in Tortuga, but only rare and few knew of their being relatives, thanks to the facts that it wasn't spoken about and that Lucas had counselled Jack to change his name when he was younger. Those days, Lucas had had many adversaries, like every pirate did. Wishing to make sure nobody would think to use Jack in order to get to Lucas, he'd insisted that Jack changed his name and told no one he was Jack's uncle. And so, in honour of his dead father who had always called him Jack back in London, John Fowler had became Jack Sparrow.

In hindsight, Jack realized that perhaps the reason he had been reluctant to see Lucas earlier was due to the fact that the Pearl was lost; the beautiful, magnificent Black Pearl that Lucas had himself entrusted in Jack's command after he retired from piracy. And Jack had lost her almost instantly, to the thrice-damned mutineer Barbossa. Jack knew Lucas had never, ever blamed him for losing the Pearl, but Jack had done a darn fine job in it all by himself. All the same, Jack had simply been too ashamed to face Lucas after that. Lucas had given him his old ship, counted on him to look after her, and what did he do in return? Failed to see what a backstabbing worm his first mate truly was and got himself marooned on that damn patch of sand, unable to do nothing but watch in helpless anger as she was taken away from him, slowly but certainly…

Jack still remembered vividly how he'd stood knee-deep in the clear, cerulean water, staring after the retreating black sails until they disappeared behind the horizon. He'd felt utterly and totally betrayed, not only by Barbossa, but everything and everyone. Even his treasured, ageless mistress that kept lapping around his legs and soaked his clothing. That day Jack had almost hated her as well, as her waves pushed the Pearl further away from him, just like he hated Barbossa and the mutinous crew.

Exhaling soundlessly, Jack drove away the haunting memoirs and rid himself from the bitterness of the past. That was precisely what it was, the past, and best left there. Aye, it would always stick, would always linger somewhere in the back of his mind and remind him to keep in mind all the things he'd learned from himself and the others that very day, but there was no need to dwell on it. It was all left behind him now, and there was no need to tear open old wounds for nothing. Flicking his gaze back to Lucas, Jack noticed the older man had also been doing some analysing of his own.

"A'right then, boy," Lucas finally spoke up, breaking the silence. "I'll oblige ye for once. Ask away. I know ye want to ask it, so just get it over with."

Small smile pulled the corners of Jack's lips upwards. "Alright, then," Jack repeated the older man's words. "How've you been?"

Lucas hummed from his throat. "Ne'er been better."

Arching his brow in speculating manner, Jack drawled, "I thought ye were supposed to oblige me for once…?"

Staying silent for a moment, Lucas merely gazed at Jack. "I did, didn't I…?" he said in subdued tone, sighing. "Very well."

Jack's eyes narrowed a fraction, but nothing else betrayed the mounting anxiety he felt inside. The slightly melancholy tone in his uncle's voice, however fleeting, was enough to concern Jack. Keeping quiet, Jack gazed at Lucas expectantly, waiting patiently for him to speak.

"The truth is," Lucas started, and this time his voice again held the untroubled, cheerful undertone that Jack had been used to. "…That I am old."

Jack's brows climbed up to his red bandanna in surprise. This was not what he'd been expecting Lucas to say. "Now, come on, Lucas. Yer hardly old," he disagreed, although somewhere deep inside he knew that this was the truth.

Lucas snorted, chuckling slightly. "What 'ave I told you about coddling me, lad?" he asked with a merry twinkle in his whiskey brown eyes.

"That I shouldn't," Jack replied with a small smirk.

"Spot on!" Lucas approved. "So don't ye dare start it now. But the fact remains that I'm not a young man any longer. Hell, I've already lived for sixty years! And all those years won't come without... certain bothers. But other than that, I've ne'er been better," he finished with a grin.

"And what would the 'certain bothers' happen to include?" Jack pressed, wanting to know if his uncle was truly as well as he said he was.

Lucas rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Ye won't let this go, will you? Aw, fine... It's nothing serious, lad. Just some back pains. My vision has gotten worse, and me bones an' joints are aching from time to time. Like I said, nothing to make fuss about. Nora already does enough o' that," he smiled affectionately at the thought of his wife.

"I see." Jack said in understanding, but the twinge of worry still lingered in his mind.

Lucas regarded Jack with amused smile. Indeed, Nora had been correct in her words earlier. This wasn't the scrawny, wild-haired boy he'd taken under his tutelage all those years ago anymore; this was a grown man who knew exactly what he was doing and how to take care of himself, never mind that his hair was still wild. Although Jack had changed quite a bit from those days, Lucas could still occasionally spot a glimpse of that impish little boy that hid somewhere behind the pirate front. Lucas also paid attention to the fact that Jack's demeanour had changed slightly now that they were alone; he wasn't quite as out-spoken as he'd been when everyone else was there with them.

The small puppy that'd been sleeping soundly on the other side of the sofa that Jack was sitting on chose that moment to wake up, lifting his head and gazing around with sleepy eyes. Finding no trace of his mistress, the pup got up and padded over to Jack, settling down next to him and promptly curling his little body against the pirate so that his back was pressed against the side of Jack's thigh. Glancing down at the small dog, Jack frowned slightly, before tentatively digging his fingers in the thick fur of the pup's neck, scratching the skin lightly. The puppy exhaled deeply, a sign of being content, and a small smile crossed Jack's face. Lucas caught this, and raised a brow in amusement.

"Since when 'ave you started to like little furry animals, Jack?" Lucas asked with mirth in his voice, smirking.

Raising his gaze from the pup, Jack shot Lucas a wry look that all but told him to shut up about it. Lucas chuckled.

"Ah, yes… it's the girl's pup, that's why you like it. She's as good as gold, Nora already loves the lass."

Jack nodded a bit, a smile on his lips. "That's good. Though I knew she would."

Lucas smiled, before regarding Jack seriously. "Plannin' on makin' this one a keeper, lad? 'Cause let me tell ye, from all those girls I've seen you fool around with, this one's the best match for you. She's got wits and a mind of her own. She ain't going to let you pull her around, like some of the others did…"

Jack felt slightly scolded by that remark, but knew it was probably true. "I know that very well, believe me," he grinned, thinking about your stubborn spunk.

"Her father's daughter, I deem. Aye, Bloodshot was a man not to be messed around with, but 'e was a good man nonetheless. The tallest one I've ever known, too! The lass apparently takes more after her mother, though," Lucas chuckled.

"I don't recall you knowing Bloodshot," Jack said doubtfully, frowning.

"I didn't, really. Saw him a time or two, but this was before you came to Caribbean. Didn't run into him after that," Lucas replied. "I heard about him of course, 'specially when he run from Port Royal with the Governor's daughter. Wasn't that a scandal… she was one of the most respected women in town, an' she elopes with the same pirate 'er father had strived to get swingin' for years!" Lucas smirked, shaking his head. "Irony…"

Inattentively stroking the pup's furry pelt, Jack smiled in agreement but said nothing.

"So, son, ye ne'er answered…" Lucas speaks up after a moment, smile quirking his lips. "Is she a keeper?"

Thinking about the question for a minute, Jack sighed and gazed at his uncle, sincerity in his dark eyes. "Hopefully," he said softly.

Lucas smiled and leaned back in his armchair, pleased with the answer. "Good. Was about damn time, too. Now, tell me all about how you got the Pearl back."

Jack widened his eyes slightly and smirked. "That's a bit of a longer tale, Lucas…"

"Then make it short. I know yer busy to get back to your lass," Lucas smirked smugly and Jack shook his head in amusement, but didn't deny the claim.

"A'right," Jack finally relented, leaning his back a bit more against the sofa, his fingers still absent-mindedly stroking Lucky's fur. "I went a little somethin' like this…"

* * * *

After you and Nora came back up from the basement floor that contained a laundry room, a bathroom with a beautiful bathtub, and some storages, including a cold storage for meat and such. Nora had showed you the rest of the house. Most of the large rooms in the main floor of the cottage were adjoined to another, so that one could easily move from one room to another. You now knew that the main floor held the kitchen, the dining room, the sitting room, and the library, as well as Nora and Lucas' bedroom and Mrs. Potters' room. Upstairs included all five of the guestrooms and a few more, smaller rooms that served as closets.

You'd talked about all kinds of things with Nora. You'd told her about your life aboard the Wraith and your father, and how he'd been killed and how you met Jack, Will and Elizabeth, and she'd told you about her first meeting with Lucas, their times together, how Jack had come to the Caribbean after Joshua had wrote to Lucas, her wedding to Lucas and what they've been doing after Lucas' retirement. You'd tried asking her why Jack changed his name, but Nora just replied that you should ask that from Jack. You planned on doing just that when you saw him again.

Now, you were back in the kitchen again, as Nora glances at you with a raised brow. "Would you care for a little nightcap before goin' to bed?"

You smile. "Sure, I'd love one."

Nora grins. "Yep, I really like ye, girl," she chuckles as goes to one of the cupboards while you sit down by a small, round table next to the window. Peering out, you make out that the rain has eased from the earlier downpour into a gentle rain.

Returning soon with two small glasses filled half with amber fluid, Nora places one in front of you and sits down across from you. You smile in thanks, picking up the glass and catching a whiff of the liquor; it's rum, what else.

"From my little secret stash," Nora says in conspiratorial way. "Don't tell anyone."

You smile in amusement. "My lips are sealed."

"Good. So, will you be leavin' us soon already?" Nora asks, taking a sip from her glass.

You nod. "I'm afraid we have to leave tomorrow. Will and Elizabeth's wedding is on day after tomorrow, so we'll have to get them there in time."

"Ah, quite so. Jack adores weddings," Nora smirks.

"Yeah, I've heard that a few times!" you say laughingly and take a drink from your glass.

Nora chuckles, downing the rest of her rum and standing up. "Well, I hope you and Jack come to visit us again after this thing with that Spanish wench is over," she says while placing her glass in a small tub on the counter.

"I'd like that," you smile. "I'd like that a lot."

"Likewise, dear," Nora replies in warm tone, picking up a plate from the counter and shoving it in front of you. "Have a biscuit. Young woman like yourself should 'ave a bit of flesh 'round her bones."

You raise a brow; you think you have quite enough to cover your bones with, but take one biscuit that's smothered thickly with dark purple plum jam from the plate anyway to please Nora. "Thanks."

Nora nods, satisfied, and places the plate back on the counter while you down the last drops from your glass. Getting up from the chair and setting the empty glass in the tub, you turn to face Nora as she speaks. "Well, I think I'll be going to bed now, if ye don't mind. Even a beauty needs a beauty sleep, ye know!"

"Yeah, of course. Go ahead. I'd like to catch a little fresh air before turning in myself," you say, nodding towards the veranda that circles the house almost entirely.

Nora smiles. "You do that, dear. And I'll be sure to tear that husband of mine away from pestering Jack, too," she winks, and you smile in amusement. "Well, good night."

"Night," you respond as Nora leaves the kitchen. With a small smile, you walk over to the door leading to the terrace, pushing it open and stepping out.

The fresh, slightly humid night air hits you as you close the door behind you, stepping ahead to stand next to the white railing of the veranda and resting your forearms on it. Inhaling deeply, you close your eyes for a moment and enjoy the unique scent of rain. Exhaling, you open your eyes, peering in the darkness and listening to the rain as it drums gently against the leaves of different trees and bushes, tapping on the roof the terrace. Small rivulets of water dribble down from the roof every once in the while, and a slight breeze blew somewhere from the sea, barely detectable. You'd always liked calm rain like this, and loved the way everything smelled so clean and fresh afterwards, especially the forests.

You feel so calm that you startle a bit when a pair of strong arms suddenly wrap around your waist from behind, pulling your back against a nicely sculpted chest.

"Boo," Jack whispers huskily in your ear, and you can hear the grin in his voice.

"Damn you," you say, trying to sound stern but again failing miserably. The feel of Jack pressed against your back like this is much too pleasant. "Don't sneak up on me like that, I nearly had a bloody coronary."

"Aw, but I wasn't sneaking, luv," he mumbles against your ear, pressing a light kiss on the lobe. "Besides, you're much too young and healthy to be having a coronary."

"Hah, well thank you for that professional opinion, doctor Sparrow," you tease.

"You're very welcome, m'dear," Jack replies, voice slightly muffled since he's lowered his head to kiss the side of your neck, causing your eyes to slip shut. "Though, I might have to perform," he mutters between kisses, "a throughout examination to ascertain that specific diagnosis," he nips your skin lightly with his teeth, "so you should really get rid of these," he finishes, fingering the hem of your shirt impatiently.

You laugh out loud at this, grinning widely. "Nice try, Jack, real nice…" you reply, turning around in his arms so that you're facing him, wrapping your own arms around him, "But you're not a doctor, so your examination wouldn't do much good."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," Jack points out smugly. "I'm the closest thing you've got to a doctor aboard the Pearl, so that's good enough. And what do you mean, wouldn't do much good? Quite the opposite, luv, we'd both be feeling exceptionally good…" he trails off with brazen grin, and you roll your eyes.

"You have to be the uncrowned king of lewd insinuations, Jack," you say wryly, a small smile playing on your lips.

"And that's a bad thing?" he murmurs while leaning closer, his intense eyes locked on yours.

"I didn't say that," you reply softly with a smile, just before Jack's lips descend on yours.

You welcome the feeling on his soft lips brushing passionately against yours with unequivocal expertise, realizing how much you've in fact missed the heated sensation during the past hours. Your breathing is starting to quicken and you part your lips, allowing access to him. But as soon as Jack's tongue meets yours, he abruptly pulls away from the kiss, kohl-brimmed eyes wide as he stares down at you.

"What?" you ask breathlessly, frowning a little in confusion.

"You've had rum," Jack says slowly, almost accusing undertone in his low voice.

You blink. How the hell did he manage to taste it from your mouth, when it was a small, tiny amount and consumed a while ago? Unbelievable. But then again, it shouldn't really surprise you when it comes to rum. Despite your best efforts, you can't curb the amused grin that breaks upon your lips.

"Umh, yeah... But only a little," you smile, holding your right thumb and forefinger apart a fraction in demonstration. Figuring a tiny while lie won't hurt here, you quickly add, "Nora insisted."

"I knew she had a bottle hidden somewhere, I just knew it!" Jack exclaims victoriously. "Where is it?"

"Sorry, I promised I wouldn't tell."

"Oh come on, luv!" he almost whines, and you can't help but to smile.

"That won't help you any, Jack. It's still a no," you say sagely. Though if he keeps pulling that kicked puppy look, you might just cave in. Luckily for you, Jack huffs a bit and wipes the pleading look off of his face.

"Fine… then I'll just have to get a taste with an alternative way," he says and abruptly pulls you even closer to his front, causing you to gasp in surprise.

His mouth is on yours the very next second, kissing you with everything he has. Heat pours through you and you feel light-headed as his tongue slips past your lips, tasting every cranny of your mouth and duels with your own, one of his hand snaking up to tangle in your hair and tilt your head, allowing him to deepen the kiss still. Your hand that had been carefully holding the biscuit Nora had given you earlier involuntarily slackens its hold of it as your senses get blurry from Jack's ardent kiss, dropping the biscuit. Your reflexes still tell you to try to grab it as it starts to fall, but Jack's mouth on yours distracts you so much you only get your finger smudged with jam in reward for your effort. As luck would've had it, the biscuit slips straight through one of the cracks between the wooden floorboards of the veranda, disappearing from sight.

Jack breaks the fervent kiss, both of you gasping for breath. Leaning your clean hand against his chest, you look at the dark jam stain on your left pointer. "Aw, damn it," you mutter in distaste.

Jack lifts a brow and grins in unquestionably sly manner, before catching your hand in his and bringing it to his lips. Your breath catches in your throat as Jack sucks the jam-stained fingertip in his mouth, never taking his eyes off of yours as his hot tongue licks off the sweet substance and swirls around your finger in distinctly sensual way. Your throat feels dry and your lips part involuntarily as you stare into his eyes, watching in mesmerized fascination as they darken, turning nearly black with lust. Oh gods, is all that your hazy mind can come up with. The sight before you is positively striking.

You gasp softly as Jack sucks on your fingertip slightly before pulling away. "Very sweet," he says in velvety murmur while smirking just a bit smugly, causing your pulse to quicken. Clearing your throat, you struggle to think straight again and banish the sudden sluggishness from your mind.

"Uh, it's quite late," you manage to say. "We should probably go to bed."

Brilliant grin graces Jack's features, and he pulls you a bit closer. "My thoughts exactly, darling..."

You smirk, knowing how his mind works. "To sleep Jack, just to sleep."

Jack's face falls. "What?" he asks, clearly unable to believe he just heard correctly.

"You heard me. We have an early morning tomorrow and besides, Will and Lizzie are sleeping just down the hall," you explain patiently, amused smile tugging at your lips.

"And your point being…? Hey, who knows, they could even learn something," Jack remarks with a wily smirk and you slap his arm playfully in response, huffing a little. "Oho, feeling rough tonight, eh?"

"Cut that out, Jack," you say laughingly. "What's the matter with you?"

Jack regards you for a moment in silence, his eyes narrowed in thought. "I rightly don't know. But I bet it's something really hard to pronounce."

"Cheeky devil," you mutter under your breath, but smile anyway.

Jack chuckles, pulling away from you so that he can wrap one arm around your shoulders. "Maybe so, but would you have it any other way?" he replies smoothly while starting to guide you back inside the cottage.

* * * *

The soft thud of your and Jack's footsteps and the quiet patter of Lucky's paws are the only sounds audible in the dark hallway as you made your way upstairs. The fire in the sitting room's fireplace had long since died out, only the embers had glowed red on the bottom. Quietly, you walk towards your room, aware of Jack's presence behind you. Reaching the door, you push it open and take a step inside before turning around to face Jack, raising your brow as he walks in like he owned the place.

"Excuse me, mister, but I do believe you have your own room?" you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Aye, but this one is so much nicer," Jack replies in low tone, taking a step closer to you and running his palms up and down your upper arms.

"And what's wrong with yours?" you enquire with a small smile.

Jack looks you deep in the eyes. "You're not there," he says simply, with no trace of pretence.

You smile, touched by the honesty in his words. Damn, he really knew how to wreck down your defences, didn't he?

"Come on, luv," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. "I would honestly just like to hold you. No getting frisky, I swear," he goes on, a small smile quirking his lips. "Unless you want to, of course."

You laugh a little. "You swear, huh? Oh, all right, then," you cave in, though in reality you didn't really have to think that hard about it.

Jack grins. "Knew you'd warm up to me."

"And for some reason I just knew you were going to say that," you smirk back, reluctantly pulling back and taking few steps towards the door, closing it.

Jack wastes no time, but is already untying the sash around his waist. You smile a little to yourself in amusement while going over to the bed where Lucky is already sleeping, curled up near the pillows. You suddenly notice a white cloth on the bed, clearly standing out from the dark bedspread. Puzzled, you pick it up and unfold it; it's a long nightgown with thin straps on the shoulders. Narrowing your eyes at it, you suddenly grin as you realize where it obviously came from. Nora, you really are a shrewd woman. Oh well. You didn't want to sleep in the shirt you were wearing, and sleeping nude would undoubtedly create a few temptations to Jack, so what the hell.

You glance at Jack while you unbutton your shirt, seeing that he's busy with removing his own shirt on the other side of the bed. Turning your attention back to the task at hand, you get all the buttons open and shrug the shirt off, dropping it rather carelessly on the floor. Picking up the white nightgown again, you're about to pull it over your head when you hear Jack whistle quietly. You quirk your brow and glance at him, seeing that he's removed his own shirt and is staring at your chest with appreciative eyes, clearly enjoying the sight. Despite the fact that you've already made love once, his avid interest in your body still causes you to feel slightly befuddled. With a small smile, you pull the soft nightgown over your head, smoothing it down.

