CHAPTER 26 - No Rest For The Wicked

Gabriela Delgado smirked in self-satisfaction. The steady cannon fire, distant sounds of mayhem and anguished cries of people were like music to her ears. She watched calmly from the helm of her ship as the shots rained down on the city of Port Royal, delighting in the destructive explosions that lit up the dark bay momentarily. Her smirk grew into a feral grin; there was nothing quite like the feel of a raid about to begin. Her fingers were already itching to grab the hilt of her cutlass. This was it. This would be the turning point in the game, one that Gabriela had devised down to close perfection. Her goals were set clearly in front of her, and she knew exactly what she needed in order to pull her plan through without a hitch. And this time, there would be no mistakes. Delgado would make sure of that personally.

Barking sharp instructions in Spanish, Gabriela quickly ordered four boats to be dispatched. The female crew instantly sprang into action, readying the boats and climbing onto them, blades glinting briefly in the faint light of the distant explosions. Gabriela raised a contemptuous brow as the Royal Navy finally returned the cannon fire from the Fort, shots landing in the black waters with loud splashes. She shook her head in wry amusement. Those fools made no match for her. Gabriela would be done here sooner that they could ever guess.

The boats were already well on their way into the city under the cloak of darkness; the women carried no torches to prevent giving away their location. Gabriela followed their process with narrowed eyes, knowing they would accomplish their mission; to create more chaos in the city and to draw away the attention from the rest of the boats about to follow.

During the sail to Port Royal, Gabriela had spent reading her mother’s letters to her, bringing in mind everything she and Gabriela’s grandfather José had ever told her of her bastard father who abandoned Esperanza and the Fowlers who were naught but a miserable bunch of petty thieves and liars. Each tale recalled strengthened her resolve to acquire that map, as well as increased her wrath towards her so-called father who wanted nothing to do with her and her mother. Instead, he’d started a new family altogether with someone else, had a child with someone else. It was the deepest betrayal Gabriela had ever known, one that would be paid for – and sooner than anyone would’ve guessed.

Indeed. The time for retribution was very close.

Abandoning her post, Gabriela made her way down from the helm briskly, towards a diminutive woman who was conversing with another crewmember.

“Nerita,” Gabriela called tersely, drawing the first mate’s attention.

“Captain,” Nerita replied, inclining her head slightly in respect whereas the other woman quickly scampered away from the imposing Captain’s way.

“You will stay here and keep an eye on things for me,” Gabriela said, smoky eyes fixing on green ones, ghost of a smirk playing about her lips. “I’m going down there myself.”

Nerita nodded her head in acquiescence, locks of light brown hair waving gently at the motion. “Yes, Captain.”

Gabriela made no move to acknowledge Nerita’s response, just gazed at her impassively in the eyes for a moment longer before walking away to address the rest of the crew. Nerita followed her retreating back with her gaze, wondering anxiously if the moment had more meaning than she gave it credit for. Gabriela Delgado was a woman who could find out the greatest of things in just smallest of moments. Uneasiness haunted Nerita nowadays; ever since the day she had started to have her doubts. She wondered if Gabriela knew of her conflicting thoughts. Nerita hoped not, for her own sake. Drawing a steadying breath, Nerita quickly made her way up the stairs of the helm.

Delgado strode towards the two boats that were still empty, turning around to address the women gathered around her.

“Sisters! We are going to drop in on the Governor’s fine ball to congratulate the young couple. Kill anyone who opposes you,” she paused, sweeping her hard eyes over the women. “All except the Governor, Sparrow and Byrne. Keep them alive... for now. In the boats, now!”

The horde of Spaniards burst into excited cheers and whoops at the order, hurrying over to the boats, eager to join the others in the assault.

Hidden by the darkness, Nerita stood still behind the wheel and watched in silence as the boats were lowered in the black sea by the few remaining crewmembers, Gabriela's tall frame distinguishable at the bow of the first boat. It did not surprise Nerita that she wanted to be in the midst of the action herself, unlike most Captains. The guns of the Maldito had ceased firing continually, only a warning shot was fired every now and then into the city. Flicking her gaze towards the town where lights and fires gave some illumination against the darkness of the night, Nerita could practically sense the chaos it was in. The militia was busy fending off Gabriela's women, too busy to notice the impending threat that was headed towards the Governor's mansion. Doubtlessly the mansion would be guarded closely due to so many important, esteemed guests, but there was no chance they could have foreseen such a large-scale assault to take place tonight. Nerita had to admit that Gabriela had chosen an effective strategy. But then, she'd always had a brilliant mind and wits to use to its fullest.

Secretly, Nerita was almost glad she'd been told to stay onboard. Not even that long ago, she would have been equally enthusiastic to join in the attack like the other women were, staining the blade of her cutlass in blood once again. But now, she was no longer so certain. Absently sliding one finger down the jagged scar splitting her left cheek from the inner corner of her eye down to her jaw line - a nervous habit she'd tried to shake off in vain - Nerita pondered uneasily for the reasons for her prevailing nervousness, the strange apprehension that taken residence inside her. She felt tired. Tired of the endless sackings and searches, sick of the continuous mistrust and lingering air of enmity between the crewmembers. She was tired of realizing her mind had become numb to the violence, that cleaning off blood from her cutlass at the end of the day was almost as ordinary occurrence as going to bed.

Nerita cupped the elbow of her opposite arm that was drawn up, fingers still inattentively running over the scar. Watching the small number of women that had been left aboard with her, she was more assured than ever that the ship's crew was as rotten as the timbers of the ship. Three of the women had gathered in a small group - Juanita, Pilar and Inez; Carmen's friends, Nerita identified - near the portside, gazing towards the city and conversing quietly, throwing a scornful glance every now and then towards the other four women on deck. Nerita shook her head slightly. As much as all the women were loyal to Delgado, it didn't mean they had to like each other. And they did not. The crew was essentially divided into two respective factions; one led by the spiteful quartermaster Carmen, and the other by Verda, the quick-witted bosun of the ship.

The solidarity among the crew was nothing like it should be, but nevertheless all the women had one thing in common; every single one feared Gabriela's wrath too much to ever cause a stir big enough to upset her. Everyone knew what would happen after that. Hence, they tolerated each other and kept the hostility at minimum, at least when Gabriela was around. Nerita suspected the crew was tired too, on some level, and took the tension out on one another. It was a good thing the missing piece of the map was so close; Nerita doubted the crew could've held on any further with the fruitless search. The only ones spared from the division were Nerita herself - courtesy of being the first mate and the Captain's confidant - and the jittery Englishwoman Gemma. Now, Gemma was another story altogether. Heavily bullied by Carmen, Gemma tended to avoid the Spaniards and mostly kept to the galley that, being disliked by the other women, resembled something of a no-woman’s-land aboard the shoddy galleon. Lately, Nerita had started to feel more sympathetic towards the spurned girl, which made the aloof first mate only uneasier.

Were Nerita's thoughts ever revealed, she knew she'd pay for them with her life. She'd be dead sooner than she'd realize it herself. Gabriela took no risks, not anymore; she would make a warning example out of Nerita to the other women, no matter what rudimentary bonds of friendship existed between them. The quest was far more important to Gabriela Delgado than something as trifle as mates and basic respect for human lives. Having been Delgado's right-hand woman for years, Nerita knew she was a ruthless individual, nothing more than a pale shadow of a normal human being. This was, Nerita realized, the crux of the entire issue.

Sighing quietly to herself, Nerita grabbed the smooth wood of the wheel with her hands that suddenly trembled nervously, hoping the familiar sensation beneath her palms would soothe her nerves. She was no saint herself, but nowhere near as bad as Delgado was. Nerita squeezed the handles of the wheel tighter, until her knuckles turned white, and finally allowed herself to acknowledge the true reason behind her anxiousness.

She did not want to become like Gabriela Delgado, herself.

* * * *

You realize vaguely that your lips have parted in stunned shock as you stare at the chaos befalling upon the city with Jack, who has wrapped one arm around your waist in a manner that's both protective and supportive.

The fires lit by the cannon shots illuminate the bay, the flaming beacons standing out in the velvety darkness of the night. Screams and shouts of the terrified townspeople can be heard all the way up to the hill where the Swann mansion stands on; you swear you can almost hear the vicious clangs of the female pirates' cutlasses, too. It's déjà vu all over again; it is almost similar to the scene from year ago, when Barbossa attacked the town. Only this time, you and Jack are not locked away in the brig.

Anger flares up inside you. Why did the damned wench have to attack now, of all nights? She just had to ruin the party, didn't she? To sack Port Royal and kill yet more people than she already had? On a night when you're wearing heels and a corset, and on top of that, have absolutely no kind of weapon at all. Bloody wonderful! And she had the nerve to interrupt your private moment with Jack, just as he was about to tell you something that obviously held a very serious, profound meaning. That Spanish bitch!

"That bloody woman has the worst timing in the entire Spanish Main," Jack mutters sourly as if reading your thoughts, his narrowed eyes fixed on the ravaged shoreline.

The Navy responds to the ship's fire from the Fort, but with little succession, it seems. Movement in the darkness suddenly catches your attention; you could have sworn you saw something moving on the road leading up to the mansion.

"Hell," Jack hisses all of a sudden, tightening his hold of your waist and swiftly pulling you away from the balcony's railing, back inside the house.

"What are you doing?" you hiss back in bewilderment as you turn to face him. Jack grabs you by the arms, his hands holding onto you above your elbows as he gazes at you seriously.

"They'll be here any moment now, and I need you to promise me something before that happens," Jack says solemnly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You frown. "The women? In the mansion?" Those were apparently the moving figures you saw on the road.

"Aye, and they're not coming by just to congratulate and join us for a drink, either. It won't be a pleasant encounter, in any case. Listen to me; I need you to promise you'll stay close to me, savvy?"

"I can take-" you start defending yourself, feeling a tad annoyed.

"Promise!" Jack interrupts vehemently, his tone hard but his eyes pleading you to comply. "Please. Promise me this, darling," he adds softly, almost whispering, and the raw emotion in his tone causes your annoyance to vanish. You sigh quietly and nod your head in agreement.

"Alright," you respond. "I promise."

Small smile lifts the corner of Jack's mouth for a short moment. "Thank you," he says, brushing his lips against your forehead.

You close your eyes at the utter tenderness of the gesture, but the moment is crudely broken by a loud clatter from the entrance that echoes across the hallways, followed by many sounds; stomping feet, clanging of cutlasses, harsh yells in both English and Spanish, even occasional gunshots; the pirates have invaded the mansion. The gentle violin music is cut off abruptly and the ladies in the parlour scream piercingly in terror, various crashes and clatters filling the air.

Jack makes an annoyed sound from his throat at the racket, letting go of you and giving a small smirk. "Well, luv, suppose we should go take a look at things and see if we might be of some assistance," he says nonchalantly, as if the idea would be somehow boring to him.

You grin amusedly. "Yes, I believe we should, Captain."

Jack's smirk grows. "Follow me, m'lady. And remember to keep close," he adds after taking a few steps towards the door of the dim room you're in.

"I will, I will," you assure, rolling your eyes with a smile behind his back.

In silence, you and Jack make your way out of the dark room, sneaking down the hallways as quietly as possible. Trailing closely behind Jack, you curse the heeled shoes you're wearing; your soft boots would have made no sound at all. The sounds of fighting get all the more louder the closer you draw to the grand parlour. As you're about to round the corner leading to left, Jack abruptly holds up one hand with raised index finger, a clear sign to stop. You halt your steps immediately, and press against the wall with Jack without further prompting. Since you became a part of Jack's crew a year ago, you've been in situations such as this before. After some time of observing and learning, you'd acquired a basic grasp of Jack's body language and his wordless signals.

Pressing his back against the wall as close to the corner as possible, Jack tilts his head slightly away from you, waiting and listening. You hear it too; somebody is coming your way, and judging from the noise the person makes, it is a “she” from Delgado's crew. You can almost see Jack's muscles tensing as the woman draws closer to the corner, unaware of the two people standing in wait behind it.

What happens next is so fast-paced you barely have time to comprehend it; Jack reaches behind the corner precisely as the woman is about to round it, grabbing her tightly by her right forearm. The woman has time to do little else than to let out a startled scream as Jack yanks her forward by her arm, causing her to stumble and to drop her drawn cutlass. The next second, Jack drives the elbow of his other arm sharply against the woman's jaw, causing her head to snap backwards. The Spaniard crumples on the floor, out cold.

"Truly sorry about that," Jack tells the unconscious woman as he deftly picks up her cutlass. "I'm normally against mistreatment of women, but it seems I'm forced to make an exception to that particular rule tonight," he goes on as he gives the blade a quick once-over, frowning distastefully but accepting the weapon, nevertheless. He then gives you a small, self-satisfied smirk and raises his brow questioningly.

You roll your eyes, smothering the amused smile. "My hero," you say dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jack grins downright cheekily. "You can thank me later, luv," he quips. "Let's go."

The two of you round the corner and continue down the hallway, coming across two other Spaniards busy searching for things to loot. Spotting you, the one with long, dark hair snaps something in Spanish to the second woman and draws her cutlass, charging with a savage shriek. Jack blocks the Spaniards blow effortlessly, the blades clashing loudly against one another as the other woman runs towards you with an angry look on her face.

“Damn it,” you mutter under your breath, glancing about for a weapon. Spotting a long, silver candleholder sitting on a mahogany little table on your right, you quickly grab the heavy object by the handle and draw your arm back as the woman approaches, driving the thing forcefully against the woman’s midsection. She gasps audibly and doubles over in pain, but you give her no mercy. Without waiting for her to recover, you whack her on the back of her head with the candlestick and effectively render the woman unconscious – almost at the same time as the dark-haired woman that attacked Jack falls on the floor beside her companion, equally motionless.

“It’s a good thing you have no qualms about hitting women,” Jack smirks as he hands you the cutlass of the woman he just got rid of.

“Indeed I don’t,” you smirk back, grabbing the handle of the blade. It feels foreign in your hand, the balance of it very different than in your own cutlass. Nevertheless, you’d just have to make do with it for now.

Picking up your pace, you and Jack swiftly make your way to the entrance of the mansion, the sounds of chaos ringing in your ears; the doors have been thrown wide open, and the guards lay still on the ground, either lifeless of unconscious. You have a bad feeling that the first opinion may be closer to the truth. Jack takes one, narrow-eyed look at the doors before starting to lead you towards the parlour. You dodge panicked guests who run mindlessly towards the main entrance, shoving each other in their fervent haste to escape the horrid scene that the elaborate ball has all of a sudden been turned into.

The parlour itself is taken over by complete and total anarchy. The fierce Spaniards have turned the joyous party into a vicious bloodbath; dead men and women clad in their finery are littering the floors, distinct stench of blood and gunpowder floating in the air. Horrified screams, cries, gunshots, clashes of blades, breaking glass and other various crashes all mix into a great, deafening cacophony of noises. You scan the hysterical crowd with your eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of either Will or Elizabeth – but to no avail.

Small yelp slips past your lips as you feel Jack’s arm suddenly wrap around your waist tightly and drag you hurriedly towards himself a few steps – in time to pull you out of the way of a rather vicious-looking dagger that flies past your head and hits the wall, skittering harmlessly on the floor. Had Jack not done that, the said knife probably would have hit you with some severe results, and you curse yourself for allowing such a lapse in concentration.

“Got to keep a sharper eye out, luv,” Jack remarks, a chiding undertone in his otherwise light tone, patting your flank a couple of times before drawing his arm away.

“Aye. Thank you,” you reply, still embarrassed for failing to notice such a threat to your own safety.

Jack takes a little bow and smirks, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Again, you can express your plenteous gratitude later on.”

“I will, won’t I?” you grin back suggestively, but drop your act as your eyes happen to flicker behind Jack. “Behind you…!”

“Interesting, I was just about to say the exact same thing,” Jack states whilst nodding his head briefly, his eyes fixed on something behind you.

“How lovely,” you respond wryly.

“And to think earlier today I actually thought this ball might be a bore,” Jack drawls, tiny smirk tugging at his lips.

Together, you both whirl around to face your foes, and now you summon your full concentration into play as you focus on the two angry women charging towards you. You idly wonder why must they all look so incredibly cross, but dismiss the random thought as you correct your stance and bring the borrowed cutlass up to your defence, blocking the strong, vertical hack the first woman launches upon you. You push back with your own blade instantly, shoving the Spaniard's weapon off of yours and launching your own attack, swinging the cutlass in half-circle to slash the woman's stomach. She blocks your swipe, the blades clashing against one another. You flick your wrist and level the flat side of your blade against the woman's, sliding it quickly downwards, closer to the hilt and catching her completely off guard; you tighten your grip of the cutlass and forcefully thrust up, sending the Spaniard's weapon flying from her grasp. Without wasting another breath, you drive the lower part of your free palm against the woman's nose, hard. You can hear her it breaking with a sickening crunch and the woman cries out in pain, her hands flying up to hold her now profusely bleeding nose.

Playing dirty has never been a problem for you; you don't feel bad to use your fists and other tricks in addition to your blade in a fight. Pirates have all the rights to cheat, correct? You have no time to rest as the other woman reaches you and attacks with a scream, forcing you to take a quick step back to avoid the slashing blade that was supposed to slit your throat wide open. The momentum of her thrust is so strong that it does her disadvantage; her blade arm swings all the way back to her opposite side when the weapon meets nothing but thin air, leaving her left flank dangerously exposed to you. Retaliating, you end the fight quickly by driving the tip of your blade through her, carefully aiming for the heart to make it as quick as you possibly can. A muffled squeal escapes the woman while you pull your blade out, and she collapses on the floor, limp and motionless. Your blade is stained by crimson blood, and a twinge of remorse hits you.

You abhor killing people, and always felt a stab of guilt and shame whilst doing it - pirate or not, you make a point of killing only unless you had no other choice. You know Jack is the same; he does not kill anyone unless he absolutely has to. Barbossa's cursed crew was a different story since they could not be harmed by a blade or gunshot, but these women had no such advantage. Nevertheless, they were just as bad; how many people had they already mercilessly slaughtered, how many corpses had been left in their wake? You remind yourself that these women deserved neither pity nor leniency of any kind, not from you or anybody else. Nevertheless, you do your best to just knock them out instead of killing them. Hanging is more appropriate punishment for the wenches than a quick death by blade, anyway.

The Spaniard whose nose you just broke has recovered from the blow enough to charge at you again, only with no weapon this time. She sneers at you fiercely; her teeth stained by the blood that flows from her nose and down her chin. These women had to be given credit for their resilience, if nothing else… yet again, you curse the bloody heels you're wearing as you only barely dodge the woman's fist aimed at your jaw, already starting to get out of breath thanks to the corset bound snugly around your torso. Hurriedly, you tilt the cutlass so that the hilt is pointed ahead instead of the blade and swing your arm forward, wincing slightly yourself as the handle of the cutlass slams against the Spaniard's temple, causing the woman to fall hard on the floor, unconscious.

Drawing a steadying breath now that the immediate danger to your safety has passed, you again glance around the spacious parlour, searching for familiar faces amongst the Spaniards, distressed guests and the few Navy officers struggling to fend off the women. In repeat of your previous try, you catch no sight of Will or Elizabeth. Those two most likely could hold their ground, but the quicker you'd find them, the better.

Turning to check up on Jack, you see that you have absolutely no reason whatsoever to worry over him. Many Spaniards lay about on the floor, unconscious. You know Jack is using the same tactic as you to knock the women out rather than to take their lives, although you wouldn't necessarily need to. You observe for a moment as Jack fences with a brown haired woman, his moves calm and fluid, downright graceful when compared to the clumsiness of the hard, violent strikes of the woman. There's a peculiar edge of nonchalance in Jack's motions, if one could say so; he's not really fighting wholeheartedly, but just to keep his opponent occupied. You realize the reason for this is purely because the women pose no critical threat to him when it comes to fencing - Jack is simply better with a blade than the Spaniards. His entire demeanour was totally different when he fought Barbossa a year ago. Then he had been ominous, dangerous; there had been almost menacing preciseness in his every move, carefully calculated to achieve his one and only purpose to claim Barbossa's life.

