CHAPTER 11 - Salt Water

Yanking at the rope for the last time to make sure it’s firmly tied, you nod in satisfaction. The Interceptor makes a good way towards where ever it is that Jack’s steering it. You glance at the helm that Jack has manned since the departure from Tortuga, one hand resting lazily on the helm, other clutching a compass that, you remember Norrington’s remark on Port Royal, doesn’t even point north. But, he probably knows what he’s doing. He is, after all, the one that knows where Isla de Muerta is. If not, well then… you’re all in trouble.

For a while, you stand there on the side of the ship and look down at the water, watching the white foam licking the sleek wooden sides of the ship as it glides through the blue masses. Lifting your gaze to the distant horizon, you see seagulls hovering over the waters, circling in the air. Frowning, you notice how the said sky has darkened; bright blue has turned into ominous grey. A sudden, strong gush of wind flutters your clothes and throws your hair around, and you push the out of control locks off your face with one hand.

“Blimey! This ain’t looking good at all,” you mutter to yourself, observing the increasing signs of the gathering storm. You’ve been a pirate for your entire life, and are quite used to storms, but mostly you’d like to avoid them. Seas are harsh and unpredictable, just like the storms raging above them.

“Aye, a storm’s brewing. It’ll be over us soon,” Someone says abruptly beside you, and you startle just a bit. Turning to look at the speaker, you’re surprised to see Anamaria standing there, watching the sky with a dour look on her face. You didn’t exactly consider Anamaria for a type to seek out female companion; she seems to be feeling comfortable among men, probably even more so than with women.

“Won’t be long,” you agree with a nod, not really knowing what else to say to the mulatto woman.

Anamaria finally turns to regard you with narrowed eyes, and you feel a bit uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. “Why are you here?” she asks finally, rather bluntly. The corner of your mouth lifts up in lopsided smile. She really cuts right to the chase.

“Well, to keep it short, I got tangled along Jack and Will since they know where my cousin is. I was on my way to Port Royal to meet her, but I ran into some trouble… That got me a special tour inside the brig of Fort Charles, and that’s where I met Jack. Will got us out, and now,” you shrug, “I’m here.”

Anamaria doesn’t seem too convinced. “And your cousin?”

“Elizabeth Swann,” you reply, watching her raise an eyebrow at this.

“The lass that Barbossa has? The Governor’s daughter?” she states more than asks, and you wonder how much she knows. You don’t have to wait long for the inevitable comment about you and your relatives. “But you’re a pirate.”

You sigh. “Aye, but that’s such a long story I’d rather not get into that now. But believe me, it’s all true.”

Anamaria is silent for a while, flicking a strand of hair that the wind blew on her eyes off her face and behind her shoulder. “Was your father Bloodshot Pete, then?”

Subtlety doesn’t seem to be her strongest point, you think in amusement. It’s refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t beat around the bush, but the topic is one you’d rather not discuss with her, at least not yet. You grab the railing of the ship for support as the Interceptor dips over a violent wave. The sea is getting restless. “Yeah, he was,” you answer shortly.

“So it is true. Gibbs said as much, but I thought he’s only pullin’ my leg. Well, then you should do fine,” Anamaria says, giving you a small but sincere smile, and again you’re a bit shocked. You’re pretty sure she doesn’t do that a lot.

You smile back, nodding in thanks, thinking about what she said. You weren’t really looking for anyone’s acceptance or friendship, but it’s nice to know you at least have some sort of semi-understanding between you and Anamaria. It’s not like you’re part of the crew anyway, just making an appearance… But how does Gibbs know that you’re Bloodshot’s daughter? You figure Jack must have told him in the bar in Tortuga, that loudmouth. Oh well.

“If you two are done gossipin’, there’ll be plenty of work to be done!” Gibbs’ voice booms suddenly behind you, and both you and Anamaria turn around to glare at the older man.

Realizing that accusing two female pirates of “gossiping” probably wasn’t the smartest idea, Gibbs clears his throat nervously. “I meant that ev’ry one will be needed before the storm hits, tha’s all!”

“Sure,” you say with touch of sarcasm lacing your voice. Gibbs makes a hasty retreat mumbling something about the sails and the wind, and Anamaria cracks a quick grin.

“I think we’ll get along fine,” she tells you, and you grin as well.

Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance, and you notice that dark, almost black clouds have rolled over the previous dull grey skies, spreading as far as you can see. Large splotches of water start falling down from the sky and land on the deck, the amount increasing rapidly as the minutes pass by. The wind is howling in your ears, violently blowing your hair around. The fierce storm rolls over the vessel faster than you can even comprehend, and the crewmembers are hastening to do their duties, tightening ropes and manning the sails. The Interceptor slides over the turbulent waters, bobbing up and down along the waves.

“Let’s give ‘em a hand,” Anamaria speaks up, nodding towards the busy crewmembers. You nod wordlessly. It’s time to do you share of the work.

* * * *

Hours later, you’re drenched, cold, hungry and tired but you won’t complain. That’s pirate’s life for you. The sky is black and the hard rain keeps pouring down, beating the deck mercilessly with no sings of stopping or slowing down anytime soon. The sea beneath the ship is wild, big waves are making the vessel sway violently over them and sprays of water fly over the sides of the ship, onto the deck. Every once in the while, a lightning or two splits the gloom darkness and colours everything white for few short seconds before the thunder booms loudly overhead. You’re absolutely soaking wet and your hair is plastered on your neck, shoulders, and face. Your clothes are sticking on your body, and your palms are sore from pulling the ropes while handling the sails with the others in the harsh wind. The Interceptor is not an overly big ship, but it takes a lot of work to handle the large sails in weather like this. The sudden, violent gushes of wind could rip the whole things right off if you and the rest of the crew would not follow the wind and loosen and tighten them when needed.

You’ve noted with relief along the hours that the wind seems to be gradually toning down, the constant blowing seeming to lighten a little, the gushes not so powerful anymore. Brushing away the strands of wet hair matted on your forehead, you try to ignore the chill nibbling on your wet skin, hoping you’re not trembling. Soon, the men that handled the sails with you are relieved from their task by the other crewmembers that did other things at the time, and gratefully you step away from them. You smile in thanks to Cotton, who takes you place and start making your way to Gibbs and Will who are struggling to stay on their feet on the slippery deck in the pounding rain.

You nod and smile slightly as you reach them, and rub your stiff fingers together in hopes to warm them a bit. Gibbs sticks something in front of you, and even in the dark you recognize that it’s a flask. Eagerly, you take it and uncap the cork, taking a good swig. The rum burns your throat pleasantly as it slides down, and soon enough you feel the blessed warmth spreading from your belly to your freezing limbs.

“Bless you!” you grin as you pass the flask back to Gibbs.

“Wouldn’t be goin’ that far,” Gibbs chuckles as he offers it to Will. Will shakes his head, declining the offer with a suffering look on his face. Poor Will must be still remembering his hangover, you think amusedly. Gibbs shrugs and pockets the flask.

“How can we sail to an island that nobody can find with a compass that doesn’t work?” Will has to shout in order for Gibbs and you to hear him over the rain and the clap of thunder.

“Aye, the compass doesn’t point north, but we’re not trying to find north, are we?” Gibbs answers smugly, and you smile. Gazing up at the sails, you frown worriedly. The wind is still strong, and it might be a good idea to drop them soon and let the waves carry the ship onward until the storm is over.

“Shouldn’t we be dropping the sails?” You semi-shout your question to Gibbs, who nods thoughtfully.

“Yer right, lass, it’d be wise,” he agrees finally. “Ye go suggest that to the Capt’n!”

“Me?!” you repeat with doubt. Advising the Captain how to sail is bad enough, and you’re not really even part of his crew. “Why me? Why not you?”

“T’was yer idea in the first place! Go on,” Gibbs encourages, and you suddenly feel stupid. You sounded like you’re afraid of Jack. How idiotic.

Nodding, you give in. “Fine, I’ll go.” Turning around, you start advancing to the stairs leading up to the helm, grabbing ropes and other things for support as the ship rocks over the waves. Climbing up the stairs, you finally stop next to Jack, whose gaze darts between the compass and the horizon, seemingly oblivious of the storm raging around him.

Holding on to the railing with dear life, you holler over the roar of the sea, “Maybe we should drop the canvas!”

Jack spares a quick look at you before replying. “She can hold a bit longer!” Glancing again at the compass, he turns the rudder. You notice the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and feel puzzled. He seems almost cheerful. Wondering what’s going on in his mind, you can’t help but to ask him about it.

“What’s in your head that’s put you in such a fine mood, Captain?” you emphasize the last word good-naturedly, and Jack grins almost manically.

“We’re catching up!” he says ardently while turning the rudder again, excitement evident in his voice.

“The Pearl?” you ask, even though you know that’s what he meant.

“Aye, the Pearl,” he agrees, repeating the name reverently, gazing somewhere in the distance of the horizon.

Observing him, your suspicions surface again. You started wondering about what the Pearl really means to Jack while stuck in the jail in Port Royal with him, when Barbossa attacked the city. His tone was wistful as he repeated the name, but there’s something in this whole mess that you can’t quite figure out. And what of Barbossa, then? Jack obviously knows a thing or two about him as well, what’s up with that? You wish you’d paid closer attention to your father’s stories and tales about the other pirates when you were younger, they could have given you some insight to this situation right now.

“In case you're cold,” Jack starts, but stops and takes a look at your drenched attire, “Which you probably are, go warm up below. See if you can find anything edible. Or better yet, drinkable!”

“On this ruddy boat? The King’s finest? Very much doubt it, says I,” you reply dryly. “I’m better now that Gibbs let me have a swig of his rum flask.”

“Gibbs has rum?” Jack yells in unbelieving tone at this revelation. “And he didn’t offer me any?! That bloody shark-bait!”

You smirk humorously at his offended tone. “Obviously he’s a gentleman. You know, lets ladies go first and all that.”

Jack laughs with mirth. “Gibbs? Luv, Gibbs is as much of a gentleman as you are a lady.”

“Oy!” you cry in mock-anger, chuckling afterwards. Very true. You are lots of things, but lady is not one of them. You note the storms slowly dying down; the rain has slowed down a bit and the wind has stopped blowing quite so fiercely. The sky seems to be regaining more of the grey colour, the dark blackness slowly leaving behind. Maybe with any luck, this bloody storm will be over soon. Glancing Jack for one last time, you leave him be and make your way back to Will and Gibbs.

* * * *

“Dead… men… tell… no… tales!”

The parrot croaks once again, shattering the heavy silence that has fallen over the crew as the Interceptor glides slowly in the clear waters of the shallow lagoon Jack has steered it. Grey fog surrounds the ship as the whole crew has gathered along the sides of the ship, gazing down in the water. The bottom is littered with shipwrecks; some are close to the surface the masts are scraping the Interceptor’s keel.

You lean your palms on the railing, watching the wrecks beside Gibbs and Will. The storm cleared a few hours after your little chat with Jack, and your clothes are quite dry already. Your hair is still damp, and you just know it gets all fluffy once it dries some more. It has a nasty habit of doing that. You’re also aware that the bandages around your torso are wet, which is not a nice feeling. You make a mental note to check on the cut as soon as you get the chance. Luckily it’s not sore anymore, it only hurts if you accidentally hit it on something or press on it a bit harder.