Jack looks disappointed. "Aw, why do you bother with that? Though it looks lovely on you, but you'd be more so without."

"Eliminating some temptations, Jack," you smirk and poke your tongue out playfully.

Jack rolls his eyes, though you catch the small smile playing about his lips. Pulling down the slightly oversized pants, you drop them on the floor too. The nightgown reaches you a bit past your knees, the hem fluttering around your legs as you move. Your eyes widen slightly as Jack starts to take off his pants, and you busy yourself with rolling the bedspread off the bed, shooing poor Lucky out of the way.

The sheets under the bedspread are also blue, inky, dark blue. Jack raises a brow. "She gave you silk sheets? I was right, this room is nicer," he grins.

You smile and slip under the covers, revelling in the wonderful feel of the silk against your skin. You sneak a look at Jack's gloriously naked backside as he turns to throw his pants in the same pile with his shirt and sash. You grin at the sight, but quickly avert your gaze as he turns back. Too much temptation, there... darn, you should've figured that Jack would sleep in the nude.

You feel the mattress dip as Jack settles next to you, whispering in your ear; "I think I'm not the only one tempted here, luv," he grins.

"Oh, shut it," you reply with a smirk. Jack chuckles and leans his head on the pillows with a tired sigh, closing his eyes.

Lying down next to him on your side, you prop your elbow on the mattress and lean your hand on your jaw. Glancing over to the end of the bed, you see that Lucky has found himself a new spot against the bedpost, curled up and sleeping soundly.

Returning you attention back to Jack, you take the chance to just watch him and study his features for a moment. You eye his kohl-smudged lids and high cheekbones, going down to his soft lips and firm jaw covered with dark goatee, your gaze slipping downwards still. The blanket is resting over his waist so that his chest is bared to your gaze, your eyes lingering on the two round scars above his left breast and trailing over the toned muscles. He's the perfect embodiment of male beauty, in your opinion.

"Jack…?" you ask quietly, knowing that he's probably tired, but wanting to ask him anyway.

"Aye?" he murmurs without opening his eyes.

"Why did you change your name?"

Now Jack cracks his eyes open, peering at you with disbelief. "You really want to talk about that now?"

"Yes," you reply with a smile, before adding, "Please?"

Jack looks at you for a second, and then sighs. "It's nothing special, really. When I came here as a lad, Lucas had people who would've gladly seen him dead, just like every pirate, I figure. So, he told me to think a new name for myself, especially the last name, and keep the fact what we're related under wraps. To keep those people off my tracks, savvy?"

"Mm-hmm," you hum, nodding in understanding.

"That's how I started calling myself Jack. That's what me da used to call me in London. See, da wanted to name me 'Jack' all along, but ma insisted on 'John'. It was supposedly a finer name, you know how it is," he shrugs slightly. "And Sparrow, well… they've always been my favourite birds. Still are. There were lots of them in London. They're quick, smart and resilient, but most of all... they're free. Just like I wanted to be," he finishes solemnly, but then smirks. "And, I was just a kid when I thought it up."

You laugh a little. "Ah, but it's not a bad name."

"No, it's not." Jack grins in agreement. "Besides, who'd fear a pirate named John Fowler? Nobody! It sounds like some flaming stuffy naval officer."

"True," you chuckle.

"So, now you know," Jack finishes, snaking one arm under the arm you have propped up and holds onto your back, pulling you closer. "Come here…"

Obliging, you scoot closer to him until you're pressed against his side and lay your head on his chest, throwing your right arm over his torso and burying your fingers between his soft skin and the mattress. Jack's right arm curls around your shoulders, his fingers weaving in your hair and playing absently with the strands, stroking your scalp. You close your eyes at the sensation, feeling calm and safe. The rain is still drumming against the roof gently, the sound of it soothing. Inhaling the scent of Jack's skin, you sigh and snuggle yet a bit closer to him. Jack tilts his head slightly and kisses your forehead.

"Good night, sweetness," he whispers against your skin, and you smile.

"Night, Jack," you murmur back.

The last thing that's on your mind before you fall asleep is that you've probably never smiled as much as you did today…

* * * * *

A/N: Again, this chapter contains explicit sexual scene 'round the half-way of the chapter, hence the rating. If that's not your thing, skip this. Honestly. If you're not into a bit of smut, click the "back" button or close this window. Ta! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 22 - All I Want Is You (Rated R!)

It's cold. That's the first thing that registers in your hazy mind. Where am I? You think uncertainly, your mind desperately trying to figure out the abrupt chance of surroundings. Blinking, you glance around in puzzlement and realize that you're standing outside the Fowlers cottage, before the stairs of the front porch. The grass beneath your bare feet feels damp, like after the rain. But the cottage… the cottage is empty and… eerie. It's as cold as the wind whipping around you, the whole house looking deserted and old. You shiver, cold in the thin, white nightgown you're still wearing. Confused, you wrap your arms around yourself and turn around in the darkness, your gaze straying down to the ground. Something glistens in the grass, the pale moonlight glinting on the odd patch, and you edge closer to the suspicious spot. As you get next to it, you see that it's something dark, and that there's another similar splotch a foot away. Barely seeing ahead in the oppressing darkness, you walk warily along the trail until you stumble, loosing your footing with a slight yelp.

Falling on your knees into something warm and wet, a flash of shock runs through you as you feel your hands meet something… or rather, someone. Somebody is lying on the ground, motionless. Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open, a muted shout escaping your lips as you realize that it's Anamaria, lying dead on the ground. Her throat is torn open, dark blood still seeping slowly from the gory slash and running down her chest and sides of her neck, dripping on the grass and soaking her shirt. Scrambling up in terror, you stare down at her. You barely notice that the hem of your elegant nightgown, your knees and your legs are stained in her blood. Tearing your eyes away from your friend's body, you look further down the trail.

"No…" a strained whisper is all that you get out as you stumble forward, shocked. It's Gibbs. The burly man is lying on his back, bleeding and broken just like Anamaria. His sightless eyes are still open, staring vacantly up towards the murky skies. Your hands are starting to shake as an icy fist curls around your heart, sickly numbness gripping you in its clutches as you go on, locating the next body. It's Will, lying facedown with a large bloodstain spreading on his back, over his heart. Tears are starting to blur your vision as your shaky legs move onward even though you don't tell them to do so. Elizabeth… she's lying lifeless there too, close to Will; her sandy blonde hair is covering half of her bruised face, bloody smudges running through the locks and staining her dress.

"No no no no no…" you chant under your breath, repeating the word like a mantra and ignoring the salty tears sliding down your cheeks as you stagger on, fearing the worst.

You stop, the sight in front of you affecting you like a violent blow to the stomach, robbing the very air from your lungs and making your heart skip a painful beat in alarm. You can't seem to breathe; all you get out are small, irregular gasps, your throat feeling tight. Dashing forward the some odd feet separating you from the still form, you drop on your knees next to the inert, all too familiar figure you know by heart.

"Jack… Jack, get up," you croak, forcing your voice pass your constricting throat as you turn him carefully over to lie on his back, gazing down at his closed eyes. He looks like he's asleep, his face calm and peaceful. Gently, you brush aside a few dark locks of hair from his face, cupping his cheek in your hand.

"C'mon Jack, wake up…!" you plead with more volume, your other hand straying to press over his chest. Almost as quickly you pull the hand away, startled as sticky dampness covers your palm the instant it touched Jack. Staring down at your shaking, bloodstained hand, the realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Jack is dead. Your heart pounds furiously inside your chest, hammering a fierce rhythm against your ribs as you flick your gaze back to Jack. Your best friend, your beautiful, brave Jack… the immortal Captain Jack Sparrow… is gone.

A primal, wordless scream of pure agony tears from your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut, hot tears squeezing through your lids and sliding down your face. All of them, all your friends, your family… they're all dead. Once again, everybody important in your life has been taken away from you, brutally torn away from your reach for good.

"NO!" you shriek to the stormy skies as you throw your head back, clenching your hand convulsively into a fist, still stained crimson by Jack's blood. Your knuckles turn white and your nails dig in the skin of your palm, but you ignore the biting pain. The numbing anguish raging inside your heart and tearing you up from within is far worse than any physical pain imaginable.

"Ah, sí…" a silky voice abruptly purrs, floating down from somewhere above you. You open your eyes, staring up at Gabriela Delgado's tall frame through your blurry vision. Nevertheless, you can make out the condescending smirk and the grey, gleaming eyes, flashing with enjoyment over your obvious suffering.

"Why?" you demand between clenched teeth, the mounting fury shaking your voice. Still, you don't make a move to get up.

Gabriela smiles. It's a predatory, wicked smile. "Because I can, you stupid little girl," she speaks calmly in husky, accented tone, before raising the bloodied blade she clutches tightly in her fist, bringing it down and driving the sharp tip towards your unguarded chest… and with a sharp stab of pain, your world plunges into blackness.

You jerk awake with a gasp, eyes wide, your breathing laboured as you stare up at the white ceiling of your room in the cottage. Blinking rapidly, it takes you a moment to understand it was just a dream, just a bad, awful dream. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, ridding yourself from the vivid images still floating in your mind. It was only another bloody nightmare, nothing else.

Opening them again, you frown in puzzlement as you suddenly become aware of a weight over your chest and torso. Lifting your head up from the pillows, you gaze down at the wild mass of dark hair pillowed against your chest, mostly on your right breast. You smirk slightly, rolling your eyes in amusement. You and Jack have sometime during the night changed positions, and now you're lying on your back in the middle of the bed with Jack halfway on top of you, his arms around your body so that his palms are under you, pressed flat against your back. The silken bedcovers are pushed down to his waist again, so that his back is bared to your appreciative gaze. Though he's a bit heavy, you find that you truly enjoy the sensation of his solid weight over you. It feels so pleasant and secure, like nothing bad could ever touch you now with Jack sheltering you from the rest of the world. After the gruelling nightmare, it's the most welcomed feeling you could wish for.

You indulge yourself for a moment and let your eyes linger over the finely defined muscles, climbing up his spine to trace over his shoulders and arms, currently wrapped around your body possessively. Again, you marvel at his body; he's simply perfectly built. He's lean but strong, and his muscles are clearly distinguishable beneath his sun-kissed skin, but he's not brawny in an off-putting way. You lift your right hand, elbow propping against the mattress as you let the backs of your fingers skim up and down his shoulder for a moment, caressing the skin lightly as not to wake him up. All thoughts of the blasted nightmare fly away as if they'd never even existed in the first place.

Raising your hand from his shoulder to absently twirl one of the small braids plaited in his hair around your finger, you lean your head back in the pillows and listen to the sound of Jack's even breathing, puffing pleasantly against the skin of your chest. It's obviously still very early in the morning; the first, bright rays of sunlight are streaming through the balcony doors and windows, permeating the gauzy white curtains and bathing the room with soft light. Despite it being early, you know you'd probably have to get up soon and be on your way back to Port Royal. But, figuring a few more minutes couldn't hurt, you promptly close your eyes again and continue to idly play with Jack's hair, just basking his closeness and inhaling his scent.

Suddenly Jack stirs, inhaling deeply and tightening his hold of your body as he snuggles his head more firmly against your chest, mumbling something incomprehensible under his breath in his sleep. A soft gasp leaves your lips as Jack inadvertently grinds his toned upper body against yours; the feeling of being pinned between the cool silken sheets and Jack's warm, firm body is causing downright rapturous sensations to run through your body. You suddenly become excruciatingly aware just how flimsy the nightgown of yours truly is, how little is separating you from Jack's bare skin. The realization offers you no respite from the less-than-proper thoughts that have started to course inside your head; on the contrary. His unique, masculine scent is intoxicating and his even breathing puffing gently against the skin of your chest almost burns you. A quiet whimper escapes your throat as the images of Jack waking up and making wild, passionate love to you right here and right now suddenly fill your mind.

Biting on your bottom lip, you clap one palm over your eyes and take as deep breath as you can with the additional weight on top of your chest. Calm down, calm down … just think about something else, you tell yourself feebly. Yeah, right! That's hardly possible with this… this god for a man lying (naked, at that!) halfway on top of your rather scantily clad body, holding onto you like he has no intentions of ever letting go. Which would, of course, suit you just perfectly. Trying to calm the intense desire burning within, you desperately try to think about anything else but Jack. The nightmare creeps back in your mind, and a cold shiver runs down your spine in remembrance of the horrible dream. The yearning inside of you ebbs slightly, and you frown as the dream replays in your mind. Why the hell were you having such unsettling dreams lately?

Your musings are cut short as Jack stirs again, his body moving subtly against yours and causing another kind of stirring to ignite in you. It was amazing how a simple contact such as this practically set your body aflame with longing, and some subconscious part of you was slightly afraid of the effect Jack had on you.

Jack rubs his face sleepily against your chest as he starts to awaken, humming a wordless, low murmur from his throat. This elicits a smile from you; he's like a big cat. You idly wonder if he'd purr if you weaved your hand in his hair and stroked his neck. Curiously, you do just that, leisurely sinking your fingers into the dark mass in front of your vision and rub his scalp absently. This draws out another, throatier sound of satisfaction from Jack, causing you to grin; it was almost like a purr. Exhaling softly through his nose, Jack finally lifts his head slightly and rests his chin on the valley between your fabric-clad breasts, gazing at you with slitted eyes.

"Good morning." You smile pleasantly, faintly surprised by the husky quality of your voice.

"Most certainly is," Jack replies with small grin, tightening his hold of you slightly to show why it was such a good morning. His gravelly voice is even lower than normally, due to the effects of lingering sleepiness.

"Tell me... what were you thinking about a moment ago?" he suddenly asks as he hoists himself up slightly, propping his forearms against the mattress so that he looms over you, some of his dreadlocks spilling down and resting over your chest. He's effectively trapping you beneath him, but then again you can't think of a place you'd rather be right now than here with him.

Caught off guard by the question, you raise your brow a fraction. There's a peculiar glint in his eyes as he gazes at you steadily, so intently that your heartbeat fastens involuntarily. You now recognize the look in his eyes; it's the same way he gazed at you last night at the pond. The mere thought of that makes your throat feel slightly dry.

"Why?" you ask in return, your tone hushed.

Jack grins, slowly lowering his face closer to yours. Just as you think he's about to kiss you, he tilts his head and leans down to whisper huskily against your ear. "Because you made such alluring little noises I couldn't help but to wonder the cause." He presses a lingering kiss below your ear, on your neck. "Though I believe I have an idea…"

You bite your lower lip lightly as he bestows more kisses on your skin. You should've known better than to think you could do or say anything when you thought the man was asleep; you'd already fallen for that trick more times than you cared to recall since you met him.

"You know, it's a bit rude to… eavesdrop like that," you say, trying to sound scolding, but the effect lessens considerably when Jack happens to nip your neck lightly with his teeth at the same time.

Jack raises his head and smirks down at you, his dark eyes glittering with mirth. "Probably, but I'm but an uncivilized, uncouth pirate. What would I know of courtesy and good manners?"

With that, Jack's lips swiftly descend over yours, proceeding to steal your breath and all logical thought altogether. His left hand tangles in your hair, long fingers weaving through your locks as he kisses you ravenously. You find yourself responding to the kiss eagerly, the desire you thought you'd curbed earlier again set aflame inside of you. It was astonishing how Jack could make you feel so much and so intensely even with the smallest of touches.

Breaking the intense kiss and leaving both of you breathless, Jack starts trailing small, lingering kisses down the side your neck, occasionally sucking the sensitive skin and soothing the spot with his tongue. Drawing in a shuddering breath, you struggle to think rationally even if your mind has started to cloud over from the pleasure Jack’s unhurried caresses are creating.

“Jack,” you utter quietly, gasping breathlessly as he sucks on your neck, “Jack, we really shouldn’t…”

“Why’s that?” he asks between kisses, having no intentions of ceasing his seduction.

“We should get up…” you state, desperately trying not to succumb to his exquisite touch. “And Will and Lizzie are down the hall…” you go on, inhaling sharply as Jack bites down gently on the crook of your neck.

You can feel Jack grin against your neck as he halts his ministrations for a brief moment. “Then we’ll just have to be all quiet-like, won’t we…?”

Rolling your eyes, you’re about to retort when Jack braces his weight on his left elbow and slides his right palm leisurely along your side, tracing your figure as his hand travels from your ribs down to the curve of your waist and the swell of your hips.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want me close to you like this…” he murmurs in your ear in that seductively deep tone, teasing all of your senses simultaneously. “That you don’t want me to touch you like this…” his hand eagerly journeys past your hips, sliding over your nightgown-covered thigh and slips under your knee as you instinctively draw your leg up slightly, the sole flat on the mattress. Jack slides his hand under the hem of the flimsy dress, caressing your bare thigh and making you shiver.

“Or to kiss you like this…” Jack again claims your lips with his, giving you a slow, sensuous kiss that simply sets every single nerve-ending in your body ablaze. His tongue delves into every hidden nook and cranny your mouth, before engaging yours in a duel for dominance. You moan quietly in the kiss as Jack’s hand beneath your nightgown climbs up to the roundness of your hips, rubbing the skin softly.

Sucking on your lower lip, Jack pulls away from you and gazes down at you, his breath warm against you lips as he whispers huskily, “Don’t tell me you don’t want this as much I as I do. Don’t deny me of your beauty, darling…”

You stare up at his beautiful eyes, now darkened with desire, in awe and tell your previous hesitancy to go straight to hell. His sincere words strike a cord in you; that was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. You don’t give a damn about anything else right now but to have this man make you his. Smiling softly, you raise your right hand and place it on the side of Jack’s neck, sliding it up to weave in his wild hair while never taking your eyes from his.

“Then touch me, Jack. Touch me just like you want to,” you whisper breathlessly.

Desire flames in the depths of Jack’s dark eyes at your words, and he claims your lips again; this time the kiss is furiously passionate, downright demanding. Sinking both of your hands in Jack’s thick locks, you respond ardently to the kiss, matching his fervour. Waves of pleasure wash through you as he brushes his lips against yours, his tongue again slipping past your lips to taste your mouth. You’re intoxicated by the scent, warmth and closeness of Jack, leaving you to crave more of him like an addict.

Jack’s questing hand leaves your hip only to travel up to your waist, pulling the thin gown up as he goes. Lingering fleetingly over the gentle curve of your side, Jack slides his palm slowly to the expanse of your stomach. Still engaged in the heated kiss with you, Jack splays his long fingers apart and teases the soft skin with his fingertips, his thumb dropping to circle your navel. Pleasant shivers run down your spine and make you sigh in the kiss, astounded by the way your body reacts to such simple touch. Jack finally breaks the kiss when the need for oxygen becomes overpowering, both of you breathing raggedly. Untangling your hands from Jack’s hair, you place them down on his shoulders to caress his skin as Jack again attacks your neck, trailing nibbling kisses down the side. He pauses for a moment to suckle at the skin in the juncture of your neck and shoulder before continuing southwards, his soft lips lavishing your collarbone with light kisses.

You slide your hands down his back as far down as you can, loving the feel of his muscles twitching slightly beneath your exploring palms. A quiet whimper escapes your throat as Jack licks the length of your collarbone, dragging his hot tongue to the hollow of your throat and pressing another kiss there. Jack kisses a trail of fire down to your chest, all the way down to the tops of your breasts where the nightgown starts. While Jack busies himself with bestowing more heated kisses across your skin, you slip your hands between your bodies, delighting in the feel of his firm chest. You drag you fingernails lightly down his chest, loving the slight shudder that runs through Jack. Craving to make him feel as good as he makes you, you rub your thumbs in circles over his nipples. The throaty growl of pleasure this action elicits from Jack only serves to excite you further, causing heat pouring through your body and making your heartbeat quicken in sensual anticipation.