You can't hold back the amused grin that tugs at your lips as you watch Jack easily block his assailant's strike with his cutlass and smirking slightly at her feeble attempt, wordlessly taunting her. This serves to incense the woman even further, driving her to charge with an enraged scream - only to lose her consciousness as Jack rather effortlessly deflects her slapdash thrust and punches her in the jaw with his free hand.

Snapping your attention back to your surroundings, you straighten your spine and take a few steps ahead to meet yet another Spaniard whose facial expression bodes you nothing good, to be sure. Feeling sudden annoyance towards the entire situation sparking inside you, you determinedly take the offensive and slash your blade in wide arch towards the woman, forcing her into abrupt halt and to skip a few steps back, the tip of your cutlass missing her only by few lucky inches. Not giving her any time to try again, you flick your wrist and slash again, the ringing of metal echoing in your ears as the blades clash against one another violently. Pushing up with all your might, you fend off her blade and actually make the woman stagger backwards at the force of the shove. You use the opportunity to slice a cut across her upper arm, feeling slight satisfaction over the deed. The Spaniard shrieks harshly in pain and surprise, spitting out a vehement word at you - no translation is needed in order to know it was indisputably something very uncomplimentary.

"Damn them all to the depths of hell!" You hiss irately to yourself as you spot two more women rushing towards you to help out their friend. Two you could have just about handled, but three is one too much.

Quickly retreating a few steps back, you glance around in hopes of finding assistance, but find yourself in a tight spot. Jack is busy taking care of himself, currently fencing with two women at once with more Spaniards hanging about like vultures, and the other guests are not much of help, to put it nicely. You can still see no one else familiar, and quickly come to a realization that you are on your own devices, now.

Fine, you think rebelliously as you watch the women draw closer, bloody cutlasses glistening in the faint light of the parlour. Come hell or high water, I'm not about to give in now.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, giving you a strange rush that only increases you boldness. You tighten your grip of the hilt, straighten up and square your shoulders, knowing your defiant mindset is reflected from your stance alone. The woman whose arm you sliced swings her blade vertically, striking from above. You bring your cutlass horizontally over your head and parry the blow, pushing the woman away from you. Instantly, you lower your arm and point the tip towards the floor as you flip the blade upright to deflect another blow aimed at your midsection from the second woman who rushes to the first one's side. You thrust and parry, block and slash with all your might, struggling to recall each little thing you've ever learned about the art of fencing as you do your best to keep the vicious women at bay; your muscles are already burning from the strain and your breathing has long since turned strenuous - thanks to the ever-lovely corset. Cold sweat slides down your back and your hands tremble, but still you stubbornly refuse to give up, forcing yourself to push on.

You notice abruptly that the women have pushed you to retreat further away from Jack than you feel comfortable with, and your concentration falters for just the slightest moment. That's all that is needed; one of the women manages to nick your left forearm with her blade, slicing through the chiffon of the dresses sleeve and leaving a nasty cut across your skin. You hiss at the painful stinging and take a step back, feeling warm blood starting to trickle down your arm from the cut, sticking the flimsy sleeve against your skin. The second woman grins at her friend's success, obviously enjoying your pain, and follows her example. She slashes with her blade, but this time you see it coming and take a quick sidestep to avoid injury; the Spaniard's cutlass misses narrowly, slicing through the brocade of your dress around your right thigh, the tear revealing some of the white camisole underneath. You raise your arm to successfully parry another blow that rains down on you, your rage flaring up again. With an angry growl, you lash out violently at the woman closest to you, and as by some lucky occurrence, the tip of your blade scours across the frail skin of her throat. The woman lets out a gurgling gasp and stumbles blindly backwards, her hand dropping the blade and flying up to press against the wound that seeps blood in small rivulets.

You finally get one woman down, but two are still left and you're starting to tire, more so than you already were. The cut on your arm has started to burn almost unbearably, but you block the pain out for now. The woman whose arm you'd sliced earlier suddenly strides forward, so quickly it catches you off guard, and rams her balled fist against your stomach, none too gently. The hard blow causes all the air to escape from you lungs and whalebones in the corset to dig in your skin painfully as you double over in pain as much as the corset allows. A stab of desperation hits you, and you curse your bloody weakness; you're sure to be dead any minute now, being stabbed to death the next second…

An angry, feminine yell suddenly echoes in your ears - sounding strangely familiar - followed by a strange whoosh and a sickening thwack, a sound that reminds you of something hard meeting flesh.

"That was for hitting my cousin, you wench!" Elizabeth's furious voice rings over the clamour of the chaos, and you quickly straighten up, ignoring your pain.

The scene unfolding before your very eyes is so utterly bizarre all you can do is to blink; the woman whom you wounded now lies inert on the floor, facedown, and before you can say of do anything, Elizabeth swings a long rod of some kind with her both hands, hitting the third woman straight on the side of her face with such force it make you wince in sympathy. The Spaniard had no time to even react before collapsing on the floor, probably dead as a stone.

"And that was for wrecking the ball and for all those innocent people," Elizabeth speaks in freezing voice while glaring down at the still form of the woman, lowering the rod she's holding with both hands - it's a long, black coal poker.

You blink again, staring at Elizabeth in stunned disbelief. Her dress has been torn slightly from the hem and the elaborate coiffure has started to come undone, few frayed strands escaping the do.

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth asks you, frowning slightly in concern.

You nod slowly, still staring at your cousin. "Are you?"

"Considering that our wedding party has been turned into a bloodbath, quite a few people are dead and that I can't find my father anywhere, yes, I am just fine," Elizabeth replies, melancholy sarcasm in her tone.

You grimace. "I know… stupid question. Elizabeth, thank you. You probably just saved my life, here."

Elizabeth smiles in return. "You're welcome. Consider us even, seeing as you, Will and Jack came after me a year ago."

You nod in response and give a smile of your own, watching as Elizabeth dashes to her fiancé's aid who's now fighting together with Jack to fend off the murderous women. Will is wielding a cutlass now as well, and he's doing it very impressively too. He and Jack make a good team, but then you already knew this. You shake your head as you watch your cousin bash another Spaniard with the unyielding coal poker; that girl has some unresolved anger in her!

"I need to remember to never ruin any of her parties," you remark wryly to yourself before glancing around, cutlass poised in front of you in defending position. Small wave of relief washes through you as you see that good number of the women have been taken down, but it's still not enough to say you're all clear.

Whirling around, you gaze towards the hallway that leads to the entrance and the grand stairwell, and catch a fleeting sight of a handful of women running down the hall, evident purpose in their strides. You frown, wondering if they're perhaps fleeing the house, but that's when a realization hits you, making your heart skip a beat. Elizabeth said she couldn't find her father anywhere only a moment ago; the last time you saw Governor Swann was in his study. Perhaps he's still there? Maybe he never left, or better yet, never had the possibility to leave the room? What if he's not even alive any longer…?

Torn between you promise to Jack and your wish to go check out the study just in case, you grip the hilt of your blade harder in anxiety. You know if the Governor turns up dead somewhere, you'd feel guilty beyond comparison to know you might have had the chance to help him. Flicking your gaze at Jack, you just watch him for a second. He would be so mightily pissed at you for leaving the parlour, but you honestly have no choice. You know what it feels like to lose your father, and didn't want Elizabeth to feel that way anytime soon unless you could at least try to prevent it.

I'm so incredibly sorry Jack, you think before tearing your eyes away from his familiar form. Gathering some of your skirt in your free hand and clutching the cutlass tightly in another, you dash after the women, running away from the parlour. Jack always did say I'm stubborn beyond belief… boy, was he correct!

The heavy skirt of the dress is hampering your steps and the heels are certainly not helping either, but you manage admirably well. You're starting to get sick of stepping over the dead people that litter the hallways, atrocious testimony to the Spaniards complete disregard towards innocent people. Finally reaching the entrance, you barely feel the cold wind blowing in from the wide open doors as you rush over the wide, spiralling staircase. Your heels clomp against the stairs loudly with each step as you hurriedly skip them up, wondering why the hell couldn't they have made the stairs just a little bit straighter and shorter. Loud commotion at the entrance catches your attention just as you're nearing the end of the stairs, and you glance down to see more women standing about the doors, looking around eagerly.

One short woman notices you, pointing you out to her mates and shouting something in Spanish. The other woman beside her, brown haired and broad shouldered, looks up with mismatched eyes, one brown and one icy blue. She smiles up at you viciously and says something to the others without taking her eerie eyes off of you, causing the short woman responsible of spotting you and two others to dispatch from the group to chase after you, their cutlasses drawn.

"Bloody hell!" you hiss, picking up your pace and fervently hoping you recall the correct route to the Governor's study. You run down the dim hallways, hearing the pounding of feet behind you. You yelp as you almost stumble with the heels, and curse loudly.

"Enough of these!!" you yell in annoyance, stopping your run long enough to pull one shoe off your foot, whirling around and promptly throwing the offensive shoe towards the women chasing you. It hits the short woman in her face and she lets out a shriek of surprise, rubbing her face and colliding with one of the women behind her. You snicker gleefully and wrench the remaining shoe away as well, chucking it somewhere towards the women whilst starting to run again.

Rounding corners and dashing down different corridors, you finally reach the correct room and dash through the open door to find your suspicions confirmed. One Spaniard with light brown hair tied back has cornered the Governor against his desk, holding the blade of her cutlass beneath his chin warningly. Another woman with black hair is rummaging through the room, throwing papers and other things on the floor. Quickly, you stride towards the woman holding onto the Governor and slash your blade over her back, causing her to scream out in pain and to whirl around angrily, her prisoner forgotten. You smack her on her temple with the hilt of your blade before she manages to attack, rendering her unconscious and turn to face the second woman who attacks you. Blocking her strikes, you hear the three women who'd chased after you reach the room, and you know you have to think quickly.

Distancing yourself from the Spaniard, you usher the shocked Governor behind the heavy desk while doing your best to keep the women at bay with your blade. The Governor surprises you completely by picking up a heavy paperweight from the desk and throwing it towards one of the women, catching her on the stomach.

You glance at the older man and grin. "Fine move, Governor!"

"Thank you," he replies enthusiastically with a smile, suddenly looking excited like a little boy. You chuckle, but your amusement vanishes in an instant as a deep, accented voice suddenly ceases the skirmish.

"As amusing as this debacle has been for sure, I'd strongly suggest you lower your weapon, Miss Byrne."

You straighten up and level your gaze at the door, meeting the smoke grey orbs of Captain Gabriela Delgado herself. She's an impressive sight, standing taller than any of the other women in the room, cloud of black hair resting about her shoulders. Beside her stands the brown haired woman you saw earlier, the one with two different coloured eyes. She's smirking at you, slowly drawing one finger up and down the blade of her cutlass. The four other women have pulled back from you but hold their blades poised in front of them, all gazing at you expectantly.

Delgado smiles languidly at you, spreading her hands slightly. "As you can see, you are very much outnumbered. So, kindly drop your blade… and then we can have a nice, friendly conversation."

You stifle a snort, wondering what is Delgado's idea of "friendly". Glancing at the Governor, you however know that she is correct. You are very much outnumbered and neither you nor the Governor could stand a chance if another fight should break out now. Lowering your arm calmly, you allow your grip to slacken and the cutlass drops on the floor with a dull clatter.

Delgado's smile turns into a smirk, a feral one that sends a cold shiver down your spine. "A very wise decision, Miss Byrne... very wise."

* * * * *

CHAPTER 27 - Cats And Mice

"A very wise decision, Miss Byrne... very wise."

You keep your countenance aloof, but raise your brows impassively at the tall Spaniard, not about to fall prey to her scaring tactics. You know you and Governor Swann are in one hell of a tight spot, but perhaps you could still play time and hope someone had noticed your abrupt disappearance – mainly Jack. Surely he would soon notice you have again gone against your promise? The thought causes a stab of guilt to drive through you, but there was nothing to be done to amend that fact now. At the moment, you are more concerned about Delgado’s intentions. Somehow it doesn’t surprise you that she appeared in the mansion herself, but what was she hoping to achieve by apprehending you and Governor Swann? She couldn’t be here for you, so the only one left was the Governor. But the pieces still didn’t quite match together. Something was definitely off in this situation, and you have a feeling it couldn't be anything good.

As if on cue, Gabriela Delgado takes a few unhurried steps ahead, towards you. Her grey eyes – so eerily familiar to you - have gone cold as they scrutinize you closely, a distinctly unimpressed look on her face.

“So, this is the daughter of the infamous Bloodshot Pete Byrne,” she purrs, stopping only a mere pace from the heavy desk that separates the Spaniards from you and the Governor. She shakes her head faintly and gives you a final once-over, disdain evident in her tone as she goes on. “I must say that you are not at all what I had expected to see. Although, I am slightly surprised; I see that it’s possible to disguise a sea rat to resemble something of a lady, after all,” she smirks in amusement, and a quiet, collective chuckle goes through the other women.

Your eyes narrow into slits on their own accord. Not because of the derisive taunts – you couldn’t care less what the thrice-damned wench thought of you – but because of the odd, unrecognisable glint that appeared in her eyes as she spoke of your father. And what was this talk of her expecting to see you, anyway? Despite of the questions that swarm inside your head, you stay silent, determined not to let her petty scoffs rile you up.

“Governor Swann,” Delgado addresses formally, her steely gaze shifting from you to the older man. “I do apologize for putting such a sudden stop to the festivities. But I am afraid it was rather necessary for me to do.”

Governor Swann stares at the woman with contempt, clearly nothing but disgusted by her presence. “I don’t understand what it is that you’re wishing to accomplish by this revolting attack of yours! And on the eve of my daughter’s wedding, no less! You will not get away with this!”

“And prey tell, who is going to stop me, dear Governor?" Delgado suddenly snaps, stalking another step closer to the desk. "Your precious Commodore Norrington?” she enquires mockingly whilst pressing her palms flat on the desk, staring down at Governor Swann. Only now do you realize just how tall she really is; she’s already looming over both you and the Governor with good five inches and she’s not even standing up to her full height.

“I am sorry to inform you that your virtuous Commodore is currently busy fending off my crew in your fine parlour, and that his capable men are hard at work trying to keep order down in the city. Oh, I’m afraid he will not be of any help to you, at the moment,” she finishes knowingly with a wicked smile, staring unwaveringly down at the Governor.

“You are the most despicable person on the face of the earth, Captain Delgado. Rarely have I wished harm upon anybody in my life, but I truly hope you will rot in hell for all your abhorrent deeds,” Governor Swann says slowly in a tone so freezing that catches you off guard; you’ve never heard the older man speak in such manner before.

Delgado stares at the Governor in the eyes for a moment without a word, hardly even blinking. “Sí…” she finally replies in oddly quiet tone, before smirking. “We all have our respective faults, Governor Swann.”

"Faults, indeed!" you mutter sarcastically from your place beside the Governor. "You're even sicker than I thought if you believe killing people left and right is nothing but a mere 'fault'."

The woman is truly rotten to the core. However, she is not stupid. No, actually you get the feeling she is quite intelligent, which would make her all the more dangerous. Clever lunatics were never to be taken lightly… which really should be a reason enough for you to keep quiet, but you simply just cannot.

Delgado raises a dark eyebrow. "Such noble words from a mouth of a fellow pirate. Am I to assume you have never used your blade to strike down your opponents?" she asks acidly.

"No, I'm not saying I haven't killed anyone," you reply coolly, boldly returning the Spaniards hard stare. "I would be lying if I did. But I have only done so when absolutely necessary; I wouldn't even dream of stooping as low as you and slaughter everybody and everything on my way… like you do. And don't bother giving me that rubbish of 'opponents'! You know full well that most of the people you've slain have been but innocent bystanders," you finish with a contemptuous sneer.

Delgado lets out a hiss of annoyance. "Innocent?" she echoes incredulously, cocking her head slightly and narrowing her eyes. "Don't mock me with your stupidity, Byrne, I thought you smarter than that! Nobody is truly innocent in this world. Nobody! Each and every man and woman are sinners to some extent, ones that must be disciplined with a heavy hand," Delgado states irately, before straightening her spine. "We could say I'm merely easing the workload of the good Lord up there," she remarks lazily with a slight shrug, pointing her forefinger fleetingly towards the ceiling.

You're unable to stifle the snicker that spills from your lips, torn between amusement and disbelief at her utterly incongruous words. "Well, if that is so, then you're surely already clutching a one-way ticket straight to the depths of hell in your bloodied hand," you grin nastily, struggling to control your chortles. "Truly, that has to be the most absurd thing I've ever heard! Thank you for sharing."

Delgado's glare is downright freezing. "How very droll," she sneers with slitted eyes, reminding you of an angry, hissing snake. "I can see now why Sparrow is so fond of your wretched little being, Byrne… you both have that annoyingly big mouth that simply doesn't know when it's best to just be silent."

In response, you just raise you brows in unimpressed manner, smirking slightly. Delgado can throw childish barbs at you as much as she likes, but you'll be damned if you give her the satisfaction of responding to them in kind. Within your mind, however, you wonder what makes her so seemingly spiteful towards you when the woman doesn't even know you? Could she possibly be jealous? Of Jack, perhaps…? A long shot, but that's the only reasonable excuse you can think of, although jealousy seems like a feeling Delgado wouldn't necessarily bother with. She has her mind set so firmly upon her ridiculous beliefs that something as petty as jealousy just doesn't seem to fit with her otherwise rather impassive character; you haven't yet seen her show other emotion than anger, contempt and smugness. But then, how would you know what in reality went through the apparently unwell woman's twisted head? You didn't necessarily even wish to know.

The tall Spaniard slits her eyes again as she gets no response to her taunt from you, her stance giving away her distinct dissatisfaction. A muscle in her jaw clenches as she flickers her smoky eyes from you to the Governor. The sudden silence that descends over the study is positively uncomfortable, only the faint booms of cannons being fired somewhere down the bay breaking the oppressive quietness. The tension in the room is abruptly so thick one could proverbially cut it with a knife; everybody is standing still, each awaiting for the other so say the first word or make the first move. The other five Spaniards that accompanied Delgado are glancing from you and the Governor to their leader, visibly uncertain of that should be done next, whereas Delgado is still calmly scrutinizing you and Governor Swann while promptly ignoring her subordinates.

At last, the brown-haired woman with mismatched eyes tentatively breaks the silence. "Capitán Delgado…?" she enquires carefully in Spanish.

Delgado tilts her head so the side, slowly, glancing at the woman with a fierce glare that tells her to shut the hell up. The woman swallows uneasily and bends her head down to avoid her Captain's piercing eyes.

"¡Perdón, Capitán!" she stammers quickly in hopes to appease Delgado, but the tall woman is having none of it. (Sorry, Captain!)

"¡Silencio, usted tonta tuerta!" Gabriela shouts crossly, giving the chagrined woman one last glare before turning to face you again. "My apologies. It's very unfortunate that good help is so dreadfully hard to find nowadays," she murmurs offhandedly and smiles. It's not a pleasant smile. (Silence, you one-eyed idiot!)

You fleetingly wonder how come the women working for Delgado put up with such discourteous treatment. Their Captain surely wasn't the most encouraging superior in the Caribbean. Were they so hell-bent on chasing after the treasures of the Abyss that they just didn't care? Or, were they all truly so afraid of the woman that they dared not to stand up against her? That is a more likely answer, for Delgado was a force to be reckoned with. Yet, you remain puzzled over this; a Captain who did not respect his or her crew typically received no respect in return either, a scenario that was very delicate and liable to bring forth stirrings of mutiny. Delgado would most definitely be deserving of such fate, but you doubt it would truly happen anytime soon, sadly.

