Jack had been merciless of late. They had travelled non-stop, barely taking any time to stop to restock the ship with enough provisions to feed the rag-tag crew.

Needless to say, the crew was starting to grumble. They all knew what they had got themselves into, but had expected a little more leeway when it came to access to local tavern's commodities – both women and rum. Elizabeth was starting to more and more uncomfortable as the days went by. The men she worked with were slowly remembering that she wasn't just another sailor. That under her hard exterior, she was still a woman. They were getting desperate – and Elizabeth was getting fed up with the extra effort required to avoid wandering hands while accomplishing her hands. Once upon a time, none of these scoundrels would have laid a hand on her, being in awe of a woman willing to work amongst them.

Elizabeth had been sailing with them for the last few years. Her heart had broken when Will's son had been taken away by pneumonia. She had needed to get away from anything that reminded her of John, and a pirate ship turned out to be excellent distraction from the pain that she hid from, day after day. She almost regretted those days when they avoided her at all costs. Almost. She had been half-mad with grief, and did not like to remember all the special concessions that Jack had made for her. Like taking her on, despite her general lack of knowledge when it came to sailing a ship, and her being a woman in a man's world.

Speak of the Devil...

"Oi! Scummy dogs!"

This got the general attention. Men stole away from their tasks, gathering around. Elizabeth, as was her habit, hung back from the crowd.

"Listen ta you' Cap'ain!" The uproar calmed a bit. "We be stopping a' Tortuga in a week o' so. One nigh', s'all ah be givin' ta you. Best get ya wenches and liquor as fast you can. Dinna want ta give the Pearl's crew a bad name wit' dah ladies!"

A cheer rose from the decks. This was more than they had had in the last three months. Elizabeth looked after the Captain as he returned to the helm of the Pearl. He certainly knew how to handle his troops, she had to give him that. She was certainly looking forward to the night on shore, though not for the exact same reasons everyone else was. A good bath... and access to the one tavern in Tortuga that hosted a fiddler who was sober enough to play reels that Davy Jones himself couldn't have resisted dancing to. She had been making her way there by herself each time they stopped on the disreputable island, and it had become her way of celebrating being on land. Lots of dancing, lots of rum, and lots of music.

It was going to be a nice respite from the tension that was growing aboard the ship. And it will save me the sight of those men I call companions trying to chase after girls young enough to be their daughters. She had made it a habit to stay out so late that by the time she returned to the ship, all of the night time activities were long since over. She had no desire to hear what the sailors and their Captain were doing in the dark hours. Luckily, none of them seemed to have noticed her behaviour yet.

Elizabeth knew it: as soon as those wonderful and morally upstanding men – read, scallywags – discovered her Tortuga pastime, it would no longer be relaxing or enjoyable. She had grown quite talented in the art of slipping past men doing unspeakable things without being so much as given a glance. She fit in – her tanned skin, loose clothing, assured step – more than she had ever in Port Royal, or in London. One week she had to clean and prepare herself. The one dress she had kept – not suitable for what her father would have called society – needed some stitching, and she had to hide away when doing so, lest someone question her. Despite the fact that her hammock was a stretch apart from the other sailors, they just had to lift their heads to see what she was doing. They called it observing the scenery.

The bell-boy rang noon. She was off watch. Perfect, I can get my dress fixed up while they continue their celebration of their access to women and drink. A quick look around, and she darted down the stairs to the lower hold. Its familiar odor of sweat and salt calmed her nerves. To think that she had once found it suffocating... She went to her bag, sifted through until she found a bundle. Carefully unwrapping it, almost reverently, she smoothed out the red and black dress. It was low cut, with an imitation of a corset in the front over a white undershirt. Never again am I going to wear a real one of those... The hem was frayed, and the sleeves that went tightly to her elbows then flared out were wearing thin. She was putting off replacing them until they had enough time at a port for her to find the correct fabric – and sneak it in – something that she had not had in the last while. Ah well... It would serve her one more time. She searched through the cloth that she had used to wrap the dress up until she found her needle and thread bobbin.

It had turned out that all those years spent sewing had actually paid off, though probably not in the way that her sewing mistress had intended. She was quick at it, and rarely needed to fix her work. With one last look around, just to be safe, she curled up in her hammock and began the uncomfortable task of sewing while appearing to doze quietly.