Staring in the water, you see a lone hammerhead shark passes gracefully over one ship, and you feel sad. The White Wraith, your father’s ship, is also looking like that somewhere in the bottom of the sea. You can imagine it, having only sharks and fishes gazing upon the remainings of the grand ship it once was, barnacles and alga covering the dark wood.

“Puts a chill in the bones how many honest sailors have been claimed by this passage,” Gibbs says while shaking his head slightly, dismay and reverence both evident in his gruffy tone. His words tear your thoughts away from the past and you listen to him instead.

Glancing towards Jack, you see that he’s still staring at the compass intently. Cotton is standing behind him, trying to peek over his shoulder. You watch in amusement as Jack takes notice of the mute sailor behind him, and nonchalantly slams the compass shut.

“How is it that Jack came by that compass?” Will asks Gibbs, having noticed the same thing.

Gibbs looks at his friend behind the rudder, then at Will. “Not a lot is known about Jack Sparrow before he showed up in Tortuga with a mind to go after the treasure of the Isla de Muerta,” he says, and you turn around and lean on the railing, listening. “That was before I met him. Back when he was Captain of the Black Pearl,” he says and takes a drink from his flask.

Your eyes widen at this revelation of Captain Sparrow’s past. Suddenly it all clicks together. Of course, that would explain everything, especially his ardent determination to catch up on the Pearl…

“What?” Will exclaims softly, turning to look at Jack behind the helm. Gibbs’ eyes widen and he freezes for a moment, realizing the fact he’d just revealed to Will and you of Jack’s past.

“He failed to mention that,” Will goes on quietly after recovering from the news, a fleeting note of annoyance in his tone.

“Well, he plays things closer to the vest now. And a hard learned lesson it was,” Gibbs starts, and you listen intently, your mind going mile a minute. “See, three days out on the venture the first mate comes to him and says everything’s an equal share; that should be the location of the treasure, too. So, Jack gives up the bearings,” Gibbs explains, both you and Will captivated by the story. “That night… there was a mutiny. They marooned Jack on an island and left him to die, but not before he’d gone mad with the heat!”

Marooned him? You think. You know very well what that means among pirates. Wait, if they marooned him on an island, they should have given him a pistol to… Glancing at Jack, you frown thoughtfully. How did he got away? The man is very much alive as far as you can see.

“Ah... so that’s the reason for all the…” Will trails off, and proceeds to mimic Jack. You hum in amusement at his vision of the Captain, glancing at Gibbs who has a very small smile on his lips as well.

“Reason’s got nothing to do with it,” Gibbs replies, leaning closer to Will as if he had a secret only he needed to hear. “Now, the lass knows this,” he starts, glancing at you for affirmation. You nod and he goes on, explaining it to Will. “Will, when a man is marooned he is a given a pistol with a single shot, one shot! Well it won't do much good hunting or to be rescued. But after three weeks of starvin’ belly and thirst, that pistol’s starting to look ree-al friendly,” he says, pointing a finger on his temple in emphasis. Will listens with something akin to apprehension on his face. “But Jack, he made it off the island, and he still has that one shot! Oh, but he won’t use it though, save for one man. His mutinous first mate.”

“Barbossa,” you say quietly before anyone else gets a say in it, the realization hitting you.

Gibbs looks at you and nods grimly. “Aye.”

“How did Jack get off the island?” Will questions after a moment of silence. That’s exactly what you’d like to know as well.

“Well, I’ll tell you!” Gibbs says, obviously exited to tell the particular tale. “He waded out into the shallows and waited three days and three nights, till all manner of sea creature came acclimated to his presence. Then on the fourth morning… he roped himself a couple of sea turtles, lashed them together and made a raft!” Gibbs says enthusiastically, marvelling at the story.

Sea turtles…? You try, honestly you do, to keep your face passive, but the corners of your lips keep twitching upwards. Finally you can’t contain the snort of laughter that escapes your mouth, and you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to mask it as a cough. Gibbs was obviously convinced it happened so, and you don’t want to offend him by laughing. Sea turtles, my arse!

Will just keeps staring at Gibbs. “He roped a couple of sea turtles…?” he repeats slowly.

“Aye, sea turtles!” Gibbs convinces.

“What did he use for rope?” Will asks after a second, clearly not buying it.

Gibbs opens mouth to reply, but closes it the next second, frowning and pursing his lips in thought. This is obviously something he hadn’t thought about before. Suddenly the three of you notice Jack standing beside you with his fingers hooked on his belt, listening on your conversation.

“Human hair. From my back,” Jack informs Will lazily, and you scrunch your nose up in disgust. Eww. “Let go of the anchor!” he orders the crew before anyone manages a reply.

“Lower the anchor line!” The men chorus, springing into action.

“Young Mister Turner and I are to go ashore,” Jack says, mainly to Gibbs, and starts walking away.

“Hey, what about me?” You cry indignantly, striking your “stubborn”-pose. Fists on your hips, eyes narrowed. No way are you staying onboard, Elizabeth is your cousin after all!

“Best if you stay here,” Jack doesn’t even take notice of your practiced-over-the-years-pose; in fact he doesn’t even look at you.

“Unacceptable!” you protest loudly, nearly jogging after him, “I’m coming with you, like it or not.”

Now Jack does whirl around to look at you, irritation clear on his face. “Would you quit being so bloody stubborn!” he exclaims, waving with his hands slightly. “That cave is no place for a woman.”

“I’m grateful for your concern, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’m also a pirate, remember? A bunch of undead scallywags won’t stop me from going in there and getting my cousin. Savvy?” you add the last word sweetly, and Jack rolls his eyes in exasperation.

“Jack, we’re wasting time!” Will says, ever the voice of reason. “If she wants to come, I don’t see why she could not.”

“That’s because you don’t know those mates in there, but I do,” Jack replies, then regards you. “Stay here?” he tries again. You shake your head determinately.

“Please, stay?” Jack asks with desperate frustration.

“No, Jack. I am coming along!”

“For cryin’ out loud, Jack!” Anamaria appears suddenly somewhere to stand beside you, “Let the lass come! She’ll look after herself.”

“Fine, fine! You can come,” Jack finally gives in (mostly under Anamaria’s charming convincing, you figure) and turns around mumbling something about stubborn women under his breath.

You smirk and nod your thanks to Anamaria, who flashes a grin in return.

“Captain! What if the worst should happen?” Gibbs asks Jack as you make your way to the boat.

Jack stops in his tracks and thinks about this for a short moment. “Keep to the code,” he finally replies, starting to walk again.

“Aye, the code,” Gibbs nods knowingly as he watches the three of you step in the boat, and the crew members start to lower it. You force the unpleasant feeling down, dismissing it. Nothing’s going to happen, everything will be fine. You go in, kick some bad-pirate arse, get Elizabeth, get out, and leave this devil island far behind. Aye, in other words; no problem!

* * * * *

CHAPTER 12 - No Heroes Amongst Pirates

The small rowing boat rocks gently upon the rippling waters as you make your way towards the grotto, light mist surrounding you. Will situated himself in the head, Jack is in the middle, rowing, and you sit in the back facing Jack. You glance back at the Interceptor that’s anchored a distance away, its form barely visible in the fog that seems to surround the whole damn island.

Jack rows the boat steadily inside the cave, the opening looking like a maw of some beast ready to swallow you. It’s dark and damp inside the watery cave, the only light coming from the lantern attached in the head of the boat. You lean a bit to your side and look down in the water, noticing it’s actually quite shallow. The water would probably reach you to your shoulders, if even there. Out of curiosity, you lower your hand to the surface and dip your fingers in the water. It’s in fact rather warm, despite the chilly air of the cave.

Glancing around the rocky banks sliding past the boat as Jack slowly rows forward, you see several skeletons strewn over the stones. You swallow, understanding now why it’s called Isla de Muerta, the Island of the Dead.

“What code is Gibbs to keep if the worst should happen?” Will asks breaking the silence, staring at a skeleton on the bank.

Jack smirks, slanting his head to the right slightly so Will hears better. “Pirate’s code. Any man that falls behind… is left behind.”

“No heroes amongst thieves, eh?” he remarks, contempt evident in his voice.

Jack’s dark eyes seek out yours, and he smiles a little and shakes his head. You shrug with a small answering smile. Obviously Will hasn’t changed his opinion about pirates.

“You know, for having such a bleak outlook on pirates you’re well on your way to becoming one,” Jack answers, lazy smile curling his lips that’s unseen by Will. “Sprung two of ‘em from jail. Commandeered a ship of the Fleet… sailed with a buccaneer crew out of Tortuga…” Jack turns around to look down in the now very shallow water with you and Will, seeing the sparkle of golden coins on the bottom. Your eyes widen at the wonderful sight. Hey, you’re a pirate, and some gold just waiting to be grabbed does have a certain appeal to you.

“…and you’re completely obsessed with treasure.” Jack finishes, turns around and brings the boat on the shore. Will and Jack jump off the boat, and you follow the example.

“That’s not true! I’m not obsessed with treasure,” Will objects vehemently, following behind Jack who has snuck behind a boulder that’s covered with gold doubloons and coins, jewels and all kinds of valuables.

Looking carefully over the edge and then back at Will, Jack replies slowly, “Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate.”

Slinking on the left side of Jack whereas Will vacates the right side, you peek over the bank as well. The whole cavern is glittering and sparkling with the treasure loaded upon the banks, with the mangy undead pirates littering the middle. On the far side, over a slightly raised area, stands a man with a big hat, and a woman with long, dark blonde hair next to him. Barbossa and Elizabeth. A large, stony chest lies at their feet.

“Gentlemen, the time has come! Salvation is nigh! Our torment is nearing end,” Barbossa speaks up loudly in order for everyone to hear.

“Elizabeth…” Will whispers in strained voice, and both you and Jack glance at him briefly. You hope Will doesn’t start playing the hero and doing something stupid that puts all of you in danger.

“For ten years we’ve been tested and tried, and each man-jack of you here has proved his mettle a hundred times over - and a hundred times again!” Barbossa shouts and his crew cheers loudly at his words.

“Suffered I have,” wails a dirty, lanky man in the crowd.

“Punished we were! The lot of us - disproportionate to our crime! Here it is!” Barbossa exclaims, pushing off the lid of the chest with his foot. It falls down next to the chest, revealing masses of shiny golden coins. “The cursed treasure of Cortes himself.” he goes on, running his hand over the surface of the coins.

“Every last piece that went astray we have returned… save for this!” He declares while pointing the necklace Elizabeth has around her neck. You squint your eyes, and see that Elizabeth indeed has one piece of the treasure in a chain around her neck.

“Jack!” Will hisses, scrambling up. Your eyes widen and you wince as Will upsets some of the treasure on the bank you’re hiding behind, coins clinking down the slope. You sigh in relief when none of the pirates seemed to hear or see this.

“Not yet,” Jack says adamantly and pulls Will back down. “We wait for the opportune moment.”

“When’s that? When it’s of greatest profit to you?” Will almost spits the words out and you glare angrily at him. You know he’s only worried about Lizzie, but his condescending attitude towards pirates and your motives is really staring to irritate you.

“Hush up, Will! We know you want her back, but you can’t just rush in there by yourself to play the hero!” you shush irately, struggling to keep your voice down.

