As it was the seas and winds stayed with them, almost on their side it seemed, and it was little more than two days later that they first came upon the Pearl.

Until that point the weather had been brisk but fair, the sun hot during the middle part of the day even when its face was smeared by cloud, but the nights were chilled by the strong wind that was constantly carrying them forward. The edge of that wind seemed unusually sharp and caused Elanor to huddle into her sweatshirt and Jack to don his coat. Only Mr Gibbs seemed unaffected by it, in both sun and wind his shirtsleeves were seemingly enough protection against both heat and cold; sometimes Elanor wondered what that shirt, and the skin below it, were made of.

But she wondered more about Jack.

Jack had seemed uneasy and withdrawn almost from the moment they left the bay, despite the fact that, once again, they were about his business. He spent many of the hours of daylight sitting atop the mainmast just staring at the horizon, as if he could make the seas carry them faster simply by watching them. On several occasion he had taken a bottle up there with him, giving her a defiant stare as he passed; though that stare had a slightly uncertain edge to it, almost as if he wanted her to stop him. Elanor had been careful to ignore both the stare and the bottle, even when he had waved it under her nose; he had not fallen from the rigging in all his time at sea as far as she could tell, and there was no reason to believe that he would do so now. Anyway she didn't consider his state of sobriety to be her business, it wasn't as if he was new to rum after all. At times he had seemed disappointed by this forbearance, while on others he seemed relieved by her lack of comment. Elanor wondered who the posturing was for, given that they both knew that rum was less likely to be an effective escape since he had drunk the water of life.

She had come to the conclusion that Jack drank when stressed, or bored, or both, at least when he was at sea, and that he knew it, and the risk that it carried. However, like any imperfectly domesticated creature, only half of him wanted asking about it and petting, the other half wanted to be left alone, if not to run away. At the moment the part that wanted to run seemed to be winning.

That half wary mood hadn't stopped him being Jack though, and he had appropriated her sunglasses on three occasions at least, once going so far as hiding them in his cabin even though he knew that Ariadne would tell her where they were. When she liberated them from under the mattress, and returned to the deck wearing them, he had merely given her a brightly false smile, then taken the first opportunity to swipe them again. This time he contented himself with wearing them while she was below decks, coming down from his perch and handing them back with a flourish of ostentatious virtue when she emerged into the sun again.
"Not got any more of those I suppose?" he'd asked hopefully as she took them without as much as a sigh, "improves the world somewhat."
"Sorry no, and I'd not hand them over if I had, they need to stay on board and I'd rather not risk you strolling around Tortuga in them."
That brought a grin from him but no further comment.

As they closed on the Pearl's location the grin became rare and he became more withdrawn still. When she came upon him at the rail, staring at the darkening sky, there had been a set to his mouth and a subtle grimness in his expression that she didn't think she had seen before. How he planned to retake the Pearl he still hadn't explained, though he checked the boats and their tackle twice a day she couldn't really believe that he intended to cross open water to his ship. But it was clear that he intended to board somehow, whatever the risks involved.

Elanor didn't press him for answers, knowing what he must feel was at stake, and knowing only too well that he was feeling uneasy for more reasons than those he might understand. Ariadne had confirmed that the water was still working its' changes on them, particularly in Jack's case. The rate of change had slowed down for her, some of the alterations had probably already been made before she arrived here, and the uneasy feeling had diminished along with it. Even so there was still a lingering strangeness that she couldn't quite put her finger on, and she knew that for Jack the feeling must be stronger still, even without the added burden of finding and saving the Pearl.

But that grim look had worried her. Jack Sparrow struck her a man who would do pretty much what it took to achieve his objective, and for the moment she could not see how what it might take could be anything less than suicidal. Was he really ready to risk his hard won gains from the fountain in a madcap rush to recover his ship?

She would have said not but that tight faced look had disturbed her and reminded her how new their acquaintance was, and how different the worlds they came from were, and it made her wonder just how well she could read him after all.

Gibbs story of Jack and the Black Pearl, told several times now, had added to her unease. Not only that he had waited for ten years to take his ship back but the manner of his regaining her that first time had been both audacious and highly risky, for all concerned. Though being fair to him Miss Swann's danger had not been of his making, and her own experience of ardent young men told her that William Turner would have pursued the object of his affections somehow, with or without Jack. Luckily for him it had been with, his fate would have been in little doubt had he faced the undead pirates alone. She wondered if either of the pair realised just how fortunate they had been that their interests coincided with those of Captain Jack Sparrow.