It was proof of how absorbed with what she was doing that she did not hear him until he was leaning over her. Her eyes flew up to his kohl-lined ones, and she stared, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. She could see the dots connecting behind his apparently lazy gaze.

"'Ello, luv."

"Jack." She acknowledged him with a stiff nod, and tried to stand up in as dignified a manner as one who has been sitting in a hammock can. With no more than a little stumble, she stood in front of him.

"Capt'n. Capt'n Jack. Thought you knew better, love."

With an impatient nod of her head, Elizabeth spoke.

"What do you want, Captain?" She was hoping that he would leave her to her own business. He had no right to tell her off for sewing, especially since she was no longer on watch.

"Ta fin' out why ya 'ave been sneakin' away in that mighty fine piece o' finery every time we touch ground in Tortuga."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed.

"To whore, by all means. Seeing how much you are willing to pay for services made me realize just how much money is to be made in the business." Her voice was flat and dead, belying the words she spoke.

Jack shifted almost imperceptibly. The gaze that he directed towards her became a smidgen more steely. Elizabeth stood her ground.

"Luv, ya know that if ya were just ta' tell me, it'd make it tha' much easier for all o' us."

"I told you. That is all I have to say. If you don't believe me, that is your own problem."

And then he was far too close for comfort. His breath fanned on her face, and she had to tilt her head up uncomfortably to keep on glaring at him.

"Lizzie." His voice was firm, but she still felt the world spin a bit. His scent was overwhelming her senses: sandalwood, salt and rum. Always rum. He was still far too close. Amidst her confusion, she could have sworn that she saw his eyes twinkle.

"Afeered I'd upstage you and yo' propah dancin'?"

That rotter! He had guessed. Or had followed her. Or had paid someone else to. Nevermind how, her secret was out. Anger flared, and she spoke before she had time to think.

"I'd like to see you do any better."

Jack grinned, as if this was what he had wanted all along.

"Da'hling, I'm a pirate, aye. We gots all types ah' … talents tha' you' kind don't."

Lizzie blushed at the implications. Yes, she was no virgin... But there was something about the pirate captain that made her feel like he was something wild just waiting to be set free to chase his prey... Her. It was the embarrassment that made her spout out the next childish sentence, sealing her fate.

"Jack, you're a fool. I'd be a bigger one to believe you. You want to ruin my nights in Tortuga, fine. At least you'll provide me with some entertainment along the way. I dare you to accompany me tonight. We'll see just how bad of a dancer you are." Anything to get him a bit further away from her, so that she would be able to think straight again.

Jack merely smiled his Cheshire cat grin. He bowed, and left her standing slightly shaken, making his way back up on deck. Elizabeth looked down at her hands, and realized that her knuckles were white from clutching her dress. She groaned. The evening that she had been looking forward to for so long was going to be ruined.

A small part of her – a very very very small part, she told herself – was glad that the pirate captain was going to be spending the evening with her. At least he wouldn't be bedding other women... Elizabeth tried to squash the jealousy. It was silly to be jealous, to try to cage a man as free as Jack. She wasn't entirely sure of the extent of her possessiveness of him, but didn't particularly want to think about in depth. Afraid of what she might discern in her own feelings.

"It's nothing more than the affection of a sailor for his captain." Curt, even with herself, she changed her attention to the wreck of a dress that she would have to salvage for one last dance.

It had been three days since Jack's announcement, and the excitement aboard the ship was growing. Even in the early morning light, the ship bustled with activity. They were making good time, and even the most pessimist of the sailors now declared that they would be in Tortuga by sunset in two days time.

Elizabeth had had no respite. In fact, she was rather certain that Jack had been trying to keep her busy on purpose, for some own devious reason of his own. She had barely had any time to touch the dress since that first afternoon, and was starting to worry about what on earth she would wear. Not that the establishment was particularly classy, but if she was honest with herself, she wanted to blow the pirate captain away. Why? She had avoided that question.

To her relief, the unwelcome attention that she had been receiving from the crew had also diminished. Or so she had thought, until she had been lying in her hammock, sleeping, when a hand had covered her mouth and she had been dragged down into the belly of the Pearl. The man was one of the men Jack had hired as "leverage" – mountain-size men who could pound in any normal man with their little fingers. Silverston was this one's nickname. She recognized him the second a torch came close enough. He roughly shoved her onto the ground, keeping a hand over her mouth. She struggled, eyes wide with the fear of understanding exactly what was happening.

