Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, Disney and such do, and if some crazy lawsuits happen this story will sneak out of the Internet like a finely trained rogue.

A/N: Something I've been working about with on the side. Pirates have currently overrun my mind. Erik is very upset and wants the Royal Navy and other scallywags that have infiltrated his lair to leave immediately. I told him to shut it, at least until I get a few more chapters out. A Simple Melody will return, as soon as my Phantom muse stops sulking.

"The blade is folded steel. That's gold filigree laid into the handle. If I may? Perfectly balanced. The tang is nearly the full width of the blade."

"Impressive. Very impressive. Commodore Norrington's going to be very pleased with this. Do pass my compliments on to your master."

"I, uh, apologize if I seem forward, but I must speak my mind. This promotion throws into sharp relief that which I have not yet achieved. A marriage to a fine woman. You have become a fine woman, Elizabeth."

"This is a beautiful sword. I would expect the man who made it to show the same care and devotion in every aspect of his life."

“Commodore, we have to turn back! That blasted pirate is heading straight for the storm!”

“I believe, all things considering, it is for the best intents and purposes of His Majesties Royal Navy that I resign from my position as Commodore.”

"Every man has a price which he will willingly accept, even for that which he hopes never to sell."

"Something for you there. Your new station deserves an old friend."

"Our destinies have been entwined Elizabeth, but never joined."

"James Norrington…do you fear death?"

The scream woke up half of the Dutchman's crew and sent Captain Turner running below decks to find out what the hell the fuss was all about.

It had been peaceful for two days, he'd been a good captain, he'd even spoken to Calypso and found out exactly what he was supposed to be doing. So what in the locker was all the screaming about? Needless to say he was quite shocked to realize that the screaming was coming from his cabin as he witnessed Finnegan being forcibly ejected from it.

“It's a mad woman Captain!”

“Very bad luck!”

“She looks Navy!”

The shouts from his crew and the crowded hall didn't help with the confusion. First of all, who had brought a woman on board? The bad luck thing was nonsense as well as the Navy. Women weren't allowed in the Navy and if someone thought that stashing a woman in his cabin was an idea of a joke he was really going to...

“I will not abide another one of you filthy pirates coming near me!”

Definitely female.

Definitely angry.

He slowly inched his head around the corner of the door to his cabin and blinked. It was a woman. Slim and fair skinned, her dark hair was twisted in a bun on top of her head decorated with gold beads and steely gray eyes were slowly scanning the remaining pirates in the room which she was currently keeping the business end of her sword pointed at.

Her sword.

His sword.

The Commodore's sword.

Will blinked, she was dressed like a Navy man, save for some odd changes here and there. Black boots and dark blue breeches, he could catch a glimpse of a cream colored vest underneath the trademark blue and white commodore's coat. Wait, not a commodore's... Too many buttons, but the sleeves weren't right to be an admirals and it was all the wrong style... Will had grown up next to the fort. He had come to know the uniforms, and if she were a midshipman she'd have hose and shoes, not boots...

“Not a one!” she hissed as Maccus made a move towards her and everyone froze again.

They were already dead, it wasn't as if she could have killed one of them, hurt yes, but... Her eyes flashed and she flicked the end of the sword at Maccus and he stumbled backwards. It was just the force of her presence, and really between that and the confusion she brokered no argument.

He ducked out of the doorway quickly as she slowly turned.

The hallway was a silent row of blinking pirates and sailors.

“How did she get on board?”

A general shrugging, then, a thin man... Piper?

“She was jus' there Captain. Penrod thought he 'eard a noise in yer cabin and spotted 'er lookin' around. We didn't think she was yers so we sent in Finnegan and Maccus to get 'er out. Didn't expect 'er to pick up the sword, Captain.”

Will, Captain Turner, sighed and peeked around the corner again. They could just rush her but he didn't think it would be appreciated and getting run through didn't sound half as fun when one thought about it. He had already been run through by that sword once and he wasn't likely to repeat the process. How could she have gotten on the ship? She wasn't part of the crew he had seen; and he'd been introduced to the ones who'd stayed after he had taken his day of shore leave.

They had just gotten to the World Below and... Maybe she was a ghost? No. Silly. Was it? He rolled his eyes okay, problem at hand, crazy woman terrorizing the crew; he had to figure out how to get her to calm down. No rushing and every time Penrod opened his mouth the sword would be pointing at him with barely concealed fury. Barely concealed... Will frowned; it wasn't anger in her eyes. If one ignored the sword and her posture, that was Navy issue even if nothing else was, she looked well, altogether as confused as the rest of the crew. Maybe she wasn't supposed to be here at all.

Still... Will frowned as she shifted posture, still guarded, a French defense and then he realized she had just eased from the most basic English guard. The one that every swordsman in the Navy learned. Will wondered for a moment... Navy dress, English accent, skilled with the blade... She couldn't be a soldier. She was a woman, but would she...?

He motioned to Piper and Finnegan who was standing now, flanking the door and he gave a glance to Maccus and then to Penrod who was still on the floor by Will's desk. He took a deep breath and tried very hard to channel the Captain's at Fort Charles.

“Lieutenant! At ease immediately!”

In an instant the sword jerked down and there was a flurry of brocade and lace as the woman spun to face him, eyes straight ahead and spine ramrod stiff. Perfect.