Undead pirates! When had she slipped into accepting things so easily? Once she would have dismissed it as nothing more than a fairy tale, and some part of her wanted to do that even now, but she believed that what Mr Gibbs had told her was close to the truth. True she had stripped the embellishments away with the easy skill of one more than used to dealing with half-truths, but she had not discounted enough of his tale for the story to be comfortable. In her own time and place the idea of trading with an immortal for the return of your ship would have been both absurd and impossible, yet that was what Gibbs insisted that Jack had done, and Elanor had seen enough here to know that there really were more things in heaven and Earth than explained by her philosophy, at least in this variant of the world. But if she accepted it then it meant that the man sitting at the top of her mainmast rigging had traded his soul, or one hundred years before the Dutchman's mast, she want quite sure if they were the same thing or not, nor for thirteen years sailing the Pearl. That he had bought the services of something supernatural to raise a burned and sunken ship and restore her at a stroke to the vessel that Ariadne was watching. Jack had thought that ship worth a potential eternity of servitude to a harsh master only to have it stolen almost immediately by a man more ruthless, or at least less generous, than himself.

On the surface it was a stupid thing to have done, but Elanor could understand how he might do such a thing. Gibbs imperfect account of Jack's life suggested that he had been very young at the time, early twenties possibly, certainly not much more, and so still of an age when thirteen years could seem an almost unimaginable amount of time. Standing before Jones it could have seemed that all manner of things might arise to make the repayment of the debt unnecessary, or avoidable. Particularly in a world where life was often short, disease and injury must have seemed far more likely to claim him, and well before the due date, even without the ever present shadow of the cutlass, pistol and the noose. He might well have considered it unlikely that he would live long enough to have to make the trade. With the brand still healing on his wrist, knowing himself condemned whatever he did from that point on, why would have expected to have to see the bargain to the end?

Yet that didn't alter the enormity of the gamble.

As she sat with her charts and a cold drink on the galley table she wondered how she would have viewed it if she had been faced with such a choice. Would she have done the same in his place? After some thought she was forced to admit that she quite probably would have done. Particularly if this barter followed on from an unpleasant and disillusioning experience as Gibbs had hinted that it had. Something to do with this man Beckett it seemed. Mr Gibbs had been uncharacteristically shy of telling her what, exactly, had happened and his furtive and evasive looks when she had pressed him for more details left her unsure was whether he knew but wouldn't say, or if he simply he didn't know.

Her curiosity about this Beckett character and his role in Jack's life was growing, partly because Jack himself avoided the topic on the few occasions that she raised it. He would talk freely about Jones, about this William and Elizabeth, and certainly about her possible ancestor Norrington, but he would not discuss how or why Beckett had hated him so, or what it was that he had done to lose his ship in the first place. Whenever she asked about it he would get a strange look on his face and he would turn it away with a grin and a shrug, usually accompanied by an irritating,
"time and tide luv, time and tide."
Whatever that was supposed to mean.

It was as if that was one thing he was unwilling to admit to, as if he were ashamed of it, and yet Jack apparently showed shame for nothing. Though she would be less willing to take odds that he felt none. What was it that he could have done that he couldn't admit it to her; that he seemed almost frightened of her knowing about? Certainly given the other tales he had spouted without a blink?
.
As they closed on the Black Pearl she found herself frequently wishing that she knew the answer to that.

****

The mist came upon them quickly, far too quickly for Elanor's peace of mind. Ariadne had no answers about where it had come from, other than that the local air and water temperatures had shifted very quickly for no discernable reason.
"There was a local shift in the energy signature of the area too, about the time the change began but it is not clear that the two events were in any way linked." The calm voice explained, or rather didn't. "A second shift occurred not long after, and not far from the first but that too seems unexplained." She seemed more intrigued than concerned though.
"A sudden fog, appearing just as we reach the target area, seems far too convenient to me. Certainly one as deep as this." Elanor commented.
"It is unusual I agree, but such events do occur and there is no reason why this one should not occur at this time and place."
"Other than the fact that there was no 'rational' reason for it to do so."
If the cabin had been larger she would have paced it.
"Doubting that it is rational is itself irrational."
"By that you mean what?"
"If the changes were not caused by natural means then they must have been caused by supernatural ones, in this time there is no other alternative, and that conclusion is not itself rational on current evidence. What would be the alternative to a natural explanation? That Captain Sparrow acquired the ability to influence the natural world in that place he refers to as the locker? The fountain may have been created by a superior and long gone technology but that is not a factor in this situation."