He tore at her breaches, undoing them as easily as air. His hands, calloused, hungry rubbed over her side, caressing lower and lower. She bit the hand over her mouth, but he did not react. Instead, he roughly shoved a finger the size of a sausage inside her. Elizabeth felt tears forming in her eyes. She felt her body go limp, unable to fight. She was shaking. He started to fumble with his own pants when they both heard noise as someone made their way down the steps. Silverston pushed her aside, fixing his trousers as he rushed away. The footsteps eventually died away.

She didn't know how long she lay there. The tears had stopped long ago. She felt empty. Sleep claimed her more than once, but it was short-spent. She tossed, gaining a new collection of bruises. Finally, it was the sound of someone shuffling in her direction that threw her into action. She was still practically naked. Fear gripped her heart. What if it was Silverston come back to finish was he had started? She had no way of knowing how much time had passed.

She tried to gather her clothing closer to her, willing herself to disappear into the planks of the Pearl. The person turned the corner, and the shuffling stopped. Elizabeth was afraid to look up. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she jumped back, eyes wide.

Raggetti. The man looked at her with pity. She could only stare back, empty. He seemed at a loss of what to do. When he noticed her tears, and torn clothing, his face turned into a scowl.

"Miss Eliabeth?"

His voice was soft. She couldn't bring herself to speak.

"Miss Elizabeth, you'll be okay. I'll be right back. I'm going to go to the storeroom and grab another pair of breaches and a shirt for you. Wait here."

Elizabeth nodded. She felt the fear grip her again as he left. She felt vulnerable. More so than she ever had. It seemed to take Raggetti years to get the items that he had promised. When he returned, his eye was glowing with concern.

"Change. I'll go up with you to go see the Captain."

"NO!" Before she could stop herself, Elizabeth cried out. She was not sure why, but she knew that no matter what, Jack could not know about what had happened to her. He would think her weak, think that she had been tempting his crew, tell her how foolish she had been to come on a ship full of men.

Raggetti looked like he was about to insist when he saw her face.

"Fine, fine. We won't."

He turned around as she changed. Then started to usher her up to the deck. She had her arms wrapped around herself. It was on the floor where the crew slept that they ran into Silverston. Elizabeth tried not to react, fighting the instinct to claw his eyes out, or to run as far away as she could possibly go. Raggetti, if he noticed, said nothing. He gently reached for her elbow and directed her up to the fresh air. Elizabeth started to feel a bit less lightheaded. She tried to smile at Raggetti, but failed miserably.

"Thank you." It sounded cracked, but she did truly mean it. Apparently, Raggetti understood that, and wandered off, turning back from time to time to look at her, as if to make sure that she had not disappeared. Elizabeth's eyes got lost looking out at the sea. She fought another onslaught of tears, shielding her face with her hair. Things like this were supposed to happen to other people. Or not at all. The enormity of what Silverston had done to her was just starting to sink in, but she still refused to call it what it was.

A loud noise from the other end of the Pearl made her spin around. There, on the mast at the stern of the ship, hung Silverston, upside down. He was struggling to grab the rope that held him, but no one seemed to be taking notice of this strange occurrence. Elizabeth looked around, and spotted Jack coming out of his cabin, as if nothing had happened. He strode past Silverston, gave him a nod, and made his way towards her. Quickly, she dried the tears, and tried to look more relaxed. No matter what the others said about Jack, he always saw and noticed far too much for her comfort.

"Oi, Lizzie!"

He couldn't be allowed to guess what had happened. However, when he reached her side and stood close enough to brush her with his elbow, she couldn't help but shudder, and hug herself. It all felt so raw, so recent that she simply didn't think that she could stand to think about it.

Jack had apparently realized that something was not okay. His voice was softer and more gentle than the theatrical tone he generally used.

"Luv, I'm goin' ta take a hold of your 'and."

His warm hand enveloped hers. Elizabeth knew that he could feel her shaking, but did not really care. He was holding her there, stable, an anchor in the chaos that surrounded her. Her own hand gripped his, knuckles turning white. Jack said nothing.

After a while in silence, he turned to her and moved the hair out of her face.

"Lizzie, luv, we'll be in Tortuga soon. I 'ear that the winds are a-changin'. Mayhaps a re-formation 'o crew o' mine would do us all sum good."