“It’s better than sitting here and doing nothing!” Will counters, equally agitated.

“May I ask you something?” Jack speaks up to Will and breaks up you squabble, his hands held in front of him, fingers spread. “Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?" he asks, his tone of forced patience as he stares sternly at Will. "Do us a favour; I know it’s difficult for you… But please, stay here.” he points down to the ground, “And try not to do anything stupid.”

He turns to face you and mouths “Watch him” to you with a small nod towards Will. Before you manage any kind of reply, Jack takes off, leaving you and Will alone. Your mouth hangs open, but you clamp it shut when you hear Barbossa’s voice speaking again. Turning you gaze down on the gathering, you see Barbossa riling up the crew.

“And who among us has paid the blood sacrifice owed to the heathen gods?”

“US!” the men shout.

“And whose blood must yet be paid?!” Barbossa asks, sickening grin curling his lips.

“HERS!” the men chorus again, pointing at wide-eyed Elizabeth. Barbossa smirks, and turns to face Elizabeth. You see him tell Elizabeth something, but can’t hear anything from the distance.

Barbossa takes out a dagger. “By blood begun… by blood undone!” he declares and the men cheer again, starting to chant in encouragement.

“Bloody hell… Will?” you mumble, turning to look at Will and miss Barbossa cutting Elizabeth’s palm.

…The only problem is that Will is not beside you anymore. “Will?!” you repeat in loud whisper, glancing around you frantically. Where the hell is he, how the hell did he manage to leave without you hearing?! Shit, Jack’s not gonna be pleased with you if Will gets himself killed.

Scrambling up from your kneeling position, you slink hurriedly toward the narrow passageway between the rocks that Jack disappeared into. You drop your other hand on the hilt of your cutlass, feeling instantly better. Who knows where all of those pirates might be lurking? You sneak silently along the path, round a corner and only barely suppress a surprised yelp as you almost trip on something. Better yet, somebody.

You gasp in surprise and bewilderment as you see Jack sprawled unconscious on the path. “What in the bloody circles of hell?” you cry out in bewilderment, crouching down beside Jack, shaking him.

“Jack? Jack, can you hear me? Ah, bloody damned hell!” You curse while trying to rouse Jack. You spot the oar lying useless on the ground next to Jack. It’s from the boat. Nobody else could have used it but Will. You shake your head in disbelief. Why the hell did Will hit Jack with it?

“Damn it,” you whisper, completely at loss. You feel so guilty for not paying closer attention to Will even though Jack especially told you to. You mumble every cuss word you can remember under your breath while you shake Jack again, slapping him on his cheek lightly.

This is not the way this was supposed to go! You were supposed to get in, kick bad-pirate arse, get Elizabeth, and get the hell out of here! You were not supposed to lose Will, Will was certainly not supposed to knock Jack unconscious and you were not supposed to be suddenly left alone without any idea as to what the hell were you gonna do now! Hell, hell, hell!

“Oh c’mon, wake up already!” you hiss desperately, slapping Jack on the cheek bit harder than you actually meant to. Your action is rewarded with a pained groan from Jack, and you grin in spite the sticky situation.

Jack stirs, coming around. “Now, I know I didn’t deserve that,” he mumbles and opens his eyes, gingerly lifting himself off the ground. “Besides, didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t slap me?” He goes on while you help him stand up. You grin apologetically.

“Aye, sorry. I had to wake you up,” you say sheepishly. Then you remember the oar. “What happened?”

“Ah, Will decided to play the knight in a shining arm… armrest, arms… armarrls, arlmrah, ar--” he stammers, searching for the right word with little success.

“Armour?” You suggest amusedly, after listening him splutter incomprehensible syllables for a moment.

“Aye, exactly!” Jack exclaims, pointing with his finger. Then Jack narrows his eyes thoughtfully at you. “Weren’t you s’posed to keep an eye on dear William, I wonder?”

You laugh a bit nervously, grinning in same fashion. “Yeah. He kind of… slipped away without my noticing.”

Suddenly a gunshot echoes in the cave, and both of you snap your heads towards the sound. Trepidation sets in your heart, and you hope Will hasn’t done something really stupid.

“Come on luv,” Jack says abruptly, starting to walk towards the boats of Barbossa’s crew. “There’s nothing much we can do now, except…” he trails off, and you soon reach the shore with several boats. The pirates in the gathering are loudly arguing about something, and you can hear Barbossa’s angered voice from time to time.

“Except what?” You ask Jack, and he throws you a broad grin, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“Get rid of their oars!” He declares, and proceeds to throw the oars in the water. You grin and start doing the same, pulling them off and throwing them in the water. After a while, all of the oars float in the water save the one that Jack’s clutching in his hands.

“Brilliant. Let’s go,” Jack says, and you follow behind him, the two of you disappearing again among the boulders. You can hear the pirates shouting in irritation as they notice their oars have gone missing.

“The oars have gone missing! Find them!” Booms a deep voice somewhere behind you.

You stifle your snicker, trailing closely behind Jack. You slam into his back as he suddenly comes to a freezing halt, and you peek behind him to see what’s going on.

“You! You’re supposed to be dead!” Comes the astounded voice in front of Jack, and you see a half-bald, stocky, and dirty pirate standing there. Ah. That’s what’s going on.

Jack, still holding the oar, looks down on himself with surprised expression. “Am I not? Hmm...” he turns around and so do you, ready to make an escape, but you find pistols pointed at you by few pirates, making you stop in your tracks and causing Jack to slam against your back. You grin and wave at the glaring pirates, then turn around with Jack again. The half-bald pirates cocks his pistol towards Jack with a sneer.

“Puhluley!” Jack shouts suddenly, and you look at him incredulously, as do the pirates. You wonder if maybe Will hit Jack a bit too hard with the oar, but then again this seems like a typical Jack Sparrow-thing to do, just like that hands waving-quirk.

“Puhlulehvoos, parleli…” Jack continues to stammer slowly, again searching for the correct word. You can’t keep the smile off your face as you look at the faces of the pirates, glancing at each other uncertainly. “Parsmi, pasley, parle, parleparle…”

“Parley?” you suggest again with a smirk and Jack’s face lights up.

“Parley! That’s the one! Parley. Parley!” he grins cheerfully, spreading his other hand not holding the oar to his side.

“Parley...?!” repeats the half-bald pirate slowly, in a fed up manner. “Damned to the depths whatever muttonhead thought up parley!”

Jack, unable to resist such an opportunity for a witty retort, leans a bit forward and holds up his forefinger, pressing the barrel of the pirate’s gun downwards. “That would be the French,” he informs him and smiles smugly. You smirk as well, appreciating his gift to lighten up gloomy situations.

“Ah, get ‘em down from there!” the stocky pirate snaps to the others, and the pirates behind you push you and Jack ahead while keeping their pistols trained at you. Jack seems totally unaffected by this, swaggering along like nothing is wrong, but you stay alert and wary. You trail after Jack as the pirates surround you, leading you to Barbossa. You really didn’t need to actually meet the fellow, but obviously you’re going to have to.

Just keep your mouth shut and you’ll be ok, you think to yourself. Jack can handle the talking. You glance around, searching Will and Elizabeth, but see neither one of them. Did they manage to escape? You hope so. Where else would they be?

“Capt’n! We found some unwanted guests,” the stocky man informs Barbossa, disdain in his voice.

Barbossa, who was facing away from you, turns around and looks at you, then Jack. For a moment, surprise shows on his face, then it changes to something like amused approval. “Well done, Pintel,” he tells the man, then regards Jack with a smirk.

“Jack Sparrow... I thought we saw the last of you when we marooned you on that becoming island of yours,” Barbossa says, slight tone of belittlement in his voice.

“Well, looks as if you’re not rid of me quite yet,” Jack just smirks knowingly. You stand glued to your spot on the side, mainly because of the half a dozen or so pistols trained at you. There are several pistols pointed at Jack as well, more so than on you, but he seems to be oblivious to the fact.

“Rest assured Jack, that’ll change soon,” Barbossa says in amusement, then flickers his gaze towards you, scrutinizing. “And who’s this little friend here? Lookin’ awfully familiar…” he trails off thoughtfully.

You give him an unfriendly smirk. “I’m not your friend, sorry.”

“That so?” Barbossa says with small grin pulling his lips. Then he turns towards Jack again. “She hardly strikes to me as yer type, Jack.”

Jack doesn’t take the bait as Barbossa obviously wished, but keeps on smirking mischievously while leaning his hands on the oar.

“How the blazes did you get off that island?” Barbossa asks Jack after a moment, a burst of genuine wonder and annoyance mixing in his voice. The rest of the pirates around you all turn their heads towards Jack, expecting his answer.

“When you marooned me on that godforsaken spit of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate…” Jack pauses, and when Barbossa gives a small look of puzzlement, Jack grins and spreads his hands on his sides, holding onto the oar with one hand. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow!”

You grin at Barbossa’s expression. You should have expected that line from Jack.

“Ah, well, I won’t be making that mistake... again. Gents, y’all remember Captain Jack Sparrow?” Barbossa states, glancing back at his crewmembers and receiving some aye's and chuckles. Satisfied, he smirks in sinister fashion. “Kill him. The lass, too.” With that, he turns around and starts to walk away.

It seems that all pistols are now cocked towards either you or Jack, and you hold your breath, bracing yourself.

“The girl’s blood didn’t work, did it?” Jack suddenly asks, his tone knowing.

Barbossa freezes, and the pirates look uncertain as to how to proceed, some glancing at Barbossa's stiffened form. “Hold your fire!” he orders his men, and they reluctantly lower their weapons.

You heave a quiet sigh of relief. Barbossa turns around to face Jack again. You quirk an eyebrow; what the hell is Jack up to now? Of course Elizabeth’s blood didn’t work, she’s not a Turner… She just had the last piece of the Aztec gold.

“You know whose blood we need,” Barbossa states, fixing his steely gaze on Jack.

Still leaning against the oar, Jack gives a small grin, his deepened tone almost ominous. “I know whose blood ye need.”

You frown, observing Jack. Small feeling of doubt creeps in you, nagging in the back of your mind. What is he up to? He seems to be a bit too willing to help Barbossa, but wasn’t he supposed to dislike him? You sure as hell would if he’d marooned you and taken over your ship. Suddenly realization hits you; it all comes down to that, the Black Pearl. You he’d do anything to get his ship back, but just how long will he go to get it? And with what cost? Would he betray his friends for it? Well, you’re not sure if he thinks Will and Elizabeth as his friends, but still. More importantly, what’s your part in all this? You’re stuck here in a middle of hostile undead pirates and a man you consider a friend, but is that feeling mutual?

Barbossa regards Jack with unreadable expression for a minute. Then his lips curl in slight grin. “Jack, Jack, me boy. What say you we continue this conversation over at the Pearl? You probably wish to see her once more, eh?”

“Lead the way,” Jack grins suavely, but then Barbossa seems to remember you.

“Unfortunately, the lass has to go. Sorry Jack, but no more extra passengers on my ship. Kill her,” Barbossa says to the men around you, and once again you find yourself held at gunpoint, and more than one.

You gulp. “Parley…?” you ask tentatively at the nearest pirate, who just smiles humourlessly to you. “Yeah, I thought so,” you nod, having been anticipating a negative answer.

