Jillian was so exhausted that she cried herself to sleep. When she awoke, she was so comfortable and warm, she wanted to go right back asleep. She turned on her side and snuggled deeper into her soft, red blankets.

Wait. Her bed didn't have red blankets. She didn't even have a bed. She had a hammock.

Jillian sat bolt upright, all sleepiness gone. She realized where she was and her face colored in embarrassment. She was in Robinson's quarters in his bed.

He was nowhere in sight. Camling down, Jillian wrapped the blanket around herself a bit tighter as she tried to figure out what had happened.

Robinson saved her life and she cried like a weak princess. Then she passed out and ended up...here.

Goodness. He must have carried her in here and-wait. Jillian had been wearing soaking wet clothes. Could he-

She was still wearing her same old dress that was a bit damp. She breathed a sigh of relief and slipped out of the bed. It was daylight and her boots were drying by the window. They were a bit wet and smelled like moldy leather but she tugged them on anyway.

As she went for the door, she hoped that she wouldn't run into any of the crew. No doubt they all saw her meltdown and then passing out. How embarrassing!

Jillian opened the door and nearly crashed into the Cook. She yelped and rammed the doorframe with her shoulder. Without bothering to ask if she was okay, the old Cook shoved the bowl he was holding at her and growled, "Breakfast for the sweet damsel."

She was so dumbfounded that she grabbed the bowl without a word. He began to stomp away. As Jillian watched him go, she realized his footsteps were loud and clear. His shoes were bonedry. Hers had been drying in the sun and were still damp. As she put these things together, her temper rose to a boiling point.

"Hey!" she yelled after him. The Cook paused and turned to glare at her under his bushy white eyebrows.

"What?"

"Where were you yesterday?" she demanded, practically throwing the bowl to the floor. "I don't remember seeing you helping out during the storm."

"The galley, of course," he repiled, with a twisted sneer. "That's where the Cook belongs, right?"

"You-you didn't help on purpose?" Jillian screeched. She ran right up to him and pointed a finger at his chest. "How could you? You decided to sit down here and let the rest of the crew nesrly kill themselves trying to save this ship! I can't believe it! Robinson's your captain! We needed-!" She stopped as she realized she'd refered to her and the other pirates as we. When did that start?

The Cook, apparently, didn't notice. "Defending Robinson now, are we? I see you're a bit more fond of him when he's saving your life instead of ending it, huh?"

Jillian blanched but quickly masked it. "That's not the point! We could have died out there and you wouldn't care less!" She never felt so angry in her life. Sheriff Anton arresting her has officially been bumped out of its top spot on her list.

"Good riddance!" the Cook spat. "Robinson's just an arrogant, good-for-nothing boy and if you really knew what happened when old Hook kicked the bucket you wouldn't think so highly of your rescuer!"

With that, he kicked the bowl and the contents sprayed in a steaming arc into the Captain's Quarters. He then turned on his heel and stormed off, muttering curses uinder his breath.

Jillian stood there, stunned. She never realized the Cook held so much animosity towards Robinson. Her mind was buzzing. What had happened that made him so bitter?

Almost in a daze from her thoughts, Jillian went up to the top deck and breathed in the salty air. She began to walk across the deck but her foot slipped on something wet. She gasped as she fell backwards and slammed onto the deck. Hard.

Someone gripped her under her arms and pulled her upright. She turned, half-expecting to see Robinson, but it was Eye-Eye. The first mate raised his eyebrow teasingly. "Are you alright?" he asked, smirking. "You seem to fall and trip a lot."

Jillian turned red, embarrassed. "Well, usually if there's soemthing to trip over or someone crashes into me." She saw that she had slipped on soapy water that covered most of the deck. "Its practically a land mine out here!" she said, defensively, trying to push the fault onto the ship.

Eye-Eye snickered. "You got to watch your step. And I don't mean just with water." He gave her a meaninful look.

"You heard the argument with Cook, right?" she sighed.

"Every word. My hearing has to make up for this." He tapped his eyepatch. "Its common knowledge that Cook hates the Captain-and pretty much everyone," he added. "I'm not surprised he hates you too."

"Thanks a lot."

"You know what I mean! He's a bitter one and he could make things pretty miserable for you."

Now it was Jillian's turn to smirk. "Like how?" she challenged.

"Rosie once let Cook have it after he refused to help fight a sea monster and the next day he got food poisoning and was sick for weeks. We all knew Cook did it to get back at Rosie and to maim our navigation, but couldn't prove it. We were lost for nearly a month before he recovered. Almost sailed to Sonnen."

Jillian wondered if she should be careful of her food for awhile. Seeing her face, Eye-Eye grinned. "Don't worry, Jillian. Cook never does the same thing twice." He walked away, still laughing.

"Well, that's a relief," she muttered to herself. Now she had no idea what to expect. It was like waiting for a curse to descend. A black cloud hovering above her.

Trying to shake off worry about Cook, she went to the prow of the ship and looked out at the sparkling sea. It was strange how something could look so peaceful one day and violent the next. It was like the sea had moods and emotions and expressed them through actions.

People were like that too, she supposed. Robinson wanted to kill her at first, but he ended up saving her life. But why? She groaned and shook her head, fustrated. Just because she could make comparisons of things, doesn't mean it made any sense.

"You're up."

Robinson walked over and stood next to her, hands behind his back, staring at the sea. He looked normal save a huge black stain across his shirt.

He caught her staring and rolled his eyes. "Helping Sparky sort his gunpowder. He was pretty sore with Boulder since he knocked over a lot of boxes."

Jillian nodded, not sure what to say. "Yeah," she managed lamely.

"Not too good at conversation, are you?"

"Yes, I am!" she shot back. Why did everyone make fun of her? First her clumsiness, and now her awkwardness

"Obviously."

"Only when there's something worth talking about. Who cares about Sparky's gunpowder?"

"Touché." Robinson actually smiled. It was strange to see it on his face. It made him look friendlier and more approachable.

"So," she began carefully. "What happened when H-?" She was cut off by a shout from the crow's nest.

"Siren's Pass, ahoy!" Smalls yelled, pointing ahead.

Jillian could see the sharp rocks that flanked the pass on the horizon and they were getting closer. Robinson turned to her. "Your time has come."

"Oh." Jillian felt weak and the knees. "Great." She now had to guide them?

"It'll be fine," Robinson reassured her.

She looked across the deck and saw Cook in the shadows of the mast. He leered at her and stalked away.