Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Merry! Merry! Oh, for the love of—is that girl still lazing about?”

The voice was muffled, yet its exasperated undertone came through clear enough. Even so, Merry rolled over in her bed paying no heed to the urgency with which her name was being called.

“I know you hear me, girl!”

With the swiftness of a storm coming on in the summer heat, so did the chilly morning air fall upon her as the covers were suddenly ripped from her body.

“Merry!”

Exposed as she was now, the shout of her name assaulted her ears as if it were the crack of a gun, and she sat up in her bed in according response.

“Whazzat? I’m awake!”

“Oh, ye are, are you? Well, then it must be the other Merry what forgot to get up and run Miss Swann’s morning bath water, eh?”

Bleary-eyed as she still was, there was no mistaking the sardonic tint to the head maid’s statement, and Merry leapt out of bed in a flurry of sheets. The cold of the hardwood floor shot up through her feet, waking up the rest of her senses as she scrambled about the room.

“What time is it? How was I allowed to sleep so long? Where is Eliza—Miss Swann now?” The questions were shot off at rapid-fire pace, a speed she matched while getting into her maid’s outfit. Nearly taking herself out on her skirts she muttered, “Never thought I’d see the day I missed alarm clocks.”

Firm hands grasped her around the shoulders, effectively stopping Merry in her frantic steps.

“Slow down, miss girl! Yer runnin’ about like a chicken with his head lopped off!”

“Its going to be my head if I don’t attend to Miss Swann immediately!”

The head maid, Astrid as Merry finally recalled her name, gave a great sigh, placing her hands on her waist.

“Lucky for you, Miss Swann ended up having a bit of a lie-in this morning. Seems as though she weren’t the only one feeling fatigued today.”

Astrid pinned her with a knowing look, and Merry felt properly chagrined.

“So, where is she now?”

“The governor is about to go wake her for the day. Perhaps it might be prudent for you to be there when he does.”

Merry gave a grateful nod and lifted her skirts to scurry to the door.

“Oh, and Merry?” She paused at the doorframe, looking at Astrid over her shoulder in question. “Do try to wake up on time from now on, yes?”

She merely flushed in response before managing to push out a choked, “Right. Got it.”

Astrid watched Merry’s retreating form, chuckling.

“That is one absurd girl.”

‘Absurd?’ Merry scoffed to herself. ‘Astrid didn’t know the half of it.’

If anyone knew how absurd she really was, there’d no doubt be a call for her hanging. Be it for witchcraft or sorcery—or for mere insanity—who knew what they’d be able to pin on her in this day and age. And that was just it, wasn’t it?

Because this day and age was not something Merry was accustomed to. In fact, to Merry, this day and age shouldn’t even exist.

It was a normal spring morning when she encountered the truck that ended up taking her life. It was quick and painless, and so she didn’t realize she had even died—especially when the next thing she remembered was waking in a bed, screaming. Curiously enough, when she finally got enough of her wits about her, it was only to notice she was surrounded by people she had never seen before all dressed in old timey dressing gowns. And it was when she moved to ask who all of these people were did she see that she was dressed similarly.

It was all a blur after that. She remembered being peppered with questions and her trying her best to answer them, all the while feeling like something was very, very wrong. And she only realized what it was when—

“Ah, Merry, there you are,” a stern but cheery voice called out to her. “Come here for a moment, will you, dear?”

“Governor Swann—I was just on my way to tend to your daughter—what can I do for you?”

Next to him stood a footman holding a large, white box. With a gesture from the governor, the box was held out to her, and she had no choice but to cradle it in her arms.

“Come along now.”

He spun on his heel with nary another word, leaving Merry to follow after him.

“Er, yeah. Alrighty then.”

In a few, short minutes they were walking up to Elizabeth’s bedroom door where Estrella was patiently waiting. The governor turned to them once more, holding up a finger for them to wait, before knocking on the door.

