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Everything in Panama City had gone mostly according to plan, a rare happenstance for the pirates in this motley crew, and the more superstitious among them spent the first few days on board their new vessel debating whether this meant good luck or bad, fair wind or foul.

The Spanish ship they'd stolen isn't large or particularly pleasing to the eye, being in need of some new paint and wood maintenance, but it's seaworthy and swift before the wind, and most importantly, well-stocked for a long voyage.

And a long journey to Singapore it will be.

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Barbossa must sleep. He just must, right? Odd, then, that no one seems to manage to catch him at it. The most that anyone can say about his activities below deck is that he spends some time in the deepest part of the hold, doing who-knows-what, and passing through on his way back to the deck.

Elizabeth hasn't slept.

It's nearly dawn, and she has done nothing all night but sulk over her conversation with Will. She's actively avoiding him, moving about below deck like a ghost.

However, the thing about avoiding someone is that you are far more likely to know exactly where they are at any given moment, and ever since he disappeared topside, Elizabeth hasn't been able to locate him.

She's starting to worry.

After checking the hold, the galley and the crew quarters, she smacks into Barbosa's chest, clearly distracted.

"Now, now, miss Swann, it's not proper of a Lady to go barging into men like that."

He watches her amid the gloom of the hold, yellow-rimmed eyes agleam with contained laughter.

Scowling, she draws back with the sort of haste that would cause a swish of her skirts were she wearing any, and automatically straightens her shirt.

"It is well for us both then that I have no concern for the rules of propriety. If I did, I would most certainly not be here."

His eyebrows raise and his smirk turns into an amused little smile.

"Is that a proposal, miss Swann? Why, coming back to life must have made wonders for my already dashing looks."

But the joke lasts for only a few seconds. Then he goes back to seriousness.

"That's right, miss Swann. This isn't the kind of place one would expect to find you. I'd rather more think you are an above deck kind of person."

Hard-pressed not to give an undignified snort, Elizabeth ignores his comment as best she is able.

"I'm looking for Will." Just a glance of him across the ship would do, she almost says. "Have you seen him?"

"Well, yes, I have happened to see him. Usually on the opposite end of the ship from you. Or you from him. And you know, I have been wondering, miss Swann, since your being oh so much in love and all had a hand in getting me killed not that long ago, what has since happened. You see, I kind of feel responsible for your well-being now, after all we went through together at Isla de Muerta, you and Will and I. And Jack, of course."

And no snake ever dripped more poison from its fangs than he does from his lips in that comment.

"Not to mention, I won't let you two become a liability for my crew or this expedition."

"A liability?" Indignant, she glares at Barbossa and takes a menacing step closer, leading with one shoulder. All that's missing is a finger jabbing his chest, and that's a near thing. "I am not a liability. I will hold my own as well as any pirate here, perhaps better, and you cannot doubt my determination to succeed."

Again, no mention of the situation with Will. Pride pricked, she continues to eye him stubbornly. She's been watching and surreptitiously learning from him during their renewed acquaintance, and his doubt sparks her temper.

"Don't you dare try to tell me what I can and cannot do, miss Swann! Surrounded as I am by people whom I wouldn't trust with a broken wooden knife, I can and will doubt anyone and everyone. And you -are- a liability if your mind and your heart are elsewhere, no matter how well you can fight."

He eyes her. His voice all through the little tirade has been level, but cold. He doesn't trust her, and doesn't really believe she'll be up to the work ahead. Changed, she has, but maybe not enough. And as long as she doesn't make up her mind, she will very much be a liability for herself and everyone else. And if he has to prod her until she blows up for her to realize, he will.

Elizabeth doesn't blow up.

She settles her feet hip distance apart, eyes on his, and adopts a carefully controlled expression. There's no longer anything belligerent about her demeanor. Cold, yes. Cold and rigid and proud, but not bristling with anger.

"My mind and heart are right here," she tells him, and her own tone is low and level, "where they should be. I will stop at nothing, let nothing distract me, until we do what must be done. You can believe my word or not," and there's a thin smile of acknowledgment that there's little if any trust between most people on board, "but you'd be doing yourself a disservice if you think I'll be of no use simply because I went looking for my fiancé."

She lifts her chin.

"You may not think so, but you need me."

"I never said you were of no use, did I? Everyone has some use for a man who knows how to judge. But what worries me, Miss Swann, isn't that you have gone looking for your fiancé. What worries me is, for a woman who so very often asserts that nothing will stand in her way, you seem to be failing quite soundly at actually -finding- him. Or maybe just deciding who this 'him' is."

He tilts his head back, looking at her down the line of his nose, teeth slightly bared in a gesture that is more silent snarl than grin.

The look seems to faze Elizabeth not a bit. She arches an eyebrow and stands her ground, contriving to look almost amused by his reaction.

"William Turner," she reminds him slowly, as if speaking to a dimwitted child. "And though I have searched high and low and failed to locate him, my search would be greatly aided if those who had seen him would deign to tell me his whereabouts."

He chuckles at her response.

"Keep telling yourself that, miss Swann."

Then he goes to take a step away, turning to speak back to her over his shoulder.

"Mister Turner and Captain Reynolds have taken off to the temple where our navigational charts are held. The best to finish their part of the job as soon as possible and join us in Singapore."

The bottom drops out of Elizabeth's stomach, but she'll be damned before she lets Barbossa know how thoroughly his announcement has caught her off guard.

"I see." She swallows, concentrating on keeping her voice even. "And what is our first move?

"Why, getting to Singapore of course."

Is the response as he walks away at his usual slow, measured, limping pace. Or did she expect a clearer answer from him?

Elizabeth has ceased to expect any form of clarity from him. It irks her all the same, and she scowls at his retreating back before moving up and out, seeking fresh air.

Will left without saying goodbye.

Yes, she's going to be sulking about that for a while.

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