“Ah, not meaning to interrupt, but I don’t think you should do that,” Jack tells Barbossa, one finger raised.

Barbossa rolls his eyes. “And I’m sure you’ll give me a good reason as to why not?”

Jack shrugs nonchalantly. “That’s the daughter of Bloodshot Pete.”

Barbossa’s expression becomes one of interest and surprise. “Is she now?” he grins heinously. “Well, well, I had no idea ol’ Pete had himself a daughter… very surprising indeed.”

“And, the rumour has it that the lass has inherited one of his special talents, if you happen know what I mean…” Jack trails off meaningfully, glancing towards you.

“Meddling into affairs that don’t concern her?” Barbossa asks dryly, and you shoot an icy glare at him.

“Well that, and the lock picking,” Jack confirms, receiving his share of your glare. “She could prove useful.”

“I doubt it, Jack. But since I’m in fine mood today…” Barbossa finally says, looking at you. “I’ll let ye take your little friend with you.”

Wow, aren’t you the lucky one. Oh well, guess everything from now on beats getting shot. Barbossa and Jack start making their way to the boats, and the stocky man, Pintel, grabs your arm roughly and starts dragging you along as well.

“Oy, watch it!” you complain, glaring at him.

“Nice t’ have a poppet onboard again, aye Pintel?” the lanky man with a wooden eye walking on your other side says, and you get the impression he’s not exactly the brightest one of them. Besides, you’re no bloody poppet!

“Shut up, Ragetti,” Pintel shakes his head tiredly at him, and then looks at you. “And you, don’t be trying naught funny, a’right?”

“Fine, fine,” you agree in bored manner as your trail along the men. You’re angered at Jack’s quick dismissal of you and suddenly being all buddy-like with Barbossa, but admit that he did stop you from getting killed. You have no idea what’s happening next, but you’re not quite sure it’s all going to be good. Nevertheless, you straighten your spine and prepare to face whatever is thrown at you.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 13 - Doubts, Thoughts And Treacheries

You take in the appearance of the cursed ship in awe, marvelling at the wonderful craftsmanship of the infamous Black Pearl. My stars, it’s beautiful, you think. If the ship is this impressive under a curse, it must have been a truly amazing sight when free of it. You now understand fully Jack’s ardent determination to retrieve it. You let out an indignant little yelp as Pintel suddenly pushes you roughly forward, nearly making you trip as you trail behind Jack and Barbossa on the deck of the grand ship. You turn your head to the side and narrow your eyes at him in peeved manner.

“Stop shoving me, you mangy nitwit! I walk just fine without,” you growl irately at him.

Pintel glares back, but stays silent. Probably just to spite you, he prods you slightly on your back again.

You’re really irritated now. If your wrists weren’t bound together with rope in front of you, you’d smack him in the eye. Barbossa had ordered you to be bound before you left the darned island on the boat, who knows why. You didn’t exactly think of yourself as that menacing. To your annoyance, Jack still acts all friendly with Barbossa, chatting this and that with him, his hands very much unbound.

“I mean it! I can still castrate you with my bare hands even if they’re bound, y’know,” you inform venomously. Pintel seems to get the point at this, snatching his hands off your back and backing down half a step. You turn your head back ahead and smirk devilishly. That always does the trick with men.

The boat ride to the Pearl was unpleasant enough; you were stuck between two smelly and dirty pirates, one that kept leering at you and one that kept pointing his pistol at you. You notice much to your disgust that the crew seems to be sending you more leery looks than you’d like. You’re quite ready to make good on your threat at the next leering pervert.

“She’s obviously more alike his father than I thought,” Barbossa’s semi-amused voice floats in your ears, and you fix your gaze on his broad back while frowning. Once again, you wonder how come he knows so much about what your father was alike. You haven’t failed to catch the note in his voice that almost suggests as if he’d actually met your father sometime. But that’s impossible, right? You certainly don’t remember him ever meeting your father. True, you weren’t with your father all the time, which proved to your rescue the last time… but still, you’re pretty sure you’d know if the two had ever met. You make a mental note to keep a sharp ear on Barbossa for now on.

“Aye, I’ve too had the pleasure of bearing the brunt of her sharp tongue. I’m betting it's shaper than her cutlass,” Jack answers, and you can hear the grin in his voice.

The comment is both flattering and perplexing. You tip your head a bit in confusion, wonder where Jack is hoping to get with this being chummy with Barbossa. You finally figure Jack probably just wants to get him to trust him in one way or another to get his beloved ship back, but his tone and general attitude towards you since meeting Barbossa has clearly changed from the laid-back, friendly, partners-in-crime outlook into something like indifference and amusement. Like you suddenly turned into just another silly, disposable woman. Pushing the thought aside as stupid paranoia your over-active imagination cooked up in an uncertain situation, you clear your mind of such beliefs.

Barbossa doesn’t reply, but stops in his tracks, as does Jack and the crew. You’re standing in the middle of the ship now, and Barbossa turns around to face you. “Welcome aboard the Black Pearl, Miss Byrne. ‘S always a delight to have such a charming company like yerself around,” he smirks at his own jibe, and you roll your eyes.

“Can’t say the feeling is mutual, though,” you reply dryly with a raised brow. You dart your eyes to look at Jack in hopes of some kind of reassurance, but he effectively averts your gaze. You frown in suspicion. What the hell’s going on with him?

“Hmm,” Barbossa hums amusedly, obviously unfazed by your unfriendly behaviour. You don’t like this man, at all. He’s evil, it practically radiates from him. Evil and deceitful. For stars sake, he’s a mutineer. He kidnapped your cousin. And he marooned Jack! There's enough reasons for you to dislike him.

“Aye, it's probably not,” Barbossa winks at you in a way of answering to your comment, and you smirk humourlessly in return.

Barbossa dismisses you and regards Jack again. “Now, what say you we continue our discussion in my quarters?” You narrow your eyes in anger at the way he stressed the word “my”, reminding Jack cruelly that he’s not the Captain of the Pearl anymore.

“Unfortunately, I’ll be giving the lass here a look at the brig, seein’ as she hasn’t proved very useful yet,” Barbossa says before Jack gets to reply, and you head snaps to look at Jack. Surely he’ll object, won’t he? You don’t necessarily want to be thrown in the brig again.

Jack shrugs, grinning in agreeing fashion to Barbossa and totally ignoring you. “But of course, do as you please. It's all the same to me really, the lass is quite a nuisance to me anyway.”

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops open in disbelief. Just a nuisance?! What the hell?!

“What?!” you shriek in outrage, staring at Jack in question.

Barbossa smirks, raising a brow at Jack. “So, not so fond of the girl after all, hmm?” he chuckles with mirth. “Then why’d you made me spare her life in the first place?”

“Like I said, mate,” Jack spreads his hands a little, continuing in conversational tone. “She could prove useful to us yet. I never said anything else. She’s bossy and annoying, stubborn as hell. Better for everyone if you lock her up, actually.”

You blink incredulously, finally finding your voice. “Why you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking, rum-loving scallywag!” you shout to Jack in fury, hurt and angered by his betrayal.

For the first time since you boarded the Pearl, Jack looks at you with a frown. “Who’s scruffy-looking? Sorry luv, but you had to see this coming,” he grins semi-apologetically, turning back to Barbossa.

Your mouth opens and closes in stunned disbelief, and you’re only vaguely aware that Barbossa barks orders to Pintel and Ragetti, telling them to lock you in the brig. I thought you were my friend! You want to scream, but nothing comes out of your mouth.

Pintel and Ragetti do as they’re told and start dragging you away, and you lose the sight of Jack and Barbossa making their way towards the captain’s quarters. Some of the pirates are shouting shameless comments and other nasty things to you as they pass you by, but your mind doesn’t even register them. You’re too stunned by Jack’s treachery. Feeling numb, you let the two men lead you below the deck, too upset to oppose.

* * * *

You see a few cells as you step down the creaking wooden stairs, Ragetti going ahead of you, Pintel stepping behind you.

“That one,” Pintel tells Ragetti, who grins stupidly and opens the door of the first cell on the right. Pushing you inside the small cell, you turn around in time to watch them slam the cell door shut, locking it with old, slightly rusty key that hangs on a large metal ring among several other keys.

“Could you untie these? They’re cutting off my blood circulation,” you say quietly, holding up your bound hands.

“Naw, I don’t think we should,” Pintel says, shaking his head.

“Why not?” Ragetti asks in perplexed voice.

“Because!” Pintel hisses, slowly turning to face Ragetti, “She might try to escape. They say she’s a fair lock picker,” he faces you, smirking. “Ain’t you, poppet?”

“I’m no bloody poppet! And if you wont untie me, then get the hell out of my sight!” you snap angrily, your rage suddenly surfacing again.

Pintel frowns, displeased by your words. “Fine,” he says coldly, nodding Ragetti to follow. Together, they leave the brig, stepping up the stairs.

You close your eyes, exhaling. “Bloody hell!” you shout to the empty room, opening your eyes and hitting the metal of the cell door with your bound hands in anger. How could he? That bloody bastard. You shake your head; still unable to comprehend that Jack let you down so badly. You honestly thought you were friends, and in your book, friends don’t do things like this to each other.

Maybe he had a good reason to do so? Yeah, right, you think sarcastically. A nuisance. Annoying, stubborn, bossy, that’s what he thinks of you. It’s all the same to him what happens to you. Who the hell does he think he is?! To your utter dismay, you notice your eyes are getting slightly misty. Oh no, no way in hell! There’s no way you’re letting him get to you like this. Angrily, you wipe you eyes and blink to banish the tears. You’re fuming with rage, but you still fell like crying. What’s up with that?

“Just my damn luck,” you mumble to yourself, staring at the ropes binding your wrists together.

What does Jack hope to gain with this? Barbossa undoubtedly hands him the Pearl over like that. Damn it, maybe you would have been better off if Barbossa’s miscreants had shot you in the cave. You fleetingly think about Elizabeth and Will, and the rest of the crew over at the Interceptor. Where are they now? They probably stuck to the code and left, Jack having fallen behind in a way. But if Will hadn’t knocked him out, would you still be stuck in this cell? Oh well, guess you’ll never find out now.

Leaning your uninjured side against the criss-crossing, thin metal slabs that make the cell’s walls, you sigh. Glancing down at your feet, you frown. There’s water on the floorboards. Not much, but enough to cause you discomfort. Obviously there’s a leak somewhere. Biting you lip, you wonder just in what condition the Pearl in reality is. You noticed some holes along the hull when you boarded the ship, and the torn sails are quite easy to spot. The curse must be keeping this ship above the water and sailing, otherwise it would be in need of some serious repairing. The same ominous fog that surrounds Isla de Muerta lingers around the ship as well.

Looking down at your hands, you stare at your slightly dimmed silver rings and bead-bracelets as your mind wanders back to Will and Elizabeth. You originally left with Jack and Will to meet your cousin again, but now it seems that meeting is going to be delayed since you’re apparently otherwise occupied. Indefinitely so if Barbossa truly decides to kill you, after all. You can only hope that Will let’s Elizabeth know you were looking for her, that she knows you at least tried to contact her again. You didn’t exactly count on Jack turning the tables and deceiving you like this.