“Elizabeth?” The three of you looked at each other as a loud crash was heard from behind the door. He knocked again, worry clear in his brow. “Are you all right? Are you decent?”

The answering ‘yes’ was all it took for him to turn the knob and allow you all entrance. Estrella immediately moved to open the curtains and shed some light into the darkened room as Merry followed the governor to his daughter. He continued speaking, but Merry was no longer aware of his words. She had a niggling feeling of familiarity, as though she’d seen this all before.

‘That can’t be possible,’ she thought. ‘I’ve only been here a couple of months, and I know for a fact I’ve never done this before.’

“Go on.”

Merry’s thoughts were interrupted as he turned his gaze upon her. Hastily, she made her way over to where Elizabeth was getting undressed. Going through the routine motions of lacing up the corset, Merry was lost to her thoughts once more when,

“I had hoped you would wear it to the ceremony today.”

‘Ceremony? Why does that sound so familiar? Where is this foreboding sense of deja vu coming from?’

She had the laces wrapped around her fingers and ready to pull when she received her answer.

“Captain Norrington’s promotion ceremony.”

She was hit with another pang of recollection—this one stayed sitting in the bottom of her stomach like a heavy pit, freezing her in place.

‘Norrington’s ceremony? What is so special about his ceremony that I just can’t remember?’ She racked her brain, desperately running through the plot of each movie to find an answer. ‘Wait, isn’t it the day of his promotion that—‘

Merry gasped, jerking her hands up in an attempt to stifle it. Another gasp quickly followed as Elizabeth looked over her shoulder in response to the abrupt tightening of her corset.

‘This is the day Elizabeth falls into the water and sets off the entire plot of the first movie,’ Merry thought as she looked down at the strings in her hands in horror, ‘and I’ve just accidentally sealed that fate.’

There was no time to dwell on what had just been a shocking, yet exciting, revelation as one of the butlers walked in to let the governor know he had a visitor. And now that Merry knew she was fully and properly engulfed in the very beginning of the movie, she already knew who that visitor was.

She could see the scene almost perfectly in her mind: Will Turner waiting in the foyer with a long, black box in his arm while he gazed around. At the loud clunk that resounded through the open door, she had to stifle a laugh as she knew he had just broken the candle off the wall before stuffing it into the nearby umbrella stand.

“So, the Captain fancies you something fierce, Miss Swann?”

Estrella’s giddy words pulled Merry back to the here and now, and she couldn’t help but feel quite giddy herself. This was it; she finally made it to the movies, and now she could actually start to see how much of the world she missed ‘off-camera,’ so to speak.

“It would seem so,” Elizabeth huffed as she popped her head out of the top of the dress that they had just placed over her.

“You don’t seem to be too thrilled at the idea, miss.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t know if the Captain is right for me, is all.”

She flitted over to her vanity, Merry and Estrella following swiftly after.

“Oh, I see. There’s someone else, isn’t there?” Estrella beamed conspiratorially as she began to plait Elizabeth’s har. “That blacksmith boy— Turner, was it?”

“Will, yes.” A soft smil bloomed on her face before she quickly dropped it. “And, no, I don’t know what you mean. There’s absolutely nothing going on between us.”

“That’s not what we think. Isn’t that right, Merry?”

“What?”

Content with standing back and watching the scene unfold, Merry was startled when she suddenly found two sets of eyes on her.

“I was telling Miss Swann that all the maids here think she and Mister Turner would make a fine couple. In fact, we’re hoping for it!”

Were they? If so, this was the first she’d ever heard about it. Then again, she supposed she had never really gotten a chance to get close enough with any of the other maids.

“Is that so?”

Merry knew that tone. She’d heard it plenty growing up from her parents and other adults, waiting for the day she no longer had to deal with it as an adult herself. So when she was faced with it now, and from someone 10 years her junior, it unsettled her into compliance. It only ever meant one thing: mind your words.