With a harsh exhalation, Jack suddenly lifts himself upright, distancing himself from your touch and pulling his hand away from your stomach. Your chest is heaving and you feel hot, but your excitement only intensifies as you gaze up at Jack’s gloriously naked form with heavy-lidded eyes. Jack is staring hungrily down at you with black irises, his own breathing equally strenuous as his eyes roam across your scantily clad body. Almost quicker than you can comprehend, Jack grabs the front of your nightgown with both hands and yanks at it. You let out a small, surprised squeal as the thin fabric tears like old parchment, all the way down to the hem and reveals your naked body to Jack’s greedy gaze.

Raising a brow at his eagerness, you sit up as well and throw the useless gown on the floor. “So impatient…” you murmur against Jack’s lips, smiling.

“You have no idea,” Jack replies, eyes alight with momentary mischief. Swiftly wrapping one arm around your waist, he pulls you flush against himself and crushes his lips against yours. An involuntary moan tears from your lips as you feel his generous arousal pressing hard against your thigh, the sound muffled by Jack’s kiss. Gently, Jack pushes you back to lie down on the mattress, his body covering yours. Instinctively, you shift slightly to allow him to rest between your thighs, drawing one knee up again. The heady sensations run through your mind, Jack’s skin against yours creating almost electrical friction.

You bite your bottom lip to keep from crying out when Jack pulls away from the kiss and lowers his head to your chest, kissing the top of your left breast. His moustache tickles your skin and the small plaits on his chin scrape lightly against the hardened nipple, causing you to gasp sharply at the erotic sensation. Jack teases you mercilessly, kissing and licking the soft flesh around the nipple but keeping away from the centre where you truly wanted to feel his touch. You whimper anxiously after a moment when Jack still keeps on his torment, and Jack chuckles throatily against your skin. You can’t stifle the moan that escapes your mouth as he finally has mercy on you, capturing the hardened nub between his lips and laving his tongue over it. Your body trembles under his talented touch, every passing second making him yearn for him more and more. Jack nips at your nipple lightly with his teeth before sucking on it to soothe away the pain, tearing a low groan of pleasure from you, your hands looping around his neck. Jack’s left hand snakes up to cup your other breast, rolling the nipple between the groove of his thumb and forefinger.

By now you think you’re sure to die of the pleasure over-load; he’s slowly torturing you out of your mind. The need to be one with him increased after each caress, the insistent fire that demanded to be satisfied flaming inside you. Impatiently, you buck you hips up to meet Jack’s, grinning victoriously as he gasps sharply against your breast at the contact. Jack’s left hand abandons your breast immediately as you repeat the motion and drops down to grab your hip, pushing you back down while he licks a trail of fire up to your neck.

“You little temptress…” Jack mutters throatily in your ear, and now it’s your turn to feel smug. Placing one palm on Jack’s jaw, you force him to look at you and mesh your lips against his in a fervent kiss. Jack responds immediately, deepening the kiss. You again lift your hips up with intent, having had enough of fore-play and teasing. Jack groans in the kiss but doesn’t break it; instead he pushes his hips down and forces yours to rest against the mattress again, one hand starting to caress your right thigh you’ve propped up. Still engaged in the breathtaking kiss, Jack enters you smoothly with one thrust, your mouths swallowing one another’s moans of pleasure.

Your back arches at the amazing feel of Jack filling you so completely, both of your legs now drawn up and your soles digging in the mattress and the silken sheets, your thighs clutching Jack’s narrow hips tightly. Gasping sharply as you separate from the kiss, you stare deep into Jack’s expressive eyes, his laboured breath puffing lightly against your kiss-swollen lips. Slowly, Jack leans down to brush his lips oh-so-gently across you lower lip, then your cheek and forehead, before beginning to roll his hips languorously, watching you intently with something akin to wonderment on his face. You lift your hands to his shoulders, holding onto them for support. Your bodies dance together in perfect sync, moving gracefully along with the inaudible, timeless music. Your hips start to rise up to meet Jack’s strokes as he quickens his pace gradually, thrusting so deeply you’re not sure where your body stops and his begins. Delicious pleasure emanates from your very core in sweeping waves, making your body tremble and quiver.

Once again, you’re mesmerized by Jack and his graceful body moving on top of yours, so seemingly different in the gentle light of the morning than in the pale moonlight last night. You watch the beautiful play of his muscles as they flex in time with his moves, the bronzed tan covering his skin, and the scars on his chest and arms. But most of all, you watch his eyes, the beautiful kohl-brimmed eyes you fall captive to each and every time. A sharp jolt of unadulterated pleasure that had been building up inside you suddenly hits you, making you moan and clench your muscles. Jack lets out a rumbling groan as your body grips him tighter, closing his eyes for a moment as he composes himself. The guttural sound effects you like a powerful aphrodisiac, knowing that it was you who drew out such a unique noise from him. Wanting to hear it for a second time, you tighten your muscles again and get rewarded by a similar, only slightly louder vocalization. You gasp and close your eyes as Jack suddenly plunges deeper, harder, picking up the pace thanks to your apparent coaxing. Oh, but you have no objections to that...

Slipping your hands down his shoulders, you trail them down his chest and over his abdomen, stroking the flexing muscles beneath your palms, trailing them to his sides. Breathing heavily, you can feel the sweet release approaching, the brink edging closer and closer; the exquisite pressure inside you is escalating after each of Jack’s thrusts, waiting to be released. Jack grabs your right thigh that’s resting against his hip tightly as he recognizes the tell-tale signs in you, leaning down slightly to nuzzle your neck as he thrusts forcefully. You draw in a sharp breath and involuntarily dig your nails in Jack’s back as the coil suddenly snaps inside you, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and moan aloud as the blinding, near excruciating pleasure sweeps through your entire form and makes your body quake. Jack’s grip of your thigh increases as your body clutches his, your orgasm driving forth his own and he comes with a groan, emptying himself in you.

You pant from the exertion and Jack buries his face in your neck, a thin sheen of sweat covering your still quivering bodies. For a moment, both of you just stay still, collecting your wits and strengths. After what seems like eternity, the silence broken only by your deep breaths, Jack finally raises himself off of your body, brushing his lips against your temple. Rolling on his back next to you, Jack inhales deeply.

“Bloody hell, woman,” he breathes out. “You’ll be the death of me one day, I’m certain…”

You chuckle, managing to move your surely-boneless body enough to drape yourself half-way over Jack and mimic his earlier position, burying your face in the crook of his neck while throwing one arm over his chest, basking in the afterglow.

“So much for being all quiet-like,” you remark wryly, closing your eyes and enjoying yourself as Jack wraps one arm around your shoulders, long fingers idly stroking your skin.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting us to be, in the first place. But a man has to do what a man has to do, you know…” Jack trails off nonchalantly, and you smirk in amusement. Oh well, no matter. You’re feeling too damn blissful to care of such things right now.

Suddenly, you recall the ruined nightdress on the floor, and say impishly, “By the way, you are going to explain that nightdress to Nora…”

* * * * *

CHAPTER 23 - Snake in Every Paradise

Gabriela Delgado sat at a shadowy corner table in one of Tortuga’s many taverns, fuming silently. A goblet of wine was resting atop the worn table, so far remaining untouched. The tall Spaniard had elicited a lot of curiousness and intrigue amongst the other patrons as she strode inside the establishment, but no one dared to approach her - not even the boisterous, overly confident men who’d ogled at her striking form with lustful eyes. The obvious anger emanating from her kept them at bay, nobody was willing to risk their own well-being for a very unlikely chance of wooing her.

Gabriela cursed crossly in Spanish under her breath, full lips curling into a sneer. How had Sparrow managed to elude her like that? It was unheard of, and most of all, completely unacceptable. He had the missing half of the map, map that belonged solely to her and no one else! She had spent nine long years of her life searching for that piece, and now it had been so close to her reach… the thought stung Gabriela and made her all the more angrier. And Carmen, then! Carmen should consider herself one lucky bitch, having been allowed to keep her lousy life. The quartermaster still kept herself out of Gabriela's sight whenever it was possible, and well she should; the mere sight of the half-blind woman still caused Gabriela's ire to flame. Nevertheless, despite her blazing anger Gabriela knew better than to be hasty now. She'd have to patient for yet a bit longer, and strike when the moment was precisely correct. There would be no room for any more errors, and the next bumbling idiot who messed up would feel her wrath in the fullest.

Gabriela had managed to be so discreet about her quest for all these years it really quite remarkable feat in itself. But during the last few months, her patience had started to wane and she'd made a few decisions from time to time that later turned out to be too rash, too risky. Her presence had finally been discovered, and the Royal Navy had been alerted to go after her.

In a way, Gabriela was annoyed that Jack Sparrow had managed to detain the Black Pearl from Barbossa. When la Perla Negra had still been under the command of Barbossa, Gabriela had taken shameless advantage of the now deceased Captain and his cursed crew; many of Gabriela's sackings had been blamed on the Black Pearl and Barbossa. That had suited Gabriela more than fine; the longer she could keep her quest a secret, the better. That's why she had started to sack towns and ships during the night, when Espíritu Maldito could be mistaken for the Black Pearl from afar and under the cloak of darkness; both ships had a somewhat similar structure, only the Pearl was slightly larger and more elegant, beautiful even under the curse that seemed to decay everything. But to untrained, terror-stricken eyes the difference between the ships was next to none, and Gabriela made sure not to leave anyone alive to tell her tale. Gabriela's actions had unquestionably had a part in helping to build the Pearl's fearsome reputation and made people cower in fear from the mere mention of the pirate ship.

Leaning back in her chair and ridding herself of the events long past, Gabriela vowed herself one thing… when she caught up with Sparrow, there would be hell to pay. Oh, would there ever…!

A sudden bout of loud laughter from a group of young men sitting further down the tavern diverted Gabriela's attention, and she turned her head to look at them. One of the men - lucky if he was over twenty - was telling something to the others animatedly, inserting a snide comment or two every now and then, making the others laugh again. Gabriela narrowed her grey eyes in distaste, about to turn her attention back to her own affairs when she caught small snippets of the young man's story.

"…Tomorrow, can ye believe it? …The Governor of Port Royal… His daughter, no less! …Hear tell he's but a blacksmith… d'ya think I'd have a chance, too?" He finished with smug edge, causing the other men to laugh loudly again.

Gabriela's mind was racing, piecing together the clues. The Governor of Port Royal? He had a daughter, Gabriela knew. One that was actually journeying with certain Captain Sparrow… and her fiancé was a blacksmith, wasn't he, this Will Turner? But what was happening tomorrow? Needing more answers, Gabriela pinned her piercing gaze at the young man who'd been telling the story, staring at him intently. Come on now, you loud little bastard, look over here… she thought.

After a moment, the young man did glance around in confusion, feeling someone's eyes on him. As his eyes landed on the black-haired woman, Gabriela allowed a carefully calculated, alluring smile to spread on her lips and crooked one long forefinger at him invitingly. The young man raised his brows, obviously surprised at her silent request, but quickly schooled his features into a charming grin, leaving the table and making his way towards Gabriela. Little did he know where he was about to get himself into…

"Well, what's a lady like you doing all alone in a place like this?" the man grinned suavely to Gabriela as he halted his steps next to the table. Gabriela already detested the bloke and his sugary tone.

"Sit down and repeat to me what you told your little friends, there," Gabriela ordered coolly with sharp accent, wiping every trace of the earlier smile off her lips. "And you'd better do it now."

The youngster frowned in confusion, slight amount of irritation in his blue eyes. "Now wait just a damn minute," he started angrily and stared down at Gabriela, doing his best to appear intimidating. It might have worked on some simpering little barmaid, but not on Captain Delgado. "Who the hell are you to order me around?"

Gabriela's grey eyes flashed with annoyance and she rose from her chair slowly, keeping her eyes peeled on the man's for the entire time. Straightening her long legs, Gabriela towered over the man with good six inches. Gabriela smirked in feral a way as the youngster's eyes grew wide in astonishment, satisfied with the hint of trepidation she caught in his nervous gaze.

"I said," Gabriela spoke calmly, but with an edge of steel in her tone. "Sit down and repeat your news about the Governor's daughter. If you're a good boy, I'm pleased and may even buy you a drink. If you're not, well…" she sighed, before grinning in anticipation. "I will still learn what you know, but over less pleasant ways… for you, that is. Rest assured I would enjoy that, though, since I haven't had any fun in a long while. Comprende?"

The youngster swallowed uneasily and nodded, slowly sitting down on the other side of the table without a word. Gabriela gave the smallest smile of victory, amused at the boy's sudden jittery countenance. Men really are weak fools, she thought as she sat back down on her chair.

"Now," Gabriela suggested smoothly, with no little amount of command in her tone. "Speak."

The young man gazed at the formidable Spaniard hesitantly for a moment, before starting. "The Governor of Port Royal… his daughter is getting married tomorrow, with some ordinary blacksmith, no less. It's supposed to be a big and fancy event, and I hear tell there ought to be some sort of ball in Port Royal this evening. In honour of the wedding and whatnot..."

Narrowing her eyes in thought, Gabriela considered this news. Indeed, the traffic to Jamaica's capital had increased lately, but Gabriela had no idea there was a wedding about to occur. Oh, there couldn't have been a better time to learn about the event!

"Is that so…" Gabriela replied, keeping her tone indifferent although inside she felt like laughing out loud in malicious glee. "And how can you be certain of the credibility of this news?"

The man frowned at Gabriela's evident snub. "It's true, alright. My sources don't lie; they've seen the shipments arriving to Port Royal and heard the nuptial announcement. I'd say it's as credible as it can get."

Gabriela's only reply was to raise one elegant brow and gaze at the young man piercingly. Just as he was starting to get nervous by her unblinking stare, she reached down her hand and dug one pound from her pocket, flipping on deftly on the table in front of him.

"That'll be enough. Go buy yourself something nice," Gabriela smirked condescendingly, watching as the man's eyes widened at the sight of the coin. He snatched it off the table quickly and nearly knocked over the chair he'd been sitting on as he scrambled up, his movements hasty due to his eagerness to get away from the menacing presence of the woman.

Well, well! So the Governor's daughter was getting married tomorrow to his blacksmith sweetheart. How convenient. A slow smirk spread to Gabriela's lips; that was all the information she needed to locate her quarry gone astray. Where there was Miss Swann, there would be Captain Sparrow and the rest of his lot. And where there was Captain Sparrow, there would be the map. And where there was the map… that was where Gabriela Delgado would be, as well.

Finally grabbing the untouched goblet of wine from the table, Gabriela saluted mockingly and chuckled darkly as she brought it closer to her lips. "Here's to your happiness, Miss Swann. I do hope you don't mind if a few extra visitors stop by to wish you and your husband to-be the very best..." she murmured in Spanish, taking a drink from her goblet.

As the pungent wine slid down her throat, Gabriela smiled to herself, almost purring like a content cat after eating the canary. This would be a wedding no one would forget anytime soon - Gabriela would see to it personally. Abandoning her chair, Gabriela got up and calmly strode out of the dim tavern and into the daylight of Tortuga, the half-empty goblet still in her hand. It was clearly noticed, but nobody from the bar staff made a move to stop the obvious theft.

* * * *

"It's disgusting, really."

You arch your brow, glancing at Anamaria in amused puzzlement. Anamaria had a habit of suddenly blurting out comments like that out of the blue, usually leaving you mystified over the meaning of them. But nevertheless, you always played along, like a good friend was supposed to.

Smiling slightly, you glance up at the billowing black sails of the Black Pearl, idly weighting the strength of the wind as you reply to Anamaria standing next to you a few feet away. "What is?"

You'd been sailing since the early hours of the morning, and it wouldn't be long now until you'd have to take in sails. Port Royal was edging closer and closer after each minute. The Pearl and her crew had been in the favour of the winds today and made remarkably good time.

Anamaria shakes her head and rolls her eyes in what appears to be disgust, but you know her better than that. "She's all lovey-dovey and blissful over her wedding to a point where it's almost sickening," she starts, nodding her head fleetingly towards Elizabeth who's standing by the starboard railing with Will, happiness practically radiating from her.

"And you, then!" Anamaria exclaims, throwing a wry glance at you. "Could you possibly tone down that glow about you that practically screams 'Jack Sparrow shagged me good, again'?"

You promptly burst into laughter at Anamaria's words, causing Matelot, Cotton and Tearlach who'd been lingering around to give you funny looks. However, being used to your and Anamaria's "womanly oddities", they soon again mind their own businesses. Struggling to control your laugh, you place your hand over your mouth and shake your head.

"Gods, Ana…" you chuckle. "You trying to kill me…?"

Anamaria rolls her eyes again. "No, but if you keep going at it like rabbits in heat, he might."

You snort and smirk slyly. "Ah, but what a way to go, my friend."

"Save me from that! I don't want to know what ye do with him!" Anamaria says, scrunching up her nose and cringing.

"Then why'd you start talking about it?" you ask in your best I’m-out-to-annoy-you tone.

"I made an observation; I didn't start talking about it," Anamaria shoots back.

You hum in disbelieving tone while quirking your brow at her. "I thought you'd be gleeful. After all, you've only been pestering me about it for the last…” you pause for a second to count, “Eight months or so…"

"Still doesn't mean I wish to see that 'had the best sex ever' look on your face all the time," Anamaria responds darkly with narrowed eyes.

You laugh again, only in a bit more subdued manner this time. Before you manage a retort, Jack's rough voice carries down from the helm and orders the crew to take in sails. Anamaria glances towards the helm and mutters under her breath, "Hear me roar…"

You can't help but to grin at Anamaria's disgruntled state as you both go over to help the others. "What's the matter with you today, Ana? You're bitchier than on your monthly cycle!" you say with mirth as you pull at a rope with all your might.

Your blithe comment causes Matelot and Tearlach, who work close to you, to flinch in repulsion, and the other men in hearing range have somewhat similar reactions. You chuckle under your breath, extremely amused over this. There was no other topic known to mankind that made grown men squirm in uneasiness than the women's monthly visitor. Most men probably had no idea what it was really all about, and the shroud of mystery only added to the disgust-factor of the issue. Men seemed to think women oozed green slime and got all Amazon-like during their cycle. One only needed to mention it in the slightest way and men would go utterly tongue-tied and ill at ease.

Anamaria just gives you a look that tells you to shut up, and you grin again. You knew Anamaria was not really as annoyed as she seemed, but it was just her way of dealing with things. Besides, the last thing she wanted was to have anyone of the crew think she'd gone soft and actually turned into a normal female, even if that part of her persona was there, hidden under the tough-as-nails pirate.

You watch as the Pearl's black sails gradually raise towards the gaffs, the men up at the rigging securing them tightly as you and the rest of the crew on deck make sure the ropes were safely fastened and out of the way. You work as hard as the rest of the crewmembers, you body carrying out the familiar moves with practiced ease while your mind strays completely elsewhere; namely several hours back in time, to the cottage of Lucas and Nora Fowler.

You'd woken up during the early hours of the morning after seeing yet another horrible nightmare. This time, you had dreamed of finding everyone important in your life littered across the surrounding forests of Fowler's cottage, brutally murdered by Gabriela Delgado. Anamaria, Gibbs, Will, Elizabeth… Jack. They were all dead in the dream. You could still remember the cold desperation that gripped your heart as you stared down at your trembling hands, covered in Jack's blood. Then Delgado had emerged from the shadows of the night, deadly like venomous, black serpent about to strike. After taunting you, she had driven her blade through your chest, and that was when you'd woken up. The nightmare had disturbed you greatly, but your shock over the unsettling visions had been quelled considerably as you realized that Jack's warm body was resting atop of yours, his solid weight over yours comforting.