Suddenly the Pearl rocks violently, and your grab the metal slabs with your both hands in order to stay upright. You frown, listening intently. The ship sways over the waves more frequently, a sure sign that they’ve increased the speed. Your eyes widen in realization. They must be chasing something, and you know exactly what; the Interceptor. Of course, you think. Since Elizabeth was the wrong one to break the curse, they’re after the real Turner… Will. The son of Bootstrap Bill Turner. Oh no. Feeling slight pressure over your feet, you glance down in puzzlement.

“Ah, double oh no,” you say to yourself. There’s now enough water on the floor to cover your feet. Obviously the water splashes inside from some of the holes in the hull as the ship rocks over the waves.

A noise at the entrance makes you forget about the leak, and snap your head up. What do they want know? Has Barbossa decided to gut you, after all? You quirk a slightly gleeful eyebrow at the sight; it’s the big, black man, you thought you heard somebody call him Bo’sun, who’s dragging none other than Captain Jack Sparrow along with him. You follow with a shameless smirk as Bo’sun opens the cell door across yours, shoves Jack inside with an angry huff, slams the door shut and leaves without a backwards glance.

“Apparently there’s a leak,” Jack observes before Bo’sun gets far, his feet sloshing in the water.

“Aw, what’s the matter, Jack?” you ask in mock-sympathy, smirking. “Barbossa didn’t want to be your mate anymore? That's such a darn shame.” You know very well that you’re being spiteful, but can’t help it; you’re still smarting over his earlier words.

Jack grimaces at your tone, coming to stand in front of the door and seeking your eyes with his own, gesturing placatingly with his hands. “Now luv, I’m truly sorry about that, but I had to do it. See it was for your own good, honestly!”

“Oh-ho! For my own good, huh?” you reply sarcastically. “So, really you didn’t mean it when you said I was, how did it go again?” you place your forefinger over your lips and pretend to ponder hard. “Oh yes, now I remember; just a nuisance, bossy, annoying and hey, let’s not forget stubborn as hell!”

Jack winces physically more and more at each insult you repeat. “’Course not, would you just hear me out, alright?” he asks, and you almost crack under his pleading gaze. You can see he’s deeply ashamed by his words, but you’re still angry.

You turn around so you won’t see his eyes. They’re wrecking havoc on your resistance. Leaning your back against the cell door, you reply flatly, “No. I think you’ve said enough.”

You can hear Jack sigh. “Please?” he pleads, obviously meaning it judging by his tone. Still, you stay silent. Here’s stubborn for you, Captain Sparrow!

“Ah, come on luv! Don’t be like that!” he cries in exasperation, and you bite your lip to keep from sniggering. “Look... I had to say those things so that Barbossa wouldn’t harm you, alright?” he goes on in quiet, sincere tone after a moment, and you wipe the smirk off your lips. Raising your brow, you now feel ashamed yourself of your childish behaviour. But only a little.

“See, Barbossa keeps around only those who benefit him in some way, and if I hadn’t said something, he truly would have killed you. And if I, on the other hand, had let him know how much I like you, he would have probably killed you anyway because he doesn’t really like me too much either,” Jack goes on, and you listen intently. You can’t stop the small smile spreading on your lips as you do so.

“Had it all worked out before this little misfortune,” Jack mumbles, more to himself than you. “So please accept my sincerest apologies, luv.”

You let out a silent sigh, smiling slightly. He’s sincere tone does it for you, and you finally have to admit that he’s on the right tracks with his reasoning. You turn around to face Jack; he’s hands are thrust through the holes left between the bars, wrists resting lazily over the bars. He’s leaning his forehead against one of the slabs of the door, looking at you pleadingly through the hole.

“Fine, you’re forgiven. This time! But if you ever do that again, mark my words you won’t be gettin’ off so easy,” you warn him, pointing with both your forefingers since your hands are still bound together.

Jack grins broadly, showing his golden teeth. “Consider them marked, luv, the wind in my sails, the waves of my ocean, the sun on my sky… oy, that rhymed.”

You laugh at his coloured flattery. “Let’s not exaggerate, Jack!”

The ship rocks again, and both you and Jack nearly fall over, sloshing in the water. Recovering your balance, you look at Jack who frowns, gazing up and on his side of the ship, listening. You hear it too; the faint creaking coming somewhere above the brig.

“The oars,” Jack finally states, and you nod. They’ve taken out the oars, obviously closing in on the Interceptor.

After a moment, the Pearl suddenly dips violently, and you lose your footing, landing on your bottom on the floor. “Bloody hell,” you curse, getting up and holding onto the cell door. Your clothes are wet again.

“They’ve racked the starboard oars,” Jack says, listening. You wonder how can he tell that just by listening, but decide to let it go. This is his ship after all. Jack scrambles to the side of the ship, peering out of the little hole in the hull. You move to the right side of your own cell, so that you see his face. Jack’s eyes widen, and he pulls abruptly away from the hole.

“Duck!” he shouts in warning and drops on the floor, and you waste no time doing the same, throwing yourself on the other side of the cell. As you do this, a hole is blown on the hull, rattling the metals of Jack’s cell. You yelp as a silver fork slams next to your head, digging in the wood of Pearl’s hull. You notice that other assorted cutlery was blown inside as well.

Jack lifts himself up into semi-sitting position in his cell. “Stop blowing holes in my ship!!” he yells to the crew of the Interceptor, and you roll your eyes.

Grabbing the fork embedded in the hull, you pull it out and stare at it in disbelief. They must have been really short on ammos over at the Interceptor! Out of the blue, an idea comes to you, and you grin, staring at the fork in your hand. Getting up, you step close to the lock of your door, and stuck one hand through the slabs. The ropes have loosened enough for you to shift your hands a little, and you manage to stick the fork inside the lock.

You glance at Jack just in time to see his face lighting up as he picks up something from the floor of his cell. It’s Gibbs’ canteen. Jack uncorks it and takes a swig, only to find out its obviously empty. With a frown, he lowers the canteen and you smirk in amusement. You happen to glance at Jack’s cell door, and notice it’s ajar. The shot has completely destroyed the lock. Why couldn’t you have such luck the last time you were locked in a brig?

“Jack?” you call, eyeing the door while turning the fork in the lock of your own, feeling around. Getting no response, you glance back at the pirate in the other cell. He’s still glaring at the empty flask. “Jack!” you repeat impatiently.

“What?! What is it now?” Jack says in exasperation, finally looking at you and quirking a dubious brow at your lock picking.

“Your door,” you say slowly and meaningfully, nodding towards the smashed lock while you keep picking your own. He follows your gaze, and cocks his head. Slow grin spreading on his lips, he scrambles up and pushes the door open. With a victorious grin, he swaggers out, pocketing the flask.

Finally, you feel the lock give away and loosen with a click, and you grin broadly. Pulling the fork off the lock, you throw it in the water and pull your hand off, pushing the door open.

“Ta da,” you say, grinning to Jack who smirks back and unties the ropes around your wrists quickly.

“Aye, you’re good, I’ll give you that. Now, let's be off,” he urges, and you make your way to the entrance, the sounds of the battle carrying down from the deck to your ears.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 14 - Murderin' Marooner!

Emerging on the deck of the Black Pearl, you look around at the complete chaos on both ships. The Pearl has Jolly Roger hoisted up; gunshots, swords clanking together, yelling and shouting are filling the air, which is tinged with the sharp smell of gunpowder. The ghostly fog lingers over the Black Pearl, nearly shrouding the Interceptor as well. You follow Jack as the steps calmly on the deck, looking around in rather bored way, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Warily, you keep a sharp eye on the folk with your hand resting over the handle of your cutlass, but they seem to be too busy taking over the Interceptor to even notice you or Jack. Good.

Grapple hooks are littering the rails of the Interceptor, and you notice that one mast of the Interceptor has been severed, and it has fallen over. It’s lying halfway over the Pearl’s deck. You notice Jack’s standing close to the railing, and you watch as one of the pirates onboard the Interceptor swings his way on a rope. The pirate obviously miscalculated because he doesn’t even come close to Jack, but looses his grip of the rope and flies somewhere across the deck of the Pearl.

Jack follows him with his eyes, frowning slightly. He grabs the rope easily as the man falls. “Thanks very much,” Jack says to the guy and swings himself onto the Interceptor, obviously trusting you to look after yourself. …That, or then he completely forgot all about you.

You shake your head in wry amusement and decide that it was probably the first option, sprinting next to the fallen mast. Deftly jumping on it, you quickly make your way over the other side, balancing on the mast. Landing solidly on the deck of the Interceptor, you pull out your cutlass. You give yourself a mental pat on the back for having such a good balance, thanks to all the climbing on the masts as a kid on the Wraith.

Immediately you’re face to face with an ugly pirate with rotten teeth, and you don’t exactly like the vicious grin he’s sending your way. He swings his cutlass, intending to lash your stomach open. You take a quick step back and block the blow, narrowing your eyes. No rotten undead pirates are messing around with you! Attacking yourself, you push his sword off and quickly bring your cutlass back, then thrust forward. Your blade sinks in the pirate’s chest, and the man looks dumbfounded.

Glancing down at the cutlass embedded in his chest, he faces you again and grins. Your eyes widen a little, disbelieving expression on your face. You pull the cutlass off of him, and see that there is some blood on the blade, but the pirate is unharmed. Wow. You knew these fellows were undead, but only now does it really hit you; a blade simply cannot kill them.

Darting your eyes back on the pirate, you grin nervously. Then, you smash the handle of your cutlass straight in the middle of his face with all your might, making his head snap back with a sickening crunch. You decide not to wait around for him to recover, but bolt off.

Running forwards, you swiftly avoid the evil pirates, searching for Jack, Will or Elizabeth. Or anyone friendly, for that matter. Finally spotting Elizabeth wielding a musket, you make your way closer to her.

“Elizabeth!” you call her name, trying to get her attention.

She looks in your direction after hearing your voice, her expression a mixture of disbelief, surprise and joy. Finally she grins and calls out your name. Your eyes widen as you spot a pirate behind her, raising his hands to strike her with his sword. Before you manage to warn her, someone grabs the pirate’s wrist, stopping him. It’s Jack.

“That’s not very nice,” he tells the pirate while waving a finger at him, eyes narrowed. This gives Elizabeth a chance to hit the pirate, slamming the butt of the rifle on his face. After disposing of the pirate, Jack pulls her down behind the railing of the ship since the pirates from the Pearl are firing at them You’ve now reached their side, sheathing your cutlass.

“Where’s the medallion?” Jack asks Elizabeth, who obviously isn’t in too friendly terms with him. You wonder is she’s still pissed about that little incident at the docks in Port Royale.

“Wretch!” Elizabeth hisses, attempting to slap Jack. He however catches her wrist, looking at the bandage she has wrapped around her palm.

“Ah,” Jack hums in recognition, darting his eyes from the bandage back to meet Elizabeth’s, “Where’s dear William?”

Elizabeth stares at Jack for a while, then her eyes widen. “Will…” her gaze seeks something out on the deck, “Will!” She shouts, wrenching her hand free of Jack’s grasp and running off. You see her kneeling over something on the deck, talking to someone through the grating. Oh no, you think in realization. Will’s trapped in there.

You turn back to Jack, who spots Barbossa’s monkey scurrying along the mast back aboard the Pearl, something golden glinting in its mouth. The medallion!