And so with that in mind she merely stated, “I think that it isn’t really my place to say what I think. If Miss Swann says there’s nothing going on, then I’m more than inclined to believe her.”

“Thank you, Merry.”

Estrella threw her a look behind Elizabeth’s back, and Merry shrugged. There were more important things to worry about than losing the favor of a chambermaid, such as currently gaining the favor of one Miss Elizabeth Swann. She’d need it if things were to go her way tonight, after all.

Ignoring whatever was going on between her maids, she stood up and walked over to her armoire, plucking a hat from within and fastening it atop her head.

“I’ll be off now, ladies. Please do try to sort yourselves out by the time I return.”

Merry’s stomach was in knots the entire rest of the day. So focused was she on the upcoming events of the night that tasks she was able to do in her sleep prior now took her almost twice as long to complete. Not only that, but anything she did complete almost always required someone else to come in and redo. Neither realizing it or, let’s face it, really even caring that she was dropping herself further out of staff favor, Merry kept her ears open for any news of Elizabeth’s fall into the water.

Be it just her luck that she was down in the dining room setting the plates for supper when it finally happened. However, it wasn’t news that arrived but Elizabeth herself, wrapped in cloaks and forcefully shivering as she was quickly rushed to her washroom. Merry was quick to drop whatever was in her hands—a set of silverware that fell with a clang onto the floor—to make her way up the stairs, following the group closely.

Her head seemed to spin as she collected water in a basin to heat for Elizabeth’s bath.

There was no time to second guess anything she did now; the plot was officially in motion.

The sound of cannon fire was what initially roused Merry from her bed. The sight of her fellow maids frantically fleeing about the room was what spurred her to her feet.

“What is it? What’s going on?” She heard one of the others shout.

“I don’t know,” cried another. “Some kind of attack!”

Merry’s heart leaped from her chest into her throat. This was it. This was the very moment she’d been waiting for, and she couldn’t be more excited.

‘Oh yes,’ she thought, ‘I know exactly what’s going on.’

Scurrying quickly behind the others, making sure to keep her face as horror-filled as the rest, her mind raced through the next steps of her plan.

‘First thing I have to do is break away from the rest of the group.’

This was easy enough. Keeping to the back of the pack, she slipped into a shadowed corner as everyone else filed outside through a side door.

‘Next course of action is to slip into Elizabeth’s room unnoticed.’

This would prove to be a little harder as she had to find the perfect window between Elizabeth leaving her room and when the unnamed maid that inadvertently started it all stepped in.

Stepping out into the emptied hallway she made her way up the side stairs that led into the main hall. Sensing movement out of the corner of her eye, she plastered herself to the wall only for Elizabeth to come running past her and down the main staircase, only pausing when there was a knock at the door.

Merry took the opportunity to run towards the room, sequestering herself behind the changing screen. As she watched through the crack that was created by the fold of the screen, she assumed the other maid must have already been in here as there was no indication of anyone entering after her before she heard the telltale gunshot.

‘Rip random butler man. Lord only knows why you chose to answer that door.’

Moments later, Elizabeth came running back into her room, slamming and locking the door behind her. Merry’s eyes frantically searched the room for the third woman she knew should be in the room when the most peculiar thing happened.

As if some unknown force had willed it, her body started to move of its own accord. Her bare feet slid across the floor as they propelled her out of her hiding space and straight into the arms of Elizabeth, causing both her and the girl to cry out.

The peculiarity continued when she found herself grabbing Elizabeth’s arms before worriedly saying, “They’ve come to kidnap you!”

“What?”

Merry felt as perplexed as Elizabeth looked.

‘No,’ she wanted to shout. ‘That’s not why they’ve come. I know that’s not why they’ve come!’

What she instead said, her lips moving as if willed by magic, was, “You’re the governor’s daughter!”

The fierce rattling of the doorknob caught their attention, and swiftly Merry found herself on the receiving end of squeezed shoulders. She already knew Elizabeth’s next line would be akin to ‘find an opening and get to the fort,’ but she couldn’t truly focus on anything but the thoughts swimming in her head.