As much as Jack had sworn not to get frisky the night before, that particular promise obviously didn't hold until the morning. As if the thrilling sensations that Jack's naked body sprawled over yours had caused to flow through you weren't enough, he had slowly started to seduce you, lavishing your skin with teasing kisses and murmuring beautiful endearments that made your mind go hazy with desire. Needless to say, you barely cared about anything else but him at that moment… the only so-called downside of the heated session had been the ruin of the white nightgown Nora had given you, which Jack had torn in his zeal to rid you from it. You had told Jack he would be the one to explain that little mishap to Nora, and he had indeed. You'd been almost certain he'd made some sly crack about the matter, or at least add some of his smug bragging in the mix; that's why you'd been so surprised when he did neither. Not in public, at least. Before leaving the cottage after a hearty breakfast Nora had insisted everyone to have, Jack had traded a few private words with Nora and probably mentioned the fate of the garment while at it. Nora hadn't, of course, taken offence; quite the contrary, you caught her impish grin from the corner of your eye. She was really something else, as was Lucas. You were missing them already.

And, another thing you already missed… was Lucky, the sweetest puppy you've ever met. During the morning, you had given the dog a lot of thought. No matter how thoroughly the pup had conquered your heart, you knew a ship was no place for a dog. Lucky would be much happier on solid land with people who adored him just like you did; therefore, you asked if Nora and Lucas might let Lucky stay at the cottage. They had agreed immediately, the small dog having won more hearts over the stay. Jack had promised the Fowlers you would drop by for a visit after the misadventure with Delgado was finally over and done with, and you already awaited the next reunion eagerly.

Jack's bellow to drop the anchor echoes across the decks, jolting you out of your thoughts. As you and Anamaria make your way hastily towards the anchor with few of the men, you look at her curiously.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d almost say you were jealous, Ana,” you smile amiably.

Anamaria shoots you a look that requires no lengthy interpretation; you get the warning ‘Watch it!’ loud and clear. You sigh in mock-exasperation and roll your eyes, but nod slightly anyway to let Anamaria know you got her point before you both lend a hand with the anchor.

“Just saying I thought you’d be… happy for me or something like that,” you say nonchalantly with a shrug as the anchor hits the azure water with loud splash.

Anamaria is quiet for a moment, before glancing at you with a truly sincere smile on her face. Anamaria rarely smiles like that. “I am,” she says softly so that only you can hear her. “Trust me, I am.” Pausing for a moment and taking on a semi-annoyed look, Anamaria goes on with bit more volume. “Took a bloody long time, too! I even lost the bet and all.”

You laugh a little at her exasperated tone, but then fully understand her words. “Wait, what bet…?”

Anamaria’s brown eyes widen fleetingly as she realizes the slip of her tongue, but she recovers quickly and shrugs. “Aye… some of the guys had a pool going on.”

“About?” you press, narrowing your eyes. Much to your surprise, Anamaria looks slightly uncomfortable by your tone.

“’Bout how long it would take for the Captain to get it on with ye,” she replies in subdued voice. You blink, about to retort when Gibbs suddenly trudges next to you, seemingly slightly perturbed.

“Lass, about the pool… we didn’t mean anything bad with it, it was just for, eh… little entertainment.”

You widen your eyes, carefully schooling your features into shock. “Mister Gibbs! Are you telling me that you too took part in this bet?” you say incredulously, not really angry about the bet, but wanting to poke at the sneaky culprits just a little bit for not letting you in about this.

Gibbs looks guilty. “Aye, that I did.”

You purse your lips and remain silent, glancing around. You notice for the first time some of the other crewmembers are starting at you as well, waiting for your reaction. You tilt your head at Cotton, looking at him in exasperation. “Mister Cotton, not you as well?”

Cotton appears helpless, inclining his head slightly in apparent apology, and Parrot bobs its head on Cotton’s shoulder, letting out a bird-like croak. “Strike the colors! Arck!”

You stifle a snort of laughter at the apparent sign of surrender and plead for mercy. Your eyes wander from one pirate to another, many of them having become your friends and comrades during your stay aboard the Pearl. Only a few of them meet your gaze, the rest look away. Glee swells inside of you as you realize they’re expecting you to get madly furious and yell your head off. However, you’re nothing but amused by the revelation of the bet.

“So…” you say finally, allowing a grin to spread to your lips. “Who won?”

It takes a moment for your words to take effect on the rest of the crew, and they relax, relieved smiles appearing to their faces.

“Actually, I think it was Jack,” Gibbs muses thoughtfully, immediately earning a punch on the arm from Anamaria and a narrow-eyed look from Cotton.

You blink in astonishment. “…Jack?” you repeat slowly. Your amusement over the subject wanes slightly.

“Err…” Gibbs stammers, darting his eyes from Anamaria to Cotton for assistance. Anamaria glares at him, Cotton shakes his head slowly in a manner that needs no vocalization to understand the message; it all but screams ‘you swab.’

“I probably shouldn’t ‘ave said that,” Gibbs finishes sheepishly, causing Cotton to roll his eyes.

“Oh, no,” you deny quickly, thinking the matter over. “No, good thing you did. It seems like I have to have a little talk with the Captain. It appears he has my share of the winnings.”

Anamaria grins broadly in realization, but Cotton and Gibbs look slightly nonplussed. “Say what?” Gibbs blurts.

You smirk. “Well, the bet was about me and Jack, was it not? So it only holds fair that I get half of the booty, doesn’t it?”

Cotton smiles in jollity, but Gibbs looks slightly unsure. “S'pose it would... just as long as the Captain won’t hold me responsible for losing any of his money.”

“Oh, worry not!” Anamaria exclaims with glee. “I take full responsibility of that if the Captain wishes to have a word about it with anyone.”

You give Anamaria a wry look. “You really do love to vex him, don’t you?”

Anamaria tries to look clueless, her expression saying she has no idea what you’re talking about. You shake your head and smirk. It was a nice try, but that’s all it remains as. Anamaria and Jack could act like a cat and a dog sometimes, but they did truly like and respect one another. There was something almost akin to sibling rivalry between them. Though you’ll be sure not to ever mention that to neither one of them... you’re quite sure such a notion wouldn’t be overly appreciated.

Bidding byes to Anamaria, Gibbs and Cotton, you start to trudge towards the helm. It was a beautiful day once again, sunny and temperate. Port Royal was bathed in bright sunlight and the clear waters glittered around the cove, rays of light playing over the rippling waves.

Pride of the Royal Navy… the words Jack had spoken to Barbossa in the cave on Isla de Muerta springs to your mind at the sight of the mighty HMS Dauntless, anchored near the shore next to the high mountain at the left side of the almost horseshoe shaped bay that housed the city itself. Jack, you notice, has guided the Black Pearl to the opposite end of the bay, quite a distance away from the massive Navy ship. Whether it was merely a safety measure of some sort or just Jack’s deep-rooted wont to keep a clear distance between himself and anything to do with the Royal Navy, you weren’t quite sure. Throwing one apprehensive look at the high walls of Fort Charles, you abandon your scenery gazing and pick up your pace, striding towards Will and Elizabeth.

And speak of the devil… the object of your thoughts was swaggering down the steps of the helm, the familiar swing about his hips ever present. Small smile tugs at your lips at the sight; that particular mannerism is always so enchanting, in your humble opinion.

“And here we are again, safe and sound, my fair ladies and whelp,” Jack says blithely with amused grin directed towards Will as he stops next to you. “Your lovely Port bloody Royal. And we made exceptionally good time too, I might add,” he goes on with a touch of the familiar brag.

“Yes indeed, Jack,” Elizabeth replies, stifling a smile. “Thank you very much for your preciseness.”

“Precise is my middle name, luv,” Jack quips with a smirk. “Well, not really. Nonetheless, I’m hoping you’ll have a bit more faith in my abilities the next time around, savvy?” he says pointedly to Elizabeth, who had indeed made sure numerous times during the sail whether you were sure to make it to Port Royal in time. Needless to say, Jack had been at his wits ends after the sixth time or so.

Elizabeth nods with a smile. “Point taken, Captain.”

You hide your smile, trading an amused glance with Will. Brownie points for Elizabeth for calling Jack by his title! That usually placated him, as it does now; he smiles in pleased manner, his annoyance vanishing without a trace.

“Good, very good,” he replies cheerily. “And now if you’d be so kind, your carriage awaits,” he smirks, waving a flamboyant hand towards the boat about to be lowered in the water.

Will rolls his eyes in wry amusement but says nothing, making his way towards the boat with Elizabeth. Jack turns towards you and offers you his arm.

“May I escort you to our transport, milady?” he asks, taking on the snobby British accent you heard last while stuck on the rum island a year back with Jack and Elizabeth.

You smirk in amusement and curl your hand around his arm, resting your palm on his forearm. “Why thank you, kind sir, you most certainly may,” you reply, giving as good as you get.

“Simply charming, m’dear,” Jack retorts, a smile playing upon his lips as you start walking towards the boat. “Anamaria!” he bellows, dropping the accent.

“Aye?” comes the blunt reply somewhere.

“Keep a close eye on my ship!”

“As if I wouldn’t without sayin’!” Anamaria yells back sarcastically.

“Good man,” Jack throws back sincerely while climbing in the boat with you, paying no heed to the sarcasm in Ana’s voice. He also misses Anamaria’s deadly glare aimed at his back, and you stifle your smirk.

“Well, I simply can’t wait to see the welcoming committee we have this time,” Jack remarks shrewdly as you all sit in the boat and the crew starts lowering it down.

“Jack,” Elizabeth says in admonishing fashion. “Please go easy on the Commodore this time, alright?”

A broad, smug grin suddenly graces Jack’s features. “Ah, yes… The good old Commodore is probably pulling hairs out of his wig in his eagerness to see me again.”

* * * *

Commodore James Norrington would’ve rather eaten worms that to welcome Jack Sparrow back into Port Royal – again! – with such openly hospitable way. He and Miss Byrne were, however, still enjoying the privileges of immunity during their stay in the city. And, Norrington knew he did owe his life to the annoyingly vexing pirate, as much as it disgruntled him to admit it. It wouldn't be nearly as difficult to deal with Sparrow if he just did not have the uncanny ability to drive him onto the brink of complete breakdown where he was ready to strangle the pirate with his own two hands.

Yes, he had been the one to offer Sparrow a full pardon for his crimes against the Crown, were he to assist in the capture of Gabriela Delgado, but sometimes he couldn’t help but to wonder the wisdom of his decision. Could Sparrow truly be trusted to hold his end of the pact, after all? Or would he still turn his coat and do what was in his best interest, whether it meant working with or against him? Both Elizabeth and Will Turner vouched for the pirate, but who was to say the buccaneer didn’t just fool them, as well? Norrington pondered on this for a moment, but abandoned the notion in the end. No, as far as judging people’s personalities went, Elizabeth and Will were unquestionably the few persons Norrington could trust. And, the Commodore grudgingly admitted, not many pirates would risk their own life while diving after a young woman to save her from drowning. Not many would care. So, suppose Sparrow was a “good man” then, like everyone seemed to keep repeating. At the moment, Norrington had no other choice but to trust Sparrow and hope for the best.

Fixing his gaze to the approaching rowboat, Norrington noted with vague bemusement that Will Turner was again stuck with the task of actually rowing. Gods knows Sparrow probably wouldn't be swayed to take on such activity unless absolutely necessary… Now the boat was only some odd metres away from the shore where the Commodore and his men were awaiting, and Sparrow stood up from his place at the bow of the boat, self-confidence radiating from his pose. The Commodore was, in spite of himself, impressed by the Captain's ability to hold his footing perfectly while the boat swayed gently over the rippling waves. Norrington could now make out the seemingly ever-present smug smirk that pulled the corners of Sparrow's lips upwards, and mentally braced himself for the onslaught of needling little remarks Sparrow would be sure to start throwing his way the minute his feet touched the sand of the shore.

Once again the Commodore came to a decision that Jack Sparrow was the most infuriatingly vexing person on the face of the entire earth.

The boat's bow finally made contact with the sandy shore, and Sparrow stepped off the boat with grace that frankly surprised Norrington greatly. Judging by Sparrow's usual, haphazard mannerisms, one wouldn't expect him to be capable of such fluid movements. Norrington's astonishment was quickly replaced with resigned expectation as Sparrow faced him with that blasted smirk on his face.

"Very good afternoon to you, able-bodied gentlemen," Sparrow said cheerfully, glancing from Norrington to the five or so Naval soldiers flanking him. "How pleasant of you to come to greet us in such great numbers. Makes one feel so well-loved, truly," he finished with a grin.

Norrington stifled his urge to roll his eyes in annoyance. "Captain Sparrow," he acknowledged curtly. "How pleasant indeed to see you again." He hoped the heavy sarcasm in his tone wasn't too noticeable.

"Now, now, Commodore," Sparrow smirked, flicking the nail of his grimy forefinger against the large gold button on Norrington's uniform jacket with an audible, metallic 'clink'. The audacity of the action made Norrington flinch slightly and take a half step back from the pirate. "It's really alright, mate. I know you've greatly missed having me around. Who wouldn't?" he went on with a cheeky grin.

"Jack…" Elizabeth muttered, a warning undertone in her voice as she appeared next to the pirate. Sparrow glanced at the girl with an innocent expression, raising his brows and widening his eyes slightly.

"Aye?"

Elizabeth merely raised her eyebrows, gazing at him steadily. Sparrow rolled his eyes in response, muttering a subdued "Fine," under his breath and taking a step back, apparently without much thought placing himself next to Miss Byrne. He bent down a little and whispered something in the woman's ear, which made her grin broadly in apparent amusement and chuckle quietly. Norrington had no doubt it was a gibe of some sort, but about whom, he did not know. Nor did he care, in all actuality. Ignoring the insolent pirates, Norrington focused his attention on Elizabeth and Will, who'd moved next to his fiancée.

* * *

"The problem with this town is the 'stick up your arse' syndrome that most of the folk here seem to be infected with," Jack whispers in your ear with a smirk as he steps away from Norrington. You grin in amusement, struggling not to laugh out loud. Much to your credit, you only chuckle softly to yourself.

"You know, I heard something interesting earlier aboard the Pearl…" you trail off nonchalantly, speaking softly with Jack while Will and Elizabeth converse with the Commodore.

"Is that so?" Jack says rather noncommittally, but with a small edge of curiousness in his tone.

"Mm-hmm. Something about a certain bet which involved you and me. Does any of this ring a bell, Captain?" you ask while crossing your arms over your chest, quirking a brow at him expectantly.

Jack's eyes widen momentarily in surprise and he darts his gaze at you, lifting his forefinger. "Really, I can explain that one, luv," he says with a nervous smile.

"Please do," you reply, smothering the smirk about to spread to your lips at his apparent uneasiness.

"See, the thing was…" Jack starts, pausing while he searches for the right words, his lifted finger making small, erratic movements as he thinks. "I happened to accidentally hear about it, and I…"

"Though you'd make some easy money?" you suggest dryly.

"Once a pirate…" Jack shrugs. "Honestly, I meant no harm with it, darling."

You purse your lips thoughtfully. "How'd you know how to presume so that you won the bet?"

Jack fixes his gaze on you, his dark eyes earnest. "I just made a hopeful guess, that's all. I never once even thought of the bloody bet when I was with you. I didn't even remember it until Gibbs brought it up again."

You smile as he lightly touches his fingers to your wrist in beseeching manner, wordlessly pleading you to believe him. You do believe him; it would be stupid to get upset over such trifling matter.

"It's alright," you say with a smile. "I'm not going to slap you or anything. But," you add, stressing the word. "Half of the amount you won is mine."

Jack blinks, widening his eyes again at your reasoning. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it after a second thought. Following a moment of staring at you incredulously, a slow smile graces his features. "Alright, I admit you have a valid point," he states finally and chuckles. "You're one crafty woman, I give you that…"

You smirk. "Why thank you. I'll be taking that as a compliment."

"You should," Jack says with a smirk of his own.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Elizabeth looking quite pensive as she ponders something Norrington just told her and Will. Slightly ashamed of your lapse in concentration, you again tune in the conversation.

"A ball?" Elizabeth repeats, a tinge of uncertainness in her tone. "Are you quite certain?"

"I am. The Governor and I could not be certain when you would return to Port Royal," Norrington pauses and shoots a pointed look at Jack, as if it was somehow his fault. "But he insisted on organizing the event to be held this evening, nonetheless."

Elizabeth let out an un-ladylike huff of frustration, causing Will to glance at her in amusement. "Yes, that sounds like something father would do. I think he is sometimes more excited about the wedding than I am," she goes on, looking at Will with a smirk.

"Thank you very much," Will replies wryly, even if with mirth in his eyes.

A ball? This evening? Great. That was exactly what you needed right now, stuffy people in fancy dresses.

"How very pleasant," Jack comments with a small edge of sarcasm, his thoughts apparently on the same track with yours. Suddenly, he takes on an interested look. "Will there be drinks?"

Norrington narrows his eyes in contempt while Will and Elizabeth smile, obviously having expected this question.

"Probably, but I doubt nothing as potent as rum," Elizabeth replies, trying to smother her amused smile. "Maybe some wine, and water, of course."

Jack cringes at the options as if they repulsed him, fleetingly poking his tongue out. "Well," he says after recovering from the bout of repugnance. "Doesn't that just sound like barrels of fun."

"But you are going to come to the ball, right?" Elizabeth asks, eyeing both you and Jack expectantly. Actually, you could have sworn you detected a small amount of order in her tone.

Commodore Norrington suddenly looks a little smug. "Yes, I can assure you, Captain Sparrow, that both you and Miss Byrne are most welcome to the ball. That is, of course, only if you feel that you are up to attending to such a civilized gathering."

Despite his apparent attempt to work together with Jack, you get the feeling Norrington still enjoys these little chances of trying to snub him a little. A pirate and a Commodore of the Royal Navy would never be friends, even if the circumstances had forced them both to relent for a moment. Elizabeth bites on her lip nervously and Will shoots a small look of reproach towards the Commodore, but neither of them says anything as they await Jack's answer.

Jack raises his brows, a smile playing about his lips. It's not a pleasant smile; it's the wicked "bring it on" smile you've learned to recognize by now. Norrington just issued Jack and you a challenge, and Jack Sparrow never backs now on challenges. And, you must admit, neither do you. Glancing at you with a smirk and the question in his eyes, Jack raises his brows again. You give him a small grin in response, and that's all he needs.

"Why, Commodore," Jack speaks up, turning his head to face Norrington. "We would be absolutely delighted to attend to this swanky little to-do of yours. Now that I think of it, it has been a while since the last time I did any waltzing, so this seems like the opportune moment if any," he finishes with a smug smirk.

The stunned look on Norrington's face is priceless. "Waltzing…?"

Jack widens his eyes, looking comically affronted. "You didn't think I could dance, Commodore? Shame on you! I have you know I've always been good with numbers, and what is waltz if nothing but a bunch of numbers," Jack informs Norrington calmly, before grinning wickedly. "Besides, my chances of successfully impersonating a British Count some years back would've been quite unlikely had I not known how to dance."

You raise your brows at this new bit on information, as does Will. Elizabeth looks interested to hear the story, but the Commodore looks to be on the verge of saying something very un-Commodore like. Jack notices this as well, and his maddening grin only grows.

"You keep repeating that 'pardon' in your head, good Commodore."

You nudge Jack slightly with your elbow, motioning with your hand a little for him to cut the Commodore some slack before he bursts a blood vessel. Jack takes on the carefully innocent 'what did I do now?' look, and you can't help but to smirk and shake your head.

This would certainly be an interesting night, if nothing else.

* * * * *

A/N: Apologies for the long time between the updates. Bloody writer's blocks... I'll try to do better with the next chapter!