Delgado's grey eyes flash with recognition as she suddenly notices the painting of Melissa Swann hanging on the wall. "Well, well…!" she drawls with a sharp edge in her tone as she slowly steps closer to the painting. "Why, if it isn't your dearest mother, Byrne," she pauses, throwing you a wicked smile behind her shoulder. "Such a shame she isn't among us any longer, isn't it?"

Bitch. You feel like spitting the word out to the Spaniard, but your mouth remains tightly shut as you settle for glowering at her.

Delgado studies the painting in silence for a moment. Then, she shakes her head and turns around, the expression on her face almost scornful. "Good riddance to bad rubbish, no?"

Your hands curl into tight fists on your sides, your knuckles turning white as the Governor sputters in outrage. "Watch your mouth, you foul woman!" he finally gets out from his anger.

"Calm down, Governor, your sister was hardly a saint," Delgado retorts coldly. "At least not after she ran off with a pirate, anyway. She should've just stayed put in her quaint little mansion where everyone catered to her each need and whim instead of throwing herself to the first pirate passing her way like a common street whore!" she hisses acidly.

Governor Swann can barely get a coherent word out from his absolute fury, but now your own ire has been set aflame and you can no longer keep quiet. "You would know all about common street whores, wouldn't you?" you snap back just as bitingly, a churlish smirk curling your lips. "After all, weren't you borne from one?"

Delgado sucks in a sharp breath of outrage at your retort, her eyes widening in indignation. This was quite apparently a sore spot for her, as you had imagined it would be; Lucas Fowler had revealed a bit of Delgado's dismal family relations at Tortuga the night he had told you the story of the Abyss, how her mother Esperanza was a known prostitute and her father some elusive sailor, probably one of Esperanza's random clients.

Before you can even fully comprehend it, Delgado's hand has delivered a nasty blow, backhanding you roughly on the side of your face. You vaguely hear the Governor cry out in shock and shuffle of feet as your head snaps back at the force of the hit, causing you to hiss involuntarily as stinging pain shoots up from your left cheekbone. Now I know how Jack must've felt like, a bleary thought crosses your mind and you almost laugh out loud at the random notion. You however suspect that Scarlett's or Gisele's slaps had nothing on Delgado's cuffs, though. Defiantly, you raise your head back up, ignoring the throbbing of your cheek. Delgado's hand stretches out again, this time grabbing you harshly by the chin, her long fingers digging painfully into the skin of your abused cheek as she tilts your head up. Her eyes are ablaze with pure hatred as she stares down into yours, a frenzied look on her face.

"Don't you ever let me hear you say anything of that sort again…!" she hisses in low voice between clenched teeth, her widened eyes never leaving yours.

You hold her stare as you think for a brief moment. "Fine," you reply indifferently, your speech slightly slurred due to Delgado's fingers digging into your cheeks. You should've have perhaps stopped there, but the stubborn spunk in you goads you onward still. "I'll say them when you're not around to hear."

The skin around Delgado's eyes tightens as she narrows them, glaring at you fiercely. You're certain she'll smack you about a bit again for that comment, but instead she just stares at you. After a second, you're almost starting to wish that she'd hit you as an alternative; the cold stare is starting to unnerve you. Long at last, she gives you a loathsome look and releases her grip, pushing just slightly as she lets go to shove you a bit.

"We have tarried here long enough," she speaks with cold resolve, glancing at the other Spaniards. "I do believe it's time for us to leave this little festivity behind our rudder. Carmen!"

The brown-haired woman who'd spoken out of place earlier immediately steps next to Delgado. "Capitán?"

"You shall be escorting Miss Byrne on our trek through the city. The rest of you, take care of Governor Swann," Delgado orders the women, and turns her gaze towards you and the Governor, smirking. "We cannot have for our guests to go astray on the way."

"Excuse me?" you blurt, disbelief in your tone. She could not mean that…

"Surely you didn't think we came all this way to just exchange pleasantries?" Delgado says, raising her brows coolly. "No, no, no...! You see," she pauses, taking a step closer to the desk. "Your dear Captain Sparrow has something I want. And now it seems I am suddenly in command of something he wants," she smirks smugly at you. "And just to keep the Royal Navy off our trail, we'll be including Governor Swann here in our merry company. A little insurance, if you will."

"You cannot do this!" Governor Swann protests. "This is outrageous!"

"Outrageous or nay, Governor Swann, you shall see that I can and will do this," Delgado remarks lazily, her tone almost bored. Flicking her forefinger, Delgado signals her women who instantly proceed to usher you away from the desk.

"Move it," Carmen hisses at you in accented English, grabbing you by your right upper arm tightly and shoving you ahead. As if the heavy dress didn't hinder your movements as it were, the woman just had to keep shoving you.

Delgado scrutinizes the Governor's desk, spotting a blank piece of parchment and a bottle of black ink. Grabbing a quill, she dips it carefully in the ink and lowers the tip on the parchment, scribbling something onto it while the other women hold you and the Governor still in the middle of the room. After a moment, Delgado reads through the note and smirks to herself, obviously satisfied with her written words. Tearing her eyes from the note, she glances at you calculatingly, her eyes coming to rest upon your silver necklace that you rarely took off. Closing the distance between the two of you, Delgado abruptly grabs the necklace and yanks at the chain sharply. You feel the chain giving away as it breaks and you suppress a wince, glaring at the Spaniard.

"Yes, this will do nicely." Delgado muses, before glancing at you rather passively. "I suppose if Sparrow truly cares for your well-being, he'll get the chance to return this to you… after he hands over the map. If not, well, then…" Delgado shrugs and smirks, leaving the sentence hanging as she turns around and steps back to the desk, throwing your pendant carelessly over the note that lies on the desk.

"And so, our work here is done," she says with a wicked gleam in her eyes as she turns back, starting to stride purposefully towards the entrance. "¡Vamos!" (Let's go!)

Oh, hell, you think grudgingly as Carmen starts dragging you along. Just my typical bloody luck.

* * * *

Anamaria's brows furrowed in anxiousness as she gazed over the scene unfolding before her eyes, torn between her duty as a first mate to see to the Black Pearl and her fierce want to venture out in the city to aid her friends. The enemy ship that Anamaria identified - mainly from its seemingly poor shipshape - to be the Espirítu Maldito floated on the opposite side of the cove, long ways from where the Pearl was safely anchored away, the ebony timbers of the ship flawlessly blending in with the dark surfs and the shadows of the night. Anamaria was almost positive the Spaniard's didn't know of their whereabouts, which worked well to the advantage of the Pearl's crew. However, Anamaria still felt indecisive. While Captain Sparrow was away, the power of rule automatically fell upon her. Anamaria was no braggart, but she knew she did her job as the first mate well and with honour - she also knew Jack thought this way, as well. Jack had entrusted his precious ship in her care while he was gone, and counted on her to make decisions that were for the good of the ship as well as the crew.

Only now, she found herself unsure of what to do. She wanted to go down to the city and draw her blade, wanted to teach the women a lesson and to help her friends; Jack, you, Will and Elizabeth. But she also had a duty to see that the Pearl and the crew would suffer no damage during the attack. Engaging the Spanish galleon in a battle of their own was out of the question; it was too risky, involved too many things that could go terribly wrong. On top of that, it was not their job to ensure Port Royal's safety, that task belonged to Commodore Norrington and his men. Anamaria and the others had no obligation revolving the city's defence. But, they did have an obligation to their Captain. As quirky and downright daft as Sparrow might have been, he was still a capable, just and wise Captain, well liked amidst the crew. Despite all the taunting and vexing Anamaria enjoyed putting their Captain through every now and then, she did not relish the thought of having another Captain - although she'd never admit it aloud. Just as well, the Black Pearl simply would not be captained by anyone else but Jack Sparrow; it was an invariable fact, as simply as that.

"So have ye reached a decision?" Joshamee Gibbs' gruff voice ceased Anamaria's restless ruminations as the portly man joined her on the quarterdeck of the Pearl. "You know we can't hold out much longer if something's to be done."

"I know that," Anamaria replied tersely, keeping her eyes on the coastline of the city.

Gibbs glanced at the mulatto woman beside him, aware of the fact that prodding her for an answer would not make much of a difference; if anything, it would only make her more withdrawn and annoyed. So, the older man chose another, slightly subtler tactic.

"The Commodore will 'ave a busy night, but he's got enough men to pull through fine. We don't need to worry ourselves over that," Gibbs mused, almost to himself. "'S not even our place to do so, in the first place."

Anamaria nodded in agreement, but did not speak.

"Our duty is to ourselves, Anamaria. To the ship and the crew. We have to keep the Code in mind."

This got Anamaria's attention, and she blinked in disbelief as she finally levelled her gaze to the older man. "The Code?" she repeated incredulously, before her eyes attained an angry spark. "You'd keep to the Code now? We already did that once and left Jack behind, which nearly earned him a hanging! And what of Byrne? You'd leave her behind as well?" she demanded, dark eyes narrowing.

Gibbs quickly hid the pleased smile that threatened to pull the corners of his mouth up, knowing Anamaria had made her decision long ago; she just needed a little push to be mindful about this herself.

"Aye, we kept to the Code once before, that be true," Gibbs agreed solemnly, a serious look settling upon his weathered face. "And remember how that turned out to be in the end?"

The unexpected question caught Anamaria off guard - a rather rare affair - and her anger fled from her mind as Gibbs forced her to recall the past events. She opened her mouth to speak, but found no words would come out. Gibbs nodded with a small smile, satisfied.

"It was you who decided to turn the Pearl around and go back to get him, wasn't it? Wasn't it you who voiced everyone's thoughts aloud when you declared we'd head to Port Royal to get back our Captain?"

Anamaria stared at Gibbs for a moment in silence. Finally, she nodded her head, just barely, and uttered a quiet, "Aye, it was."

Gibbs broke into a broad grin at her reply. "There ye have it!"

For a while, Anamaria stared at the older man in silence, before grinning herself and smacking Gibbs on his upper arm in comradely manner. "Ye bloody seadog, you did that on purpose!" she exclaimed, before hurrying down the stairs of the helm. "Lower the boats and check your weapons! Make it quick, you oafs! We're goin' down there to abet our Captain!"

Numerous shouts of loud "Aye!" rang across the main deck, followed by briskly stomping feet as the men hurried to fulfil the order.

Gibbs shook his head absent-mindedly, grimacing slightly as he rubbed the spot Anamaria had smacked. "By the powers, that woman doesn't know 'er own strength," he muttered to himself, before trudging after Anamaria.

* * * *

Annoyed was too bland of a word to describe William Turner's current state of mind. Angry, infuriated, livid… yes, those were all so much better choices at the moment. Under normal circumstances, Will was mostly a calm, courteous young man who held onto the ways of proper decorum and courtesy - on occasion perhaps even a tad too firmly. Rushing into things heedlessly - or rashly, in the Commodore's words - wasn't a part of his codes of conduct, unless the matter somehow involved a certain Miss Swann, soon-to-be Turner.

However, this was nowhere near a normal circumstance, and Will felt anything but calm or composed. Will was normally not one to get incensed too easily - this notion excluded a certain Jack Sparrow who seemed to possess an innate knack to push people's buttons just correctly to provoke a desired reaction out of them - but when it came down to the worst case scenario, one where those whom Will most cared about were in danger, there would be hell to pay.

There was no way Will would ever let anything happen to Elizabeth or his friends, not unless he had anything to say about it. His love for Elizabeth was so overpowering that it overrode almost every other feeling within him. He would go through the entire misadventure with Barbossa all over again without hesitations if it meant saving Elizabeth. Indeed, Will would readily give his own life before seeing anything bad ever happening to her; he had most certainly not been dishonest in his words when he had told Jack a year ago that he would die for Elizabeth. Although, Will had long suspected the pirate had already known that from the moment the issue of Elizabeth was first brought up prior to the fencing in the smithy; there had been a hint in his smug smirk that told Will he knew more than he let Will be aware of. Jack was amazingly observant, and caught even the smallest of things in people, the barest of nuances - but he mostly kept his silent observations to himself until they became useful to him and suited his own purposes, as Will had learned the tough way.

A movement from the corner of his eye had Will immediately correcting his stance, the discarded cutlass he'd picked up along the way swinging to meet another woman's blow. With practiced ease, Will blocked the woman's strike and forced her into retreat, contempt clear upon his face.

These vile women had ruined the celebration of his and Elizabeth's betrothal and impending wedding, turned the joyous gathering into a cruel massacre and tainted the happy mood with fear and terror. Will knew for certain the mansion was not the only place under attack, for it was impossible not to hear the dull booms of the cannons that echoed across the air every now and then. His compassion went out to the innocent townspeople that had to endure another assail on the city in such a short period of time.

Deftly, Will made quick work of ridding the woman of her cutlass and rendering her unconscious with a sharp blow to the temple. He knew showing even a degree of mercy to these women was wasted, for they had most likely never given any to their victims. Still, Will wasn't keen on having to kill them, or anyone for that matter. Having dealt with the woman, Will fervently searched for Elizabeth with his gaze. Subconsciously, he knew she was able to fend for herself adequately, but it still didn't ease his worry when he couldn't find her within close range. After all, these women were armed with blades, possibly even with pistols, and Elizabeth had no experience with either…

"Drop the sword!" an accented voice hissed suddenly from behind, and Will felt his body tensing up as a cold circle set on the skin of his neck; a barrel of a gun. Inwardly, Will cursed his lapse in concentration, for allowing his worry for his fiancée to cloud his focus.

"Now," the female snarled, emphasizing the demand by poking the gun more forcibly against his neck.

Clenching his teeth together in anger, Will grudgingly obeyed, and the cutlass fell on the floor with a clatter. The woman behind him chuckled with decidedly malicious glee. "Fool," she spat condescendingly, and Will almost expected her to pull the trigger at that precise moment.

"Who are you calling a fool, you trollop?" Came the fiery demand somewhere behind Will, the all too familiar voice causing a stab of fear to hit Will full force - please don't have her do anything foolhardy and endanger herself…

A dull slamming sound and a muffled shriek echoed in Will's ears, and the cold barrel fell away from his skin. Immediately, Will bent down and picked up the weapon he'd discarded just minutes ago and whirled around, ready to fight again…

…Only to be met face to face with Elizabeth; her hair had fallen down from the intricate hair-do, hanging in untidy strands down her shoulders, inflamed red scratch crossed her left cheek, her expensive dress was torn at the hem, and she clutched a coal poker - of all things - in her hands. She looked weary, angry and sorrowful all at once, but from the moment her eyes met Will's, they were alight with nothing but pure love and Will had never seen any creature more beautiful than her in his entire life.

"Elizabeth…" he whispered with a tender smile, his affection evident in his low tone.

"Will," she smiled in return, looking radiant to Will's eyes.

As could have been expected, the moment was cruelly broken by a savage scream from the couple's side, and they both whipped their heads to see another Spaniard charging at them with her cutlass poised to strike, only a few strides away - too close. Will made the move to pull Elizabeth behind his own body in final attempt to protect her, but before the woman got any closer to them, a loud gunshot echoed in their ears and the woman fell down with a small shriek of agony; her outstretched arm slumped down limply, the blade of her cutlass landing between Will and Elizabeth's feet, a truthful testament to how frighteningly close the woman had actually gotten.

Lifting their gaze from the dead Spaniard at their feet, Will and Elizabeth saw Jack standing some distance away from them, inspecting a pistol that's barrel still smoked slightly with a distasteful frown.

"What a piece of rubbish," Jack finally gave his verdict, and promptly threw the pistol - obviously of Spanish make - carelessly over his shoulder. "Good thing for you, though, that it worked the way it was supposed to at least once," he remarked nonchalantly, before a small smirk crept on his lips. "Just so you know - it's a rather perilous thing, making soulful eyes at one another in the midst of battle."

Will resisted the urge to roll his eyes. How very typical of Jack Sparrow to take such a thing as the near death of his friends with such ostensible flippancy. "Thank you for that pearl of wisdom, Jack, we'll be sure to remember it the next time," he said wryly, but there was sincere gratefulness in his eyes.

Jack just smiled back, nodding his head slightly in wordless understanding. Glancing at the poker Elizabeth was still holding limply in one hand, Jack raised his brows. "A coal poker?" he voiced with awe-like incredulity, lifting his eyes to meet Elizabeth's. "How lovely."

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders with a small, tired smile. "It was the first thing I got my hands on. It served its purpose well enough."

Jack gave her a cordial smile, more than a little forced. Note to self; ensure there's no such things close at hand the next time you remind her about the burnt rum, Jack thought to himself, suppressing an uncomfortable shiver.

His thoughts were interrupted when Elizabeth enquired if he was all right, a tinge of concern evident in her tone. He tried very hard, but eventually was unable to resist such a chance. The characteristic grin graced his features as he said, "Ah, I didn't know you cared…! However, you must remember that you're engaged now, so I'm afraid you can no longer hang onto me like that, luv. It's time to let go now," he explained kindly with a sympathetic expression on his face.

"Yes, you're fine," Elizabeth deemed dryly, answering her own question. "As long as your mouth works, there's nothing wrong with you."

Will gave a quiet chuckle at this, whereas Jack just smirked, not in the least snubbed by the comment. "Oh, does it ever," he drawled slyly, mostly to himself, before sweeping the crowd with his eyes. His fingers tightened their hold on the handle of the cutlass almost involuntarily when he could not discern the precise shade of your dress anywhere, or saw not even a hint of your familiar figure.

Jack's heart practically skipped a beat when he realized he could not sight you anywhere in the parlour. A dozen of thoughts occurred to him simultaneously, each of them worse possibility than the previous one.

"Tell me, Elizabeth," he started, and the gravity in his voice did not going unnoticed by either Will or Elizabeth; they could practically see the way the habitual levity about the older man slipped away to be replaced with a no-nonsense attitude that was nearly ominous. "Might have you possibly seen that wayward cousin of yours recently?"

Elizabeth took a cursory glance about, searching for you with her eyes. "I saw her a while ago, yes… when I was looking for my father," she paused, frowning uncertainly. "But I lost her after that. I haven't seen her since…"

"Was she unharmed?" Jack demanded, sparing Elizabeth a brief glance from the corner of his eye.

"I think so, save for a cut on her arm," Elizabeth replied, anxiety starting to creep in her tone.

Jack remained silent, his mind working fervently. Irritation blended in with his worry for your safety; you had promised him to stay close to him! Had you broken your word to him yet again? The more he thought about it, the quicker his irritation turned into downright anger. Jack felt like shouting out loud to ease his fury at least a little. Although the mariners had managed to restrain the largest groups of the Spaniards, they were still not yet all vanquished. Things could still go horribly wrong in ways that Jack didn't even want to think about. Damn it, why had you left the parlour in the first place?

A thought crossed Jack's mind at the question, and he recalled Elizabeth's exact words; when I was looking for my father. Realization dawned on him. That had to be it. You'd left to aid the Governor, because you just had to worry about everyone at the same time and try to make things better by your bloody onesies…

Quickly, Jack turned to Elizabeth, his expression a mix between seriousness and impatience. "Did you mention your father to her? Where was he last seen? Come come, now, quickly!" he pressed edgily when she didn't reply fast enough for his liking.

"Jack, calm down!" Will tried to placate, but the pirate gave no sign of having even noticed the younger man.

"Yes, I mentioned it!" Elizabeth almost shouted, caught off guard by Jack's forceful insistence. "I suppose he was last seen in his study, I don't know!" she finished in desperate aggravation.