‘I’m the unnamed maid that caused her to give the wrong name?!’

Absentmindedly, she felt herself nod and run off to do what she was just told—her body still in the clutches of the unseen force. She had just finished crouching down behind an end table when the door finally opened, revealing two familiar pirates.

‘Pintel! Ragetti!’ Merry felt her body leap up and get into position to run. ‘No, no, no, this is not how it’s supposed to be! It can’t be; I don’t want to leave!’

A sudden, cold sensation washed throughout her entire body as if she’d just been doused with a bucket of ice water. Though it felt extremely uncomfortable, it also seemed as though a weight was lifted from her shoulders when she realized she was in control of her own body once more.

She turned on the spot, just in time to see the two pirates chase Elizabeth out into the corridor. Merry knew exactly where they would be going next and hastily made her way down the rear staircase that led into the back entrance of the dining room. Due to her knowledge of the shortcuts in the servants’ hallways, she managed to make it there just as Elizabeth was locking the main doors in place with a candlestick holder. She intercepted her on the way to grab the coat of arms that hung above the fireplace, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle her startled shout.

“Forget about those—they’re glued together anyway! That door’s not going to hold and we need to hide!”

Elizabeth shot her a baffled look, and her lips opened in preparation for a question before the doors shook violently. Wide-eyed, she grabbed Merry by the arms to pull her into a side pantry that was built into a wall.

“What are you still doing here,” she finally got out once the doors were shut behind them. “I thought I told you to get to the fort!”

“And leave you to deal with those pirates on your own?” Merry scoffed. “Think again!”

The door shook in its frame again, and the two girls clacked their mouths shut. With a loud shout, the door finally gave way with a bang, sending the candlestick tumbling to the ground with a clatter. Cutting a quick side-eye to Elizabeth, Merry pressed a finger to her mouth anf cracked the pantry door open. Through it, she could see Pintel and Ragetti start to make their way around the room.

“We know you’re here, poppet!”

A firm grasp caught Merry around the elbow, and she turned to see Elizabeth’s frightened eyes. She placed a gentle hand atop it and mouthed, ‘It’s okay.’

“Come out! We promise we won’t hurt you.”

The grip got even tighter, and Merry had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

“We will find you, poppet. You’ve got something of ours, and it calls to us.” He paused, turning to stare directly in the direction they hid. “The gold calls to us.”

The jig was up. Merry turned to Elizabeth just in time to see her shoving the medallion into her dress before they were both awash with light.

“Hello, poppet…s?”

“Parley,” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“What?”

“I invoke the right of parley. According to the Code of Bretheren set down by the pirates Morgan and Bartholomew, you have to take me,” she gestured between herself and Merry, “us, to your captain.”

They went back and forth, with Ragetti giving his input here and there, until the pirates finally relented, and Merry suddenly found herself being roughly pulled out of the pantry. She was gripped tightly by the shoulders, tripping over her feet as she was dragged throughout the house.

Every time she had watched the pillage scene in the movie—from the comfort of her own home on her soft couch—it was never something she paid any more mind to other than as an introduction to her favorite characters. But now that she was actually living it…her stomach dropped to her feet as a group of girls came screaming past her, only to be shortly followed by a cackling, sword wielding pirate.

‘This is much less fun to experience in real life.’

A loud boom went off in a nearby building, blowing out glass and wooden shards and sending them flying over the group. Merry cried out as one of the twinkling pieces grazed her cheek, leaving a razor thin cut just beneath her right eye. The sting was enough to cause her to lose focus enough that she got her feet caught up in her skirts, sending her flying to the ground and landing hard on her knees.

“Come on, keep moving!” The feel of something cold and hard pressed against the back of her neck left a sour taste in Merry’s mouth. Scrambling to get off the ground, her feet became tangled in her dress once more, and she fell again. “Get. Up!”