“Monkey!” Jack exclaims out of the blue, taking off after the primate.

“Jack!” you shout after him, but he doesn’t hear you. Suddenly, somebody grabs you from the behind, and you struggle to break free, kicking and squirming. You still your movements as the cold blade presses on your throat.

“Stay still an’ maybe I don’t cut yer throat open here an’ now!” snarls the voice behind you, and you grit your teeth together. Just your typical luck. You keep still, and the pirate starts dragging away, making his way hastily over to the Pearl. You glance around, trying to see what happened to Elizabeth. The pirate drags you onto the Pearl, using a ramp rigged between the two ships. Rest of Jack’s crew are already there, tried around a mast. Two pirates are dragging Elizabeth next to you and she’s struggling to break free, but in vain.

“Gents! Our hope is restored!” Barbossa boasts, showing the wayward medallion to his crew who cheers. You notice Jack’s being escorted off the mast by a few pirates, his hands bound. You notice to your dismay that the Interceptor is now a distance away from the Pearl, and Will is most likely still in there.

The pirate who dragged you onboard removes the blade from your throat, and releases you, shoving you roughly to stand next to the Interceptor’s crew guarded by a bunch of Barbossa’s pirates. You gasp and wince in pain as he shoves you straight on your right side, his hand landing right on the wound, pain shooting up your side like a bolt of lightning. You grit your teeth and try to force your face expressionless, but with little success. You hope the cut hasn’t started to bleed again, cursing that damned pirate to the deepest circle of hell.

You straighten up with a wince, just in time to notice Jack’s glare at the said pirate who shoved you. He returns his attention to you, a look of concern on his face. You shake your head marginally, waving a bit with your hand to let him know you’re alright. He nods slightly in return, but the worry doesn’t leave his eyes. You’re oddly touched at this.

“If any of you as much as thinks the word parley, I’ll have your guts for garters!” Pintel hisses to the crew tied up to the mast, and judging by Anamaria's furious expression she'd probably like to smack his head around.

In the same second, the Interceptor blows up, flames licking the wood and burning debris flying high in the air.

“Will…” Elizabeth whispers as she stares at the flaming inferno. With a furious expression, she charges Barbossa, beating him with her fists. “You godless pirate!!” she shrieks in high-pitched tone, absolutely enraged.

Barbossa grabs Elizabeth by her upper arms, ceasing her struggles. “Welcome back, miss! You took advantage of our hospitality the last time. It holds fair now you return the favour!” he laughs, pushing Elizabeth roughly to the pirates behind her, who waste no time pawing her with their filthy hands while Elizabeth screams in disgust and anger.

“Barbossa!!” Someone shouts suddenly, and everybody aboard whirl around to face the other side of the ship. Will is standing on the railing, holding on to a line. You grin in spite of everything, glad to see the lad is unharmed.

“Will,” Elizabeth breathes in relief, obviously very much delighted that Will is okay.

Quickly, Will jumps down on the deck and grabs a lone pistol that sits on a nearby barrel, pointing it in Barbossa's direction. “She goes free,” Will says firmly.

“What’s in your head, boy?” Barbossa asks, narrowing his eyes and taking a few steps towards Will.

“She goes free!” Will repeats fiercely.

Barbossa smirks, reminding Will smugly, “You’ve only got one shot, and we can't die.”

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Jack hisses to Will, clamping his both hands over his mouth in comical way.

Will spares a quick glance at Jack, before returning his eyes to Captain Barbossa. “You can’t…" he admits, before whirling around and jumping back on the railing of the ship. "But I can,” he finishes, placing the gun under his jaw.

“Just like that,” Jack says, nodding and grimacing.

Barbossa seems a bit disturbed by Will’s action, listening more intently. “Who are you?”

“No one! He’s no one,” Jack hurries to speak up, stepping in front of Barbossa in hopes to distract him. “A distant cousin of my aunt’s nephew, twice removed. Lovely singing voice, though. Eunuch,” Jack lowers his voice at the last word, making it sound like a secret while pointing his thumb towards Will. You nearly laugh out loud. Where did he come up with that?

“My name is Will Turner!” Will declares and Jack winces, Barbossa's gaze shifting from Will to Jack. “My father was Bootstrap Bill Turner. His blood runs in my veins!” Will goes on, and Jack walks away from Barbossa with his head lowered, his plan utterly and totally ruined by that revelation. A collective murmur runs through the crew of the Black Pearl.

“He’s the spitting image of ol’ Bootstrap Bill, come back to haunt us!” Ragetti wails.

“On my word, do as I say… or I’ll pull this trigger, and be lost to Davy Jones’ Locker!” Will says, his voice filled with confidence. You smirk; Will really knows how to be theatrical.

Barbossa shifts his weight. “Name your terms, Mr. Turner,” he finally agrees.

“Elizabeth goes free!” Will says without a moment’s hesitation.

Barbossa rolls his eyes. “Yes, we know that one," he replies wryly. "Anything else?”

Jack points to himself, none too subtly, as Will takes a look around the folk onboard. You slant your head to the side and smile sweetly as he fleetingly looks at you, hoping he’ll get the point.

“And the crew! The crew are not to be harmed,” Will finally says motioning with the pistol slightly. Jack twirls his fingers towards himself, his smile starting to be more than a bit forced as Will still speaks nothing of him.

“Agreed,” Barbossa grins widely, and you frown. That was easy. Maybe a bit too easy. Will lowers the gun and steps down from the railing, letting the pirate’s grab him and take the pistol away.

“Ye all hear the lad!” Barbossa bellows to his crew, searching out Elizabeth. Smiling wickedly, he goes on, “We be letting the lady go.”

The crew chuckles and they start to push Elizabeth towards the plank. Your eyes widen in realization. Oh shit. They’ll make her walk the plank! They force Elizabeth on the plank, and she takes few tentative steps on the wobbly plank.

“Go on! Walk the plank!” one of the pirates shouts with glee.

Will struggles in the grip of the pirates, angered. “Barbossa, you lying bastard! You swore she’d go free!”

Barbossa whirls around to face Will. “Don’t dare impugn me honour, boy!” He booms. “I agreed she’d go free, but it was you who failed to specify when and where,” he chuckles, obviously delighted by his own cheating.

The pirates gag Will, and Barbossa turns back to look at Elizabeth on the plank. “Though it’d be a shame to lose something so fine, don’t it lads?”

“Aye,” Some of the pirates agree.

Barbossa smirks and takes a step forward. “So I’ll be having that dress back before you go.”

Jack, obviously knowing what’s coming to him, tries to make friends Koehler standing next to him. “I always liked you.” Jack says, pulling back slightly with comical frown when Koehler just snarls back.

Elizabeth scowls at Barbossa, taking off the purple dress she has on, leaving her standing there in her white nightgown. “It goes with your black heart,” she hisses, throwing him the dress.

Barbossa turns away, bringing the dress to his cheek. “Ooh, it’s still warm,” he chuckles as do his crewmembers. You glower at him, disgusted.

“Off you go, c’mon!” One pirate says to Elizabeth who is staring down at the water.

“Too long!” Bo’sun shouts impatiently, slamming his foot on the plank, making it sway. Elizabeth looses her footing as fall down in the sea with a small scream. Barbossa nods to the pirates behind you, and they grab you before you even realize, dragging you next to the plank close to Jack.

“Now you two,” Barbossa starts, glancing from you to Jack with an annoying smirk. “I think we let the lady go first, being gentlemen an’ all.”

“I really had rather hoped we were pass all this,” Jack says with a nervous smile, and Barbossa laughs, throwing his arm over Jack's shoulders in a friendly way.

“Jack. Jack! Did ye not notice? That be the same little island that we made you Governor of on our last little trip,” Barbossa says in amusement, nodding towards a distant island.

Jack whirls around to look, and then turns back towards Barbossa. “I did notice…”

“Perhaps you’ll be able to conjure up yet another miraculous escape. But I doubt it,” Barbossa says dismissively, and you raise your brows as you watch Barbossa signal to someone behind him. One of the pirates comes closer with a sadistic grin and a couple of irons dangling in his hands. You’re suddenly getting a very bad feeling about this.

“Since yer talents were left in a shadow during your rather short visit on me ship,” Barbossa starts with a grin, while the pirate claps the irons around your ankles and wrists, “We’ll see now if you’re up for the challenge, aye?”

Incredulously, you stare at the irons around you. The chain in the ones on your wrists is quite long; you have no problem swimming with them. But the ones around your ankles… not a chance. The chain is so short you can barely walk with them, much less swim. You have to get the ones on your feet off.

“You can’t be serious!” you yell finally, looking at Barbossa in disbelief.

“Ah, mate,” Jack speaks up, looking at Barbossa, “No offence, but she can’t swim with those on, you do… realize that?” he asks at length, grinning weakly.

Barbossa winks. “That’s the point, Jack.” Turning back to face you, Barbossa gazes you for a while in silence. “For yer sake lass, let’s hope your father taught you well.”

With that, you’re pushed towards the plank, the pirates practically lifting you on it since your rather limited movements with the irons. You grimace as you watch the clear blue waters rippling beneath you, opening the pouch on your belt and digging up your lock picking tools.

“I really didn’t know ol’ Bloodshot had a child when we blew up his ship,” Barbossa suddenly says behind your back, almost conversationally. You freeze, wondering if your heard him correctly. No, that can’t be… Can it? Barbossa killed your father? Looking behind your shoulder, you narrow your eyes at him. “What?” you demand in low voice.

Barbossa laughs. “Ah, ye didn’t know… Aye, t’was me and me crew that introduced Bloodshot to Davy Jones himself. See, Bloodshot was always a bit of a thorn on our side. Ye were in luck not being onboard, then. But enough of that, ‘s time for you to go,” he says, abruptly kicking the plank, forcing you to jump.

You quickly fill your lungs with air as the water rushes up to meet you, and in moments you’re surrounded by the vastness of the sea, the silence of the underwater world almost comforting. It’s beautiful, calm and serene. Drowning can’t be such a bad way to go, after all.

Forcing the numbness brought on by Barbossa’s revelation off your features, you bring your feet up as you continue to sink closer to the seafloor. Grabbing the lock, you stick the thick piece of wire meant for bigger locks like these on your ankles, and start to desperately roll it in the lock. The chain of the irons on your wrist clink against the irons on your feet as you pick the lock, excruciatingly aware that your lungs are starting to burn from the lack of air.

You barely feel you back hitting the sandy bottom; you’re too concentrated on the lock. Almost, you can almost feel it giving away… small colourful dots start blurring your vision, and you’re sure you lose consciousness soon. You can’t let that happen or you’ll die for sure… Bloody hell, you will not let Barbossa be the end of you! With one final turn, you feel the sweet click of the lock, and with force you yank it off your foot. Your other foot remains shackled, but now you can swim. With effort, you start wading the water with your hands, kicking with your feet.

The surface gets closer and closer, but so does the need of air. You can’t hold any longer, your lungs burn with the need to release the air. You do so, blowing the air out of your lungs slowly from your mouth, your feet kicking vigorously. It’s too far, you think, I can’t make it to the surface.

Just as your body is about to force you into breathing, your head breaks the surface, and you gasp and pant noisily, gulping the air into your starving lungs greedily. Allowing your body to relax, you float in the water on your back for a minute and close your eyes, just evening your breath and delighting in the fact you’re alive. You’re soaked, your wound is throbbing and dead-tired, but that only confirms that you’re still gloriously alive.