Jack uttered a venomous oath under his breath and dashed off without another word, heading straight towards the entrance of the parlour.

"Jack, wait!" Elizabeth shouted after him, but the pirate didn't heed her. Elizabeth let out a frustrated little shriek as Jack disappeared from her sight and she noticed two Spaniards striding towards her and Will.

"Oh, bloody pirates!" she swore in spiteful tone as Will encountered the first woman in a battle, hurrying to help her husband-to-be.

* * * *

Questions plagued Jack's mind as he ran down the hallways of the Swann mansion, skipping over the dead people on his way without another thought - he had no time to take notice of them now.

Why could you not ever listen to him? Why, why, why must you constantly be so bloody stubborn and attempt to do everything yourself without even bothering to ask for help? Jack didn't want you to go hastening off alone on your own little crusades, not when he could be there as well to make sure that you would be safe and unharmed… How could he possibly keep you safe if you did. Not. Stay. Close?!

But what if you hadn't left freely? What if you had been injured by those bloody wenches or taken against your will? Or both, heaven forbid? The unbearable thought gnawed at Jack's guts like a disease, and resolutely he forced himself to stop and be reasonable before he drove himself insane with his speculations.

Reaching the spiral staircase leading to the second floor of the house, Jack strode them up, two steps at a time. To be completely honest, he had absolutely no bloody idea where Governor Swann's study was located, but he was sure it had to be somewhere around here. Jack had but always trusted in his instincts, and had learned over time that they rarely led him astray; that's why he did the very same thing now, trusted on his gut feelings.

Jack was so fumingly mad he could barely see straight. Mad with himself for not paying closer attention to you, mad with you if you had indeed left without a word to him, and most of all, mad with Delgado and her cronies for choosing this particular night to bring forth such an attack. Growling numerous less than flattering adjectives about the Spanish captain under his breath, Jack strode hurriedly down the dim hallway, shoving open each door that he passed along the way. A numbing sense of foreboding struck Jack as he realized from his simmering anger that it was all too quiet in the second floor. All too quiet…

Quickening his pace, Jack rounded another corner, his steps faltering for a split second as he saw an open door further down the hallway, a faint light pouring from the room to the dark corridor. An item lying uselessly on the floor caught Jack's sharp eyes, and he identified it as a shoe - your shoe, to be precise. Something tightened in his chest painfully at the discovery; now he knew you had definitely been here, but where were you now? Divesting his attention from the shoe, Jack ran to the opened door, his gaze scaling every possible corner inside, but found the study empty.

Jack barely registered the sounds of his own harsh breathing, vexed from the run and the myriad of different emotions that swarmed through his mind. There was your other shoe on the floor, and Jack felt a stab of concern that you should be somewhere with no shoes on, even if you had griped about the heels. A discarded cutlass lay upon the floor, almost obscured from sight by the heavy desk; it was no doubt yours as well. You would not have left your weapon behind without a reason - and the reason was becoming painfully clearer to Jack with every passing moment. Quickly, Jack's eyes searched the floor for any signs of blood, but much to his immense relief he could find none. Lifting his gaze, Jack looked up on the desk - and froze momentarily at the sight of a silver pendant lying over what appeared to be a note of some sort.

Without wasting another second, Jack went over and grabbed the familiar necklace, staring down at the round disk of silver with a figure of raven engraved upon it. Jack swept his thumb slowly, almost affectionately, over its cool surface. He knew this was the thing that you treasured the most, and that you never took it off your neck. It had been left behind as verification for Jack. Closing his fingers around the pendant, Jack dropped his bloodstained cutlass on the desk and picked up the note instead.

Jack Sparrow,

By the time you're reading this, we've already left Port Royal, I deem.
I almost forgot to mention - we have two guests with us. Governor
Swann himself and, of course, the lovely Miss Byrne you seem to be so
very fond of. She's indeed a comely little thing! But you already knew that.
I'll make this simple. Meet me at our place in three days, at the latest.
Be sure to bring that piece of the map of the Abyss with you, and we will
make a fair trade: the map for the living hostages.

Don't even think of leaving Port Royal until noon tomorrow - if I so much as
see the shape of the Black Pearl before the agreed timeline, you'll be saying
your goodbyes to your pretty lover. You know I do not make idle threats.
I will see you in few days, handsome.

Captain Gabriela Delgado

Jack stared at the note with stormy, blackened eyes, the taunting sentences echoing in his mind. His entire body was trembling with barely suppressed fury, and he curled his fingers into a fist, scrunching up the note in process. Finally, Jack's rage bubbled over the rim and he slammed his fist holding the note hard against the wooden desk with a furious roar, a wordless declaration of his utter wrath. Jack barely even felt the pain that shot up his hand at the action.

Delgado took her. The thought repeated in Jack's mind over and over, serving only to feed his seething rage. That no-good bitch had you and the Governor as hostages. She would trade for the piece of the map that had started this entire debacle. 'Meet me at our place'. Jack sneered; he would hardly call it 'their place'. He knew what Delgado meant - Puerto Rico, her birth town and the place where Jack had once had the wretched luck to first meet her many years ago.

Jack's hand started to throb nastily, but he shrugged it off. The small sting of flesh was secondary compared to the unadulterated ache of heart he felt within. Jack opened his palm to look at your necklace again, the object glinting in the faint light as he tilted his hand a little.

Jack hadn't even had the chance to tell you earlier that he loved you with everything that he was - mind, body and soul - that he could never love anything or anyone as completely as he did you. It had taken him a while to admit it even to himself, though he'd subconsciously known the feeling had been there some time already, lingering in the back of his mind. And now, he cursed himself for not working up his nerve to tell you this earlier.

Cold resolve filled Jack as he pocketed your pendant and picked up the cutlass from the table. Clutching the crumpled note in his other hand, he strode out of the room, determination written on his every move and a clear purpose in his mind. Delgado would come to rue this day, Jack would see to it himself. No one, no one, lays even a finger upon Jack Sparrow's treasure, much less steals it from him without severe consequences - least of all a fiend like Gabriela Delgado.

She would yet pay dearly for her stunt, for Captain Jack Sparrow was not known for making idle threats, either.

A/N: Big "Thank You!" to Katla who so kindly helped me out a bit with Will's character, seeing as I know Jack a lot better than the young blacksmith. I hope this was acceptable to you, luv! I'm still learning! ;) And to everyone else, the next chapter may not come quite as soon as you'd perhaps like, with Christmas and all. I'm also hoping to work on Flipsides, next. Also don't kill me if the Spanish translations aren't quite down to a T, 'kay? Reviews would be ever so adored and loved to bits! :)

* * * * *

CHAPTER 28 - Behind Enemy Lines

You suppress a wince as Carmen squeezes her fingers about your upper arm yet a little tighter, most likely just because she can; you're sure that livid dark bruises mottle your skin already. The night is downright chaotic as you and the Governor are being led towards the shore by the Spaniards, gunshots and screams are echoing in the darkness while the townspeople flee in panic from the pillaging pirates. Nobody seems to be paying much attention to your small group as Delgado leads you on along the less frequented, shady streets, the shadows of the night hiding you from prying eyes. Trailing obediently behind Delgado is Carmen, who is dragging you along by your arm; behind you comes Governor Swann with two women flanking him on both sides, and behind them yet two women keeping a sharp eye on things - they're the same four women that cornered you in the Governor's study a while back.

The heavy skirt of your dress - now dirtied, torn at places and frayed from the hem - is hampering your steps, more so with Carmen constantly tugging at your arm and nearly making you stumble with every second step you take. On top of that, you have no shoes on since you threw them off earlier, causing small pebbles and twigs to prickle at the soles of your feet rather uncomfortably through your silk stockings, which are probably nothing but ruined now.

Your irritation has been building up more after each shove, and finally it reaches a point where you can no longer quell it. Throwing a glare so fierce at Carmen that your father would've been most proud of it, you hiss venomously, "Cut that out, witless hag! I walk just fine on my own!"

Carmen lets out an annoyed growl between her teeth, pulling you a bit closer by your arm so that she's practically in your face as she retorts irritably, "I'll cut out your tongue if you don't keep quiet!" You notice how the pupil in her brown eye contracts slightly as she widens her eyes, but the one in the icy blue eye doesn't react to the movement at all; it stays unnaturally still. So your blue eye is blind, then, you think, storing the piece of information away. It might become useful, yet.

Carmen makes a startled noise from her throat as Delgado, apparently tired of hearing your squabbling, suddenly turns a little and reaches back to smack Carmen on the side of her head with her hand, none too gently. "Cease that accursed racket or I will make it cease myself," she announces with such force it makes Carmen instantly pull back from you and shy away from Gabriela slightly, akin to a submissive dog, but not without a final glare directed at you.

Once again, you're both amazed and sickened by the sheer power Delgado holds over her crew - it's a sadistic grip that threatens to crush you in moments unless you do exactly as she says. It is not normal, and it is certainly not acceptable; how can one trust your crew to obey if you reward them with nothing but violence and more fear? But it seems that fear is exactly the factor that motivates this crew; they don't dare not to obey Delgado. She has all of them in her clutches, and you have a feeling the only ways to get rid of her are all most unpleasant ones. Gabriela Delgado is a tyrant, a wicked, twisted and unfeeling excuse of a human being hungry for power and vengeance. And yet, she's frighteningly observant and intelligent, the very traits that, connected to the aforementioned, make her so very dangerous person; those are the makings of a perfect monster.

Delgado, having paused her steps and bringing all of you into halt, scrutinizes your heavy dress impassively. Finally, she glances at Carmen, sharp order in her tone. "Relieve Miss Byrne from some of that nuisance. We haven't got the entire night to waste!"

Carmen seems all too delighted to comply, a smug smirk on her lips as she draws out her cutlass. You grit your teeth together, hoping she won't decide to give you more cuts as she grabs a fistful of brocade and raises the blade. She drives it through the thick material and roughly hews away half of the skirt, the sound of tearing fabric loud in your ears. When she's done, all that's left of the magnificent red skirt of the dress are uneven shreds that hang limply around your thighs, revealing the white under dress beneath that reaches down to your calves, the hem of it not quite brushing at your ankles. Carmen's eyes glint with malicious glee as she discards the strips of brocade in her hand, carelessly throwing them somewhere in the shrubbery growing along the sides of the quiet street you're on.

"Better," Delgado comments in flat tone. "Now, pick up your pace. First person either to speak or stop before we reach the ship has earned a flogging."

The ragtag team of yours obeys mutely, a grave silence suddenly descending over the group. Cold wind blows from the sea, and you struggle not to shiver in your torn dress. A numbing sense of being pulled from your roots suddenly fills you, and desperation starts clawing at your rational mind. By all that's holy, how could so many things have gone so wrong in so little time? Not only did you break your promise to Jack and made yourself a pawn in Delgado's twisted little game - handing what advantage Jack had in the situation over to her - you have also pulled Elizabeth's father along with you into danger, as well. Shame washes through you, followed closely by fierce self-loathing for being so cursedly pig-headed once again. Didn't you ever learn your lesson? Well, this stunt might just become your last one. A cold, foreboding feeling scratches at the back of your mind, whispering dark words; whatever would happen aboard Delgado's ship during the next days, it would bode you nothing well… nothing well at all.

Trying to ignore the hard pebbles that bite mercilessly into the soles of your feet, you risk a backwards glance over your shoulder despite Carmen's proximity, knowing your shame and worry would reflect in your eyes. The Governor's face is grim, his powdered wig sitting askew atop his head; he looks tired, worried and irritated all at once, and you do not blame him one bit for it. Sensing your gaze, he lifts his eyes to meet yours; and for a moment, his grim face softens and a small, sad smile lifts the corners of his mouth. You manage an answering smile that you hope is encouraging, though you feel anything but. This is all your doing, all your fault that he's being dragged away from his home and family to God knows what bitter end, and still he appears not to place the blame of it on you. Quickly, you turn your head back and stare down at your shoeless feet, allowing Carmen to haul you along while fighting back the burning tears that start clouding your vision. The rest of the short trek to the Spanish galleon passes you by in an odd blur, a vague impression that you cannot quite recall afterwards.

* * * *

Elizabeth heaved a quiet, shaky sigh, gazing down at her clasped hands upon her lap, hardly even feeling the uncomfortable settee beneath her or Will's comforting arm about her shoulders. No matter how hard she hoped otherwise, the harsh reality of the situation lingered over her still, as if mocking her for her foolish wish. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes all over again as she thought about the note Delgado had left behind for the umpteenth time - she still found it hard to accept. Both her father and her cousin had been taken as hostages by Captain Delgado, an unbearable fate; that woman was cruel and treacherous, how could Elizabeth trust her to keep you and her father unharmed? Her throat tightened painfully at the mere thought. But it was the hard truth, for the Espirítu Maldito had long since left the coasts of Port Royal behind her rudder.

Tearing her eyes from her hands, Elizabeth took in the small sitting room of the mansion in which an assorted group of people had gathered; one that Elizabeth never thought she'd see in the same room. There was Commodore Norrington of the Royal Navy, along with Lieutenant Groves. There was, of course, Elizabeth herself and William Turner; and then there was Captain Jack Sparrow, along with his first mate Anamaria, the latter one having shown up with some of Jack's crewmen just in time to prevent the escape of a formidable group of Spaniards; they were now safely locked away behind the thick walls of Fort Charles along with the other women caught alive in the Swann mansion, awaiting for their impending trips to the gallows.

The tension in the room was so thick one could've cut it with the metaphorical knife, the six people in the room having unconsciously formed an odd argumentative triangle; Norrington and Groves in one corner, opposite from the two pirates, where as Will and Elizabeth served as a pair of referees of some sort in the middle. The sudden turn of the tide in the flow of events had come as a shocking blow to everyone, and naturally everyone was more or less upset over it. Tempers had already flared and clashed - mainly Jack's and Norrington's - and Elizabeth had a weary feeling that this meeting would get worse again before it got better, it if could get any better than this apprehensive, barely cordial air that hung over the small space.

Anamaria threw a surreptitious glance towards her Captain and friend who stood a bit further away from her, looking out of the window into the black night, his arms crossed over his chest. Doubtless he saw anything in the darkness, but doubtless he even wanted to; he was too lost in thought. His face was stoic; that carefully inexpressive mask Anamaria had seen often, but she read what few subtleties she had come to recognize along the years in his posture. Jack's spine was rigidly straight, and now with his hair tied back, Anamaria could see that he was clenching his jaw, hard. The fingers of his right hand, which was resting over his left bicep, were digging harshly into cloth and the skin underneath. Jack was holding himself in check with every ounce of self-restraint he had; he was controlling his still boiling fury and, Anamaria presumed, his sorrow and concern. She was certain Jack was somehow blaming himself for your kidnapping, true or not. Anamaria was just as certain that you were mentally punishing yourself mercilessly about the same thing right now, wherever you were. What a pair they make, Anamaria thought to herself in sad amusement.

"Well, it seems that we've been thrown right back to where we started in the first place, once again," Commodore Norrington remarked, and the underlying derision in his voice made Jack grit his teeth together all the more to stop himself from wasting a perfectly good sarcastic retort. Jack hadn't needed to turn around in order to know that poorly disguised barb was meant for him. Silence fell in the room as the others expected Jack to reply. So, he curbed his impulse to let the Commodore know just where he could shove his little comments - Jack was certainly in no mood to hear them now - and replied calmly,

"Not in the least, Commodore. Indeed, for once we know exactly where we stand, as well as when and what to do next," Jack finished, but try as he might, could not keep the bitterness from creeping into his tone at the latter part of his response. In his mind, he cursed Delgado yet again. Again, the room was plunged into complete silence for a minute as everyone waited for Norrington's answer. Normally, such rapt attention paid to his words would have pleased Jack beyond measures, but this was far from normal and Jack was anything but pleased.

"Do we?" Norrington shot back, quite bitingly. "Do we really? No, it is safe to say it's you who know these things, Captain Sparrow, not we. It's such a seemingly perfect coincidence, that you should be the one to be aware of Delgado's destination, that I cannot help but to wonder if perhaps this is not a simple coincidence, at all."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack could see Anamaria's head snap towards the Commodore quicker than it seemed possible, and he knew his first mate was giving Norrington her most vicious glower, which, Jack knew from firsthand experience, was quite a formidable sight to behold.

"What did you just say?" Anamaria demanded, her hackles rising.

"Commodore Norrington!" Will snapped, and truthfully, Jack was surprised to recognize the clear disrespect, downright contempt, even, in the younger man's voice. "Such ridiculous assumptions are most uncalled for!"

"I am merely stating a fact, that's all," Norrington responded, frowning slightly in affront. "It just strikes me as the most convenient happenstance, that Delgado would name a location that you know in this note you spoke of… wouldn't you say so, Captain Sparrow?"

Jack gave a subdued, hollow laugh, a sound void of any real mirth. He understood perfectly that tempers were running high at the moment - Lord knows his was! - but what the Commodore was suggesting bordered on foolishness in its pure ludicrousness; the theory had so many loopholes and inconsistencies Jack couldn't even begin to count them all. But if the Commodore wished for another verbal confrontation so badly, who was Jack to deny him of such a chance?

"Convenient? Quite possibly so. But the question is, convenient to whom?" Now Jack did turn around to face Norrington, keeping his hands still crossed. "Convenient to me, a pirate who has so shrewdly played you for a fool, having in actuality worked together with Delgado all this time, awaiting for the opportune moment for whatever it is you're really accusing me of," Jack drawled sardonically, raising his brows. "Or convenient to the great Commodore Norrington of the Royal Navy who now, long at last, has basis for his suspicions and thus is finally able to deliver me to the gallows, seeing as the last attempt went so badly sour?"

Norrington cleared his throat uncomfortably, now fully realizing the implication his impulsive hypothesis held. "That was certainly not what I meant by that, as I'm sure you're aware," he amended, aware of all the expectative eye pairs nailed on him.

"Wasn't it?" Jack returned smoothly whilst slanting his head to the side ever so slightly, going on in more cynical tone, "Then forgive me for ever having my doubts, Commodore..."

"Then how do you explain knowing Delgado's planned destination?" Norrington pressed impatiently, hoping to find a way out of the corner he'd unintentionally backed himself into. "Excuse me for having my qualms, but you must realize that it all is rather fitting! And now, Governor Swann is in the hands of that fiend of a woman, along with Miss Byrne - or is she a part of the grand scheme of things?"

Jack's dark eyes flashed dangerously at the mention of your name, and Anamaria's spine stiffened instinctively in expectation of Jack's certain antipathy over the statement. In few quick strides, Jack had closed the space between himself and the Commodore. Jack was a few inches shorter than Norrington, but at the moment it seemed to everyone else in the room that Jack was almost towering over the Commodore in his anger.

"If you really value your well-being, you don't ever speak of her in such manner again, least of all when I'm around to hear it!" Jack growled, his stormy eyes narrowed. Anamaria was surprised he hadn't grabbed the Commodore by his fancy collar in his bout of fury – or just straight out punched him in the face.

Norrington's face went stoic as he stared at Jack. "Are you threatening me, Captain Sparrow?" he asked slowly; the tension in the room heightened all the more.

Jack stared piercingly into Norrington's eyes, his voice ominously low as he spoke up. "Just a word of warning… for now. Don't count yourself so special, Commodore; I threaten everyone with an unkind word or look on Byrne. I guess you could say that I'm a bit vile creature like that," Jack smirked unkindly, throwing one of the Commodore's favourite sayings back to his face.

"Moreover, don't presume to know anything about me or my past, Commodore Norrington," he went on warningly in serious tone. "My matters are my own, and I have no intentions to have an uplifting heart to heart about them with you anytime soon. Now, if you feel you must keep on casting your little remarks instead of doing something useful, like actually working with me, kindly take it someplace else. I do have more constructive things to bade my time with until tomorrow noon than to put up with your petty scoffs," Jack finished coolly, pausing as he finally turned away from the Commodore, sauntering back to the dark window.