“I’m sorry. I’m trying, but my feet—“

The tears she felt bubbling up behind her eyes as well as the excuse she was attempting to push through her lips were immediately staunched at the glint of a sharp, metal edge. Ragetti kneeled in front of her, dagger in hand and a wide sneer on his face.

“Well, if ye can’t keep up…”

She felt the blood drain from her face as she flung herself back and away from him, less concerned with the gun that was previously held to her head than she was with the man in front of her.

“Wait! Wait, please!”

‘Am I doomed to die before anything even begins?’

He grabbed a fistful of her skirt, dragging her to him forcefully. The stench of rum and rot assaulted her nose, and she couldn’t help but flinch back at the scent. The last thing she saw before she squeezed her eyes shut was the swinging arc of the blade as he brought it down over his head.

She vaguely heard Elizabeth cry out as he made impact.

‘I’m too young to die—again!’

The sharp sound of fabric ripping was what brought her out of her panic. Her eyes flew open, a questioning squeak leaving her lips at the sight the greeted her. Instead of Merry being the one on the ground with her throat slashed to ribbons, it was the bottom half of her nightgown that lay in tattered strips, leaving her legs exposed from the thighs down. She stared at Ragetti, bewildered, who merely returned a leering grin.

“That should keep you on your feet.”

He gave her no chance to respond, and snatched her by the elbow to pull her back up. The rest of the trip was spent in silence as they made their way to the harbor where a collection of dinghy boats floated together. Merry and Elizabeth were forced onto one bench together, facing away from the dock, while Pintel and Ragetti occupied the other bench, each taking up an oar and placing it in the water.

There was a rustle, then the slightest bump against her knee as Elizabeth leaned over to whisper to Merry.

“Are you all right?”

Unable to trust her voice, she just nodded in response. A breeze flew over the water, and Merry used the sudden chill as an excuse to press her trembling hands between her knees.

The hard part was almost over. Though it was thanks to her companion that she was able to hitch a ride to the Pearl, it was now up to her to find a way to get them to let her stay.

It was about the moment that Merry was ready to hurl from the rocking motion of the boat that the thick fog that lay ahead of them began to part. And what started to emerge from it was something she couldn’t have imagined correctly in her wildest dreams. The sheer mass of the ship was enough to have her jaw drop, but never would she have expected the intensity that seemed to ooze from its very being. It was almost suffocating, and Merry felt her breath catch in her throat as they pulled up alongside the ladder that led up to the deck.

Pintel anchored the oar before whipping out his pistol and grinning. “After you, poppet.”

With a scoff, Elizabeth stood up on wobbly legs, using Merry’s shoulder as a stabilizer with an apologetic glance, and grabbed onto the rope ladder to make her way up. Merry shakily got up to follow behind when she was tapped on the chest with the barrel of the gun.

“Ah, ah, ah.”

Pintel stepped in front, climbing his way up with practiced ease. Discreetly rolling her eyes, Merry turned to say something to Ragetti only to find him staring at her, his own pistol aimed straight for her head. She gulped, clasping the coarse ropes in her hands as she began to make her own ascent.

She had only passed a few rungs when a sharp breeze blew through, sending a chill down through her bones. She was immediately grateful that there were three other people hanging on with her, as she feared she might have been sent into the water below with how forceful the gust was. A snicker from beneath her made its way to her ears, but she paid no mind to it.

Halfway up, she noticed that Elizabeth managed to board with Pintel shortly behind when there was another strong gust. The ladder swayed a little with the reduced weight, causing Merry to tighten her grip so much she was sure a few fibers embedded themselves into the palm of her hands. There were more snickers from the pirate beneath her.

‘I get that Ragetti might have a screw or two loose, but what in the world could he possibly find funny about this?!’