Taking one deep breath, you let your feet sink back under you, and glance around. The Black Pearl is already sailing away. The island is not too far, and you can see Elizabeth white-clad form clambering up from the shallow water and walk to the shore. Remembering there could be sharks around, you start swimming towards the island, wondering where Jack is. They did make him walk the plank too, right? Much to your relief, you see his head emerge from the water a while ahead of you, swimming closer to the shore. Doubling your efforts, you ignore the irons weighting on your limbs and the tiredness of your muscles and force yourself onward.

After what seems like an eternity of swimming, your feet finally touch the bottom and you sigh. Wading through the waters, you force your tired legs to walk, the water level dropping as you go. Elizabeth is standing on the white sand of the shore, drenched like the rest of you, and Jack’s still knee-deep in the water whereas it reaches you around you shoulders at where you’re standing.

Jack shakes of the ropes binding his wrists, and looks after the Black Pearl as it sails away. “That’s the second time I've had to watch that man sail away with my ship.”

You wade next to him, the irons clinking, and he suddenly seems to come out of his stupor, his attention now on you.

“Are you alright?” he asks you, looking at the iron now trailing after your left ankle. “For a while there I thought you’d drowned,” he admits, and you can’t quite place the emotion in his voice… was he really worried about you?

You manage a grin, while picking a piece of seaweed from you drenched hair. “Doubting my abilities again?”

Jack chuckles and grins. “Trust me, I won’t be doing that again,” he says, glancing at the irons still locked around your one ankle meaningfully.

“I don’t believe this!” Elizabeth cries out, coming beside you, staring at the irons in disbelief. “Those, those vile brutes!” she stammers. “You could have drowned!”

You smile slightly. “Aye, it came close.”

Your air supply is cut off again, this time by Elizabeth who suddenly hugs you tightly. You wince as the cut throbs again, but manage to pat her on the back in a way of returning the embrace, while Jack smirks in amusement, starting to wander off. Elizabeth finally let’s go of you, smiling.

“Will told me all about your journey from Port Royal, oh, it’s so wonderful to see you!” she cries enthusiastically.

“Aye, it is,” you smile back.

“I want to hear all about you later, but first…” Elizabeth trails off, turning around to look for Jack.

Spotting him a distance away, she quickly runs after him. You quirk your brow and shrug, following them. You notice Jack has left his vest, belt and boots on the shore, and is swaggering barefoot some distance away, Elizabeth on his heels. Deciding to do the same as soon as you get the blasted irons off your feet, you quicken your pace to catch up with them.

“But you were marooned on this island before, weren’t you? So we can escape the same way you did then,” Elizabeth reasons, and Jack whirls around to face her.

“To what point and purpose, young missy?” Jack asks Liz in somewhat condescending way, looking at her in the eyes. “The Black Pearl is gone. And unless you have a rudder and a lot of sails hidden in that bodice,” Jack trails off, glancing meaningfully down at Elizabeth’s chest, and you nearly chuckle, “Unlikely. Young Mister Turner will be dead long before you can reach him.”

Jack turns around again, spotting the nearby palm tree and knocking on he bark, listening closely. Elizabeth doesn’t give up, but follows his closely. “But you’re Captain Jack Sparrow!” she cries as she follows him.

Jack takes a few exaggeratingly huge steps ahead, looking very concentrated. “You vanished from under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Company! You sacked Nassau Port without even firing a shot!" Elizabeth goes on, and Jack finally stops, starting to jump up and down. You wonder if the went mad with the heat again. Your lips twitch upwards the sight; Jack hopping comically up and down, Elizabeth still close by, pestering him with her questions.

"Are you the pirate I’ve read about or not?" Elizabeth asks, and Jack stops hopping, staring down at her noncommittally. "How did you escape last time?” Elizabeth persists.

“I think some of those tales are somewhat exaggerated,” you point out in amusement, and Jack shoots a dirty look at you before facing Elizabeth again.

“Last time,” Jack starts tentatively, his hands held in front of him, “Last time, I was here a grand total of three days, alright?" he reveals, looking slightly bothered. "Last time…” he trails off, and crouches down, pulling up a secret door hidden under the white sand, revealing a small cellar with few shelves on the sides.

“…the rumrunners that used this island as a cache," Jack steps down and goes on, "Came by and I was able to barter a passage off. From the looks of things, they’ve long been out of business. Probably have your bloody friend Norrington to thank for that!”

You grin at the Norrington-comment while Jack climbs out, holding two bottles of rum in his hands.

“Ha. So, no sea turtles, then?” you snigger, but Jack just grins and shrugs.

“So, that’s it then?” Elizabeth asks in accusing tone. “That’s the secret, grand adventure of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow? You spent three days lying on a beach… drinking rum?”

You have to admit, that does have a certain appeal to it. Indeed, it doesn’t sound bad at all. Jack stares at Elizabeth with So?-look, waiting for her to go on and elaborate. When she continues to glare at him, he shrugs a little, spreading his hands holding the bottles to his sides.

“Welcome to the Caribbean, luv!” Jack grins broadly and shakes his upper body a bit in a funny way, sticking one of the bottles to Elizabeth’s hand as he pushes past her and trudges off, happily uncorking the rum bottle.

Elizabeth stares after him, still holding the bottle. “Is he always like this?” she asks you, and you grin in amusement.

“Aye.”

* * * * *

CHAPTER 15 - Lizzie Throws a Tantrum

You twirl the wire in the lock of the iron around your left ankle again; absently humming an old shanty your father used to favour while doing that. You’ve sat on the beach for a moment now, determined to pick the rest of the locks so you’d finally be free of the shackles. Luckily you realized to clutch the piece of wire tightly in your hand after you swam to surface; otherwise you’d have nothing to pick these locks with.

“That bloody… pirate!” Elizabeth’s annoyed voice breaks your concentration and you lift your eyes momentarily from the lock to look at her. She’s pacing back and forth a few feet from where you’re sitting, mumbling something less than flattering about the good Captain Sparrow, no doubt. The bottle of rum Jack gave her is sitting there on the sand, and you eye it worriedly. It’d be shame to spoil good rum by letting it warm in the sand.

Shaking your head, you turn your attention back to the task at hand and ignoring her. She’ll soon realize there’s really nothing you can do about the situation right now. She’s vexed at Jack at the moment, but you trust that her temper tantrum will pass soon. It’s not Jack’s fault you got marooned on this patch of sand. Though it’s a beautiful one at that; the palm trees sway gently in the wind, the azure waters lap the wide shores of white sand, and the flora is lush and green. All it needs is a dock and transportation off and it’d be perfect.

“I’m a pirate too, y’know,” you mark idly to Elizabeth, and frown as the wire slips out of the lock. Why is this one harder to pick than the other, when they’re similar? The chains of the irons around your wrists clink against the one at your feet as you again ram the wire in the lock, carefully feeling around.

Elizabeth lets out a frustrated sound, slumping down to sit on the sand as well. For a moment, she stays silent and watches you pick the lock. “How is that going to work?” she asks dubiously, shaking her head. “You can't open the lock with that!”

You roll your eyes. “I already unlocked the first one when they shoved me in the water,” you say, nodding to the unlocked lock. “My father taught me to pick locks when I was a kid. I’ve tried to keep the talent up, and now it seems it was worth it.”

Elizabeth shifts slightly, raking the sand with her fingers. “You really do look quite like your mother...”

You look at her, forgetting the lock for a while. You smile slightly. “That’s nice of you to say, but how would you know? She died long before you were born.”

“I know,” she nods. “But father has this painting in his study… it’s about his sister, your mother. And she looks much like you.”

You stare at her for a moment, taking this in. You return your gaze back to the lock, continuing to pick it. You had no idea about that. “Oh,” you just say.

“Father doesn’t talk about her much, but he told me that she ran off and married a pirate. Because she loved him,” Elizabeth tells you quietly, and you can feel her watching you.

You’re actually surprised to hear this. So the Governor did understand your mother’s reasons to leave after all, even if their parents did not. “Aye. That’s pretty much how it went. They were so in love, father and mother,” you smile as you go on. “They lived on father’s ship, the White Wraith, travelling around the seas... Then mother got pregnant with me, and…” you trail off.

“And?” Elizabeth encourages.

“And… then she died while giving birth to me. That left my father alone with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth whispers, and you nod, smiling slightly.

“Well, anyway. Father and his crewmembers taught me everything I know nowadays, from picking locks to sword fighting. But he died three years ago, along with his crew,” you continue and frown, remembering Barbossa’s confession. That bastard killed your father. For three years you’ve wanted to know who did it, and now you do.

Elizabeth seems shocked. “What? But… how?”

The lock clicks open, and you pull it open and yank it off your ankle, throwing them in disgust in the sand next to you. You look at Elizabeth. “Barbossa. He blew up the Wraith and killed them.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

“My reaction exactly.” You grin wryly, and then sigh. “For three years, I’ve been wondering who did it. See I was not onboard when it happened, and never found out. Then Barbossa told me it was him just before they made me walk the plank. With these,” you go on nodding towards the irons.

Elizabeth blinks in disbelief, and you inspect the locks around your wrists. They’re similar to the ones that were on your feet. Grabbing the wire again, you start picking the one around your left hand.

“My God… that’s so horrible,” Elizabeth whispers finally, stunned. “But why?”

You shake your head tiredly. “That’s exactly what I’d like to know, too. Barbossa said something about Bloodshot being a thorn on their side, but I don’t understand why. I don’t recall them ever even meeting each other.”

Elizabeth smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure it will be solved someday. You’ll see.”

“Hope so. But enough about that, what about you?” You ask her, wanting to talk about something else.

“What about me?” She asks in turn, perplexed.

“I don’t know, just tell me something. What have you been up to all these years?” you say, eyes on the lock. You listen as Elizabeth tells you about her life in Port Royale, about her mother passing away when she was nine, her first meeting with Will, and finally the whole ordeal with the medallion and Barbossa.

You then answer her questions about the happenings after the pirates kidnapped her. You grin as the lock you’re picking clicks open, and you pull it off your wrist. Letting in fall on the ground, you proceed to pick the one on your right wrist.

“I can’t believe Will would do something like that,” Elizabeth muses as you tell her about how you got locked up in the brig in Fort Charles with Jack, and how Will got you both out of the cell.

You look at Elizabeth, studying her. “He did it for you, y’know,” you say honestly, watching her reaction. Will is so much in love with her, but what about Liz?

She blushes faintly, averting your eyes. You smirk. Gotcha now, Lizzie!

Recovering quickly, Elizabeth smiles. “Yes, he’s a dear friend,” She says thoughtfully.

Aye, sure, you think amusedly. Elizabeth seems to be stubborn just like you. You grin broadly as the last lock clicks open and you pull it off, rubbing your wrists. Determinately, you grab the irons and stand up, taking few steps closer to the water. One at a time, you slung the irons in the sea, watching as they land in the clear water with a splash. Satisfied, you turn around and trudge back next to Liz, sitting back down.

The sun is shining brightly, and the temperature is high. You pull off your boots, throwing them somewhere behind you and burying your toes in the hot sand. Pushing your breeches up to your knees, you unbutton your shirt and push the sleeves up your elbows as well.