"Had I really been working together with Delgado, of all people, think you I would've stayed around for this long? I could've made it easier on myself and looked the woman up for the other half of the map. Would I have endangered one of my crew, or your precious Governor, for that matter? That would've simply been too much of a bother, and I certainly wouldn't have risked getting reprimanded of that by the Governor's daughter and her trusty coal poker," Jack smirked with a brief glance at Elizabeth, who managed a small, sad smile back. "No, this entire kidnapping matter would be entirely pointless if I was collaborating with her. Of course, I could fool you by pulling such a thing off just to convince you all of my innocence and still obtain that pardon you agreed to. You have, no doubt, been thinking this as well, haven't you?" Jack raised a knowing brow at Norrington, who evaded his gaze guiltily. Jack couldn't hold back the small, victorious smirk that pulled at his lips.

"Aye, I thought so. I don't deem you thick, Commodore, just a little hasty to jump to conclusions. However, I would like to set aside these doubts of my trustworthiness, as they're becoming more than a little repetitive already. I've given you my word, and I don't have the tendency of giving it lightly. So… do we finally have an accord in the matter, I wonder? If not, then I'm just wasting my time here," he said after a small pause, levelling a sharp gaze on Norrington and waiting patiently.

Commodore Norrington was silent for a long moment, mulling over Jack's words. Governor Swann's kidnapping was an outrage, and it had even the normally so composed Commodore Norrington greatly disturbed; such a thing was not supposed to happen in a city that was watched over by him personally! James felt a powerful surge of self-loathing at the thought; had his pride over his work, some unconscious worry over his reputation as a Commodore prompted his hasty assumptions to thwart the claims of Sparrow's credibility? Had he just been searching for a scapegoat for all this so that his own career had not been endangered - and indeed, who better to place the blame upon than a pirate who obviously had had dealings with the Spanish Captain before? The mere possibility horrified Norrington to no end; he did not want to believe he had become so disparaging and jaded underneath, so quick to save his own skin. No, he now realized his insinuations were pointless and what he'd suggested really did not make much sense then thought all the way through, as he should have done in the first place. Norrington had not failed to see the sincere rage in the pirate's eyes as he'd hinted towards the possibility of Byrne being an accomplice; not even Jack Sparrow could feign such purposely. All of a sudden Norrington realized, even if a bit belatedly, that Sparrow had to care for Byrne more than he let out, and that this incident had the pirate just as disturbed as he was, only for slightly different reasons. For the first time in his life, James Norrington saw Jack Sparrow as a man with normal, humane feelings, not the difficult pirate after his own interests and profit.

Long at last, Norrington gave a small sigh and nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, we have indeed," he said, pausing for a short moment. "I… I wish to apologize for my tactless words; they were spoken impulsively in upset state of mind. I will not be questioning your decisions or the allegiances of either yours nor your crew's any further."

Jack nodded once with just a barest hint of a smile. "We will see about that, Commodore... but enough of that. At the moment, we have more significant matters to argue over, so let us get started."

* * * *

The first thing you'd noticed when taken below the Espirítu Maldito was that it looked just as poor on the inside as it did on the outside. It seemed as if the entire vessel was about to fall apart any moment. You fervently hope the ship will stay afloat until you reach your destination, whatever it might be; you and the Governor were not privy to such information. Judging from the steady, gentle rocking of the vessel and the occasional groan of wood, you were already well on your way.

You peruse the cell you were shoved into a while earlier, deciding it is the worst one you've yet been in. There are only two cells in the ship, but rather spacious ones, just like aboard the Pearl. They're built somewhere towards the stern of the ship - you're shamed to admit you lost your bearings after all those turns, stairs and twists along the way. The cells have been placed side by side, creating one big cage that's divided from the middle by rusty bars; actually, most of the bars are more or less rusty.

There are narrow, steep stairs that lead one deck up on the left side of the cells, maybe about ten feet away. They had pushed you in the first cell, closer to the stairs, and the Governor to the one on your right side. On the other side of the cells are more crates, sacks and boxes or different sizes; it apparently serves as some kind of excess storage space. The galleon was stuffed so unbelievably full of all kinds of things and crates, mostly situated so that they hindered moving on the narrow aisles. But suppose the poor seamanship shouldn't surprise you, after all. Aside from what little light pours down the staircase, there is only one measly lamp hanging from a beam overhead in the cellblock, giving a little light in the darkness.

The air in the bowels of the ship is dank and muggy, and the smell of damp, stale timbers attacked your nostrils the moment you were taken below deck. Indeed, even in the darkness you can spot greenish white splotches attached here and there over the wood; mould. There are small cracks in the hull, but they luckily don't leak, unlike the holes in the wood. Fortunately they are quite high on the side of the hull, so they don't touch the water.

With a sigh, you meander listlessly over to the hull side of the cell, bracing one hand over the rough wood as you lower yourself down on the hard floorboards, tucking your legs underneath you and pulling the white under dress over your feet as much as you can. You gaze at the Governor to keep your eyes away from the filth that litters the floors.

"This is absolutely outrageous! What do they want from us? What could they possibly want from us? Oh, this is a scandal…! That immoral woman," Governor Swann rambles on, his gaze circling the dim, dank surroundings. These aren't exactly the conditions that he is used to travel in, for sure.

"They need something to barter with," you voice tiredly after a moment, giving a rueful smile. "And it appears that we are that 'something'."

"Barter…?" The Governor echoes, looking at you for elaboration.

You nod your head. "Delgado wants her hands on the map that leads her to the lost treasures of the Abyss. Do you know of it?"

"Yes, yes, I have been filled in by the Commodore and Elizabeth," the older man replies, giving a sad smile at the mention of his daughter.

"Well, seeing as Jack has the half of the map that Delgado needs, she obviously thought of blackmailing Jack. I don't know what she wrote in that note she left behind on your desk, but it was rather clear that she means to make Jack trade the map for us. But where we are going now, I have no idea," you explain, your hand rising up to your neck almost on its own volition, only to find it bare of the familiar necklace. A flash of remorse goes through you at the loss of the item, for it was a treasured piece for you.

"Or more likely, for you," Weatherby Swann corrects with a gentle smile, a surprising amount of levity in his tone as he lowers himself to sit down, close to the wall that separates the two cells from one another. "I do believe, if my understanding of these designs is valid, that I am here only because that way Delgado can hold sway over Commodore Norrington and his actions, as well. But getting you back is what motivates Captain Sparrow," he finishes solemnly, giving you a downright mischievous look. "I was once young, too."

You can't help but to laugh out loud a little at this. "I don't doubt that for a second," you smile, but glance at the Governor seriously after a moment. "I'm sorry I got us into this mess," you say quietly.

Weatherby sighs, shaking his head slightly. "Do you truly believe this circumstance to be of your making?"

"Some of it, yes," you insist stubbornly, fiddling with one of the shreds hanging from your newly re-modelled dress, trying to ignore the chilly night air that nips at you. "I could've done some things differently."

"Then you're obviously alike your mother in more aspects than just looks," the Governor replies. "She, too, felt responsible on the most nonsensical things and blamed herself easily. Well, I tell you to stop that immediately! Had you not been there, God only knows if I would even be alive right now. 'What ifs' will certainly not make this situation any better."

You smile forlornly at the Governor's sincere words. "I promised Jack I wouldn't leave his side. But I did."

"I see. So that is what bothers you. Well, if my opinion matters, I do think he will understand your reasoning."

"Probably, but…" you trail off. "It just made me feel really bad to go against my word to him, again. It's not the first time, remember how we stole aboard the Pearl with Elizabeth when everyone went to Tortuga?"

"How could I forget?" the Governor asks rhetorically, a smile tugging at his lips at the memory. "I take it that he was not particularly pleased about that?"

"Now that would be an understatement!" you exclaim, shaking your head as you recall the furious pitch Jack had thrown when he found out that you'd sneaked onboard with Elizabeth. "It's not very pleasing when Jack gets mad, except for the eyes."

You bite down on your lower lip rather forcefully as you fully realize what you just let out of your mouth. This is your uncle, for goodness sake, and you just blurted out that you find Jack pleasing for the eyes. Somehow, you think that's not something the Governor likes to hear. "I did not just say that out loud," you say with chagrin, hoping to save the situation.

To your relief and surprise, the older man just smiles slightly. "I can pretend I did not hear it, if you would like. Or, you could tell me what exactly it is that you think of this Captain Sparrow…?"

You quirk your brow and glance at the Governor in silence, not entirely sure what to make of his question.

At your confusion, the older man hastily hurries to explain himself. "I do not wish to pry on such private matters, it is just that I… on some level, I feel it my responsibility to ascertain that everything is alright with you, even though you're a grown woman. It must be the uncle in me, I suppose," he smiles to you slightly. "But you certainly do not have to answer, if you don't want to."

"No, it's alright," you reply, somehow gladdened that he would care enough to ask. When Weatherby Swann first found out about you, he could have easily shunned you and wanted to have as little to do with you as possible, with you being a pirate and all that. But instead, he has accepted you as his niece with an openness you never thought possible. It was nice, to know that he has sort of taken your father's place, even if nobody could ever replace him in your heart.

You stay silent as you think of the Governor's query. What do you think of Jack? Oh, what a question… You think so much of him you could never even begin to start listing everything in him that you appreciate or find fascinating, be it his mind or body. Jack Sparrow isn't a normal person; he is something so much beyond those definitions. He is unique, matchless, one of a kind. How could you ever to put such a thing into words?

"I think…" you start, searching for the correct words. Eventually, you only find one word to describe even a fraction of your thoughts and feelings. "I think I love him." The words that you've only had an idea about until now finally spill from your mouth, but the newfound contentment that comes with the declaration is suddenly tainted by sorrow as you remember your uncertain predicament. "And now, I haven't even the chance to tell him that."

A silence ensues, broken only by the muffled sounds of waves and various creaking noises from the worn timbers. Governor Swann says nothing, but reaches his hand through the metal bars of the cells and holds your hand in his, giving it an encouraging squeeze. You smile weakly at the poignant gesture, tightening your hold in response for a second. Sudden determination fills you as you stare down at your clasped hands, a clear purpose stirring up in your mind. You would make it through this, and look after the Governor as well. You have to. You need to get back to Jack and let him know that you love him now and always, that you feel more for him than you ever thought you were capable of feeling. The thought brings a small but genuine smile on your lips, and the filthy, rat-infested ship ceases to bother you for the time being.

I love you, Jack. Just wait a moment and I'll let you know it, too.

* * * * *

A/N: God, I tried so hard not to make the ending too sappy, I hope it worked... I don't know, I wasn't entirely happy with this chapter. Will do better next time! ;) But as always, reviews and opinions would greatly help me out, thank you kindly.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 29 - Times That Once Were

Some people would without a doubt describe hell as a sea of fire, perhaps, where souls burned for their sins, writhing helplessly amid the flames in the stench of brimstone and smoke, all this happening under the all-seeing eyes of the devil himself. Such had been Gemma Wickham’s view on the matter only three years ago, but no longer did she think so. No: her sea was of clear blue water, beautiful but treacherous, and her flames the vicious women she was forced to live amongst. She smelt no brimstone, only damp timbers and decay. But all the same, she was still watched by all-seeing eyes – the smoky grey ones of Captain Gabriela Delgado, whom in Gemma’s opinion was the devil incarnate. For Gemma, the phrase “living hell” was everyday life, had been for the past three years.

Oh, how bitterly she rued that spring day! That day that shattered her happy, content existence into billions of shards that she was unable to put back together again; too many were lost for good. Gemma knew it was hopeless to wish for a change, much less for salvation; her life would end aboard this wretched ship by the hands of some of the women, most likely Carmen who hated her with blazing passion. There was no reason to harbour hope any longer, for she had done so every day since that spring day, and yet deliverance had not been granted to Gemma. It was time to stop being naïve and accept her ill fate – death either by the brutal hands of Carmen or her own. Yes, the horrifying thought of taking her own life had crossed Gemma’s mind in times of desperation, but that would go against her faith, everything her father had taught her; suicide was a sin, something a good Christian like her just did not do. But was it better to suffer – as Gemma knew for certain she would - before Carmen’s reckless hate than to go swiftly in a way she had chosen herself? The question had plagued Gemma’s mind endlessly, and still she had no answer.

Gemma Wickham had been just a regular, ordinary woman of only few months from her twentieth birthday on that fateful day three years ago. She’d led a mostly peaceful life in the English settlement of Charlestown, Nevis, with her parents; she was the only child of the Wickham household. Her father, Carlton Wickham, was the town’s most respected carpenter, extremely skilled in his craft. He was also a gentle and kind soul, the best father a child could’ve ever asked for; Gemma had been the apple of Carlton’s eye. Gemma’s mother, Mabel, was the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth in Gemma’s opinion. She was a governess, holding onto impeccable manners and decorum that she never failed to remind Gemma about, although she wouldn’t have needed to; Gemma had always been well mannered. Mabel, alike her husband, was also kind and caring person, though she could also be stern when need be. The lovely couple had been well loved by the townspeople, and adored by Gemma who’s childhood had been full of love and happiness.

And then… then she came.

The memories of that day were forever etched in Gemma’s mind, down to each sound, smell and emotion. The town had been sacked, houses burned, numerous people were murdered like animals, and everything worth any value had been stolen. Gemma’s eyes stung from hot tears as she remembered how her kind parents lied dead on the ground, cut down by the vile women. She recalled so clearly how she’d sobbed on her knees next to her parent’s lifeless bodies, hardly hearing the screams of terror or smelt the smoke of the burning houses that filled the air. But she became aware of the dark shadow that fell upon her as she wept, and she’d looked up with blurry eyes to see a tall, imposing figure that scrutinized her calculatingly with cold, grey eyes. Gemma recalled the bloodstained sword that was clutched in the woman’s fist, as well as the crimson droplet that slid down the cool steel and fell on the dusty ground. Gemma remembered that smile – God, how she wished she could forget it! – that the woman gave her after a moment; that maliciously gleeful, wicked smile that gave a small glimpse of teeth. Gemma recalled the sharply barked command from the woman; at least she thought it was a command, Gemma didn’t understand much Spanish. Another woman, shorter than Gemma herself and with an ugly scar on her cheek, appeared next to the tall one, and they traded a few words in Spanish. All the time, Gemma awaited with bated breath for her life to end soon, for what chances she had of surviving when the women had left others alive, either? But no, she had not been killed; instead, the short woman had hauled her on her feet roughly, and the tall woman that already struck fear into Gemma’s heart grabbed her chin none too gently, forcing her to look into those unnatural eyes. And she spoke to her in low, smoky tone unlike anything Gemma had heard before, a sharp accent in her words:

“You’ll be coming with us, niña, for I may yet have use for you on my ship. And you will do exactly as I tell you, to down every last detail, or else your fate will not be much different than your dear parents – only a good deal more painful.” (Girl)

Those words had sealed Gemma’s future, and for the next three years, she was confined to the shoddy Spanish galleon, exposed to the cruel whims and taunting insults of the other crewwomen that openly disliked her, some more so than others. She was there just to provide amusement to Delgado, who obviously took much delight from Gemma’s continuous misery. There was no hope of a better life for poor, weak Gemma. Indeed, what could she do? Gemma knew very well that she was a timid and fearful creature. She was no match to the other women aboard.

Heaving a shuddering sigh of pure misery in the dark corner of the empty galley, Gemma bowed her head and leaned her forehead on her hands. Her ochre curls fell about her face, creating a fluffy curtain that enclosed her in her own, private world even for a short moment.

Raised, agitated voices somewhere further away caught Gemma’s ear, and she lifted her head to listen more closely. During the forced stay aboard, she had started to understand Spanish enough to get by. She’d had to learn, for the women did not speak English; either they didn’t know how or just didn’t want to, aside from Delgado, Carmen and Nerita. Oddly curious by the apparent quarrel, Gemma slowly got up and padded quietly closer to the sounds. Pushing back the wild curls from her face, she crept carefully over the worn floorboards, hoping they wouldn’t creak under her weight. She finally reached a corner that rounded to left, halting her steps and hiding in the shadows; two women somewhere around the corner were conversing in Spanish, and Gemma realized the first voice belonged to Inez, one of the women who was close to Carmen.

“—know that sounds ludicrous! If Delgado were ever to find out—”

“Don’t be stupid!” Another voice interrupted with an annoyed hiss, a voice Gemma knew only too well; it was Carmen, her notorious tormentor. “If you think I’d do something of the sort under the Captain’s eyes, you’re a bigger fool than I thought!”

There was a pause, and Gemma bit her bottom lip uneasily. Something was going on here, and she did not like it one bit.

“Then how?” Inez asked, the question followed by a small shuffle of feet that almost had Gemma take off in fear of being discovered; she could only imagine what Carmen would do to her if she found out of her eavesdropping on them.

“Don’t know yet,” Carmen replied pensively. “But it won’t take much longer, that’s for sure. Now that Delgado has her hostages to trade for the map, we’re close to the treasure. Perhaps after that.”

What on earth are they talking about? Gemma wondered, furrowing her brows. Hostages? Delgado had hostages?

“Are you sure that’s a good idea…? Nerita is the closest thing to a friend the Captain has. There’s a big risk,” Inez cautioned.

Carmen let out another sound of irritation. “You’ve seen with your own eyes how oddly she’s been acting lately, haven’t you?”

“That could be anything...”

“Don’t be foolish. There’s a mutiny in the air, I smell it as clearly as the damn mould on the wood. No, she must be rid of, and soon!”

Inez took on a sarcastic tone. “You’re doing this just out of concern over a mutiny? And your dislike for Nerita has nothing to do with it?”

“You know, I’m telling you this because I thought I could count on you to be on my side, Inez,” Carmen said, pausing for a moment before going on threateningly, “And I can count on you, can’t I?”

“You know very well you can, there was never any question about that!” Inez snapped irritably, raising her voice. “But you’re speaking of killing a fellow crewmate!”

“Hush!” Carmen hissed. “Quiet! If word about this gets out, Nerita will know to watch her back and ruin our plan – in worst case scenario, she’ll snitch to Delgado and you know what’ll happen to us then! So keep your goddamn mouth shut about it!”

Gemma flinched, clapping her palm silently over her mouth to stop herself from gasping out loud in shock; they were planning on getting rid of Nerita! Gemma knew Carmen didn’t especially like Nerita, but she had no idea she hated her that much. Oh God, Gemma thought, realizing she had heard something she should not had, under any circumstances, heard.

“And what if Captain Sparrow doesn’t trade the map for the Governor and that Byrne woman?” Inez queried next, more quietly.

Carmen’s response is confident. “Delgado seems to be certain he will. If he wants that damn loudmouthed woman back, he will have no other choice.”

“She his lover or what?”

“Guess so,” Carmen answers, giving a laugh. “Lying on her back is probably the only thing she’s useful for!”

Gemma felt her loathing toward Carmen only increase at the Spaniards foul words, deciding she had heard enough and needed to get as far away from the women as possible. Sneaking back to the dark galley that was her sanctuary, Gemma pondered on the things she had just overheard. Carmen was devising a plot against Nerita, the first mate. Also, Captain Delgado had two captives that Nerita had known nothing about until now – but then, she’d been here most of the time. The Governor and that Byrne woman, so Inez had said.

“The Governor?” Gemma said to herself, her soft voice sounding loud in the silent galley. Had Delgado kidnapped the Governor of Port Royal, of all towns? There was no other Governor it could be, for they had only left Port Royal in the darkness of the night. Gemma had been absolutely abhorred about the attack against yet another British town, holing herself in the galley as she had a habit of going when she wished to escape everything. She had lost the track of time, but she knew that she’d been in the galley for many hours; the dawning of a new day had to be close, already.