Elanor thought about that for a moment then sighed,
"True. But there are far too many odd things happening for my taste."
"I can appreciate that. But, then, if this world is not real that is not, of itself, surprising."
"Yes, and so we are back to that again. But as we agreed before we have no choice to believe that it is. So we do what Jack wants and go after the Black Pearl and we hope that events continue to run in our favour. But I wish I knew just what he had in mind to take her. Where is he by the way?"
"Taking a shower." Ariadne sounded resigned, "he has taken to washing with an unexpected fervour. The amount of hot water he uses is bordering on excessive, and a waste of power in the circumstances."
Elanor grinned,
"I'd noticed that he has no apparent objection to soap and water, though as you say I wouldn't have expected it from the state of him when we found him. But I suppose it wasn't an option for him before he came aboard." The grin faded a little her expression becoming thoughtful and slightly sad, "He'll miss it I think; not that any such consideration will stop him. He wants that ship too badly. Can't condemn him for that, I'd probably feel the same in his situation."

She was silent for a moment, then shrugged,
"So keep scanners at full alert, prepare to put the screws online just in case the wind turns against us, and run preparatory checks on the mast lasers."
"No more information on this Barbossa character I suppose? Jack seems certain that's who we are chasing though I would have expected more guile from him given the stories I've heard."
Ariadne replied without hesitation,
"I agree, it seems it of character from what we have heard of him. He may lack mental agility but everything we have heard would lead me to expect him to be doing better than he is. But Captain Sparrow seems convinced it is he. I have not discovered anything about him in the history banks but that is only to be expected. He may be aboard the ship, there are a about twenty crew judging by the heat traces but I can't tell more than that, at least not until we are closer. They seem to spend much of their time on deck, no doubt the effect of the other ship's pursuit."
"The possibly naval ship?"
"Exactly. The crew's activity seems to be solely concerned with escape, and yet their actions are most ineffective. Who ever is captaining her they are not doing a very good job of it."
"Jack thinks the same, it part of the reason he's desperate to get aboard. I just hope he doesn't kill himself in the process, it would be a bit ironic after all the trouble he went to find eternal youth."
"Yes, and you would miss him." Ariadne stated flatly.
"I've got used to him, and to Mr Gibbs " Elanor protested, then sighed, "and yes I'd miss him."

***

Jack turned off the waterfall and wrapped a towel around his hips before staring at himself in the bright clear glass that, somehow, he no longer thought of as hers. The towel was soft and warm, a reminder of what he was going to be leaving behind, and the deep blue colour threw the pale skin of his belly into contrast. In places the ink of old tattoos were smudges of similar colour, and, not for the first time since he arrived in this room, he wondered at the difference between the tanned skin of his throat and the colour of the flesh beneath his clothes. He had seen pictures of similar body decoration in one of her books and they had been etched far more finely and in bright colours, beside those, and the events that had overtaken him these past ten years, this fading image seemed unimportant somehow.

Now he squinted at that hidden skin, seeking signs of what the water had done to him, and maybe was still doing. Carefully he traced a finger over the tattoo above his heart and tried to remember when he had had that one done, suddenly desperate to know what he had been feeling when this was drawn. Yet the memory of those long ago feelings eluded him, he could just about recall the place he had had it done, but nothing more than that, it seemed the past really was another country. How much would he remember fifty years from now?

Elanor's words on Christmas night came back to him, and he wondered how it was going to feel to have memories stretching back over centuries, as Tia Dalma must have done, must still have some to that.