And that was all that was said about the man hanging upside down by his ankles. Elizabeth was quite grateful for it, indeed. It helped her feel a little more in control. It took her a second to realize that Jack's hand had never left her face, that it was gently stroking her cheek. Tenderness that she had very rarely seen in his eyes lit up his face. He still did not speak.

Elizabeth knew that she had to be the first to speak or she would definitively lose the image that she had worked so hard to foster amongst the crew. Gently, she stepped back.

"Cap'ain, I have duties to attend to."

Jack's face seemed to fall. Was he not thinking? If she wanted to be a part of the crew – a real part of the crew – she couldn't have him coming to save her all the time. Though she seriously doubted these days that the crew saw her as a real part of them. Maybe just as some woman not smart enough to stay on land where she was safe.

"O' course. 'op too. We cannah have young scallywags a' sittin' aroun' the deck while there is work tah be done."

With that, he spun on his heel and retreated to his cabin.

She could not say that she was surprised that he had not come down to meet her before she set off on her way to The Dancing Pony. Her dress, recently repaired to a manageable shape clung in the right places, but not too much. Just suggesting, not outright inviting. The dark Tortuga streets, no matter how familiar always held some danger for a woman alone, so tonight, she was on her guard more than usual. She had not seen Silverston when she left the ship. Whether that was a good sign, or merely foreboding was not a call that she could make.

There had been no one following her, as far as she could tell. Not that that really meant anything, seeing as Jack had apparently been in the same building as her for hours without anyone being the wiser. The thought intrigued her. He had been fascinated enough by her dancing to stay and watch for hours... It made her heart beat just that much faster.

She entered the door, with a nod to the innkeeper. Carina held a tight ship. There was only a respectable amount of people drunk out of their minds, and the dancing was taking over much of the floor space. The fiddler was intent on his instrument, never lifting his eyes to see who could follow the wild pace that he led. Elizabeth had tried to catch him looking at her more than once, but he simply didn't feel interested. The sounds pounded through her, setting her heart and soul on fire. She couldn't resist the rhythm.

Within seconds, she had reached the middle of the floor, and started to twirl. Eyes were immediately drawn to her. She continued, almost oblivious... Until a pair of hands wrapped themselves around her waist. Her eyes flew open, full of panic and confusion. Met with a pair of kohl-lined rivals. She almost felt the heat increase by a notch as his eyes twinkled.

"Good evening, Miss Swann."

The words were simple, calm... A challenge. She started to move to the music, until he took control and started guiding her. She had to admit that she was surprised at how good of a dancer Jack Sparrow was. He moved at a pace too furious for her to have time to think. All she could do was react. And, damn, he knew what he was doing.

"Jack."

He didn't answer. Again, Elizabeth was surprised. He pulled her closer, taking her breath away as the scent of spice, salt and rum rushed around her. His eyes were still pulling her tantalizingly close. They twirled once, he dipped her, and pulled her up again... Less than an inch from his lips. The fiddler chose this particular second to stop playing, and all eyes were drawn again to them. Elizabeth didn't even dare move. He was too close.

A grin, and he led her from the floor, to stools by the bar.

"Rum, my fine lady."

Catrina seemed surprised that Elizabeth had come to sit. Usually, she danced till morning light, without ever keeping a partner for more than a song. This was new. And interesting. Elizabeth was breathless. Jack was still smiling.

"Still think I'm a bad dancer, luv?"

"Might still need some convincing."

His hand reached up and pushed her hair back from her smiling face.

"I can convince you more than you wan' to be convinced. Be ca'eful what you ask fo', luv."

The gleam in his eyes suggested to her not to push him too much. However, she was Elizabeth Swann.

"Prove it."

He gestured for her to drink her rum. He downed his, and she followed suit, spurting a little more than was lady-like. His hand drifted lower, until it rested on her waist. He pulled her closer, until they were standing as close as possible without touching. His lips moved closer to her neck, just brushing it. She shivered. He let out a breath, then whispered in her ear.

"Darlin'. Let's dance."

The night passed in a blur of Jack. He was leading her, and she felt as light as a feather on her feet. The rum was flowing. His hands drew her closer and closer as the hours went by, until the fiddler finally decided to slow down his maniacal pace. The slow, sweet music allowed Elizabeth to rest her head against the chest of the man in front of her, breathing in deeply. In that instant, he was no longer her Captain. He was a man, a man that she had wanted to touch so desperately for so long. His warm hands held her close to him, refusing to let go.