* * * * *

CHAPTER 24 - The Belle of the Ball

Sitting on the comfy bed of the guestroom of the Swann residence, you can’t quite curb the despondent sigh that escapes your lips. You were really less enthusiastic about this ball than Elizabeth was, but you did wish to show Commodore Norrington even pirates could clean up a bit too once they wanted to. You had no doubt Jack would shock the Commodore completely tonight; that man seemed to be nothing but full of surprises. And, the gathering was in honour of Will and Elizabeth; the least you could do for your friends and family was to attend to it.

Even if it meant wearing a dress…

Now that will most certainly be interesting! You have worn a fancy dress only once before, and that was years ago when you’d still sailed with your father and had to pretend to be a noblewoman in this one gathering and… the recollection of the said event suddenly makes you grow sad, the memory of your deceased father causing a pang of pain to pierce your heart. It has been four years now since his death, but you still miss him tremendously. During the time you spent on Tortuga, at the Fowlers, and for the sail back to Port Royal, the same thought has been playing about in your mind every now and then; you really wish your father could have met Jack. Pete would have liked Jack, you have no doubts of it.

"Alright," Elizabeth chirps cheerily as she steps inside the room with a maid in tow, interrupting your musings. "This is Catherine, she will be helping you with your hair and the dress."

The young maid has pretty, kind features and dark brown hair fastened back in a neat bun. Her dress is plain, as the servants usually had. She smiles at you and curtsies slightly. "Good afternoon, Miss Byrne."

"Oh, for goodness sake," you blurt out, and the maid instantly looks taken aback. Realizing that she mistook your reaction for disapproval, you quickly shake your head and smile back. "Please call me by my name. And please stop curtsying, I'm not the Governor!"

Catherine blinks at your request, but nods her approval, nevertheless. "Alright..."

"I'm sure you two can handle everything?" Elizabeth asks, tucking an errand strand of hair behind her ear. "I really must go now and take care of myself," she says, smiling with a hint of an apology.

"Go, go!" you say, making shooing motions with your hands. "It's your ball, after all. All the eyes will be peeled on you and Will, so you go right ahead. We'll be just fine, aye, Catherine?" you say, glancing at the maid with a grin.

"Of course," she replies, even if slightly uncertainly.

"There you have it," you tell Elizabeth with a reassuring smile. "It's alright, go and prettify in peace. I'll be seeing you later, then."

Elizabeth practically beams, obviously excited about the party. "Alright. Well, have fun, I'll be sure come see the all new Miss Byrne as soon as I can," she grins mischievously at you, before walking out of the room, closing the door in her wake.

Silence ensues as soon as the door clicks shut softly. Catherine seems a bit nervous to you, even if she's doing an admirable job of hiding it.

"Okay," you speak up lightly, hoping to break the ice and make the younger woman feel more at ease. "Where do we start? We should probably get to business; it'll probably take a while before you can turn a freebooter like me into anything remotely like a lady, I think. I feel sorry for you to be having such a feat in front of you," you joke, grinning.

Catherine smiles timidly, but seeming at least slightly more comfortable now. "Actually, I don't think it is going to be that difficult. You are already quite beautiful even without any… work."

You smirk, amused. "Now you're just flattering me, Cathy."

The maid seems a bit startled. "Oh no, I really meant it, miss!"

"Yes, it's alright," you say, calming her down. "Thank you very much for the compliment, but keep in mind to call me by my name. So, where do we start? I haven't got a clue on these matters, so I'm at your mercy, here."

Catherine crosses her arms and tilts her head to the side in reflective manner, small frown appearing on her face as she scrutinizes you from head to toes. You arch your brow but stay silent, slightly amused by her pensive analysis.

"I think," she starts slowly, glancing at your hair again, "That we should start by drawing you a bath. One cannot attend to such a ball dirty."

Feeling a stab of indignation, you're about to notify her that you have in fact bathed just yesterday and don't feel particularly dirty, but decide to keep quiet at the last moment. Cleanliness was something to be appreciated, so why not indulge? Shrugging off the resentment, you nod half-heartedly in response.

"Alright."

Catherine smiles, informing you she would take care of it and that you should wait a moment. Curbing a sigh, you nod again with a slightly more forced smile as the maid ambles to the adjoining room, which you figure is the bathroom. Glancing at the nearby dresser, you spot all sorts of jars and pins on the table, a few combs and some more pins and things that probably have something to do with hair care. The dress and hair would be fine, you figure, but if the maid even thought of smothering your face full of that horrendous make up, you'd put your foot down, and hard. You shake your head slightly as you think of all the hassle the women of this society went through for the fancy parties such as this one. But suppose one might find that lifestyle hard to decipher after you're raised aboard a pirate vessel, surrounded by pirates.

Shaking the thought off, you absently wonder what Jack was doing at the moment. Certainly not preening for the ball like you. The mere thought of Jack doing anything the sort makes you grin to yourself in amusement, but then again you're certain he'll do something tonight to shove the proverbial bone down the Commodore's throat. After all, he was the one almost claiming pirates were not capable of attending such "civilized gathering". It will be interesting to see if Jack would do anything to alter his outer appearance to prove him wrong. Moreover, you wish to see if Jack was indeed as good a dancer as he claimed to be. You're not a total incompetent in that field, either, even if one wouldn't necessarily believe that. And also… it will be even more interesting to see his reaction to your makeover.

Elizabeth had insisted to drag you out to look for a dress for the night. The amount of frills and lacy things in the little boutique had frankly dismayed you, and you had made a point of searching for a dress with the least amount of those. The dress you had picked out was quite simple in design, lacking all excess embroidery and such extra niceties that Elizabeth's gown had, but it was beautiful all the same. Catherine, who appears in the room again and beckons you to follow her, interrupts your train of thought. Hoisting yourself up from the bed, you do as she says and stroll after her.

It was time to start The Grooming…

* * * *

Many minutes later, Catherine pulls the comb through your locks that are still slightly damp from the bath. The teeth of the comb tangle in your hair, pulling some off from the root and eliciting another pained yelp from you.

"I'm sorry," Catherine apologizes for the umpteenth time. "I'll try to be more careful."

"'S alright," you hiss between clenched teeth, grinding your nails harder into the padded little stool you're sitting on. You're lucky to have any hair left after Catherine's so-called careful treatment!

"My, however did these get so tangled?" Catherine mutters mostly to herself as she again tears the comb through your mane of hair, trying to straighten the tangles and knots from it.

Deciding it was a rhetorical question, you keep gritting your teeth together to keep from saying something you might regret later on. Staring down at your bare feet, you're suddenly hit with the feeling of being almost naked. You're clad in a white, cotton camisole that resembles something of a nightgown in your opinion. The hem reaches you a bit past your knees, but the sleeves are very short; the long piece of clothing is supposed to be left under the gown. It's not exactly thick and you feel a bit uncomfortable in it, not being used to wearing such pieces. But, suppose there was the first time for everything. As Catherine finally announces she's done after several long moments and a damn near fistful of lost hairs, you sigh quietly in pure relief. She gathers your hair in her hands and twists it deftly into a knot on the back of your head, attaching it with a random piece of ribbon on the vanity to keep it out of the way.

"Alright!" she chirps, placing her hands on her hips. You notice she's become more comfortable in your presence, which brings out her true, cheerful character. "We'll get you in the dress now, and I'll do your hair afterwards. Right this way!"

Without waiting for your response, she strolls over to the bed on which she was already laid your beautiful dress and something else she picks up…

…a torture device.

Your eyes widen slightly as you stare at the piece in her hands. How the hell had this part slipped from your mind?!

"Wait, am I supposed to put that on?" you ask hastily, pointing a finger at the evil contraption.

Catherine frowns, looking briefly down at the corset in her hands. "Why, yes. It's quite imperative with dresses such as the one you will be wearing tonight."

You make an uneasy noise from your throat. "Are you quite positive I can't go without…?"

Catherine tilts her head and shoots you a clearly disapproving glance. "The dress won't fit perfectly otherwise."

"Oh, I can manage imperfect, I assure you," you counter, eyeing the corset with distaste. Those things really are pure evil! Women faint from lack of oxygen in them and expose their inner organs to positive ill-treatment by wearing those. All that just to get a bit smaller waist and an ample bosom to flaunt at the gentlemen. How very esteemed and sophisticated.

"Miss, please!" the maid implores with a hint of exasperation. "It is only for tonight!"

You exhale, releasing the air between your teeth in aggravated manner. You had sometimes sworn never to even spit towards a corset, but now it seems you're going to be breaking that vow.

"Fine," you mutter. "Fine, I'll wear the damn thing. But don't you string it too tight!" you add with a lifted forefinger towards the maid, who nods her head with an indulgent smile. You get the feeling she is just trying to pacify you. Nevertheless, you get up from the stool and follow her behind the changing screen.

This is ridiculous, you think. As if anyone was going to stumble in unannounced. Besides, you are wearing the under dress, already.

You draw in a deep breath as the maid fits the corset around you, feeling the hard bones in the contraption pressing against your sides through the camisole. You are already loathing it.

"Now, breathe in," Catherine's voice floats somewhere behind you, and you tentatively do so. Your eyes widen again and a nonsensical sound of shock escapes your mouth as she tightens the strings of the corset and makes it cling closely to your torso, the whalebones in the thing digging into your skin.

"Again," she instructs calmly.

"What? No!" you object. "Not anymore, this is good enou-UUUGH!" your protest morphs into a pained howl as Catherine again pulls at the strings, taking advantage of your verbalization and tightening the corset yet a little.

You clap your palms over your tummy, your fingers clawing at the corset that's pressing tightly against your flanks, stomach and breasts, wheezing and gasping slightly as you struggle to adapt into the correct breathing pattern which your reduced lung-capacity requires. You feel like you're about to suffocate, your ribs straining against the corset as they struggle in vain to expand.

"Calm down," Catherine says soothingly as she tugs at the strings, tying them into a secure knot. "It always takes a moment to adjust into it. Breathe through your mouth for a while and calm down; you're not going to suffocate."

"I wouldn't bet on it," you pant, squirming slightly to make the corset somehow feel more comfortable. No such luck; the thing doesn't budge even an inch in any direction. "Bloody hell…!"

Catherine raises a disapproving brow at your words, but you don't care. You're slightly annoyed to notice that as you start to calm down a bit, you find it slightly easier to breathe in the damned corset. Taking a few minutes to just honing the skill to breathe correctly, your initial annoyance and hesitation starts to wane slowly. Maybe you could pull this out, after all. As Catherine said, it is only for this night. After the ball, you could tear off the devil's apparatus from your body and be rid of it for good. Jack would surely be more than willing to help you with that… the thought brings a fond, not entirely innocent grin to your lips, and your mood suddenly lifts considerably.

"Feeling better already?" Catherine asks with a smile. If only you knew, you think in amusement.

"Yes," you reply. "I think I can manage."

"Good! Then the dress," Catherine says almost giddily, rushing to fetch it. She seems to be more excited than you are, to say the least. You feel a sudden bout of sympathy for the young girl who has probably never attended to any balls; just helped other women to get ready for them.

Returning to your side with her arms full of elaborate silk and brocade, Catherine enthusiastically starts helping the gown on you, giving instructions like the best commander in the Navy. After many moments of your exasperated grunts and constant shuffle of expensive fabrics, you finally manage to fit in the dress like you're supposed to. You gasp a little involuntarily as Catherine tightens the strings in the back again, tugging at them forcefully as she laces up the dress.

"Oh, you make a picture!" Catherine gushes, taking you by the elbow and leading you in front of a mirror. "Take a look!"

Your eyes widen at the reflection, and you find it hard to believe that is, in fact, you who's staring back.

You gaze at your reflection in awe. The gown you're wearing is absolutely beautiful; the bodice that hugs your torso is made of smooth silk that has an elegant sheen to it, the square neckline plunging low to give a nice glimpse of your cleavage. The skirt is full and puffs out just slightly at the hips, made of heavy brocade in deep burgundy red colour just like the bodice. The front and back seams of the bodice are piped beautifully with black satin, the thin strips of black complimenting the red shade of the dress. However, the modest embroidery that borders the front neckline and the two seams in front that cut down from the neckline to the lower edge of the bodice are what caught your attention in the shop; the tiny, black beads sown into the trimmings almost look like little pearls. The sleeves of the dress are light, just the slightest bit translucent chiffon, same deep, wine red shade as the rest of the dress. The sleeves turn into draped flounces at the elbow that flow down your forearms but leave your wrists bare, the edges of the ruffles edged intricately with black thread.

"Well I'll be…" you whisper, tentatively placing one hand on your stomach, feeling the cool silk under your palm.

"You clean up very nicely," Catherine teases with a beaming smile.

You hum an agreeing response, smiling to yourself. Well, what do you know? It's safe to say you look like a lady now, even if your hair isn't yet done. You gaze strays from your cinched waist onto your chest that's being noticeably pushed up by the corset and you quirk your brow in amused incredulity. Whoa. Are those really mine? You muse, absently noting that the skin around the swell of your breasts is actually a shade or two lighter than the rest, the realization causing a laugh bubbling up inside you. Clearly you don't exactly go around topless aboard the Pearl, do you?

"Oh my, we really need to start fixing your hair," Catherine suddenly says, glancing at the clock. It's few minutes over half past five, and the guests would start to arrive soon. "That'll take a while and we can't have you being late from the ball!"

You oblige the maid, lifting the surprisingly heavy skirt with both hands and making your way back to the stool by the vanity, the gentle rustle of the fabric following your every step. As Catherine takes off the ribbon from your hair that holds it back and again combs meticulously through the locks, you absently wonder how Elizabeth is doing. She probably has a handful of maids to tend to her, but it was the bride's part to be pampered, wasn't it? She did say she'd stop by to see you later on, so instead of worrying about her, you again concentrate on breathing. You still haven't completely gotten used to the bloody corset…

You shift slightly on your seat as Catherine starts working on your hair, dividing some into smaller sections before twisting and turning them about. Letting her work in peace, you glance down at you chest appraisingly. It is a slightly odd feeling to have your goods pushed up so blatantly like that, and you're not quite sure yet what to think of it. One thing is for certain, however… Jack would definitely love it.

After many long, at times downright agonizing minutes of hair pulling, combing, twisting, curling and lord knows what else, Catherine was finally satisfied with the elegant coiffure she'd created atop of your head.

Again, you find yourself in front of the same mirror, looking at yourself. Your makeover is certainly successful; even you have problems recognizing yourself. You have absolutely no idea how Catherine has managed to create the hairdo, but it is beautiful. Your hair is piled carefully up on the back of your head in a seemingly simple way, some of the strands curled gently. The curls are arranged to fall down to lightly brush at the back of your neck, with a few tiny, wavy strands deliberately left out to frame your face. You'd refused some of the showy jewellery Catherine had suggested you to wear; all you wanted was the silver pendant that rarely leaves your neck. The small, round disc of silver hangs from a simple chain, lying on your chest. Engraved on the thin disc is a profile of a raven, the namesake of your family; a bird of northern woods and plains, strong of bulk and beak, not known by its appearance but by its intelligent mind. You found the necklace years ago, it was from the first raid you were allowed to take part in with your father. That was many, many years ago… The pendant had always served as a reminder of your origins, but during the last few years it had come to mean more. Now it is more of a memento of late Captain Peter Byrne.

Shaking off the memories, you wiggle your stocking-clad toes slightly in your shoes. Shoes with heels. You're already missing your worn, comfortable, secure boots with no heels. The light sleeves of the dress flutter around your arms, brushing the skin. Since they leave your wrists bare, you'll have to remember to keep the pirate brand mostly hidden. That shouldn't be too difficult since your scar is on your inner wrist, as opposed to the usual norm of the Trading Company; it's the price you paid for having a loud mouth and telling the lout with the glowing poker exactly where to shove it. Well, he didn't much appreciate your comment and branded the more sensitive side.

A knock at the door diverts your attention, and Catherine rushes to open it. “Good evening, Miss Swann. You look absolutely beautiful!”

“Thank you, Catherine,” Elizabeth’s warm voice floats in the room as she steps inside, accompanied by the rustle of expensive fabrics and the faint clicking of heels against the floor.

Taking a deep breath, you turn around to face your cousin, wobbling ever so slightly on the heels you’re unaccustomed to. Smiling nervously, you meet Elizabeth’s gaze. “Well… what do you think? Quite the change, eh?”

Elizabeth says your name delightedly, a genuine, warm smile on her lips as she gazes at the dress you’re wearing. “You, dear cousin,” she starts, walking closer to you. “…look absolutely beautiful! I daresay Jack will swallow his tongue when he sees you,” she smirks.

You roll your eyes in amusement. “Let’s hope not,” you say wryly, but with a smile. “And you’re the one to say! You look like a princess, yourself.”

And she really does. Elizabeth is wearing a beautiful gown made from rich velvets and brocades with violet skirt and ornately embroided, lilac bodice with a low, square neck. The flounces of the sleeves are made from ivory lace, the same sort that is used to border the neckline, in the seams of the bodice and in the layers of the skirt. Her sandy brown hair is done more elaborately than yours, fine ribbons woven in the intricate mass of curls that’s held back with a jewelled little clasp that sparkles gently as the light hits it. A few curly ringlets are left down from the do; they flow down from behind her ears to rest over her collarbones. Clear diamonds sparkle on the necklace and earrings she’s wearing, but even their glitter loses to the beaming, happy smile gracing the young bride’s lips.

“Really, you look gorgeous,” you assure again with a smile. “If anyone will be swallowing his tongue tonight, it’ll be Will.”

Elizabeth blushes faintly, a bashful smile upon her lips. “Alright,” she says finally after a moment of composing herself. “Now that we’ve complimented each other plenty, perhaps we should be heading downstairs?”

You shoot Elizabeth a final look of subtle pleading, the nervousness you felt earlier coming back ten-fold. Elizabeth just smiles widely at this, reaching out to clasp your hand in hers. “Don’t worry so much!” she laughs. “It’ll all go well, trust me. Just stick close to me and Will if you feel lonely. Which I think you won’t with Jack,” she grins downright conspiratorially.

“Ha, ha,” you say wryly, but can’t keep up the façade since the persistent smile determined to make its way to your lips breaks it. “Fine… let us face the perils of this dance together!”

Elizabeth shakes her head slightly, albeit with a small smirk. “Ease it on the dramatics, it’s not that awful.”

“Well, that’s very easy for you to say,” to retort easily as you two start making your way out of the room, all the while trading pleasant comebacks.

* * * *

The Swann residence has undergone a clear change in just some odd hours; every inch of the mansion seems to be cleaned and polished to perfection for the ball. There’s a faint fragrance of different flowers in the air, formations of lilacs and orchids decorating almost every available surface possible in the manor. There are more servants than you can count swarming subtly about, catering to the guests needs. The crystal chandeliers sparkle and the various candles everywhere flicker soft light, bathing the largest parlour in the house. A violin quartet in the other end of the grand hall plays softly, gentle notes creating a mellow, harmonious feeling. The area in the middle, one reserved for dancing, is full of couples, each more dignified than the last. The entire space seems to be alight with colour as the ladies in elaborate gowns and men with embroided waistcoats twirl about leisurely in time with the calming music, rich hues of crimson, sapphire, ivory, jade, mauve and saffron filling the dance floor. Taffetas, silks, brocades, laces, satins and velvets flash in the dresses, the gentle rustle of fabrics audible even through the music.