She couldn’t have been more than a foot away from climbing over the top when they were hit with the strongest wind yet. It was forceful enough to flip the edge of her dress up, and she instinctively slapped a hand over it to smooth it back down. Once more the crude laughter came, and it was with a flushing shame that she realized what, exactly, was so funny. She threw a dirty look down over her shoulder, and when her eyes met Ragetti’s suddenly wide ones, she knew that her suspicions were confirmed.

Not giving any kind of a damn that she was hanging from the side of a ship from a precariously swinging ladder some 50 feet over the ocean, with a hand still holding down her dress and decidedly not still grasping said ladder, she lifted one of her feet to bring it down hard squarely in his face.

“Don’t look, you perv!”

She had no chance to revel in the way his nose cracked underneath the ball of her bare foot nor the sound of his responding groan, as at that very same moment the wind blew once more. A yelp escaped her as the ladder shook terribly, and the previously unspoken threat of falling into the deep, cold water became an upfront reality. She scrambled to regain purchase on the ladder with the other half of her body, but the numbing cold made it extremely difficult for her to do anything but scrape against the rough wood of the boat with her flailing limbs.

Tears began to cloud her vision, and she let out another panicked shout.

“Someone help me! Please!”

Now fully in the throes of a panic attack, she felt there was only one thing left to do. Using all the strength she had left, she used the leverage from the one arm and floor she still had on the ladder and propelled herself up, reaching towards the railing of the ship in a sort of Hail Mary. Her heart dropped down to the ocean below when her fingers clasped around nothing, the tips of them rubbing harshly against the side.

Her left arm finally gave out, and she could feel her grip on the rung loosen. A sharp, piercing scream that she felt originate from the bottom of her diaphragm escaped her as she accepted her fate.

“Ahhh—oof!”

Before she could fall far, a bruising grip was wrapped around her right wrist, almost pulling her arm out of her socket at the sudden stop in momentum. Through the blinding pain, and her bleary, tear-filled eyes, she was able to vaguely make out the wide-brimmed, giant-plumed hat of her savior. She gasped in recognition—though she could also attribute it to the pain that was emanating from her shoulder—and she couldn’t help but stare in awe as he spoke down at her.

“So. Ye be the birdy squawking up a frightful ruckus on me ship, eh?”

Chapter Text

Merry stood next to Elizabeth, teeth chattering and limbs aching. She attempted to wrap her arms around herself, flinching in pain when she pulled on what she was sure was her dislocated right shoulder.  And though she was freezing in a dress that was too short in a time that she didn’t belong, none of that mattered compared to the euphoria she experienced as she took in her surroundings.

‘This is the best damn day of my two lives.’

“I didn’t know we were taking on captives,” said one of the crewman—the bosun if Merry remembered correctly.

Pintel stepped forward, gesturing at Elizabeth. “She’s invoked the right of parley with Captain Barbossa.”

At the sound of his name, Merry unabashedly let her eyes drift over to where he stood. He seemed unfazed by what was going on, content to take a step back from any goings-on the moment he had finished pulling her up onto the deck. Subconsciously, she rubbed a tentative finger over her tender wrist where finger-shaped bruises were already beginning to form.

As if he knew what she was thinking about, his eyes cut over in her direction. Quick as a flash, there was a furrow in his brow before it smoothed over into that of a more amicable expression. In two swift strides, he was grasping the bosun’s wrist, and Merry belatedly realized that Elizabeth had just been slapped.

‘Oof, forgot that happened,’ she looked on guiltily. ‘Probably could have prevented that.’

Luckily, she didn’t seem deterred by it, only pressing forward with a raised head. Merry’s eyes lit up in glee and anticipation for the upcoming exchange.

‘No friggin’ way I get to see this upfront!’

“Captain Barbossa, I am here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities against Port Royal.”

“There were a lot of long words in there, miss. We’re naught but humble pirates.”

Merry had to bite her lip to keep from scoffing. ‘Humble pirates, my butt. You know exactly what she’s saying.’

“What is it that you want?”

“I want you to leave and never come back.”