Jack shivered and pushed the thought of the sea goddess, and everything associated with her, away, and directed his attention back to his own image. He was used to this glass now, but he had not been used to looking at himself before he arrived here and eh could not be sure how much about himself had changed, or not changed. His first experiences of this glass had been such a novelty that he had been taken up with what it was and not what it showed. In the past he had never given the matter of his physical appearance much thought, other than to hope he looked to others like the man he purported to be. Now he wished he had taken more notice of how he had looked then, given that a single drink of water had banished that man forever. Or so he hoped. He stroked the inked skin on his chest and studied himself carefully. The man now staring back at him appeared less hungry looking somehow than that first man had done, or at least he thought that he did. The body above the dark edge of the towel was lean and hard, the legacy of years of physical work, frequent short rations and the need to be prepared for whatever came, but it didn't have the edges that he thought it had had when he first seen himself. He pressed his palm to his belly feeling the muscle flat and tight beneath his fingers, not rounded or soft yet, in fact the muscles seemed more solid and substantial, but not.... stripped ..in quite the same way. The lines of his hip bones still showed clear above the blue fabric, but the pattern of his ribs was less obvious, and as he turned to look over his shoulder he decided that his knees and elbows, even his feet, seemed slightly better cushioned than they had been.

Some of that was certainly down to Elanor's feeding, even small rations on this ship kept hunger at bay with ease, but how much he couldn't be sure was simply down to consistent feeding. True he'd not been as active on her ship as he might have been on the Pearl, there was no real need for some of the more punishing chores here, certainly holystoning the deck seemed to be a thing of the past, and caulking and pitching too. He frowned to himself, come to think of it he'd not seen so much as a handful of tar in the time he'd been here, and there had been no leak or split timber or seam that he had been aware of, and he made a mental note to ask her about that when he had time. The closest he'd come to servicing the ship had been repairing a frayed canvas, and he wasn't sure that she hadn't given him that to do to humour him. He gave the swell of muscle in his calf and thigh a considering look, couldn't see much change there either, but there were lots of those odd lines to be maintained, and the pulleys, and something else whats' name escaped him, and so there had still been a fair bit of climbing to be done. He nibbled anxiously at the edge of his lip and scrutinised the spread of his shoulder and the curve of his buttock beneath the towel, enough work to keep him from losing his edge at least, and he'd need in the next few hours.

He'd be fine, wouldn't he? Though he'd had a moment of doubt when Elanor had cocked her head, looked at the rum sideways and wondered out loud about the amount of sugar he was consuming and its effects on his belly. It had been during their drunken arguing it was true, and he'd not known about the evils of sugar before, but looking at the shape of Mr Gibbs it had made Jack wonder. Now he sighed and squinted along his own back again, glad to see that no little rolls had appeared. His skin seemed different though, at least he thought it did. Less...well..stretched.

The sight of his own, largely unmarked, back brought memories of the locker, particularly of his philosophical self, the man with the fine ink work. He saw himself shudder in the glass as the memory took hold, and swallowed down on the sudden horror. Even now he could still the resistance of his own flesh and bone to that sword blade, and remember the shock and pain as the steel bit into him, thrust by his own arm. Even awake he could still see the sight of it on his own face. Odd that, recalling both the thrust and the being pierced, somehow they were bound up with each other, and there were times in his dreams when his self would be reversed and it would be the tattooed man who wielded the sword and he who felt the blade.
But there was neither sword wound now, nor much in the way of tattoos either, few scars too. No one had ever lashed him for he had been a hard working lad and become captain young, perhaps too young. Barbossa had satisfied himself with marooning him and Teague had always used his fists, after a mate of his had crippled his own son with his belt. Broken bones healed and bruises didn't scar the body like the lash or the iron. Not even Beckett had got around to using the lash on him, though there were a couple of white marks on his ribs and belly where the little sod's minion had played with the iron before the branding. Would have been worse if that young lad in scarlet, the one holding him, hadn't been so sick at the smell. Not that Beckett wouldn't have flogged him if he'd got the opportunity, just not in front of his masters or the sour faced justice he had needed to sanction the brand, but Bill had got him out of that pit before he had got the chance to exact a private revenge.

He sighed sadly as memory became undisciplined, William had felt the lash and Jack had never intended that. The wheals on the lad's back had pricked his guilt more than any of the hard looks and words, for that was something else he had miscalculated. He had been sure that Bill Turner would have kept his son from even that harm, just as he had kept Jack all those years before, with another shiver, despite the warmth of the little room, he pushed the memories away. Death had left no visible mark, though he still wondered how that was, was the fountain going to leave something more definite? Was her ghost right in claiming they were changed, had it worked? Was he truly younger than he had been or would time just stand still from now on?