And that sparkle of gold, silver, gems and jewellery is almost enough to render you blind. You’ve been in the midst of all the activity for a little over an hour already, and you’ve already lost count of all the easy chances to swipe a little something that have presented themselves to you during that hour. But, today you’re not here to be a pirate, but to celebrate your cousin’s happiness. You just needed to remind yourself of that fact from time to time…

To keep your tingly fingers occupied, you smile amiably at the passing servant carrying a silver tray and take a beautiful crystal glass of something bubbly from the said tray. You hold the glass initially so that your fingers are near the rim, until Will, who’s standing a few feet away from you discreetly motion to his own glass which he’s holding from the long leg of the glass. You raise your brow and cast him an incredulous look, in which he just shrugs helplessly in return. With a roll of your eyes, you correct your hold of the glass, mimicking Will’s way. You deliberately stick your pinkie finger up as if drinking tea, making a light mockery of the fine etiquette of this world. Will responds to this with an amused smirk, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly in suppressed laughter. He quickly wipes the smirk off of his face and you lower your pinkie as Elizabeth turns around from another aged Madame wishing her and her fiancé all the best. She frowns as she glances from you to Will.

“You both look all too innocent. What’s going on?”

The response is both instantaneous and simultaneous; “Nothing.”

Elizabeth narrows her eyes slightly, casting a wry glance at the pair of you. “Right…”

You just smile, sipping from your glass that you’re now holding correctly. Will is looking very smart in his clean suit, his brown locks tied back neatly. He and Elizabeth made a striking couple, to be sure. You’ve been observing people closely and haven’t failed to notice the admiring looks he’s been getting from the younger ladies in the gathering, and even from slightly older ones, too! Will blushed quite prettily when you pointed this out to him earlier. Speaking of looks, you also haven’t failed to notice the looks thrown in your direction; they were actually making you feel slightly uncomfortable from time to time. Elizabeth had been introducing you to the different people that came to congratulate her and Will, and some of the men have indeed been taking avid interest in you. Well, more like your, umm, female attributes. The darned corset pushed them up on display quite effectively. It was somehow both absurd and amusing to notice men were, after all, pretty much similar both in Port Royal and Tortuga.

Taking another sip from the glass, you glance idly around the grand hall, asking yourself the same question that has popped up in your mind for the umpteenth time during the last sixty minutes; where the hell was Jack? You’re starting to have an uneasy feeling he might not be showing up, after all. No, your logical mind contradicts. He would not miss the chance to show the Commodore… right? Surely he didn’t decide to skip the ball and hit the local pub to have a few drinks with the crew, instead? You scold yourself immediately as the idea floats through your mind. No; Jack did have some principles to him, it was very unlikely he’d back down from this. Besides, he’d made a brazen remark of how he couldn’t wait to see you “all dressed up”, earlier. But what was keeping him, then? You hope he hasn’t gotten himself into any trouble.

You are so wrapped up in your thoughts you don’t even notice Commodore Norrington’s arrival until Elizabeth’s voice snaps you out of your musings.

“Commodore, so good to see you again,” she smiles with Will by her side.

“You as well, Elizabeth. You look beautiful,” he smiles back, before nodding cordially to Will. “Mister Turner. Allow me to congratulate both of you once again.”

“Good evening, Commodore, and thank you,” Will replies with an amiable smile. Norrington seems satisfied, and he averts his gaze from the young pair to you.

He takes such a visible double-take it almost makes you burst into fits of laughter. Instead, you just smile politely at his astonished expression and echo the earlier sentiments. “Good evening, Commodore Norrington. How pleasant to see you again.”

Recovering from his shock, Norrington blinks and nods again with a tentative smile. “Miss Byrne. Yes, good evening to you, too. I must admit I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“I noticed that,” you smirk.

The Commodore smiles, although it seems slightly forced to you. Poor Commodore. “Well, I fail to see you companion here, Miss Byrne,” he states, taking a fleeting glance around the lavish parlour before gazing at you again. “Did Captain Sparrow decide to decline the offer to join us, after all?”

Isn’t that just the question you’d like to know, too? The quick flicker of amused triumph you catch in the Commodores eyes makes you want to cover up for Jack even more than usually, and you smile back, just a tad mischievously. “You know how he is, Commodore. Captain Sparrow likes to be fashionably late.”

If being late for an hour could be called that… You used his title to underline he fact that he’s very much respected among his crew, including you, and that the Commodore would do good to remember that and perhaps slightly re-evaluate his opinion of the eccentric pirate.

“Of course,” Norrington replies with a cordial smile, clearly trying to be sociable with you instead of even trying to contradict your words. You appreciate that, although you know hell would officially freeze over before Norrington would be sociable with Jack. A pirate and the Commodore of the Royal Navy just would not mix. But at least he is making the effort, which is to be commended. “Well, I wish you have a wonderful evening, all the same,” Norrington goes on after a moment, taking your free hand in his and, much to your complete surprise, kissing the back of it lightly before disappearing in the midst of the other guests.

You blink and look down at your hand in stunned silence. Well, that was just weird! Of course you understand he was only being polite and following good manners instead of making advances at you, but... still, something in the thought of Commodore Norrington of the Royal Navy kissing the back of your pirate-branded hand is just plain absurd. Shaking your head a little, you lower you hand and drink the last feeble drops of the sparkling wine at the bottom of your glass.

* * * *

Thank heavens, you think, utterly relieved when the beautiful violin music finally ceases for a moment to signal the end of the dance and the start of the new one. You force a smile on your features, gazing down at your dance partner and take a subtle half-step away from him. You have never noticed before how short he really was. Or maybe it was the heels…

Private Smith returns your smile, but doesn’t let go of your hand. “Would you care for another dance, miss?”

Bloody hell, no! Your mind screams in protest. “Thank you very much for the offer, but I’m a little tired. Perhaps later?” you say with a forced smile, and Smith nods eagerly in response.

He escorts you back to the side of the parlour, and you give him another quick smile before he leaves. Once you’re certain he’s out of sight and nobody pays attention to you, you exhale deeply in relief and roll your eyes. Private Smith was a terrible dancer; it was a sad fact that eagerness didn’t necessarily always make up the missing experience. You would make sure to be busy whenever the “later” you almost promised to him would occur. You realize the poor boy had developed a crush on you, but the line had to be drawn somewhere!

You swipe the crowd with your gaze, but in vain. It’s been perhaps slightly over half an hour from your conversation about his whereabouts with the Commodore, and still there is no sign to be seen of the elusive Captain Jack. You’ll wring his neck if he bails out on this one.

Having had enough of just standing about sipping sparkling wine, you had decided to brave it all and test out your dancing skills. Will had graciously indulged and danced with you first, and you’d find out he was a great dancer. It hadn’t taken you long to get the hang of it again, and Will gave you a few pointers from time to time. It wasn’t all that difficult, really. After Will, you didn’t have to wait long for another man to come ask your acquiescence to dance; it was Lieutenant Groves. After your initial surprise, you’d accepted, recalling him to be one of the few Navy men you actually did not resent. He too turned out to be an excellent dancer, and on top of that, a very pleasant conversationalist. He wasn’t bad to look at, either! However, you were dropped back on the ground as Smith asked you to dance. You didn’t have the heart to turn him down, although in hindsight you maybe should have done just that; he was not very good at dancing. His movements were stiff and he kept on either stepping on your toes or kicking them. His hand that held yours was cold and clammy, which was even bigger turn-off than the toe trampling. Thank goodness the shoes you’re wearing are of strong make.

Stifling a sigh, you peer out at the large window into the darkening Jamaican night, making out the dim cove and the various lights and lanterns lit along the streets and households of Port Royal. You were starting to get bored, frankly. Dancing and standing about looking pretty held your interest only for so long. Pulling away from the window, you look over at the dance floor again. These people didn’t seem to get enough of waltzing! From your vantage point by the remote window aside from all the commotion, you could observe people discreetly without them noticing it. Will and Elizabeth were dancing, having eyes only to one another. You smile as you watch them, feeling happy for them; they really are a greatly matched pair. Flicking your eyes to the audience around the parlour, you notice a few elder madams decked in lavish necklaces and numerous bracelets conversing among themselves in hushed manner, casting clearly disapproving glances at the proximity between the not yet wed couple; they dance a lot closer to each other than was proper. Such stuffy, by-the-book outlook irritates you. They are in love, for goodness sake! What else are they supposed to do? Ridiculous...

You notice some younger ladies are fanning themselves with their decorative fans while greedily shifting their eyes from one eligible bachelor to another, apparently weighing up their options for a wealthy marriage. They resemble the whores in Tortuga when sizing up their next paying customer. The observation pulls the corners of your lips upwards into an amused smirk, and again you realize that despite the noticeable class differences, human nature didn’t change overly much. At the end, it was the same ambitions and needs that drove people onward everywhere and dictated their behaviour and deeds.

To your credit, you don’t flinch or jump when the familiar, husky voice suddenly whispers in your ear, his lips ghosting across your skin ever so slightly, “Would such a stunning beauty like yourself possibly grant me the honour of having this dance, my darling?”

Well, it’s about the damn time to show up! You think wryly while one hand creeps up on your corset-clad waist from behind, comforting in its familiarity. The words finally register in your mind, warming your heart and making you blush in spite of yourself.

“Stunning beauty, eh? Are you sure you’re talking to the correct darling?” you tease with a grin, keeping your back to him.

“Extremely correct, believe me,” Jack murmurs, and your eyes widen as you feel him plant a gentle kiss on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his other hand coming to rest on your free flank.

“Christ Jack, not here,” you hiss in anxiety, glancing around and almost expecting to see every eye pair in the parlour to be nailed at you, staring in distaste.

“No need for alarm, luv, nobody will even notice us,” Jack assures confidently, his warm lips meeting the skin of the nape of your neck. Aside from the pleasure the action brings you, you feel that something’s amiss with Jack. In Jack, more like. His hair, you abruptly realize. Where is it? You’re not feeling the familiar dreads, trinkets and braids pressing against your back.

“What have you done to your hair?” you blurt, a horrible thought of Jack possibly having cut it crossing your mind for a second.

“It’s still there, worry not,” he says, and even if you couldn’t feel him grinning against you nape, you would hear it clearly in his tone.

Having enough of the mystery, you slowly turn around and face Jack. You vaguely realize your lips are parting slightly as you jaw almost drops open as you stare at him, smirking at your expression. This is how Norrington must’ve felt like earlier when seeing you in the dress. You have never seen Jack looking like this ever before. The tri corne hat and the red bandanna are gone – you wonder if you’ve ever seen him without the bandanna – gone are also the strings of beads woven in the thick locks, along with the other trinkets; his hair along with the dreadlocks and braids is tied back loosely with something. He’s clean. Cleaner than normally, which is a lot for a pirate! The black kohl normally smudged around his lids is now as good as a memory, which takes some getting used to. Again, you’ve rarely seen him without the stuff. Gone is the long overcoat, worn shirt and the smoke grey breeches. He’s wearing a dark brown waistcoat with pockets on both sides, nothing alike those flashy, embroided horrifications the other men are wearing. It’s made from some soft, leather-like material with no added decoration of any kind. It’s simple but stylish, and it fits him perfectly. Underneath the coat he’s wearing a pure white shirt, a complimenting contrast to his tanned skin. Gazing downwards, you see he’s wearing coal black breeches and neat leather boots, black as well, that reach him in the upper calf. They complete the semblance to simple and utter perfection. You should’ve known Jack couldn’t be swayed to exchange boots to dress shoes.

God, he looks gorgeous. You couldn’t care less that he doesn’t really look like the peacocks posing as men, here. Actually, you thank God for that! To you, he’s perfectly dressed up. It seems that it’s you who’s swallowing her tongue tonight, after all…

You’re not the only one making appreciative mental notes. Jack’s gaze climbed up from your hips to the narrowed waist, following the trail the black little beads make on the bodice all the way up to the generous dip of the neckline and the tempting swell of pale skin within… swallowing dryly, Jack quickly forced himself to keep going before he did something extremely rash, tearing his gaze from the allures of your bosom to skim over the familiar silver necklace, up your chest and graceful neck he knew to be sensitive to his kisses, the soft skin left exposed by the coiffure that kept your hair up. He traced your features with his eyes fondly, over your chin and soft lips he knew tasted sweet, past your nose and up to your beautiful eyes, the hue of them having already taken over Jack’s previous favourite color. Jack wondered idly if he’d ever seen anything quite as exquisite as you before.

You smirk slightly as you notice your eyes aren’t the only ones that wander. As Jack finally looks you in the eyes, you smile. “Took you long enough to find my eyes.”

Jack smirks, his own eyes sparkling with mischief. “It weren’t your eyes I was looking for to begin with, darling.”

“How wonderfully honest of you. At least you admit it,” you reply, still smiling.

“And why wouldn’t I? I do enjoy watching you,” he says with a tad bit cheeky smile. “Now… may I have this dance?” he goes on, holding out his hand for you. He still has the ring on his forefinger, but the palm guard has been taken off and his hands are remarkably clean.

You smile, placing your own hand in his. “Yes, you may.”

Curling his warm fingers around your hand, Jack grins back. “Let’s show these stiff necks how it’s really done, shall we?”

With that, Jack starts leading you towards the dance floor, pride and confidence written in his every move. Entwining the fingers of your left hand with his, Jack raises them slightly to the appropriate height around your shoulders. And that’s there all the formal appropriateness of the act ends; he snakes his free arm around your waist and draws you considerably closer to himself than the respective arms-length that’s normally maintained between the dancers. The heels on your shoes even out the small height difference between the two of you, and you now stand almost eyelevel to Jack. You barely even have the time to realize he’s pulled you so close before he’s already moving, his body coaxing you to move along with him. Quickly placing your free hand on his shoulder, you waste no more time in doing just that, fitting your steps in time with his.

The other pairs dancing around you disappear; all you can concentrate on is the flowing music and Jack, the way your bodies work together flawlessly. Jack leads you on effortlessly, such confidence in his smooth movements that it’s affecting you as well, making it easy for you to follow without problems. Getting more and more lost in the moment, you loop your hand around his shoulder so that the crook of your elbow rests against his upper arm while your fingers clutch onto his back. Your bodies sway together in time with the rhythm of the music, the contact between your bodies spine-tingling. Jack brings your entwined hands close to your bodies, resting them so that the back of your hand is pressing against his chest. The way you and Jack are dancing is so thrillingly intimate you feel like staying here for the rest of the evening, closed off in the reality of your own, hiding from the rest of the world. You dance like this for what seems like a small eternity, being mindful of just each other and the floating music around you.

You’re loath to let go of Jack even when the tune gradually starts quickening into more upbeat rhythm, changing the dance completely.

“Change of pace. Are you up for it?” Jack asks with a quirked brow, clearly challenging you.

“I should be asking you that,” you throw back glibly, grinning impishly.

You smile in appreciation as Jack smirks in delight, accepting the challenge. Deftly distancing himself from you, he corrects his position with you and twirls you around gracefully. You quickly come to decide Jack wasn’t lying to the Commodore earlier, although this particular dance wasn’t waltzing any longer. Pulling you closer to his body again, you look at him in the eyes.

“I honestly had no idea you could dance so well,” you admit, already starting to get slightly breathless. Bloody corset!

Jack just smiles, and again twirls you in cue with the music. This time, he pulls you so close your bodies press tightly together, and for a fleeting moment you can almost swear you can feel the warmth of his skin even through the layers of clothing. Jack takes advantage on the moment and quickly lowers head to whisper intensely in your ear. “I give half the credit to such familiar partner, luv.”

You decipher from the look in his eyes that he meant the more intimate side of your familiarity, and smile slightly at the little suggestive nuance in the seemingly innocent comment. But it was true; your bodies had indeed had some practice on how to work together... and excelled in every aspect.

“Indeed?” you ask with a teasing lilt in your tone, just before Jack carefully spins you again. You clasp your hand in his as you turn around to face him, and Jack’s arm slithers around your waist again, the move slightly more provocative this time.

“Indeed,” he agrees huskily as he pulls you to him, his eyes slipping down from your eyes to stare at your lips with definite desire. Your breath hitches, and not just because of the constraining corset. However, as both of you recognize the ending tunes of the song, and Jack suddenly grins at you most wickedly.

“Hold on.”

“Wha-” is all you get out before Jack bends your body backwards, dipping you spectacularly as the song ends.

“Jack…!” you hiss, trying to sound angry but not quite succeeding with the amused laugh threatening to surface. Expecting to be lifted back up, you glance up at Jack when nothing happens - to catch him looking down at your chest admiringly.

“Jack,” you growl warningly, now starting to get enough. Your both hands are busy holding onto him even though you most likely needn’t to.

“What?” he questions innocently, but reluctantly pulls you up to stand anyway. You shoot a miffed glance at him as you straighten your dress. “Sorry, darling. Sometimes I resist temptation so very poorly,” he says with a placating smile, even if edged with slight nervousness.

“Apparently,” you respond dryly, trying to curb your smile. Damn, you’re unable to stay mad at him.

The music has started again and some couples are again dancing around you, but you suddenly notice the elder ladies that earlier tutted and tsked on Will and Lizzie now stare at you and Jack with nothing short of pure terror on their faces. And they’re not the only ones; your little show has gathered more than enough of attention; mostly looks of shocked disapproval, but other curious and some even vaguely amused.

Jack seems typically unaffected by this, looking proud as he takes your hand and starts leading you away, grinning. “Well, I’d say that certainly showed them.”

You can’t help but to grin back. Captain Jack Sparrow certainly had a flair for grand entrances.

* * * * *

A/N of Doom: This chapter probably has heaps of historical inaccuracies, but I was so tired of trying to research everything I just ended up being a bad authoress and not caring about it. Do the same thing, aye? ;) I don't know about the sparkling wine and the proper etiquettes, nor anything about the dances at the time although I did look into that matter a bit. I searched the net for the dresses and dressing in those times and read books about it, and I know dressing Miss Byrne was way much less complicated than it would've been in reality with all the socks and garters and farthingales etc.... Also I think purple was the color of really "high-ups" at that time, like royals and such, but I'm bending it a little here. Besides, Lizzie's dress is lighter, lilac. And I don't know if they had lilacs or orchids available then, I just happen to like them. :) With anything else, the same thing goes for them, too. Just ignore it. ;) Also, more was initially supposed to happen in this chapter, but after hitting the ten-pages-on-MSWord mark I knew I had to cut it in half. Thanks!

* * * * *

CHAPTER 25 - Defining Moments

“So, what took you so long to get here?” you ask Jack with a raised brow and a small smile as you stand a bit further away from the thickest of crowds. Your smile grows into a teasing grin as you add impishly, “Did it take that long to scrub all that grime off your skin?”

Jack diverts his gaze from one of the older lady’s exceptionally sizeable ruby pendant as she passes by your spot and shoots you a dry look, raising his brows in admirably sarcastic way. “Why, are you complaining?” he asks back with a decidedly smug smirk, knowing very well you’re not.

You indulge him, smiling amusedly. “No, I’m most definitely not complaining, you look very handsome.”

“Do I, now?” he murmurs, his interest sparked. The smirk never leaves his face as he takes a discreet half-step closer to you, while his hand, hidden between you bodies, rises to stroke the inside of your wrist in teasing manner. “How handsome?”

You smirk, looking at him in the eyes. “Fishing for more compliments, are we? Alright, then, you look unbelievably handsome. Dashing, really...” you trail off, before adding with a grin, “and utterly swoon-worthy. Although I'm still not quite used to seeing you without all that kohl.”

“Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully with a small, pleased smile while watching you. “Well, if that’s the case, then I should probably hold onto you in case you fall in a faint over my dashing looks, eh?” he remarks mischievously, curling one hand around your waist firmly to keep you closer still.

“How gallant of you,” you reply pleasantly. You really couldn’t care less right now if some old madam gets high blood pressure over such “improper” behaviour or not.

"Anything for a lady in need," he grins, a definite, suggestive undertone in his voice.

You shake your slightly, but smile. "You still haven't answered my question…"

"Alright, alright," Jack yields. "I needed to find something I had…" he pauses for a moment, searching for the correct word. "Misplaced some time earlier, hence the lateness of my arrival."

"Don't you mean lost?" you smirk.