Uneasiness twisted at Gemma’s guts, and she swallowed thickly as her thoughts returned to the hostages. Byrne was not a familiar name to her, but she knew the name was of Irish origin. Not much to go by, but now she knew there were two British persons aboard. Gemma recalled Inez’s words about Captain Sparrow and the map – these were more familiar to her. She knew something of this Captain Sparrow, and of course about the blasted map Delgado was after. So, the Governor and this Byrne were to be traded for the map? This was a surprising turn of events, indeed.

But what of Nerita? Carmen was obviously about to get rid of her, but how would she do that without being seen by the Captain’s eyes? Would Gemma have to do something, warn her…? Her first instinct was to forget about it, for she owned Nerita nor any of the other women no allegiances. They had been nothing but cruel to her for years, so perhaps one of them finally got what was coming to her. But then again… Gemma sighed. Carmen’s words about Nerita’s odd behaviour had not gone unnoticed by Gemma, either. The short first mate had been surprisingly civil - almost kind - to her for a while already. Gemma’s strong sense of compassion was weakening her initial negative reaction, and she found herself unable to make a decision about the matter as quickly as she should have. Yet another thing to worry over, Gemma thought to herself with despairing frustration, rubbing her forehead with a sigh whilst closing her eyes. Would she ever be carefree again in her life?

Moreover, would she ever just be free again…?

* * * *

Light shroud of fog still lingered upon the clear waters as the horizon began to gain brightness, the first sign of the approaching sunrise. It was still early, too early for the town of Port Royal and the crew of the Black Pearl to be up and about. However, the Captain of the said vessel had been wide awake for hours already, too harried to slumber. He’d had a few odd hours of dreamless sleep during the night after his exhaustion finally caught up with him, but other than that, he refused to lie in his comfortable bed when the most important person in his life was probably sitting in a cold brig at the moment. The thought made him feel fierce desire to hurt somebody, preferably the thrice-damned witch Delgado.

But despite his simmering anger, Jack knew perfectly well there was nothing he could do for the time being, and he hated that feeling of helplessness. Jack was a man who was always in control of the situation, never mind how dire or seemingly against him it might be – he always managed to remain more or less on top of things, either due to his cunning mind or sheer good luck, the result was still the same. And even if he didn’t, he was an expert in subtly twisting things around so that they suited his aims and purposes. But now the tables had turned and the situation controlled him, and he did not like it one bit. Jack was his own master, and losing control over things, anything at all, stung him more deeply than he cared to admit.

No, he could not help you now as much as he wanted to, so he had looked after his ship, making sure that everything was in perfect shipshape so they could be off to Puerto Rico as soon as possible. Jack had spent an hour or two in the dimness of the small hours meticulously checking the Pearl and going over small details, pleased to note once again that most things were as they should be; the ship had an excellent crew, just as she deserved. Jack had found himself doing small tasks that he had not done since he was nothing but a boy, a measly tenderfoot years and years ago under Lucas Fowler’s stern but fair command. Old memories had flooded back to him, even ones that he had forgotten somewhere along the way, and Jack’s heart had been lightened momentarily by an even stronger affection for his marvellous ship that he already had. The Black Pearl was more than a ship to Jack Sparrow; it was a lifeline of sorts. Perhaps not in the very sense of the word, nothing so dramatic, but the ship had been an invariable factor in his life for years ever since he was a lad, something he could count on to be there. When the ship had fallen into the filthy hands of the bloody mutineer, Hector Barbossa, Jack had fiercely cursed himself for allowing such a thing to ever happen, for not keeping a sharper eye on things going on right under his nose. For ten years, his one and only goal that constantly burned in his brain, urging him ever onward in his private quest, was to get the Pearl back by any means necessary. He owed that to himself, his uncle and most of all to the ship, as foolish as the latter may sound. But it was true; the vessel had had a share in shaping up Jack’s personality, of who he was – and after the mutiny, it was Jack’s turn to return the favour, because that broken, degraded vessel that she was under the command of Barbossa was not the true identity of the Pearl.

But now, as Jack stood by the helm, stroking the palm of his hand over the smooth wood of the wheel in silent greeting, he looked upon the real Black Pearl in all her glory.

“We’ve seen our share of things, haven’t we, old girl?” Jack spoke in hushed tone, his eyes trailing over the familiar patterns in the wood. “Maybe more than we should have... but what’s done is done. No use regretting old bygones.”

Jack’s lips quirked into quick smile as the wind blew from the sea, playing amid the furled black sails and fluttering some loose ropes as the ebony timbers gave a quiet groan. The Pearl was speaking, but only few knew how to listen to her. Jack was not inept in this talent; he had been listening for years. His fingers tapped lightly against the wheel as he glanced towards the horizon, narrowing his eyes pensively as he considered the weather. It was promisingly windy already, which bode well for the noon’s sail. They would make good way if the winds were prevailing.

“All right, old girl,” Jack started slowly. “I rid you of the curse, and now I would greatly appreciate if you’d aid old Jack a bit in return. I need to get my lady back, but I need your help with that. What do you say?” he crooned softly to the ship, letting his long fingers curl around the handles of the wheel.

Jack listened closely to the small sounds the ship made, felt the barest of tremors that vibrated beneath his fingers. And smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down. And no need for that jealousy, you know she cares for you just as I do,” Jack chuckled, giving the wheel a few affectionate pats before ambling over to the board side of the helm. Jack knew if anyone were to hear him having a seemingly one-sided conversation with his ship, they’d think him crazier than they already did, but such matter was rather trivial to Jack. Let people have their opinions, there was no point in denying such claims, either. Most of them were true, anyway.

Halting his steps by the railing, Jack gazed out to the wide horizon ahead. The vague brightness above the waterline had deepened into shades of rich red and orange, signalling for another magnificent sunrise. Only this morning, Jack couldn’t fully enjoy the upcoming display. His worry over your well-being was first and foremost on his mind, taking away almost everything else. He couldn’t quell the anxiety inside him, or stop his thoughts from turning toward you. The only time he had ceased thinking of you was the some odd hours he’d slept last night. It was strange how the human mind worked. Now that you weren’t there, Jack found himself recalling all sorts of memories of you, little details and particulars of your habits and personality. Some images were almost inane - like the one of you standing in the middle of the cell in Fort Charles, bits of straw sticking out of your ruffled hair as you watched him trying to pick the lock with the bone. Most were of your habitual patterns, like how you talked to yourself, muttering this and that under your breath when you thought nobody was around to hear. Or the way you played with your necklace when bothered or contemplative, twisting it about in the chain. Or how you rolled your eyes when exasperated, narrowed your eyes or clucked your tongue when expressing annoyance, smirked when amused. And then there were the physical aspects; how your body fit most snugly against his own, that long white scar that ran down the side of your right thigh, and the other one that traced across your abdomen. The exact location of that small, dark birthmark on your shoulder blade. The taste of your lips and the softness of your skin as he held you.

Jack closed his eyes for a moment as a strong gush of wind blew from the sea, stirring his hair and the bits and pieces woven among the dreads and braids. The beads and gems created quiet, melodic tinkling as they collided against each other in the breeze, but this time there was a slight dissonance in the tune. Not an unpleasant one, only new and still foreign – it came from the newly added piece, a round disc of silver with a figure of a raven on it. Jack knew how important the necklace was to you, so he didn’t want to risk losing it. The broken chain was stored away in his quarters somewhere, for that could be easily replaced, but the pendant itself he’d put somewhere he knew it would remain safe until he could return it to you; he’d carefully added it into one of the strings hanging from his hair as he’d woven them back in his hair last night.

Jack recognized the soft footsteps before he saw the figure of the approaching person from the corner of his eye. “Up so early, mister Turner,” he said in way of greeting as the blacksmith reached the pirate’s side, joining him in his horizon gazing.

Will gave a searching look to the older man, who didn’t tear his eyes from the approaching sunrise. “I could say the same thing, Jack...”

“I suppose you could,” Jack replied with a small smile, not indulging Will in his roundabout way of questioning how he was doing.

Young William and his equally young fiancée were both present aboard the Pearl, occupying the cabin they tended to stay in. Will had wanted to come with Jack and his crew as they left for Puerto Rico, and Elizabeth had told both men in no uncertain terms that she was going to go with them; she had outright refused to stay in Port Royal when both her father and cousin were in possible danger. Jack possessed no amount of patience or desire to get slapped then to start arguing about the matter, so he’d given his permission to come aboard rather quickly. Lord knows he couldn’t stop Elizabeth for going, in one way or another when she made up her mind, so suppose it was best to travel aboard the Pearl with friends.

“Yours to know, yours to keep, is it?” Will asked with a wry smile, turning his head to look out towards the sea.

Jack blinked in surprise at the words and tilted his head to stare at Will, instantly hearing Bootstrap’s amused voice echoing in his head: “Yours to know, yours to keep, eh Jack?” That was exactly the phrase he always used to say when he felt like Jack was keeping something to himself. The young Turner beside him stared at the sea, wind ruffling his dark hair. Jack found it hard to believe his own eyes; the boy was such a mirror image of his father at that moment that Jack felt like he’d gone back in time for a good twelve, thirteen years. But this was not Bill. His friend was gone. Jack abruptly realized that he missed the old rascal who’d tried so hard to keep him out of the various troubles that seemed to follow him, but eventually only ended up in the same mess as Jack, himself – usually not entirely unwillingly, as much as Bill had tried to claim otherwise.

Will, aware of Jack’s stare, turned to look at the pirate. “What?” he asked warily, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable by the scrutiny.

Jack shook his head and sighed quietly, turning his eyes back ahead while speaking in wistful tone. “Sometimes you’re precisely like your father was, and I’m not talking about just your looks. It can be quite unnerving at times, honestly,” he added with a small, quick smirk.

Will had no answer to that, only more questions. Despite having been Bill Turner’s close friend, Jack had been mostly tight-lipped about him and what was he like. Will wanted so desperately to ask the pirate to tell him more about his father, but this didn’t seem like the appropriate time for that.

Jack could guess the track the boy’s thoughts had taken thanks to his comment, and understood his wishes. Nevertheless, he could not bear to start reminiscing another person lost to him, not now. “At a later date, then,” he said aloud, giving Will a brief glance.

Will returned the look with a small smile. “Thank you.”

Jack didn’t respond, just nodded his head a fraction in mute acknowledgement. For a long moment, the two men just stood still and silent, eyes fixed on the horizon. The wind blew again, the soft howling filling the silence.

“So…” Will began, seeming a bit hesitant, but soon gaining confidence. A tiny smiled played about his lips as he went on. “How far are you willing to go to save her?”

It only took a second for Jack to process the words, and he shot the younger man a look tinged with reproach. “I really do hate to have my own words thrown back at me. Kindly refrain from doing that again, savvy?”

Will nodded wordlessly in return, glancing down at his feet to hide the smirk that passed over his lips. Schooling his features back to solemn, the blacksmith glanced at the older man beside him. His face was inexpressive, but Will caught a trace of grim worry in his friend’s eyes.

“How far?” Will repeated softly, but with utmost seriousness.

Knowing the boy wouldn’t let the matter drop, Jack remained silent for a moment as he thought. When he finally spoke up, Will could hear the steely resolve in his low tone.

“A year back I told you that not all treasure is silver and gold, as I’m fairly sure you’ve come to realize by now. As a pirate, I have a good understanding of treasures… but only as a man can one understand the value of true treasures, and the worth of such treasures have nothing to do with gold and other earthly riches. It goes beyond such things,” Jack paused, turning his head to look at Will seriously. “And that’s why, for as long as I draw breath, nobody lays even a single finger upon my treasure and gets away with it.”

Jack held Will’s eyes for a moment, before turning his gaze away again to look out towards the sea. There was such fierce determination in Jack’s voice Will had no reason to doubt Jack’s words. The black fire in his eyes was enough to convince Will that Jack would make Delgado pay for her stunt. Will could understand; were Elizabeth taken away from him, he would react the same way, himself. That was when Will realized that Jack – the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow – was in love, whether he himself acknowledged it or not.

“You love her,” Will blurted out before he even realized it himself, cringing inwardly at his blunt remark.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Jack’s mouth. “Aye, that’s what occurs sometimes when a man meets a woman, or vice versa. Stranger things have been known to happen, William.”

Will rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. He was pleased to see that Jack wasn’t about to deny anything, but admitted his feelings so openly; he was not ashamed of them. Both happy and sad for his friend, Will hoped for everyone’s sake that they would get to you and the Governor in time.

Steady wind blew from the sea as the two men watched the sunrise side by side, filling the reflective silence with its soft howling.

* * * *

Your entire body flinches as the sleep suddenly eludes you, sending you crashing back into the harsh reality. Still groggy, you blink your eyes rapidly to clear your vision, shivering violently from cold. Your hands and feet are freezing, and your body feels numb from the chill. You clench your teeth as a particularly strong shiver runs through you - you’re sure your very intestines are shaking, too. You stifle an agonized groan as you push yourself into sitting position on the filthy floorboards of the galleon, your muscles stiff and sore on lying on the hard wood. Glancing over at the Governor, you see that he’s lying on his back on the floor, sleeping. Good thing he has that wig to serve as a pillow, you think wryly. He also has his overcoat on, which is now dirty, but at least it’s of some shelter against the chill. Whereas the flimsy chiffon sleeves of your dress don’t exactly ward off the cold, and the white under dress covering your legs isn’t too thick, either.

You pull your knees up against your chest, feeling the whalebones in the corset you still have wrapped around your torso digging into your skin. Thankfully, you were able to loosen the blasted thing just a bit after a lot of squirming, clawing and twisting about after the Governor had finally fallen into sleep. You didn’t exactly feel comfortable asking him to untie the dress from the back and loosen up the corset. You’d save that option for the last possible resort, as horrible as the bloody thing was to sleep in. You could handle a few more bruises. Tucking the hem of the under dress over your freezing feet, you rub them vigorously with your hands in hopes of warming them while glancing up at the larger holes on the hull. Faint light poured in from them, and you figured the sun had risen some time ago.

Sighing, you drop your eyes back to your feet and swallow your dry throat, remembering your thirst. Hunger was starting to creep into you stomach too, but you suspect you shouldn’t get your hopes up about either food or drink with this lot. You’re sure Delgado couldn’t care if you got a bit dehydrated, as long as you just stayed alive to some degree. Pushing these thoughts out of your mind, you inspect the wound you got on your left forearm in the fight last night, grimacing as you notice that the chiffon of the sleeve has gotten stuck on the dried up blood clotting the wound. As gently as you can, you peel the thin fabric away, hissing as some of the newly formed scab tears off in the process, blood seeping from the wound. Cursing under your breath, you grab the sleeve in intents to tear a piece of it off to keep the wound untouched; however, as you yank at the fabric, the whole sleeve tears off from the shoulder.

You close your eyes in exasperation, muttering under your breath, “Great work, Byrne.”

Oh well. Bunching up the thin fabric, you gently dab off the fresh blood, noting to your distaste that the skin around the two-inch wound is already red and inflamed; you only hope it won’t get infected.

Throwing a disgusted look around the filthy cell, you wonder if you could get the lock of the door open. You’re sure the mechanism can’t be very overpowering to you, if the general state of the cells is of any indication. But what would that accomplish? Even if you did get the door open wide, you’d still be stumped; you’re stuck on a ship full of vengeful amazons who’d likely put a quick stop to your newfound freedom. And you have a sneaking suspicion that they wouldn’t hesitate a second to use some forceful methods while doing just that. No, it was best to wait to learn more about the situation you and the Governor are stuck in… wait until the opportune moment. The thought makes the corners of your lips to quirk upwards, and you swear you can almost hear Jack’s low voice in your head drawling the line. Just as quickly, though, your smile fades away. You haven’t been away from Jack even a full twenty-four hours yet, and still you already miss him something terrible. Leaning your forehead on your knees and wrapping your arms around your legs, you give a tremulous sigh of misery, hating the combined feel of unhappiness and helplessness that held you in its clutches.

A sudden, loud creak of the floorboards and a shuffling noise make you frown. That was not a normal groan the timbers make as the ship moves. Quickly, you raise you head and snap your gaze in the direction of the sound.

Your eyebrows climb up and your eyes widen a fraction in astonishment as they meet another pair – the bluest ones you’ve ever seen, almost ridiculously wide with fright and apparent surprise that you caught her, reminding you of a fearful fawn. A puffy mess of small curls surrounds the heart-shaped face, the light yellowish-brown hair a sharp contrast to her pale skin and those huge, sky blue eyes. You blink in pure bewilderment, telling straight away that this girl is certainly no Spaniard. But before you can ask her who she is, before you manage to say anything, she staggers away with panic-like haste, turning her back and scampers up the narrow stairs, curls bouncing behind her.

“Hey, wait!” you call after her, finally finding your voice. “Come back!”

But the mysterious girl is as good as gone, as if she was never there in the first place. Your shout awakens Governor Swann, who struggles to sit upright.

“Oh…! What, what is happening…?” he stammers groggily, wiping his eyes as he sits up, his long wig sitting in more than a little lopsided position on top of his head.

“Nothing,” you pacify, glancing back towards the stairs leading one deck up. “There was just… this odd girl here a moment ago.”

The Governor harrumphs. “Probably one of those fiendish women! What did she want?”

You shake your head slowly. “She didn’t say. Actually, she didn’t say anything. But I don’t think she was one of them, she looked too… frightened.”

“Frightened?” The Governor repeats with disbelieving edge, staying silent for a moment. “Are you sure that you didn’t just… imagine it?”

You give the Governor a look. “I know what I saw,” you respond insistently. “Besides, why would I imagine something like that?”

“Well, all this has been rather distressing…”

“Believe me, I have seen more distressing situations in my life. This hasn’t affected my mind yet, thanks very much,” you say patiently.

“Very well, then,” the Governor sighs. “Why did the girl run away?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. She got really jittery when I noticed her and just ran away in terror before I got to ask her anything. But she was not a Spaniard, I think. At least I have never seen one with bright blue eyes and tawny hair.”

“I see,” the older man replies rather noncommittally, and you suspect he still thinks you might have made the whole thing up. Before you get to formulate a reply, new sounds – footsteps, more correctly – resound from the end of the stairs. This time, you don’t have to guess the identity of the newcomer. You loosen your hold of your legs a bit, looking more relaxed than you actually feel as you follow Gabriela Delgado’s descend down the stairs with keen eyes. Two more women trail after her lead, carrying something in the hands. You recognize the other to be the bitch of a quartermaster, Carmen, who’d bruised your upper arm into lovely shades of black and blue.

“Very good morning to both of you,” Delgado smirks as she strolls by the cells. “I trust you’ve found your lodgings to be satisfactory?”

Your lips purse slightly as you pretend to think about it. “So far, yes, but now it seems to me that the air has suddenly gone putrid,” you scrunch up your nose and wave your palm before your face in imitation of fanning the air. “Must be that core of yours rotting away, oh great Captain Delgado.”

Delgado raises one dark brow as she stares down at you coldly, less amused than you. “How very witty of you,” she finally responds in chilly tone. Instead of being intimidated, you’re only more amused, your cheeky smirk growing a bit more. “Good thing for you I’m in a good mood today.”

You roll your eyes. “Sacking towns and killing lots of innocent people always cheer me up so well, too.”

“There went your chance of getting anything to drink this morning,” Delgado says lightly, smiling a little that unpleasant smile of hers.

“Ah. See how I weep,” you reply sarcastically, drawing one finger down your cheek and ignoring the parching thirst drying your throat.

Delgado heaves a dramatic sigh. “I had hoped you’d be reasonable, but I see you’re being just as infuriating as your beloved Captain Sparrow,” she sneers. “Fine! There would’ve only been little water and a bite to eat for one, anyway. I think we’ll let Governor Swann enjoy those all by himself then, won’t we?”