He stepped closer, staring at himself wide eyed as he ran a hesitant finger along his cheekbone and then his jaw. Would he see it, and if so, when? Would he know soon? When would he be able to be sure? His face looked the same, at least he thought it did, and yet perhaps it didn't. Yet that might nothing more than the waterfall behind him, for the shadow of dirt and tar washed had away in those first few days. His hair which seemed thicker and longer than before, even the ropes lying, darkly lustrous against the skin of his torso, and that skin was pale and whole and clean looking. He twisted his head this way and that, watching the muscle move beneath the skin, and he decided that he was indeed changed in some subtle manner, at least to his own eyes.
Something had changed and he might be risking in that in pursuit of the Pearl.

Barbossa had left him alive the last time but there was no knowing if he would avoid seeking Jack's death if he re-boarded the ship.

Not that it mattered. Ten years he had sailed and pirated in a succession of ships, taking what life offered him as it were offered, yet he had never lost the longing to regain his ship, and he still hadn't. Risks or no he would try to take his ship back.

Jack stepped back from the glass and looked around him, thinking about the woman who owned it and her ghost with a slightly guilty pleasure. He would miss the pleasures of this vessel it were true, particularly the soothing heat of the fountain behind him, but it would never be far away, he would see to that. He'd think about the hows' of that personal promise later he decided as dropped the towel and pulled on the robe beside him, smiling as he tightened the belt and picked up the wet cloth from the floor. No he would board the Pearl and he would take her, with such allies as this how could Captain Jack Sparrow fail?
His smile became grim as he reached for the door, this time he would not give Barbossa the chance to steal her back.

***

They had come upon the Black Pearl and her pursuers late in the day and already the light was failing, though the mist made the position of the sun something of an irrelevance. Ariadne was unconcerned by it of course and gave the ship's position with complete confidence. Jack had learned to trust the 'ghost' some time ago and did not comment, though Mr Gibbs looked less convinced. Elanor was merely relieved that while the mist hid the Black Pearl and the Intrepid from them it also provided the Dawn Chaser with the cover that she needed.

But not for long it seemed.

Elanor stared at Jack in amazement,
"You want me to do what?"
He gave an elaborate sigh and spoke slowly, gesturing with his hands as if it made it more obvious,
"I want you to pass the Pearl astern and drop me into the water as you do. Close, but not too close, " he pointed at her, "Mind I don't fancy too long a swim though."
Elanor shook her head then looked at him in silence for a moment, brows raised, cursing herself silently, she should have known that he had something totally foolhardy in mind when he had refused to tell her his plans. Too late to worry about that now though,
"And how, exactly, do you plan to get on board the ship, even if I do?" she asked eventually, ignoring Mr Gibbs squawk of protest and careful to make sure none of her sudden worry showed in her face or voice,
He shrugged carelessly, and when he spoke his tone suggested that it was obvious
"I'll throw a line as we pass, and use it to climb aboard."

She considered that for a moment, then drew a deep breath before speaking,
"Let me get this straight Jack, you want me to pass close enough astern for you to throw a grapple and line onboard, then drop you as I leave to haul yourself up?"
"Yes."
She drew another deep breath then frowned at him.
"No. I won't do it."
Jack seemed taken aback,
"Why not?" he demanded indignantly and glaring at her, "don't you think that I can do it?"
Mentally she counted to five, and even then spoke through gritted teeth,
"Which bit of 'must not be seen' don't you understand?"
That drew him up short, and he pursed his lips before looking at her from under half lowered lashes,
"Oh...Hmmmm." He seemed to think quickly then raised a triumphant finger,
"But not by the navy! They won't see you in this mist, and the Pearl will be under my control so you'll have nothing to fear from her!"

Elanor closed her eyes briefly and wondered if the man had any nerves at all, because he'd not been on the rum today as far as she knew,
"Assuming it all goes to plan." She said softly.
That brought a baffled look from Jack,
"Why shouldn't it?"
She counted to five again,
"Well you might miss the line, you might be seen before you get aboard and anyway you'll get pulled under as I pass, the Chaser's undertow is more than enough to drown you, add the Pearl's into the equation and you don't stand a chance."
Jack nodded,
"Aye. That's another reason why not to go too close."
"You'll still drown Jack, unless you want me to drop sail and come to near a stop."