Elizabeth’s eyes catch something on your arm, and she touches her forefinger to the scar tattoo shaped like letter "P" a few inches above your right wrist.

“I only now realized what a hard life you must have lived while I’ve had everything so easy,” Elizabeth says, a touch of guiltiness coloring her voice.

You shrug. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’ve had my ups and downs, but I’m sure you’ve had yours.” Flopping yourself on your back on the hot sand, you close your eyes and enjoy the heat of the sun, pleasantly warming your limbs and the skin of your tummy left exposed by the top you’re wearing under your shirt. Only then you remember your hair was still damp and now probably full of sand, but ignore the fact. You’re too tired to care.

“I’m really happy to see you, even if it is under such dreary circumstances,” Elizabeth’s voice says after a moment of silence, and you crack your eyes open to look at her, seeing her smiling down at you. You can’t help but to smile back, thinking that maybe Elizabeth isn’t such a snob you thought she’d be after all.

“Thanks. It’s good to see you too. It’s been a while since the last time,” You smirk and close your eyes again as Elizabeth laughs in agreement.

“Where did Jack go, by the way?” Elizabeth asks, and you let out a noncommittal hum.

“Prolly somewhere drinking his precious rum, no doubt,” you say without opening your eyes.

Elizabeth huffs distastefully, obviously annoyed. “That must be typical of him,” she grumbles. “I should have known better than to think that… pirate, would actually be doing something useful, like figuring a way to escape this island!”

You open one eye and look at her, pursing your lips slightly. She has her hands crossed over her chest and a sulky look on her face, gazing somewhere over the blue ocean. Elizabeth seems to associating the word “pirate” with something low and wretched, clearly having forgotten that you’re one, too. Or does she not think of you as a pirate? You prop your upper body up with your elbows and draw your knees up, your soles flat on the sand.

“Ah, Lizzie, you wound me!” A deep voice drawls in amusement before you get to point this out to Elizabeth, and you look to your left and see Jack swaying next to you, two full bottles of rum in his hands. You wonder idly if he already emptied the first one. Most likely, you concede as Jack sits down with you, setting the bottles next to him. Well, he doesn’t really sit, more like slumps. But in somewhat graceful way, one that you can’t quite describe. In Jack-ish way, you finally decide with amused smirk. The pirate seems to have such unique movements and expressions that it’s sometimes hard for you to find any English words to explain them. But those are a big part of his charms.

You give him a discreet once-over; he’s still wearing only his white shirt, the sash around his waist, the ever-present red bandanna and the dark breeches that reach him slightly over his knees, leaving his tanned legs bare. You realize only now that you haven’t seen him wearing his precious hat since the Pearl, and figure he must have left it there.

“Such a bleak outlook on pirates you have there too, obviously,” Jack starts as he folds his legs in more comfortable position, shooting an amused look at you as he goes on, “Match made in heaven, no?” He grins at this inside-joke, and you chuckle while Elizabeth looks confused.

“What are you talking about?” she finally asks, having had enough of your chuckling and Jack’s smug grin.

You clear your throat, thinking it’s probably better for everyone not to get Lizzie pissy now. “Nothing,” you say, rather unconvincingly. Elizabeth glares at you both, but doesn’t say anything.

Jack uncorks on bottle and takes a hearty swig of the golden liquor. You wonder how much it takes to get him drunk.

“Nothing has changed on this bloody sandbox after all these years,” Jack says, and you reckon he wandered around the island while you and Elizabeth talked. You have an idea that he did it on purpose to give you two some time to re-acquainted. Though he’d probably never admit it out loud, being a big bad pirate and all, you think with small smile. Jack Sparrow is not at all that indifferent to people’s feelings as he lets everyone understand.

“There’s a spring of fresh water some feet in that direction,” he goes on, waving his hand rather vaguely to somewhere over his shoulder. “See, I was doing something useful after all,” he grins charmingly to Elizabeth who just narrows her eyes in return. Jack looks at you as he goes on with admonishing look, “And not drinking me precious rum,” He stops, frowning in thought. “Though I was doing that, too,” he then elaborates, with a small wave of his hand not clutching a rum bottle.

You smile and roll your eyes. “So I was partly right.”

“Aye. We’ll leave it at that,” Jack decides, taking another drink of rum while you nod your head in agreement. “You’ve been keeping busy then,” he suddenly says while looking at you, and you frown. What’d he mean by that?

“Say what?” you ask him, and he indicates your legs with the hand holding the bottle, the rum squishing around. You don’t miss him sliding his gaze over your now exposed legs and quirk an eyebrow, grinning appreciatively. What a flirt, you think in amusement.

“You got the irons off. Quick work, I must say,” he says in his way of compliment, his gaze lingering on your bare skin.

“Oh, right,” you exclaim in realization, and shrug. “Yeah, they were chafing my skin.”

“How can you two just sit there and discuss idle matters when Will is being taken God knows where by Barbossa and his crew, while we are stranded on this bloody island with no means of getting out?!” Elizabeth’s incredulous (and irked) voice makes both of you to look at her and out of the corner of your eye you see Jack roll his eyes slightly in fed up manner. If you weren’t so surprised about the sudden bitterness in her tone, you would have pestered her about the fact that she actually used the word “bloody” in a sentence, and how properly she pronounced it.

“Prey tell, what would you have us to do?” Jack asks sharply, his tone laced with irritation as he gazes Elizabeth sternly in the eyes. “Like I said, unless you have a seaworthy ship stashed up somewhere, we shall remain inhabiting this miserable spit of sand for now, savvy?”

Elizabeth says nothing, knowing it’s the truth but refusing to acknowledge it aloud, glaring at Jack as he takes another swig.

“And answer to your question, they’ll be taking our dear Mr. Turner back to Isla de Muerta in attempts to break the curse,” Jack goes on in nearly conversational way, softening his voice to its usual tone. “As I’m sure ye already knew,” he adds in murmur before taking another swig of the bottle.

You exhale, and sit up properly to look at Elizabeth. “Lizzie, I don’t like it anymore than you do, but there’s nothing we can do now! It’s best just to accept that we’re stuck here and that’s the way it is.”

“How can you just give up like that?” Elizabeth demands fiercely, and you shake your head tiredly.

“If you have any better ideas then please enlighten us. After all we’re only a few simple-minded freebooters…” you trail off sarcastically, now getting angry yourself.

“I didn’t say so,” Elizabeth argues stubbornly.

“That’s what it sounded like. Look, we’re stuck here and that’s the end of it! Well, unless Jack wants to wade into the shallows and rope up a couple of sea turtles for us to make a raft,” You jibe good-naturedly, looking at Jack with impish grin.

“Side-splitting. Any moment now I’m sure to laugh…” Jack replies wryly, though there’s an amused gleam in his dark eyes. He has stayed silent through your quarrel with Elizabeth, seeming more interested about his valuable rum bottles.

With a last withering look at both you and Jack, Elizabeth springs up and storms off in a huff, shoulders set in annoyance. She marches determinately towards the palms and bushes, and you roll your eyes at her childish behaviour.

“Oh, c’mon Lizzie!” you shout after her, but she ignores you and keeps going.

“Fine, then! Don’t get lost!” You yell, “Or eaten!” You add as an after thought. Fine. Let her stomp off then like a spoiled brat not getting her way. You’re not her keeper or her mother. No, just her cousin, a little voice says in your mind, probably your conscience. A bloody good time to grow one now! Aw, shut up, you think, squashing the voice.

Jack chuckles, and you turn your head to look at him. What so funny about this?

Seeing your confusion, he grins and explains himself. “She’ll be back once she calms down. I doubt there’s anything here that’ll eat her. And even if there were, I’m sure they’ll run off in fright after getting a share of her nasty tongue. Must run in the family, that trait.”

“Side-splitting,” you imitate his recent reply with sarcasm. “Well, let’s hope you’re right this time. I’d hate to explain to Will how Elizabeth got eaten by some… thing. I doubt he’d be very happy about that, since he came all this way to save her from Barbossa. Though, he is in danger of getting killed himself, now…”

“Oy, when was the last time I’ve been wrong?” Jack asks incredulously, seemingly appalled you’d think otherwise. You notice he completely ignored everything else you said, concentrating on defending himself. How very typical of Jack Sparrow. You think for a moment, recalling few times that might apply. Before you get to answer, Jack speaks up again.

“Ha, see? I told you,” he smirks victoriously, and you shrug, again deciding to let the matter slip.

Jack just smirks slyly, and you know he’s about to make some kind innuendo-filled comment. “So luv… alone at last,” he drawls seductively, wiggling his brows almost comically.

You shake your head but grin. He’s amazing; you’re stuck on a deserted island and pretty much doomed, but he still flirts like nothing’s wrong. But then again, the day he stops doing that, you’ll be seriously worried.

“Ah, your true intentions are revealed. You don’t really mind at all getting marooned here… you just want to get frisky under the sun,” you smirk back, quirking a brow. It’s a challenge, and he knows it.

“I’m on an island with plentiful amounts of rum and two bonny lasses… what more could I want?” Jack grins broadly, leaning closer you in a suggesting way, “Now, as for that getting frisky part, I’ll be needing a volunteer…”

“Yeah? Where ever will you find one?” you wonder with wide eyes, pretending to be clueless.

Jack smirks, looking you in the eyes, “Maybe closer than you’d think.”

You smile and raise a brow, but stay silent; you’re fully enjoying this little game you two have kept going on since the cell in Port Royal, but wonder how long you are really willing to take it. You’re pretty sure Jack wouldn’t mind going all the way; he’s well known about having many “lady friends” to entertain him and vice versa, and why wouldn’t he. You’re not a blushing virgin yourself either, but you don’t go flaunting the fact around. But you know that the two of you will never have a relationship other than perhaps sex, never mind what foolish ideas you might have created in your mind to entertain yourself for a moment. It just can’t and won’t be. Pirates can’t afford to get attached or worse yet, fall in love. It’ll just complicate everything and everyone.

“Maybe if you’ll pass me some o’ that rum I’ll think about it, aye?” You say quietly, still looking him in the eyes.

Jack grins, and you pay attention to the small lines appearing in the corners of his kohl-lined eyes as he does so.

“A woman after me own heart, I see,” Jack murmurs, never losing his grin. You pull back, only now noticing you actually leaned closer to him in some point, and accept the full bottle he offers to you.

“Seeing as this heat isn’t enough for you to remove your shirt and I’m tired of waiting, what say you we move to a place that’s a tad cooler? ‘S not good for the rum to get warm, y’know,” Jack says, getting up and picking up the bottle Elizabeth abandoned on the beach. You get up as well; clutching the bottle Jack gave you. So he did have an agenda after all. To get my shirt off, you think in amusement.

Jack mock-bows before straightening up and offering you his arm, smiling charmingly. “Shall we, milady?” He asks in his best snooty British accent.

You grin back, and take the offered hand, feeling his muscles under your palm. “We shall, milord,” you reply, with your finest imitation of the high and mighty upper-class ladies, allowing Jack to escort you towards the shaded tree line of the beach, momentarily making you forget all about Barbossa, Will and everything else as you saunter along his enchantingly swaying steps, laughing happily as he continues to make chitchat with his hilarious snobbish accent.

CHAPTERS 16-20

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