You smile and nod as if this had been the plan all along, ignoring the Governor’s outraged protests demanding that you be allowed some nourishment as well. In your mind, you know the lack of water might become tricky, yet. One got dehydrated so quickly. However, you have no intentions of allowing the Governor to be left without water, he needed it more than you did. So, you had no complaints if there was only enough for one – you would’ve given it to your uncle, all the same. Carmen and the other dark-haired woman give the Governor a small mug of water and a small plate of something to eat; you can’t see what. You smile and nod your head in encouragement as he glances at you, clearly conflicted and guilty. Delgado notices this, and smiles condescendingly at you.

“So very noble of you to make such a sacrifice,” she drawls. “You are really not a very good pirate, you do understand? Too compassionate…”

You raise your brow, throwing Delgado a contemptuous look. “If the other option is to be anything even remotely like you, I’ll gladly be the worst bloody pirate in the whole history of humankind.”

Delgado scoffs. “Again, so seemingly righteous. It’s truly disgusting.”

“Rather like you then,” you reply, narrowing your eyes. “You won’t get away with this scot-free, you do know that?”

Delgado smirks. “Hmm. Hoping your precious Captain will sail to your rescue?”

“You know he will be there. That’s why you left him the note,” you respond calmly, meeting her piercing gaze steadily. “And you know as well as I that we will be very… very… furious at you, lady. And then there’s the Commodore who really would like to see you hanging from a noose – I doubt he liked your latest stunt very much, along with everything else. Oh, and I think my cousin is too very angry that you ruined her wedding. Wow. There are a whole lot of angry people after you, all wanting your head,” you finish with a smirk of your own.

“Then let them come,” Delgado says in low tone, smiling. “I have never been stopped by anyone before, so do let me know: why should I be stopped now?”

You stare at her in the eyes, your voice quiet but serious. “Your self-confidence will be your downfall, yet.”

“Yours is the foolish faith in your friends,” Delgado replies coolly, a glimmer of amusement flashing in her grey eyes. Turning her head, she commands the two other women to gather the mug and plate from the Governor, seeing as he’s already eaten the paltry serving. They waste no time to obey her, and Delgado dismisses them with a quick flick of her hand. Levelling her gaze back on you, she narrows her eyes a little.

“We still have a day or two left of our journey, depending on the winds. Let’s see how well you keep your wits in check after your starving stomach and parched throat get the best of you. In the meantime, I hope you have a merry time keeping the rats at bay,” she smirks. “The nasty things tend to grow rather big in here.”

With that, she flickers her eyes momentarily on the outraged Governor, smiling wickedly the entire time as she strolls over to the stairs and climbs them up nimbly like a cat. You sigh tiredly and close your eyes, ignoring the Governor’s angry spluttering. It is indeed a wonder that you haven’t yet learned to keep your mouth shut from time to time; now you’d successfully denied yourself the smallest chance of any nourishment at all. Well, it can’t be helped, now. You most certainly will not ask anything of that damned wench, no matter how small. Besides, who knows what she’d mix in your water or food? Perhaps dehydration is a safer option, anyway. But then, the Governor seems to be all right despite having eaten. With an annoyed growl, you push the matter out of your mind.

Your eyes seek out the stairs again, abruptly recalling the strange girl with the frightened blue eyes. Who the heck was she? And what is she doing aboard this ship, more importantly? Does she hold an allegiance to Delgado? You can’t be sure, but something about her jittery, timid demeanour tells you that all can’t be quite like they seem when it comes to her.

The ship rocks over the waves and a small spray of water suddenly lands next to you on the grimy floorboards, few drops splattering over you. You grimace, glancing up at the holes on the hull: how that the waves were bigger, they naturally licked the sides higher and sprays would splash into the cellblock from the holes. How bloody wonderful.

Sighing again, you resume your previous position and lean your forehead on your knees, shivering in the nippy air while your thoughts turn to your beautiful pirate Captain. Thoughts of him will at least warm your heart.

* * * * *

A/N: For once a chapter I really, really liked myself, too. ;) Reviews would be so very adored and rewarded with cookies. :)

* * * * *

CHAPTER 30 - Hope And Memory

“Watch closely, son. You watch closely and learn.”

The walk back home happened mostly on Jack’s terms. Joshua normally indulged his son and allowed him to pick the route to the manor where Jack’s mother worked and lived. This was an easy decision to Jack, as he always wanted to make a detour by the main harbour and see all those ships and vessels that floated there, awaiting to be sailed away into the wide seas. As Jack busied himself with watching the ships, Joshua would watch his son, a certain degree of sadness in his eyes. He knew of Jack’s passion for ships, even if he could no completely understand it, himself. Water was an element Joshua Fowler didn’t much enjoy, much to the dismay of his family. He had chosen other paths, broken the traditions. But he would not be forced into something he didn’t like, and Joshua would make damn sure his son wouldn’t, either. But it seemed that the sea beckoned his son, too, as it did so many others in his family. Joshua was not a stupid man, no matter what was said of him on the streets. He didn’t fail to notice the gleam in Jack’s eyes as he stared at the vessels in the harbour. Joshua shook his head slowly as he kept an eye on Jack. This boy shouldn’t have been born to him, as much as Joshua loved him. He should have been born to his brother Lucas; Jack should’ve been Lucas’ child. Then at least, he would’ve had the chance to live out his dreams. How could Joshua offer Jack what he wanted, when his son’s desire was something he could not stand for, himself? What could he give Jack?

“No, one about your adventures! That one where you escaped the prison in Bristol and stole the warden’s money.”

“Very well, then,” Joshua said, his tone light and blithe as he started recalling the tale. “That was quite a fix, I tell you that! It started out as a beautiful summer day-”

Captain Jack Sparrow closed his kohl-brimmed eyes fleetingly as he chased the stray memory away, wondering where did such a recollection suddenly surface from. Fixing his eyes back on the wide horizon stretching ahead of him, he gripped he handles of the Pearl’s wheel tighter as he considered the memory. He had not thought about his father in long, long time… Jack hadn’t quite been eleven when he’d arrived to the Caribbean and was taken under his uncle’s wing, after his mother had died of high fever in London. Jack’s memories on either of his parents had never been plentiful; a child could only remember so much. And, regrettably, what little he did remember of the couple that gave him life had faded along the years. But some things Jack still recalled as clearly as they had happened only yesterday, instead of a good twenty something years ago.

His mother, Syrea de Vant, was a Frenchwoman with kind, blue eyes and thick, light brown hair that she always held up, twirled into a bun on the back of her head. She had high cheekbones and clear features that gave her an aura of subtle beauty. Jack remembered the small things, like her voice as she sang to him as a child, and how she used to call him her little sparrow. And how she always started spewing rapid French whenever she was angry or frustrated – there were many times she’d switched from English into a heated tirade in French when she was disagreeing on Joshua’s views about something when he stopped by the manor to fetch Jack somewhere. Joshua had never been one to settle down, he was too restless for that, and Jack wasn’t blind to all the women he associated with. But as stormy as Syrea’s and Joshua’s tenuous relationship had been, Jack knew there was something deeper between those two that was ever admitted. There had to be love somewhere for them to react so strongly to one another, but perhaps they just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. Jack had a feeling Joshua, at least, had been afraid to do such. He was afraid to lose his freedom. It was like he had often told Jack when he was a lad, “Women are amazing creatures, but never fall in love with one, boy. Love them, but don't fall in love.”

And indeed, Jack had followed that seemingly sage guideline for years. Until the day that he’d woken up in that blasted cell in Port Royal only to be groped by the bonny daughter of the late Bloodshot Pete. The recollection of that particular occurrence still brought a fond grin to Jack’s lips.

He’d been physically attracted to you since day one, that was certain, but as the misadventure with Barbossa carried on, he’d come to appreciate your quick wit, sharp tongue, quiet courage and that downright stubborn doggedness that was a perpetual part of your persona. You’d quickly become his best friend after he had the Pearl back and made good of his promise to take you in his crew, but as months passed by Jack found himself appreciating you increasingly more, and it had him puzzled. Looking back, it had all been very subtle and discreet, falling in love with you. Jack figured the emotion had been building up for longer than he realized. A wry smile pulled at Jack’s lips. Joshua would be rolling around in his grave, no doubt. But Jack was not like his father in that aspect. He was not afraid to love, not now when he realized how empowering the feeling really was. Jack Sparrow had seen so much strangeness in his life that nothing really frightened him any longer, and much less something as wonderful as a love for a glorious woman. Jack swore he would make sure that whatever happened between him and you would not be anything like what his parents had. He would make sure you knew exactly how much you mattered to him, something that Joshua had never told Syrea although he had most likely felt it.

Returning his attention back to the situation at hand, Jack let his right hand drop from the wheel as he turned around half-way, narrowing his eyes as he searched the H.M.S Dauntless with his gaze. Spotting the massive Navy vessel sailing far behind the much faster Pearl, Jack idly stroked his chin with his free hand as he mentally calculated the distance between the ships. They had been sailing for a few hours already, having set sail towards the coastal town of Aguadilla, Puerto Rico, a few moments before noon. Due to a mutual agreement, Jack would sail ahead, and Commodore Norrington would follow behind him, keeping their distance. The Navy vessels primary objective was to prevent the Spanish galleon from escaping Puerto Rico after the exchange had been made, but a slight apprehensiveness still dwelled at the back of Jack’s mind. He did trust Norrington and was certain that the fellow likely knew what he was doing. Despite his many taunts and ribs, Jack recognized talent and fortitude when he saw them, and old James had plenty of both – but that was something Jack wouldn’t admit aloud anytime soon! Nevertheless, Jack was the one with previous knowledge about Delgado, and a general idea of her shrewd mind. She was good with tactics, and probably was aware of the fact that they would try to hinder her departure. But at the moment, Jack’s main concern was just to get you back safe and sound, and take care of the malicious bitch afterwards.

Turning back, Jack gripped the wheel with both hands again whilst sending you a silent plead to hold on a while, yet.

* * * *

Elizabeth sighed forlornly, trying to quell her anxiousness and worries for the umpteenth time, only to once again fail in the attempt. She couldn’t seem to think about anything else than his poor father and cousin in the clutches of that poisonous woman. Her despondent sigh tugged at Will’s heart, and he wished that he could ease her sorrows somehow. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders and drew her gently to him, holding her close in hopes to comfort her. Elizabeth responded instantly, laying her head on Will’s shoulder and wrapping her own arms around his waist tightly, holding onto him like she was afraid that he might suddenly be taken away from her, too. Will kissed her brow lovingly, murmuring a few soft words to his beloved while Elizabeth clutched onto him almost despairingly, suddenly finding herself holding back tears. Neither of them noticed that Will had inattentively started to rock them in a small back and forth movement. No more words were spoken in a long while, for they weren’t needed; just being close like this to the most important person in the world was enough. They sat like this on the edge of the bed in their dim cabin aboard the Pearl for many moments, drawing silent solace from one another and their love.

* * * *

Commodore James Norrington stood at the helm of the Dauntless, gazing stoically ahead. The Black Pearl was but a dark spot in the horizon, for the smaller vessel was indeed just as fast as the tales told. Funny, he had never quite imagined that he would some day be tailing after a pirate ship in any other than hostile purposes. But here he was now, actually collaborating with one.

James Norrington had hated pirates with fervour ever since his childhood. His father, Edward Norrington, had been a high-ranking official in the Royal Navy, and as a boy James had always admired his father more than anyone. When James was ten years old, he had to remain bed-ridden for several days due to a persistent cold, the sickness striking most inconveniently just when the Norrington’s were supposed to travel to Plymouth to visit Teresa Norrington’s, James’ mother’s, relatives. As the trip had been settled months beforehand, James was left in London to cure his illness, cared by the family’s most trusted servants while Edward, Teresa and Christina, James’ sixteen year old sister sailed to Plymouth.

However, their return trip went horribly wrong. After their ship had departed from Plymouth to sail back to London, a pirate vessel waylaid them by the coast of Isle of Wight. It had been a cruel massacre. The marines onboard, every single man including James’ father, had been killed. The pirates had not spared the lives of his mother or sister, either. The information given to young James was deliberately kept vague then, but nowadays James knew that they had been violated before their deaths. The mere idea was nauseating and made James feel sick to his stomach – how horrifying his beloved mother’s and sister’s final moments must have been! James had almost been crushed by grief, but his fierce anger had empowered him. Despite his measly ten years of age, James swore to dedicate his life to hunting down the despicable lowlifes.

His mother’s older sister, Lucy, and her husband, Richard Cornwall, had taken James in after the tragedy. They lived in Dover, where James had moved soon after the funerals. His aunt and her husband were good, kind people, who encouraged James to pursue his ambition to create a career in the Navy, just like his father. James started from scratch, like every other officer, and slowly but surely moved up in the ranks, thanks to his steadfast determination and obvious ardour. He had been made leftenant at twenty-two years of age, and the next year he had met Weatherby Swann, the new Governor of Port Royal, Jamaica, in London. The Governor had been most impressed by his immaculate career and his resolve to see to the safety of the water routes. Before James even properly realized it himself, he was all set to transfer to the Caribbean to aid in purging the English waters out of the pirates who seemed to be growing all the more numerous there. And so it was that as a result of his valiant efforts, the number of pirates and other delinquents and wrongdoers had lessened considerably, and Port Royal made a place of full civilization again. [AN1]

But as always, every coin has its flipside. The first time this was made clear to James was around the time when he was promoted as the Commodore. He’d been so immersed in his work and his career that he had neglected his social life badly. Elizabeth Swann had attracted him, yes, but the more James thought of “what ifs”, the more he came to realize that their relationship might have not worked out as perfectly as he had thought when he had proposed to her over a year ago. Until then, James had only seen of Elizabeth what she allowed everyone to see: a well-mannered, considerate and beautiful young lady. But it wasn’t until after the debacle with the undead pirates that James started to understand that all that was just a subtle cover for a lively spirit that bubbled beneath, one that thirsted for a bit of adventure and excitement as a counterbalance to the monotonous life of a lady that was filled with polite mannerisms and tea sipping. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why Will Turner had won her heart; perhaps the blacksmith housed a similar spirit that called out to hers. James knew better than to think he was like that. He appreciated order and logicality in things, and was reluctant to rush into anything heedlessly. So, perhaps he would have stifled Elizabeth’s spirit on the long run if they had been married, and that was the last thing he wanted. As much as the realization that Elizabeth did not love him had hurt him back then, he nevertheless did understand that it wasn’t meant to be, now more so than ever.

All the same, as pleased as he was for Elizabeth and Will for finding happiness with one another, James found himself unable to quell that tiny twinge of envy he felt when he saw them together, obviously blissfully happy. Under different circumstances, that could’ve been his life, as well. If only certain things would’ve been different. But they weren’t, and that was the harsh reality that he had to accept.

It seemed somewhat ironic to James that someone like Jack Sparrow, the unlikeliest person to fall in love in his opinion, had apparently found his significant other in Byrne, and yet James still remained alone.

Shaking his head, Norrington gave a wry smirk at his own musings. Resolutely, he pushed such piteous thoughts away; more important things were at stake now. That Gabriela Delgado had to be detained and sentenced by any means necessary, and Governor Swann and Byrne had to be released. Everything else had to wait; this was his job, and James intended to see it well done, as always. And as far as Sparrow went, James had to admit that there were much worse people in the world than him, and that despite his smug arrogance and annoying narcissism, he could be counted as a good man. But that was something the Commodore wasn’t about to actually acknowledge aloud anytime soon!

* * * *

You’re starting to feel the affects of dehydration – just a simple feeling of thirst that everybody gets sometimes is the first sign of it. Yours is fivefold worse than that. You peel your dry tongue for the tenth time from the roof of your mouth where is has once again gotten stuck on, trying to elicit some saliva to wet your desiccated mouth. You have no way of knowing what time it is now, but you know for sure that some hours have already passed since Delgado’s little visit. It has to be past noon, already. Considering the last liquid dose you swallowed was the mouthful of rum from Jack’s flask last night, you fancy you haven’t had anything to drink in about sixteen, seventeen hours. How bloody wonderful. It’s really no wonder you feel parched and slightly weak.

The battered timbers of the ship creak noisily every so often, breaking the silence that descended some whiles ago when the conversation between you and the Governor had gradually died away. This captivity is taking its toll on both of you, and frankly you’re a bit concerned about the Governor. He was not too old, but neither was he a young man, either. The coldness, dampness and lack of proper rest and nourishment could not be a good thing for his health. It isn’t too grand on you either, but you are determined to tough it out. The notion makes a ghost of a smile to pass over your lips. Jack would probably remind you of your infuriating stubbornness at that. You close your eyes for a moment as your thoughts wander to Jack again. Damn it, but you miss him so badly. It’s quite startling, in fact, the way you have never realized until now just how important Jack has become to you over the time you’ve known him.

Heaving a soundless sigh, you let your eyes wander idly around the dark bowels of the ship, wringing your hands half-heartedly to warm your cold fingers. You smother a small shiver of disgust as you hear a distinct sound of something scurrying about somewhere in the dark corners – a rat, most likely. Once again, you marvel how the ship has stayed afloat for this long in its shabby condition.

Another, more solid sound suddenly echoes from the stairwell, and both you and the Governor instantly become more attentive. Moments seem to stretch into minutes as you keep watching the stairs cautiously, expecting someone to come down to torment you and the Governor again. However, nothing happens and it grows quiet again, save for the eerie creaking of old wood. You glance at the Governor, exchanging small, wry smiles with him at your suspicious behaviours. But suppose one could never be too cautious when trapped in Delgado’s ship. Few minutes pass by silently again, until you hear a soft sound from the top of the stairwell again. Now you’re certain someone is there, but you keep your observations to yourself and show no outward sign of having heard anything. It has to be that odd girl from the morning, and if she is gathering her courage to come down, you’ll keep your attention away from her until she was ready to show herself and possibly to even talk to you. You really want to know about her – why was she aboard this ship, where did she come from, who was she?

Your curiosity is running rampant, but aside that, you have a strange, nagging sense that the girl might yet have a bigger part in the grand scheme of things than anyone knew yet. You allow yourself the briefest of smiles to congratulate yourself for correct assumptions as you catch a fleeting flash of orangey hair from the corner of your eye; the girl must’ve peeked down quickly. You feel like calling out that you and the Governor really could not be that intimidating, but if she were as jittery as you deem, that would only send her fleeing. Hence, you bite down your lower lip lightly to curb the impulse and gaze down at your hands to appear unaware of her presence.

There’s another small sound, and now you realize the Governor apparently heard it too. You catch his eyes as he glances at you, shaking your head faintly and whispering very quietly, “It’s that girl I spoke about. Pay no attention so she doesn’t run off again.”

Your uncle frowns at this, but nods in compliance after a second, regardless. You pick your scant nails absentmindedly while listening to any further sound from the girl, but hear none. Several long moments pass, and you wonder if she decided to go away, after all. Probably, since you’ve heard no further sounds for her. You let out an annoyed growl and throw your hands in the air out of frustration, lifting your head – and jolting in startled surprise as you realize the girl in question is standing in front of your cell, staring at you with big eyes.

“Christ, girl!!” you yelp, your body lurching backwards and forcing you to fling your hands behind your torso to brace yourself up. The girl startles herself at your sudden outburst, staggering away a few feet. You stare at the girl with widened eyes, before blinking away your astonishment to see her standing there. Damn, but you loath it when someone sneaks up on you like that! Jack loves to do it, despite your numerous declarations of how much you hate the particular habit – perhaps that’s why he enjoys doing it so much.