"No, " he spoke quickly, "keep your canvass up and move through sharply. The wind will be with you and in this poor light they will not see you coming, they may not even see you at all."
He looked at her earnestly
"Your ghost can bring you close but still keep you safe. The most any of the crew of the Pearl will see is a shadow and the navy won't see you at all. As I said, close but not too close." He grinned at her again, " I'll not miss with the line, trust me for that. I'll swim across under cover of this fog then scale the stern and slip in through the cabin window. There is a catch that's loose and I doubt Barbossa has had it repaired since he left me in the dock."
"You'll still drown." She replied flatly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jack looked at her silently for a moment before moving closer and putting his arm around her shoulder,
"I'll be fine!" he said, as soothingly as he felt being a pirate allowed.
But it obviously wasn't enough for Elanor looked up towards the topsail and sighed,
"You're not going to listen whatever I say, are you?"
He paused for a moment, disconcerted by the concern in her face, and then he smiled ruefully and shook his head, the beads in his hair rattling,
"No luv, I'm not, not if what you say is no. I want the Pearl and I'll not miss this chance." He patted her shoulder, "not the first time I've scaled a ship, nor the first time I've gone over the side to get to one." He gave her a droll look, "Hope it won't be the last either."
She looked back at him with resignation,
"It will be if you misjudge that dive. We aren't in port Jack, we are in open sea with a powerful swell and a strong wind full astern. Ariadne and I can make sure we don't get too close, but once you are over the side then there will be nothing we can do to help you."
He patted her shoulder again,
"I know, but as I said I'll be fine."

Elanor moved away and turned to stare in the direction of the horizon, though the mist had swallowed everything into its strangely white and distorting maw and human eye's couldn't even see the Pearl at the moment, it took Ariadne's superior senses to do so. She knew that between her and Ariadne they could get the Chaser past the Pearl in safety, but there was no way of influencing what happened on the other ship's decks. The navy was closing too as Ariadne had warned her several times.

She turned back towards the man who was watching her so closely she could feel his eyes on her back,
"Why astern Jack and why swim for it, why not a boat?"
Jack hesitated then shrugged,
"I've no way of knowing what Barbossa is about but it's odd whatever it is. I'd rather no one saw me until I know what's happening."
She shook her head in surrender,
"Well that makes as much sense as anything does I suppose. But what if Barbossa is in the cabin?"
"He won't be, with the navy on his tail he will be on deck, particularly with the weather as it is." Jack's voice took on a confiding note and he slid his arm around her shoulders again. " Captain Barbossa can't be so sure of the crew that he will risk being anywhere else." He gave a shark's grin, "after all I wager that he promised them the fountain of youth, and we know that he hasn't managed that, so he will want to keep an eye on them. No, he'll be on deck. I'll be in and knowing what he's about before he knows that I'm there."

Elanor stared at him, eye to eye and with a grim smile,
"You'd better be right about that. If he catches you then there is no saying which side the crew will call, they may know you have the chart but don't forget that they threw their lot in with him and are used to carrying out his orders. Habits like that\are powerful factors."
"Aye, but he has failed them luv, they should be more than willing to hear me out, at least they will be if I can get to him before he gets to me."
"And what do you propose to do with him if you get to him?"
Jack scratched his chin,
"That depends. But I'll not be forgetting that he stole my ship a second time." He shot her dark and bleak stare, "trust me on that."

Elanor watched him for a moment but all she got was that same stare followed by that familiar smile, that when you met it told you nothing about his thoughts at all. Finally she drew a deep breath,
"Madness must be catching. So go set up your line." She shook off his arm and stepped away,
"Ariadne, steer a course astern of the Black Pearl." Her voice took on an ironic tinge, "Close but not too close as the man asked."

Jack watched her as she strode off towards the helm with a disconcerted, not so say slightly baffled look on his face, before turning away and setting about finding his line. Gibbs couldn't help but notice that for once he seemed subdued and far from triumphant about getting his own way, and wondered whether that was an omen..