"No, not lost, momentarily misplaced. There's a difference. I don't lose things, luv," he contradicts with a chiding look.

You roll your eyes. "I stand corrected. What was it you were looking for?"

Jack smiles in slightly smug way, leaning his face just a bit closer to you. "It's a little surprise for you," he murmurs softly.

"For me?" you repeat in surprise, lifting your brow before enquiring eagerly, "Well, what is it?"

Jack's smile turns into a grin, clearly enjoying keeping you in suspense. "If I tell you now, it'll no longer be a surprise, will it?"

"Jaaack," you almost whine. "Tell me…!"

He shakes his head, still grinning. "No. You'll get it later."

"Please?" you pout, your curiosity getting the best of you.

"Oh no, that's not going to work this time," Jack says, glancing down at your lips. "If you don't stop that pouting soon I'm forced to stop you myself, which will most assuredly cause quite the stir, I believe…"

You let out a disappointed 'humph' and quit pouting, although the idea of letting Jack kiss you now is a very tempting one. However you decide you don't necessarily need the audience around you. "Oh, fine…" you trail off in defeat, peering at him through your lashes. "When is this 'later', then?"

Jack chuckles at your persistence, giving you an intense look. "After we're rid of this elaborate little get-together and I have you all to myself… before or after I strip off that dress, as fine as it is, and make love to you until the dawn breaks. Most likely before, seeing as it's probable I'll forget all about it with more appealing matters to tend to," he finishes with a broad grin, delighted to see a faint blush rising to your cheeks at the declaration.

"Jack…!" you say in hushed tone, a pleased but bashful smile on you lips. You discreetly glance around to see if anyone is in hearing range; you don't know why you're feeling so modest all of a sudden.

"Nobody can hear us, unwind a little," Jack says amusedly, dark eyes sparkling warmly. "Worry not, I'll take care of that burdensome shyness of yours later on as well."

"Somehow I have no problems believing that!" you reply with a knowing grin. Jack smiles in slightly lopsided way, an expression you find almost nonsensically charming.

"So, am I to expect your delightful company later tonight?" Jack asks with a raised brow.

You summon a look of shocked disbelief on your face. "Captain Sparrow, are you propositioning me to join you later on to engage in most assuredly improper and mostly indecent acts?"

Jack grins, tightening his hold on your waist. "Most definitely, milady."

You smirk amusedly. "Why, then I'd be most delighted to accept the invitation."

Jack chuckles quietly, taking your hand in his free one and pressing a lingering kiss on the back of it while looking you in the eyes. "I can hardly wait."

You get the feeling your blushing again at the emotion in Jack's low tone. Smiling, you're about to reply when a familiar figure making his way towards you catches your attention. "Speaking of delights," you speak so quietly that only Jack can hear you. "One Commodore heading this way in twelve o'clock."

You swear you can see the mischievous joy lighting up Jack's russet eyes as the familiar grin spreads to his lips. "Really, now?" he murmurs. "Now, this should be interesting, eh?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm afraid of," you reply wryly, but with a smile. "Please behave?"

Jack puts on an innocent look, one that however does not fool you. "As if I ever do nothing but!"

You just raise your brows in return. Jack rolls his eyes but says nothing, instead choosing to turn around to face Commodore Norrington as he draws closer. Jack doesn't bother moving his arm, keeping it wrapped around your waist.

"Commodore Norrington! A fine evening to you, too," Jack grins in very characteristic way as the Commodore stops a respectable distance away, the glint of gold and platinum in Jack's teeth conflicting slightly with his cleaned up appearance.

"Captain Sparrow," Norrington acknowledges with a slight nod of his head, his manner urbanely subdued. "Good evening, indeed. Why, I admit I wasn't expecting you to actually make good of your earlier… promise. Excluding the hair and teeth, you might almost be mistaken for a gentleman tonight," he says with a small smirk that looks a tad condescending.

Jack makes a peculiar flicking motion with his free hand and smiles amiably, the Commodore's slight snub apparently having no notable effect on him. "If that's the case, then I say it's a very good thing that the almost is there, wouldn't you?" he asks, amused smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

Norrington's smirk falters ever so slightly as he realizes Jack turned his little slight around and threw it back to his face. "Indeed," he replies somewhat frostily.

You stifle a sigh, resigned to bear the subtle mud slinging obviously about to occur. You idly wonder if it was hopeless to wish these two would ever actually manage to stand in the presence of one another and not trade insults, no matter how minor and well-disguised. Something in Norrington - likely the holier-than-thou air about him that he had thankfully started to shed lately - fed the monster in Jack, as simple as that. Similarly, you assume the deeply rooted notion of Norrington's, the one that tells him pirates are scum and must be rid of to ensure everyone's safety, was his red cloth. That, and Jack indeed could be the most difficult person on the face of the earth when he wanted to; when he detected how irritated Norrington was with him, he couldn't resist the impulse to tease the odds and to goad the Commodore on just a little more. No, it was really no wonder Norrington always seemed to get so vexed when having to deal with Jack. Still, they could both try to tone it down just a little.

"Your performance on the dance floor was almost bordering on something quite unorthodox, it seems," Norrington states after a moment and glances pointedly at Jack's arm still wrapped around your middle, slight disapproval in his gaze.

"Is that so?" Jack enquires lazily, the tiny smirk playing at the corner of his mouth betraying his underlying amusement at the situation.

"Quite so. It actually caused a bit of an disturbance with some of the elder folk in here."

Jack smirks smugly, like he knows something the Commodore isn't privy to - which he probably does, about many things. "Ah, well then they should see how they do it in Singapore, Commodore. Gives a whole new meaning to the term 'carousing', beyond doubt."

A forced, cool smile forms on Norrington's lips as he probably paints Jack's vision with his mind's eye; you must admit it's not really all that appealing picture. Well, that Singapore sure is a magical place, eh?

"I'm sure you would know all about that, Captain Sparrow," Norrington replies, just a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "Be that as it may, my presence is unfortunately required elsewhere at the moment. Have a pleasant evening," he says coolly.

"The very same to you Commodore, remember not to work too hard, as I'm certain those capable men of yours at the door keep an eye on things, while they're not busy dozing," Jack quips with a disarming smile as Norrington starts to walk away. The comment makes him stop in mid-stride to cast the pirate a less than flattering glance, before continuing on his way.

You shake your head and look at Jack. "So much for behaving, I see."

"That was not my fault, he was asking for it," Jack quickly defends himself with a raised finger.

You roll your eyes slightly, but don't bother to scold him. "There's a lot going on in Singapore, apparently."

"Oh, yes," Jack agrees with a fond grin. "I should show it to you sometime," he says absently, before thinking it over with a small frown, muttering, "Or perhaps not…"

You chuckle in amusement, about to reply when a clear, decidedly feminine voice calls for someone. "Christopher!"

You glance curiously towards the unfamiliar woman in heaps of blue taffeta, but turn back to face Jack almost as quickly. Jack, on the other hand, looks like he's seen a ghost, his eyes having gone wide at the voice. He however recovers quickly and winces, muttering an oath under his breath. You frown in puzzlement, about to ask him what's wrong when the woman calls again, this time a lot closer from you and Jack.

"Christopher Wright, is that really you?"

Your turn your head to see the said woman now only some feet away, walking closer. That's when you realize she is looking at Jack in wonderment, as if seeing a long lost friend. Your mind pieces together the clues, and you look back at Jack with questioning expression, eyebrows raised expectantly. Jack winces again at your look, unwrapping his arm around your waist and raising his index finger hastily, about to say something. However, the mysterious woman reaches you before he can manage that, prattling on happily.

"Why, it truly is you, Christopher!" she gushes merrily as she completely ignores you and gazes at Jack, who looks vaguely uncomfortable. "I told myself 'Margaret, that man cannot possibly be Christopher Wright, it has been years since you saw him', but it was, after all! Oh goodness, it's so wonderful to finally meet you again after all these years. My, you look even more handsome than the last time, if you don't take me as improper for saying so!" she laughs happily at her own little joke, wheat coloured curls piled on top of her head shaking in time with her tinkling giggles. She's quite a lot shorter than you are, her cute, almost cherub-like features conflicting with her generous bust that's pushed up to almost comical degree by the corset.

You purse your lips, not quite knowing whether to be more amused or affronted. You glance at Jack with raised brows, mouthing, "Christopher?" at him over the woman's head. The blonde woman has turned her back on you as if you didn't even exist and so cannot see your reaction; she's too engrossed in staring at Jack.

Jack meets your eyes quickly over the shorter woman's head, look of pleading in his brown eyes, before returning his attention to the little blonde. She has started to talk again, and you wonder if she prattles this much all the time.

"…Oh, Christopher, surely you remember me? Margaret la Hale?" she chirps, batting her lashes.

"Of course I remember," Jack replies smoothly, finally getting over his astonishment. "How could I forget?" You don't fail to detect the slightest note of sarcasm in the latter phrase, but it clearly flies right over the woman's head, just like the looks exchanged between you and Jack.

Margaret giggles again. "You were always such a charmer, Christopher!"

The way she draws out the name, Christop-heee, is really starting to irritate you for some odd reason. Well, wasn't this just interesting! What were the odds of running into Jack's old flame in an event such as this? When had Jack crossed paths with this Margaret bloody le Hale?

"Why Christopher," you finally speak up sweetly, struggling to keep the sarcasm away from your tone. "Why don't you introduce me to you lovely little friend?"

Jack smiles nervously, darting his eyes from Margaret to you and back. But before he manages to say anything, the blonde has whirled around to look at you. "Oh, where are my manners!" she exclaims. "I am so terribly sorry, miss. We have not been introduced, indeed -oh! Do not tell me! You must be Christopher's sister, aren't you? I'm so delighted to meet you!"

"Sister…?" you repeat slowly, glancing at Jack who shrugs feebly and again gives you a small, nervous smile.

"I knew it!" Margaret cries out happily, taking your questioning as confirmation for her assumption. "I'm so happy to see you're apparently faring so well, tonight."

"Well…?" you parrot again, thrown uncomfortably out of the loop and having no clue as to what the woman is talking about.

Margaret looks slightly confused for a second, but blinks it away. "Yes, well Christopher had to depart so abruptly the last time we met; he said he needed to hasten to care for his sister who suffered from badly ailing mind, and- Oh dear, I probably shouldn't have said that, I apologize…"

Sister with a badly ailing mind…? How very interesting. You glance at Jack with raised brows, catching him wiping one palm down his face in apparent frustration behind Margaret's back.

"Indeed?" you say, looking back at the woman and forcing a smile. "Well I can assure you I feel fine." For now at least, you add in your mind.

"Wonderful," Margaret smiles, - slightly warily it seems - before turning back to regard Jack, who quickly schools his features into amiable smile. "Christopher, I would so love to meet you later this evening, perhaps just the two of us? I have missed you quite a bit," she smiles to Jack downright flirtatiously; that's hardly a suitable behaviour for a lady that she supposedly is.

That's going a bit too far, missy, you think while narrowing your eyes, feeling an unexpected stab of jealousy.

"Oh, I'm afraid Christopher here is going to be a bit busy tonight," you interject, taking a step closer to Jack. "The doctor said I should have someone familiar with me at all times, lest my mind should happen to ail again. But you can understand that, surely?" you add sweetly with a smile at the shorter woman.

Margaret opens and closes her mouth a few times, before smiling amiably. "Oh, but of course! Well, then. Perhaps a dance later, Christopher? Charming," she smiles at Jack, and starts walking away after bidding goodbyes for now.

You cross your arms and look at Jack for explanation for all that, only to see him wearing the most self-satisfied grin you've ever seen. "What are you grinning at?"

"You were jealous," Jack grins.

"I was not jealous," you contradict with a small frown.

"You were so jealous I'm surprised you didn't turn green from the face."

You huff indignantly at his words, and Jack's grin just broadens. "But that's alright, luv. In all honesty, it makes me feel rather proud and most pleased that you'd get so agitated over other women showing interest towards ol' Jack..." he trails off with a smile.

Damn him, you think. Why was it impossible for you to be even slightest bit miffed at him? With a sigh, you relent. "Fine, maybe I was jealous. Just a little."

Jack's smirk is victorious as his gaze slides down your body admiringly and back up again. Yes, Jack felt more than pleased that you should show such apparent zeal to fend off other women with amorous intentions; he recognized it as the similar possessiveness that he harboured himself towards you - although Jack felt the impulse to ward off every single male who so much as looked at you for longer than a moment or two. That was solely his privilege, and he'd ensure it would stay that way.

"So, just who exactly was she, Christopher?" you ask, smirking amusedly at the fake name.

Jack sighs softly, apparently not wanting to reminisce, but obliges you anyway. "It was maybe four years ago, give or take a few. She's the daughter of an important landowner in Port Antonio; old le Hale owns quite a few plantations there, although they haven't been acquired all legally, savvy. Anyhow, the old man also happens to sit on a considerable amount of riches, figuratively speaking."

"I think I can see where this is going…" you note with wry amusement.

"So, as I just happened to be around there one night, minding my own businesses as is my wont-" you raise a dubious brow at this, but remain silent, "-a golden opportunity was simply shoved at me, quite literally so in fact. It was a girl whom I recognized, much to my surprise, as little miss le Hale, herself."

"Mmhmm. And how's that?"

"Short blonde with substantial… gifts," Jack finally says, making a gesture around his chest. You roll your eyes. "The girl had obviously taken a little something more potent than water, not much, but enough. Scandalous for a girl of such stature, and she indeed was all teary-eyed and woeful, fearing what might happen if dear daddy finds out… Well, luckily she ran into Christopher Wright, a gentleman from Port Royal who solemnly swore to help her get home unnoticed so that dear daddy would be none the wiser of his daughter's disgraceful pastimes."

"Just out of the goodness of your heart, I presume?" you ask with sarcasm, smirking.

"Aye, that's what the girl thought; now, it was obvious she was used to having men fawn over her in hopes of some attention, so I wooed her just a little to encourage the belief. And that's what Christopher Wright was indeed doing, but Captain Jack Sparrow had other intentions," Jack says with a smirk. "As it was, the girl provided me with all the details of how the le Hale manor was guarded, and after that it was no great feat to steal in without nobody noticing. Granted, the tipsy maid in tow made it a bit challenging, but nothing unsurpassable. Again, the girl was ever so helpful and told me precisely where each room was and what they contained; hell, she wouldn't have stopped talking at all! I had to keep one palm over her mouth so that her incessant chattering wouldn't alarm all the guards outside."

You shake your head a little, picturing the event. It was starting to get more amusing aspects all the time, and the smirk pulled at your lips mercilessly as you imagine Jack hauling the drunken mistress along in the shadows of the night, one hand clapped over her mouth.

"The girl turned out to be quite a surprise, though! She was all shy and demure thing all the way to her room, but behind closed doors she came on to me like a starving shark after catching a whiff of blood," Jack remarks with raised brows, clearly still a bit flummoxed over the event.

"I get the picture, thanks," you reply, scrunching your face up slightly in distaste.

Jack smirks at your reaction, but goes on with the tale. "Well, as pleasant as it would've been at the time to allow her to express her gratitude, I couldn't afford to stay and risk the possibility of being caught before having even browsed through the pricey goods in the house. So I disentangled myself of her and bid my apologies; Christopher had a sister with a badly ailing mind to look after, and she couldn't be left alone for too long for her own safety and others'."

"And she never suspected anything?" you query incredulously.

"No, she did not. Well, you heard her; she's not exactly what you might call the brightest light in the horizon. She didn't question anything I told her, but the alcohol probably had some influence in the matter. As it was, old man le Hale was apparently something of an angry hermit who holed himself up every night in his library, accompanied by his books and brandy. Although the manor was closely watched on the outside, there were only a few servants, mostly in the kitchens; Missus le Hale was deceased, Margaret was the only child and le Hale hated having strangers in his house, or so the girl told me - along with everything else she rattled on about…" Jack rolls his eyes, before going on with a smug grin, "And so, I had ample time and peace to weigh up some pieces found there and to relieve old le Hale of some of the burdens of all that gleam and glitter. It was a fair barter, I think; I delivered his dear daughter home safe and sound, and in return helped myself to a little reward."

"But of course," you reply with a touch of sarcasm. "How did you get out of the manor with all your newly acquired loot?"

"Why, you imply that I have greediness in me? Shame on you," he wags a finger. You're reminded of all the things Jack hoarded with him before departing Isla de Muerta, but don't bother arguing the point in order to hear the rest. "No, I just took enough to fill my pockets, luv. And like I said, the girl very cooperatively told me when the guards changed shifts, and it indeed was like she said - the shift changed ten minutes past midnight, leaving the entrance shamefully unguarded for an entire minute. In other words, I quite simply just walked out of the front door and was well on my merry way when the new guards arrived to take their places."

You can't help but to chuckle as you envision Jack calmly swaggering out of the manor as if he owned it, his many pockets crammed with valuables, whistling a merry tune as he traipsed down the street while the arriving guards were none the wiser of illicit nocturnal visit that just occurred under their noses. That was something you could expect only from Jack.

"Again, I have no troubles picturing that," you say with a smile, and Jack responds with a grin that's just a tad proud.

A comfortable silence ensues between the two of you as stand side by side, watching the dancers inattentively while being mindful of one another's comforting presence. Jack's fingers suddenly touch the palm of your hand that's close to him, sliding down to interlace your fingers together, pads of his fingers lying upon the back of your hand. Surprised, you look at Jack in question; he's still observing the people milling about, giving no indication that he has even noticed the entire thing, although you know it was intentional. You smile softly to yourself as you turn back to the crowd, responding to the gesture and curling your own fingers so that they rest lightly against the back of his hand. The natural way your hands fit together warms your heart most peculiarly.

The soft music quietens gradually, dying away completely as Governor Swann, dressed in a fine blue waist jacket with intricate embroidery and the large, powdered wig, steps up, his presence gathering everyone's attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to take a moment to welcome you all here this evening," he addresses the guests with a cordial smile. "It brings joy to my heart to see so many of you here celebrating the upcoming wedding of my daughter Elizabeth and her fiancé, William Turner," he pauses to smile warmly at the young couple standing a bit further away. "Whom I am pleased to welcome in the family and to call him my son-in-law as of tomorrow."

The Governor's words are sincere and warm, and they make you smile as well. Will smiles at the older man in response, nodding his head thankfully. It was an admirable thing for the Governor to do, to state publicly that he wasn't ashamed or disapproving of the match between Elizabeth and Will, unlike some of the wicked tongues have been whispering - it was no grand secret some still thought it shocking for the Governor's daughter to be wed to a mere, common blacksmith.

"I shan't hold you from the celebration for longer, but wish you all a very pleasant evening, and hope that you'll join me in a toast for our young couple," Weatherby Swann says, raising the crystal glass in his hand a bit higher. "To William and Elizabeth! May they have long years blessed with eternal happiness with each other."

"To William and Elizabeth!" The crowd echoes cheerily, some of them raising their glasses as well, others murmuring happily.

Will and Elizabeth seem slightly uncomfortable of all the sudden attention, but they bear it admirably, smiling their thanks. Elizabeth gives the Governor a hug as he comes closer and tells him something, to which he responds with a joyful smile. Next, he shakes hands with Will, trading a few words with him while never losing the smile on his face. It was obvious that tomorrow wasn't going to be a happy day to only Will and Elizabeth.

"They make such a strong couple," you remark while watching Will and Elizabeth, seeing the obvious love and affection they have from one another.

"Aye," Jack responds earnestly. "They're good kids. They'll make it."

You glance at Jack with a smirk, about to tell Jack once again what a softy he in reality is. As if sensing your thoughts, Jack looks at you warningly and lifts the pointer of his free hand to you. "Don't you dare say it, luv."

"I was going to say nothing," you reply innocently, widening your eyes for the effect.