In another instant he had disarmed her and Penrod had gotten the smarts to have him and Maccus flank her. Not touching, but there was a certain understanding as to their positions behind her as well as Piper and Finnegan's in front of her. It was when the sword was pulled from her hand that her expression snapped back into one of near sudden violence but she seemed to recognize that she was outnumbered.

She frowned but stood at attention, a perfect mimicry of a Navy officer.

“Now if you could please explain how you got on my ship.”

A very slight arching of an eyebrow, “Your ship? I was under the impression that this ship was captained by one, Davy Jones.” The sentence ending with a flicker of eyes at Maccus who had taken a step closer.

“Davy Jones is dead. I am the current captain, Will...”

“I know who you are Mr. Turner, I'm not that forgetful.”

There was a chuckle, and some murmurs...

“Shoulda known by the look of the ship...”

“We ain't monsters anymore...”

“Uptight wench...”

Will silenced his crew with a quick wave of his hand before near sudden violence turned into present sudden violence.

“Sorry, yes, I'm the captain and I wish to know how you got onto the ship.”

“I was brought on board with the Admiral, of course.”

“The Admiral?”

Another mutter among the crew, too low to hear this time.

“Admiral James L. Norrington.”

Now it was Will's turn to blink. Elizabeth had mentioned fleetingly how it had been through the Commo... Admiral's help that she had escaped the Dutchman. He had been aboard and that had been the last she'd seen of him. There had been a distinct sadness in her eyes and Will hadn't pressed it further. That wasn't the surprise, the surprise was that the Admiral had brought a woman...

“The Admiral brought you on board?”

A confused glance, “Of course he did. It would have been lunacy to captain this unholy rum barrel unarmed.”

That was not at all the answer he imagined at all.

“Unholy!?”

“Rum barrel!?”

Will held his hands up to silence the crew again.

“Unarmed?”

Steely eyes dropping to the floor, a sudden confused flicker.

Will frowned.

“Just what exactly is your name and rank?”

A mutter.

“Pardon?”

“James never... The Admiral never named me.”

Will blinked. How the hell did that make any sense? She was an unnamed woman in Navy dress that claimed to have been brought on board the Dutchman supposedly by Admiral Norrington? Was she a slave? A servant? A... Will blinked slowly. Wait. Calm down. Maybe he was thinking about this in the wrong sort of terms. Navy. Knew the Admiral. Knew who he was or of him. Unarmed... She wasn't unarmed. She looked like she knew what she was doing with a sword. The sword...

Will looked down at the sword in his hand and then at the woman in front of him, who was now fidgeting with the lace on her cuffs, lace that was embroidered quite nicely in a pattern that he remembered, the pattern in the gold filigree that was laid quite nicely in the handle of the sword. Her hair was the same dark black as the hand grip and was decorated with the same gold beading twisting around her head.

He tilted the sword and the light flashed, she lifted her head and the light flashed in her steel eyes. The Admiral would have never brought a woman aboard but it would indeed have been lunacy to leave his weapon behind.

“You're the sword?”

More fidgeting, “Yes?”

“You're not sure?”

“Well it was odd enough to hear things and have memories but now I have a body and well... It's altogether very unsettling.”

Will frowned and stayed his hand when he realized that he was swinging the sword back and forth and she was following it with her eyes.

“Sorry.”

She shrugged, the anger seeming to have gone out of her. Will sighed and motioned to the men that they could stand down. There was a mutter and they slowly made their way out of the room and then as quickly as they could onto the deck to spread rumors.

It was quiet in the cabin until the woman, no; the sword cleared her throat,

“So, I suppose, that I... belong to you now Captain Turner.”

“It would seem as such. Since well... If you should so wish.”

“If I should wish?”

It was a singularly awkward moment, proposing to Elizabeth in the middle of battle had been easier on the nerves, “I shouldn't mind if you well, were my... sword. If that is what you want...”

She nibbled on her lip and shook her head,

“I don't think I can have another... owner. I mean when Davy Jones... not that you're anything like him! But well it's not that I don't appreciate your generous offer Captain Turner. It's kind and you didn't have to ask me what I wanted, I meant no disrespect but, well I'm still thinking I'm the Admiral's.”

William smiled, a little more at ease.

“It's perfectly alright. I just don't really know what to do with you.”

He sighed as he picked up the sheath from where it had been left on his desk. It had been one of the best pieces he had ever made. He didn't know if it had been because he'd known that Elizabeth would see the sword before the Commodore would and he was trying to impress her, or not.

“Well,” she straightened and smiled a vaguely familiar smile, “you are the Captain of the Flying Dutchman. You would be dealing with the souls of people lost at sea, correct?”

“Correct.”

“And, I am aware that your background is neither of a sailor nor a person in high command, is this also correct?”

He was only slightly suspicious when he answered, “Well, yes.”

“So, since I am both a well crafted weapon and a possessor of some nautical understanding as well as the workings of a Navy command, it may behoove you to keep me around until your education is thoroughly supplemented.”

“And you would be offering this... education, in exchange for?”

She smiled, “Well, I would be happy to provide my services to the crew and its captain until say... the recovery of a certain Admiral?”

“You want to stay on board until we find Admiral Norrington?”

“Yes. Should it please you.”

It was a fair deal. Of course now he was going to have to find himself another sword. Taking care, he slid the sword back into the sheath and offered it to her.

“I believe we have an accord.”