The girl stands there in the shadows, bright blue eyes wide and shining with uncertainty, arms folded close to her slim torso, lightly balled hands held against her throat. She looks torn, in your opinion. Frightened, and yet interested. She’s staring at you with unblinking eyes, and the gaze is starting to unnerve you slightly. But at least she has not fled, yet. You glance at the Governor to break the stare, and see that the older man is watching the girl with both curiousness and suspicion. Noticing your look, he shrugs slightly and nods his head ever so slightly towards the girl, obviously urging you to try talk to her.

Worrying your lip again with your teeth, you turn back towards the girl. She’s still watching you. You start by clearing your throat. “Uh… good afternoon?” you offer kindly, tilting your head a little in a curious manner. The girl finally blinks, her lips parting slightly as some emotion passes over her face that you can’t quite decipher… but it almost looked something like relief.

“Hi,” she utters timidly after a moment, so softly you would’ve missed the word entirely unless you hadn’t seen her lips moving.

You smile encouragingly at the small step forward, but say nothing. You figure that starting to question her would only drive her away again, so you wait in silence just in case the girl would make the next move herself. She fidgets nervously, shuffling her feet while evading your gaze. Finally, she throws you a hesitant glance before reaching one hand in the pocket of the tattered, large shirt that hangs over her slight frame.

“I…” she starts quietly in uncertain tone, pulling something from her pocket. “I got you this. It’s not much, but…” she trails off, shrugging her shoulders just a bit as she extends her arm towards you.

You stare at the green apple clutched in her small hand for a short moment, before shifting your gaze back into the girl’s eyes. She appears slightly uncomfortable by your scrutiny, but covers it with a tremulous, small smile. “I know you didn’t get anything to eat earlier. But I could only get you this.”

You attempt to wet your dry lips, but in vain; your tongue is just as dry. Slowly, like approaching some jumpy wild animal, you rise from the floor and take a step closer to the bars of your cell and push one arm between the rusty metal rods to accept the offered fruit, palm held upward. The girl places the apple in your hand, careful not to touch you in the process, and retreats back a step while you curl your fingers around the apple and draw your arm back. You fight back a wave of dizziness as you sink back down on the filthy floorboards, landing a bit more heavily than you meant to. Holding onto the apple with both hands, you again seek out the girl’s eyes. “Thank you,” you say with sincere gratefulness. It might not have been much indeed, but at least you’d get some amount of fluid from the fruit.

She gives a quick smile in return, but keeps silent. You bite into the apple, closing your eyes as your teeth sink in the juicy fruit. Despite your thirst, you eat carefully and pace yourself so you wouldn’t waste any of the apple’s juices, for you’d need every drop. Having eaten half of the fruit and taken the sharpest edge off your thirst, you pause to look at the curly-headed girl again.

“Why are you doing this, if you don’t mind me asking?” you voice your thought aloud, watching the girl.

This time she doesn’t evade your eyes, but meets your gaze. “Because you needed it. Because she is evil.”

You raise your brow, taking another bite of the apple and chewing slowly. You have a good idea of whom she was referring to, and quite heartily agree with her. “So, why are you here?” you ask directly, tired of subtleness.

The girl flinches slightly at the enquiry, looking down at her very worn boots – the act makes her curly hair fall down in a curtain to hide her face almost entirely. You wait patiently, but she doesn’t talk. You heave a quiet sigh, glancing at the Governor. He shakes his head in a way that clearly suggests he doesn’t believe the girl will talk about it, but you refuse to let it go just yet.

“Look,” you start kindly, “You don’t have to be ashamed or frightened. You do really think I’d tell anyone aboard this ship what you’ve told me? Or what you’ve done for me?”

The girl remains silent and unresponsive, and you narrow your eyes slightly as you think.

“You’re not being here entirely on your own volition, are you? Why would you hide in the shadows all the time or care to bring fruit to Delgado’s prisoners if you were?”

You see the slight tremor that goes through the girl at the mention of the cursed name, and that’s all the evidence you need to know that you’ve guessed correctly. A surge of pity and sympathy for the girl overtakes you, and you wonder how long as has had to endure this living hell she’s trapped in.

“She killed them,” the girl suddenly whispers in wavering tone, and you know you’d see unshed tears in her eyes if she was looking at you. “She killed them all.”

“Your family?” you ask quietly.

“Family, friends, all the townspeople… everyone.” The last bit comes off as an anguished whisper. After a moment of collecting herself, she finally lifts her head and looks at you, and you see a faintly glistening streak below her left eye where a tear has trailed down her cheek. Words start tumbling out of her mouth, and before either you or the Governor realize, the girl had told you a great deal about herself, her peaceful life in Nevis with her parents, of Delgado’s attack to the town, the killings, how she was forced to join the women aboard the Maldito, how she was mistreated both mentally and sometimes even physically by them… you detect a faint sense of relief about the girl as she lets all her bottled up anguish and hopelessness float into her words, and as she finally quietens, she sighs as a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“I’ve been here ever since that day… I’ve given up on hope, already,” she says sadly, tiredly.

You remain silent for a moment, mulling over her words. She was just as much a victim of Delgado as the people whose lives she had taken that day on Nevis. Something about her plight strikes a chord in you, and you wish to help her in some way. You had to at least try. Nobody deserved to be treated like this.

“You never told us your name,” you point out, giving her a small smile.

“I didn’t?” she asks, seemingly baffled she’d forgotten such a thing. “Gemma. Gemma Wickham. Although,” she pauses, giving an almost sarcastic upturn of her lips, “They mostly call me el ratón, here.”

The mouse, you translate in your mind. Somehow, this does not surprise you in the least, nor does the fact that it’s Carmen who seems to bully Gemma the most.

“Well, Gemma Wickham, I don’t know for sure what’s going to happen, but I promise you I’ll do what I can to get you out of here. You’ll be coming with us when we leave this wretched excuse of a ship, one way or the other.”

Gemma’s expression grows alarmed. “But… but how? No, there’s no possibility for me to leave, as much as I want to... they would know, they would kill me!”

“No, they won’t,” you contradict forcefully. “Trust me. It will be sorted out, yet.” Frankly, you have no idea how, but you couldn’t let Gemma think it would all had a likelihood to fail miserably or else she would probably never manage to keep her wits together, as nervous as she is.

Gemma is silent for a moment, staring at you with disheartened blue eyes. “Perhaps I don’t deserve to be rescued.”

“That’s nonsense! You’re a victim!” you exclaim. “You won’t be punished for something you were forced into!”

“My niece is right,” Governor Swann suddenly speaks up for the first time during the conversation. “If it should ease your heart, I will personally vouch for you. And I am confident that Commodore Norrington will feel the same way. He’s a fair man, and will understand that you were but a victim of the circumstances. You shall not be receiving any punishment by the English authorities.”

Giving a quick smile to the Governor, you look at Gemma. “There you heard it. You just have to hold on a little while, yet.”

Gemma opens and closes her mouth, glancing back and forth between you and the Governor, clearly uncertain as to what to say. “I…” she stammers. “I must go. If someone catches me here…” she trails off, starting to edge towards the stairs.

You say or do nothing to stop her this time, but instead just watch as she turns away and hastens up the stairs, disappearing from sight once again as if she was never the in the first place. You hope Gemma now has something else to think about than the poor life aboard this depressing ship. She’s longing for a better life, but at the same time she is afraid to pursue it. She is afraid she can’t make it, and that apparently stills any thoughts of even trying. But perhaps now, she would be confident enough to give it a go. Once couldn’t win if one refused to play, after all.

“Do you really think she will believe us?” The Governor breaks the silence after a while.

You shake your head. “I have no idea. But I certainly hope so.”

Weatherby sighs. “That poor girl.”

You nod silently in agreement, taking a small bite of your half-eaten apple and forcing the rest of it down although Gemma’s sad tale had made you lose your appetite. You have only barely managed to eat the entire apple when you hear footsteps approaching the stairs. You suppress an annoyed grimace as you realize the woman descending down the narrow stairs is indeed none other than Carmen, the quartermaster from hell.

“Up, wench,” she snaps at you in accented English as she stomps closer to your cell, keys in hand. “The Captain wants to talk to you. Up!” she barks again as you don’t instantly obey her.

“Oh, the joy,” you mutter sarcastically, but stand up – only slightly shakily, much to your credit – as Carmen unlocks the door of your cell.

“Try anything funny and I’ll finish you off here and now,” she growls as she grabs your upper arm again, slamming the cell door shut behind you.

“And I’m sure Delgado would appreciated that,” you throw back, smirking smugly as you see Carmen’s brash audacity tone down at the comment.

“Move it!” she hisses irately, starting to drag you along.

* * * *

The Captain’s quarters aboard the galleon is dark and not nearly as welcoming as Jack’s aboard the Pearl. But then, that should be understandable considering just whose cabin this is in the first place.

A few moments ago, you had been dragged across the decks by Carmen, receiving a few more bruises on your arm and the most scathing looks you’ve ever gotten from the other women that littered the main deck in the process. They were all ready to beat you into bloody pulp, by the looks of them. However, the malicious Spaniards were pushed from your mind as Carmen opened the door to the Captain’s cabin, pulling you in with her. Delgado had been waiting there, in her towering glory, as had someone else; a very short woman with a noticeable scar crossing her cheek. You hadn’t seen her before, but before you got to think of her any further, Delgado had announced with that seemingly courteous tone of hers that you should take a seat, indicating one of the heavy chairs by a round table in the middle of the cabin. Without further delay, Carmen had shoved you down into one of the chairs, ignoring your venomous glower. She had been dismissed by Delgado soon after, and you frowned in puzzlement as you noticed the inconspicuous glare Carmen threw in the general direction of the short woman before leaving, almost grudgingly, it seemed. Dismissing that as some trivial squabble between the two women, you’d fixed your attention upon Delgado and waited.

You’ve been sitting on the hard chair for a few minutes already, returning the keen scrutiny of Delgado’s grey eyes with your own unimpressed stare.

“So. At long last we have come to this,” Delgado finally speaks up from her place on the opposite side of the table you’re seated by, a small smirk curling at her full lips. “The daughter of the legendary, if sadly deceased, Bloodshot Pete and Melissa Byrne, previously known as Melissa Swann… I must admit I have been waiting for this meeting many a year, indeed.”

You furrow your brows at the statement, wondering not for the first time why the hell was Delgado taking such avid interest in you and your parentage. There is definitely something hazy in the already screwed up picture, now. However, you quickly clear any traces of puzzlement from your face, giving a little snort.

“I’m sure you have, even if I can’t say the feeling is mutual… I’m afraid the cause for this charming little get-together has escaped my attention. Would you care to inform me as to why have I suddenly earned the pleasure of your company?” you ask, unable to keep the stinging sarcasm from your tone.

Delgado’s smile is feral, like she knows something you don’t – and to be frank, you’re starting to get that feeling, too, as the moments continue to pass by. “Let us not be so distastefully hasty, Miss Byrne. First I would like to introduce my loyal first mate, Nerita, to you,” she says, making a short sweeping motion with her hand towards the short woman with a scar.

You look at the short woman lounging near a great, wooden bureau on the one side of the cabin, having apparently chosen the shadowy location deliberately to remain out of the way. Or perhaps, out of sight…? You take in her appearance whilst she does the same to you. Sharp, green eyes bore into yours, betraying an apparently intelligent mind whereas her stoic face gives away nothing of her thoughts. Finally, Nerita lowers her chin just enough to be interpreted as an acknowledging nod, and shifts her eyes away to regard Delgado. You do the same, although something elusive about the first mate keeps on bothering you. It’s odd; you have always had good senses when it comes to assessing people and their mental qualities, but now it seems as if you’re detecting something slightly off balance in everyone you come across on this accursed boat. You’re starting to suspect if maybe your senses have gone somehow haywire from the kidnapping and the slight dehydration and all…

“Nerita isn’t one for too much talk,” Delgado smirks, glancing briefly towards the woman in question. Nerita crosses her arms over her chest but says nothing – yet, it almost looks like as if she’s clenching her jaw just a bit.

“Can’t say I blame her, really,” you hear yourself reply, and sigh mentally. Sometimes you wished indeed you wouldn’t have quite as big mouth as you do, or that you’d at least think before speaking. Oh well.

Delgado gives an exaggerated, weary sigh. “Were you not an important pawn in the game, I would’ve gutted you a long time ago.”

You roll your eyes, growing tired of those remarks. “Yes, yes, so you’ve stated a few times already. If you think comments like that intimidate me, you have another thing coming. Did you honestly believe I would just sit quietly and be trouble-free while you and your bunch of misfits decided to haul me away from my friends and family? Along with the Governor, who’s an old man already and certainly not deserving of the treatment he’s being submitted to now? And how about wrecking my cousin’s wedding, the most important event in her and her fiancé’s lives? That’s not happening as planned, thanks to you. It’s safe to say I have never, ever, known more despicable, cowardly, avaricious, and hell, downright ludicrous person than you, Captain Delgado!” you spit out disrespectfully, absolutely incensed.

Staring at you with narrowed eyes, Delgado finally drawls, “Are you quite finished?”

You glower at her, digging your fingers on the hard armrests of the chair. “For now, but I can go on in a moment,” you ground out in freezing tone.

“I could not care any less about your trite complaints,” Delgado replies tartly, raising one slim brow. “Besides, we have more important things to discuss.”

Now it’s your turn to quirk your brow deprecatingly. “I hardly think there’s anything I’d care to discuss with you.”

“You should,” Delgado responds coolly, an edge of warning in her tone. “Some things are greater and more powerful than either one of us.”

“Mmhmm,” you hum in clearly obliging way, smirking a little to add to the effect. “Let me guess, it all boils down to this lost Abyss and its riches, correct? I mean, that is the ultimate reason why me and the Governor are kept here against our will.”

“Has your stay really been that dreadful?” Delgado asks, smiling that unpleasant smile of hers. “Rest assured, we’ll be reaching our destination soon enough.”

You give a quick, insincere smile. “Anywhere is better than this leaking old timber pile.”

“Ah, yes…” Delgado almost purrs, glancing about the dark walls of the cabin. “I can imagine my Maldito is no la Perla Negra, but it’s sufficient enough for my needs… despite a few leaks. Besides. After I have the map in its entirety, I won’t be needing it any longer.”

The detached way Delgado speaks of her ship is new to you. You have never heard the owners of ships talk of their treasured vessels with nothing than pure affection, much less address the ships as ‘it’; they’re always referred to as ‘she’. You know how much Jack loves the Pearl, and your father’s devotion for his Wraith was no less strong. But Delgado quite obviously sees her ship only as a mere transport that can always be easily replaced. This notion only proved your belief that Delgado was not a pirate because of the sea, freedom and love for them, but rather because of the appeals of earthly riches and power.

As you don’t respond anything to this comment, Delgado watches you for a moment with cool eyes. As she still gets no reaction out of you, she glances at Nerita and nods her head slightly, few wisps of black hair waving at the motion. The brown-haired woman turns and opens one of the heavy drawers of the bureau she was leaning against, and takes something from it in her hand. Slamming the drawer shut, she turns again and walks next to Delgado in calm strides, handing the object in her hand to the tall woman. Delgado takes the square-like item and mutters a few low words in Spanish, to which Nerita only nods wordlessly. Without sparing another look at you, the short woman walks away from the cabin, closing the door with care behind her.

Delgado sets the box almost gently on the table; it’s made from some dark, almost black wood, with a faint sheen to its varnished surface. It resembles something of a jewellery box, but you figure it’s very unlikely that Delgado keeps gems in that.

“As I said…” Delgado starts slowly, gazing at the box and trailing her fingers over the smooth lid. “Some things are greater than either of us. Some things that are set decades before we’re even born can control or alternate our destiny, whether we wish it or not.”

The near ominous tinge in the tall woman’s tone sends an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. A wave of coldness sweeps through your entire body, causing goose bumps to rise on your arms. You resist the urge to hug yourself in order to bring some warmth back into your limbs. A foreboding sense of gloom fills you, and the many shadows in the cabin suddenly seem to grow menacing. Biting the inside of your cheek, you force yourself to be reasonable.

“That’s all very interesting, but what has that got to do with anything?” you voice wryly, leaning your body casually against the backrest of the chair.

Delgado flickers her piercing eyes from the box to you as she slowly lifts up the lid of it, a peculiar smirk playing about her lips. “Tell me… have you had any peculiar dreams of late? Or perhaps, visions or images, or something alike you’ve seen in either dreams or with waking eyes that you cannot quite comprehend?”

You furrow your brows, growing suspicious and hesitant. Why was she asking you this? What was she trying to imply? How could she possibly know of the odd dreams you’d been having lately…?

Delgado watches your face intently, and a slow, victorious grin spreads to her lips. “You have. I knew it.”

“Knew what?” you snap irritably, not really wanting to hear this but unable to take the suspense, either.

“It has to be. You are the incarnation of the prophetess Cassandra.”

You blink at Delgado’s words, staring at her mutely until laughter starts bubbling up inside of you, shaking your shoulders. You chuckle insanely, shaking your head. “You truly are insane!” you choke out between your laughs. Calming down and stilling your chuckles, you go on. “Incarnation of an ancient prophetess! That’s rich, it really is,” you say, voice wavering still from your fit of laughter.

“Then explain me why you were the one to find it? Why it is you who’s seeing the visions and none other? Why is it specifically you and Sparrow who’ve gotten themselves tangled into this mess?” Delgado questions calmly, staring at you piercingly from the opposite side of the table.

The frightening dream you had earlier when staying in Fowler’s cottage of Delgado killing everyone important in your life from Gibbs and Ana to Will and Jack suddenly enters your mind, and an icy fist curls around your heart. “No. That’s not true,” you insist stubbornly, throwing a glare at Delgado. “That’s foolish nonsense!”

“I’ve been working to solve this puzzle for ten years, don’t you dare tell me its nonsense! I have acquired more than enough of the ancient writings about this along the years to know exactly what I’m saying!” Delgado hisses crossly, her grey eyes flashing dangerously. However, her angry look gives away into a sly smirk in a matter of seconds. “How convenient matter, actually. Surely you’ve heard the tale of Cassandra and Aeneas? And how… unfortunate Cassandra’s fate was? Perhaps the history is just repeating itself once again, like it has a tendency of doing. That would spare me the bother…”

“What the hell is your problem?” you snap angrily with narrowed eyes, unable to let the matter slide any longer. “It’s obvious that you don’t like me, but guess what; I don’t exactly like you, either! I would love to see you swinging on a noose and being picked at by crows – lord knows you’ve deserved it! But what the hell is your problem with Bloodshot and Melissa?! I’ve listened you making taunts of them for a while already, and I’m starting to have enough of it!!” you snarl furiously, all your pent-up anger surfacing.

Delgado tilts her head to the side a little as a slow, malicious grin spreads to her lips. “Why, don’t you know?” she drawls with mock-astonishment. Not even the sinister delight you see gleaming in her cold eyes prepares you for the words that tumble out of her mouth next.

“We’re sisters, you and I!”

* * * * *

Did you guys see that one coming…? ;)

[AN1] – As I mentioned in Chapter 5 (nobody remembers that far anymore, I deem! ;D) I’m making assumptions that Norrington transferred to the Caribbean at the same time when Elizabeth made the crossing from England. I do not know how plausible it is, but that’s the way I’m making it to be in my story, okay. :)

Also, I’ve been referring to Gabby’s birth town as “Puerto Rico” in some of my previous chapters, because I was le stupid: Puerto Rico is the name of the entire island, of course. However, I was partly correct, too, since “Puerto Rico” (which means “Rich Port”) used to be the name of the capital city, before it was renamed “San Juan” sometime after the island had been found in 1493, and the island took the name Puerto Rico. But I’ve now elaborated that Gabby was born in the beach town of Aguadilla, Puerto Rico.

CHAPTERS 31-35

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