"Oh, of course. That cheeky smile of yours was for no reason, too, wasn't it?" Jack questions with a smirk of his own, not falling for your act.

You glare at him playfully. "You're threading on some dangerous waters, there…"

Jack's grin is nothing but impish. "Suppose you'll have to discipline me, then."

The blatantly insinuating tone of his voice makes you laugh quietly. "Don't you wish, pirate."

"Undeniably," he says, rubbing his thumb along the base of yours softly. You smile at the tiny action, enjoying the feeling. You watch the crowd again in silence, noting the overly chipper Margaret le Hale dancing with some young man; she's batting her lashes at him prettily, her painted mouth again going mile a minute. Didn't Jack say the girl was supposed to be "shy and demure"? It certainly did not look like it, now! The girl apparently had a strong liking for the entire male population, not just for Jack. Maybe she'd have no time to harass him tonight, then. The thought makes you feel oddly relieved, and you chide yourself for being childish - but then again, a girl had to look out for her interests, right?

You forget all about the flighty le Hale as you notice Governor Swann approaching you with a warm smile. "Ah, it's good to see you both here," he starts, and both you and Jack raise your brows slightly in surprise. "Captain Sparrow, would you mind it terribly if I steal your companion away for a moment? I would like to have a word with my niece," he finishes, glancing at you almost pleadingly at this.

Getting over his initial astonishment of being warmly welcomed by the Governor himself, Jack recovers quickly and replies smoothly, "I see no problems so as long as you bring her back after you're done, Governor."

"Naturally," the Governor smiles, offering his arm to you. You trade a quick glance with Jack who smiles and squeezes your hand reassuringly before letting go.

"I think I'll go see how the W-" Jack cuts himself off, thinking better of calling Will 'Whelp' in the presence his soon to be father-in-law. "William is doing. I'll seek you out in a bit."

You smile and nod at Jack before taking the Governor's offered arm like is proper. He starts leading you away from the parlour, and you wonder what was going on.

"I apologize for interrupting your evening like this, but I feel this is quite important for you," Governor Swann starts as you walk on along the long hallway that leads towards the entrance of the mansion, passing other guests and busy servants.

"It's alright," you assure, your curiosity sparked.

The Governor nods thoughtfully, as if to himself, as you arrive to the stairwell leading upstairs. He leads you up the stairs, along the hallway, past Elizabeth's rooms and from one turn to another.

"I'm I correct to assume you have not ever seen a picture of your mother?" Weatherby Swann asks in subdued tone as he leads you along the softly lit hallway.

The question startles you, and you glance at the older man who is your uncle - something you still find hard to believe sometimes. You lived with the fact of not having any other family than your father for so long you that you couldn't believe it might be otherwise.

"No," you finally reply quietly, swallowing to get rid of the lump in your throat. "No, I have not. All I had of her were a few assorted items, but they were lost in the… accident." You couldn't bear to call it 'bloodshed' like it probably had been in reality.

"As I thought," Swann replies solemnly, and you turn left from another corner. "That's why I wanted to show you something in my study. This may not be the best of moments for that, but I have no idea when the next opportunity would present itself. And I thought you would probably appreciate it," he finishes, stopping in front a door of dark wood. "Ah, here we are."

You left go of his arm as the Governor pushes the door open, allowing you inside. The light from the sconces on the walls illuminates the room, and a faint smell of parchment and ink lingers in the air. A few massive shelves filled with books or all sizes stand on the left side of the room, with some bureaus on the right and a heavy desk on the opposite end of the room.

"There it is," the Governor says softly, nodding slightly towards the wall on the right side of the study, above the bureaus.

You follow his gaze, and the air is instantly stolen from your lungs as you stare at the painting hanging on the wall. You blink your eyes to rid the suddenly stinging, struggling to control your breathing. As if pulled by some unseen force, you take slow steps closer, keeping your eyes on the woman in the painting.

"I- is that…?" you stammer almost inaudibly, although you already know the answer. You just wish to hear it confirmed aloud.

"Yes," Weatherby Swann agrees softly, coming to stand beside you. "That is Melissa. The likeness between you and her is remarkable."

You swallow to ease up you tightened throat while your eyes take in the picture of your mother. This is a painting of your mother, the woman that had loved your father, given birth to you… the woman whom you had never, even set your eyes on before, one that you had wanted more than anything to know. You had pictured her in your head while gazing in a mirror when you were younger - your father kept claiming you resembled her so much. But your imaginings didn't do justice to the persona in the painting. She was beautiful; clad in an emerald gown, her long hair piled on top of her head in intricate way, small strands rebelliously breaking free from the coiffure - the small detail makes your lips quirk into tiniest of smile - hands resting on her lap. She's wearing a small silver band around her right ring finger; one that you suddenly recognize as the same one that your father had always carried in a chain around his neck. It now lied on the bottom of the ocean, together with your father and his ship.

Blinking away the tears stinging your eyes again, you concentrate on the picture. The most captivating features in her are the eyes and the mouth. There was a clear, playful sparkle in her expressive eyes, one that the artist had managed to capture perfectly, you think, even though you never knew her. Her kind smile is seemingly cordial, but the tiny lift in the corner of her mouth speaks of underlying mischievousness, indicating Melissa wasn't quite as innocent as she gave the impression of being. It was familiar to you - you know you had that same smile on your face from time to time. Yes, Melissa did look very much like you, but some features of yours are clearly inherited from your father.

Drawing a deep breath to steady yourself, you let it out quietly. Turning to look at the Governor, you smile thankfully. "Thank you for this. It means more to me than you could ever imagine."

The older man smiles back, but the smile is tinged with sadness. "You're welcome. I'm glad to have shared it with you."

You nod and give another small smile, glancing back at the painting as you again lapse into respectful silence. You take in every little detail of the artwork, wishing to memorize it as well as you possibly can. You doubt you'd have many chances of seeing it again, given the place where it was kept. But at least it would be safe here. Moments pass quietly by, and you feel in control of your emotions again, sadness giving away to joy of having finally been allowed to gaze upon your own mother after twenty-five years of only wishing for such a chance. A peculiar feeling of serenity fills you, and you decide to head back downstairs; the memory of this moment would be forever etched in your mind, the only place imaginable where nobody would ever enter and take it away from you.

"I think I will head back downstairs, if you don't mind?" you ask carefully, looking at the Governor questioningly.

"No, of course not," he replies, looking slightly hesitant before continuing. "But could you see yourself back, I would like to stay yet a moment longer…?"

"Yes, certainly," you assure with a smile of your own. "Thank you, again. Uncle," you add, almost as an afterthought.

Governor Swann seems slightly startled by your unexpected admission, but smiles back happily after a brief moment, nodding in understanding. With a final look at the painting, you exit the room and close the door quietly behind you.

* * * *

"Bloody shoes," you hiss crossly to yourself as you descend the wide spiral stairs that lead back down to the entrance hall, skimming one palm over the smooth railing in support while the other holds up the heavy skirt of the dress slightly to lessen the chances of you tripping and falling your way down the rest of the stairs; a thoroughly graceful image, you think sardonically. Your feet are starting to ache from the shoes you are completely unaccustomed to - you simply can't wait for the evening to be over so you could kick them off. Speaking of which, your shoes wouldn't be the only things going off at the end of the evening if Jack had his way. And, you smile to yourself, he would. In actuality, the mere thought causes a delicious anticipation to course through you. Oh yes, maybe this wouldn't be a completely bad evening, after all…

Returning to the lavish parlour, the centre of events, you pause your steps to rake your gaze along the crowd in search of Jack. You see no sign of him, but instead spot Will and Elizabeth discussing over the side of the room. You start making beeline towards the couple, deciding to wait with them for Jack to show up. You only hope he hasn't given in to the temptation to lift something from the mansion or from the guests. Reaching Will and Elizabeth, you greet them with a smile.

"Elizabeth. Sugarlump," you grin impishly at Will's comically disgruntled look while Elizabeth poorly masks her giggle as a cough.

"I see your renewed appearance obviously hasn't improved your sense of humour, Byrne," Will remarks matter-of-factly.

"Oh, Will, you shot me down so brutally," you say with an amused smirk, before grinning again. "Isn't it just wonderful were going to be almost like siblings after the wedding?"

"Fantastic. I simply cannot wait," Will deadpans, and you laugh blithely at his dry tone.

"Alright, enough of trading barbs for one night," you say with a smile. "Although I have to say, you withstand them quite admirably, William."

Amused smirk quirks the corner of Will's mouth upwards. "I suppose I'll take that as a compliment, then."

"So you should," you reply smoothly.

"Have you happened to see my father, by any chance?" Elizabeth asks you after a moment of silence.

You nod in agreement. "He's still in his study, I deem. He showed me the painting, just a moment ago."

Elizabeth smiles to you, a bit sadly, her brown eyes sympathetic. You smile back slightly and nod a little, before turning your head to gaze at the guests absent-mindedly. Your eyes narrow involuntarily as you locate your lost Captain; he's dancing with that little airhead. Well, well. Either the woman took advantage of the sudden absence of Christopher's mad sister, or, Jack had made the initiative. But why would he have done that? You got the impression earlier that he wasn't overly fond of the girl.

"That's Margaret le Hale," Elizabeth says in surprise, almost to herself, as she follows the direction of your gaze. "She's one of the richest women in Jamaica. Why on earth is Jack dancing with her?"

You glance at Elizabeth wryly. "Apparently they share a history of sorts. Not that kind of history," you elaborate at cousin's stunned look. "At least that's what I gathered from Jack."

"Still, I'd hardly be surprised even if it were." Will remarks nonchalantly, earning a cautioning look from both you and Elizabeth. "Well, this is Jack we're talking about!" he defends himself quickly and Elizabeth yields, smiling and patting his arm reassuringly.

You throw another look at Jack and Margaret, a frown wrinkling your brows. You're loath to admit it, but it's the truth; you're jealous, and very much so. Who did that little blonde think she was? That prime specimen of man she's pawing at and sweet-talking to is yours! The fiercely possessive thought surprises even yourself, and you draw in a breath to calm down. The corset tightens around you as your ribs strive to expand with your lungs, and the sensation brings you to your senses. It was only a dance; there was no reason to get incensed over it… You follow the pair closely with your gaze as the dance comes to an end, the violin quartet ending the piece skilfully, before starting a new one.

Margaret is apparently unwilling to part ways and latches herself on Jack's arm, talking and talking - she seems to do little else than prattle. You watch Jack's reactions, and small smirk suddenly tugs at your lips as you recognize the carefully nonchalant look on his face, one that gives the impression that he's listening but in reality is thinking about something else. Margaret says something and giggles, flicking her free hand delicately in the air before laying it too on Jack's arm. Jack responds by saying something brief and smiling - a casual, relaxed gesture to any offhand observer, but you see it's somewhat strained. Indeed, you get the inkling he's feeling even mildly uneasy.

You smile, a tad mischievously. You just watch out for evil sisters on the prowl, miss le Hale…

"If you'll excuse me, I have a thing or two to discuss with our dear Captain Sparrow," you say with a smile, leaving Will and Elizabeth to their own devices and strolling leisurely towards Jack and Margaret.

"Why, there you are, Christopher," you start as you reach them, summoning a faint reproachful tinge in your tone. "I have been looking for you simply everywhere. I feel a little unwell, the air is so horribly stifling in here!"

You catch the pleased glimpse in Jack's eyes before he takes up his part. "Truly? I'm terribly sorry sister, I got slightly distracted," he replies with a smooth smile to Margaret. "Well, allow me to assist you. Some fresh air seems to be in order," he goes on, carefully prying himself out of Margaret's clutches to offer his arm to you, which you take with a grateful smile.

"Thank you," you reply, before glancing at Margaret who appears slightly disappointed by your interruption. "Surely you won't mind, will you?"

"Oh, but of course not, miss Wright. I hope you feel better soon," she smiles widely, showing her teeth. You doubt that sentiment was quite heartfelt.

"Good. Oh, I heard Commodore Norrington praising your beauty to his friends only a moment ago, perhaps you might enquire if he would take a moment to dance with you," you say with a smile, feeling only a little bad for proverbially shoving the Commodore in the line of fire.

"Truly?" Margaret asks, glancing in the Commodore's general direction. "Well, perhaps I shall do that, then..."

You offer her another quick smile before glancing at Jack. "Shall we go, Christopher? My head is starting to ache, you know how it is..."

Mischievous smirk threatens to pull the corner of Jack's mouth upwards, but he curbs it admiringly. "Yes, of course. This way," he says, starting to lead you away from the big parlour.

You walk in silence for a while, weaving around the other guests and walking along the less crowded hallways. The rest of the large mansion is almost deserted, only some wandering guests and ever-busy servants crossing your path, the sounds of celebrating floating faintly from the parlour to your ears.

"I must say you had a wonderful timing, luv," Jack remarks with a smirk, glancing briefly at you before surveying the halls and rooms with his eyes. "I couldn't have handled yet another 'Christopher' repeated to me after every second minute."

You chuckle. "Well, she obviously likes it."

"Indeed," Jack mutters wryly. "Ah. In here," he goes on, abruptly turning to the left and striding in a dim room with gauzy white curtains over the windows. Leading you across the dark room with determined steps, he pushes aside the curtains to reveal a small balcony behind the French doors. Opening one door, he pulls you out on it, and you relish the feeling of the cool, fresh air on your skin.

"Fresh air for your aching head, m'lady," Jack smirks, leaning his hips against the waist-high railing of the balcony.

"Many thanks, brother," you say with a teasing grin, watching curiously Jack pats his palm over his coat, above his heart as in search of something in the inside breast pocket. Finding nothing there, he fumbles around his other pockets, pausing his actions for long enough to glance at you under his lashes.

"I have you know that there's nothing brotherly in the way I feel about you, darling," he murmurs, before returning his attention to his task.

You're grateful for the darkness of the night that masks you flush. "I should hope not," you agree. "Whatever are you doing?" you finally voice your question, unable to stay quiet any longer.

"Looking for," he starts, pausing to grin triumphantly as he obviously finds the item. "This!" he finishes victoriously, pulling out a small flask from his right jacket pocket and gazing at it reverently.

"Rum?" you ask, incredulously.

Jack gives you a look that speaks volumes. "They only had water, watered-down wine and that sparkly stuff that might've as well been water, too, for all the good it did. I think I've earned this," he responds, pulling out the cork of the flask.

You shake your head in wonderment as you watch him take a drink from the flask. Well, suppose you should have known it. You look out towards the horizon, scarcely making it out; it's so dark you can only barely distinguish the sea from the darkened night sky. Lights and lanterns have been lit along the city that's quite a distance from the hill the Swann mansions stand on, glittering in the darkness like little jewels. Gentle wind blows, fluttering the light sleeves of your dress ever so slightly.

Jack offers you the flask, nodding slightly with his head for you to take it. You accept the flask with a small smile, taking a sip. Jack was right; it was better than any of the other beverages available in the ball. You two must've made quite a sight, two pirates dressed up in their finery, drinking rum on dark balcony in secret. A sudden thought occurs to you, and you look at Jack impishly as you push the cork back in the flask.

"Jack?"

"Mmm?" he hums enquiringly, but doesn't tear his eyes away from the dark horizon stretching ahead.

"Couldn't you give that surprise to me already…?"

Now Jack does turn his head to look at you, smirking. "You are not all that good with patience, are you?"

"No," you grin. "Come on. You have me to yourself now."

"Aye, but I can't make good of my promise to make love to you until the dawn here, now can I?" he grins back. "That'd create more disturbance than the dancing, I daresay! No, I'm afraid you'll have to suffer yet a bit longer."

"You're mean," you pout, handing him back the flask. Jack raises his brows while taking the flask and slipping it back in his pocket.

"Am I?" he speaks softly, lifting himself off of the railing and taking a step closer to you - the balcony is hardly large, and now his body is almost touching yours. He lifts his hand to twirl one curl that hangs free from your hair-do around his finger while gazing at you deeply in the eyes. "Would you still think me mean if I told you that you look absolutely divine?"

You swallow dryly, his words and nearness wrecking havoc on your senses. "No, that would be a nice thing to say."

Jack smiles, never taking his eyes from yours. "You look absolutely divine."

You smile softly in return. "Thank you very much."

He leans his head closer to yours, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks. "You still think I'm mean?" he whispers.

You stare into his eyes, mesmerized. "No. I think you're a tease."

Jack chuckles quietly. "Not me," he denies, and claims your lips fully with his. He lets go of the strand of your hair and moves his hand to rest upon the nape of your neck, his fingers rubbing your warm skin while his lips brush across yours repeatedly, passionately.

You wrap your arms around Jack's neck as he pushes his body against yours, forcing you backwards a few steps until your back hits the second door that's still closed, one arm snaking down to wrap around your waist while your lips engage in heated duel. Jack's mouth swallows your small moan of gratitude as his tongue slips past your lips, plundering every nook and cranny in your mouth with wild passion. As much as you love every second, as much as Jack gives you his own breath, you curse the damn corset into the deepest of hells when you realize you need to pause just for a moment; you're not getting enough air.

Breaking away from his lips, you breathe heavily, gasping for air. "It's the bloody corset!" you wheeze breathlessly in a way of an apology.

Jack smirks slightly. "And here I thought it was me who had you breathless."

"Oh, you do, too," you smirk back, pulling him closer again and making the initiative, crushing your lips against his.

Jack is caught off guard at your sudden move, but recovers quickly from his surprise. His tongue is coaxing in your mouth, encouraging you to join in the erotic play and guiding you towards higher summits of pleasure. As the kiss deepens, it turns more fervent, more demanding; you no longer care for anything but Jack and the incredible sensations that course through your entire being, causing your blood to burn in your veins. Jack's arm around your middle presses you harder against his firm body, causing a pleasurable shiver to run down your spine. Jack's mouth is relentless upon yours, as if he desired to devour you, to ensure you would never wish for anyone's touch but his alone - a feat he has already achieved long ago. Nipping at your lower lip lightly with his teeth, Jack pulls away slightly to trail brief, ardent kisses down your neck, his hot breath and warm lips branding your skin.

"You're mine," he growls possessively between kisses, his deepened tone thrilling you. "Mine alone," he utters in harsh whisper, your eyes slipping shut as he nips at the crook of your neck.

"Yes…" the whispered agreement falls from your lips almost on its own accord, and Jack's lips leave your neck.

"Look at me," he orders gently, the hand that rested on your neck earlier sliding around to cup your cheek as you open your eyes, staring deep into his darkened orbs of brown. His eyes are startlingly earnest, myriad of emotions for once clearly reflected in them.

"I need to tell you something I've left unspoken for longer than I should have," Jack tells you, about to continue.

But before Jack can utter another single word, a familiar dull boom echoes somewhere from the distance, followed by a clamorous explosion. Another boom shatters the quietness of the night, immediately followed by the third and the fourth, consecutive explosions and blasts filling the calm silence. You and Jack easily recognize the sounds; it's cannon fire. Instantly springing into action, Jack pulls away from you and whirls around to gaze towards the bay, quickly locating the source of the attack. You quickly follow his example, hurrying over to the railing next to Jack. The cannons give away the assailant's location; the bright flame that burns only for a few moments flashes like a beacon in the darkness, revealing a ship floating in the bay, her cannons singing a destructive song as the globes of iron are hurtled through the air, raining down in the midst of buildings and their inhabitants, the occurring explosions demolishing and killing.

Jack's eyes are hard as he stares at the distant ship, his tone equally unkind. "Gabriela Delgado."

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A/N: 13 pages in Word, haven't written this long chapter in a while, I hope you liked it. Reviews are more than welcome, either on the board or in my e-mail; the_ebony@hotmail.com. Thank you! Upcoming next; Chapter 26 - No Rest For The Wicked

CHAPTERS 26-30

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