Laughter erupted from the surrounding pirates; Merry even afforded herself the smallest of chuckles—though not for the same reason.

“I’m disinclined to acquiesce to your request.” She couldn’t help the snort that escaped in response to Elizabeth’s quietly befuddled look and Barbossa’a obviously smarmy one, and he sent her a wink before elaborating. “Means ‘no’.”

‘Best. Day. Ever!’

“And what is it that you want?”

“What?”

Merry’s joy was swiftly cut short when his piercing eyes landed on her, freezing her to the spot.

“You also invoked parley, aye? What is it ye wished to discuss?”

Her brain felt as though it were short-circuiting at this turn of events. She’d always known this was coming, she just thought she’d have more time. From what she remembered, there was more to the conversation between Barbossa and Elizabeth; she’d reveal she had the medallion, he’d pretend it didn’t matter, she’d trick him into admitting it does—that whole spiel. Then he asks for her name, she lies and says it’s Turner, blah, blah, blah.

Merry knows that’s what happens because she’s watched it play out more times than she could count. She had actually been waiting for it to try and find a way to piggyback off of it by hinting that she knew Elizabeth may not be who she claimed to be. But now it’s as though everyone is off-script, and she was the only one aware of it.

“Well? I don’t have all day, lass.”

The edge in Barbossa’s voice was sharp enough to send Merry’s brain into overdrive. Nothing was going according to anything she knew, and—

She blinked. No one knows Elizabeth has the medallion. She’s pretty sure Elizabeth doesn’t think Merry is even aware of its existence. And no one knows that Elizabeth was about to use said medallion as a bargaining chip. No one, that is, but Merry.

She inhaled sharply, eyes wide, as she finally blurted, “I want to help you!”

The only indication he gave to being caught off-guard at her outburst was the minuscule jerking back of his head. He recovered so rapidly that Merry was sure she must have imagined it.

“Is that so? And why would a girl such as yerself want to help the very pirates that attacked ye?”

She could have said anything here—made up a story about how she always wanted to sail the seas; maybe even play the tragic card by implying that anywhere was better than where she lived now—hell, she probably could have even gone with a classic ‘why not’ approach! Literally anything was better than what she actually said, which was,

“Because I know things.”

Barbossa had no issue expressing his bafflement here as it consisted solely of laughing raucously in Merry’s face.

‘I can’t even be mad. I’d be doing the same thing if I were him!’

Merry mentally berated herself, cringing back as the laughter increased around her. This was her one chance, and she’d just blown it monumentally.

“Don’t look so defeated, miss. Tell ye what, seeing as me crew and I haven’t had a laugh like that in a good, long while I’ll give ye another chance, eh? What is it ye be knowing?”

Merry’s heart pounded against her rib cage. Her mind swam with everything she wanted to say—wanted to warn him about.

“I know—“ that you’re going to die.

She coughed violently before she could get the rest of her words out. She cleared her throat before trying again.

“I know—“ that Jack Sparrow’s still alive.

A whimper as her teeth clacked together, narrowly missing the tip of her tongue. One look at Barbossa was enough to tell he was losing patience. And fast. She swallowed thickly.

“I know—“ about the curse.

Her low groan was enough to snap his last shred of amicability.

“Yes, yes, tell us what ye know already!”

“I’m trying!”

So frustrated with what was going on, it failed to dawn on her that she’d just yelled back at someone who basically held her life in his hands.

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, willing herself not to cry and grinding down hard enough to reopen the wound underneath her eye. A bright red line of blood began to bubble up across her cheek.

‘It’s like earlier,’ she realized with a gasp. ‘My body is being controlled, and I’m helpless against it. If I don’t find something to say…’

No, the thought reached out from the recesses of her mind, not just something. The right thing.

‘But what is the right thing?’

And then, it was there. Sitting in the forefront of her thoughts as if it had been waiting for her to notice it the whole time.

“I know,” she began once more, taking her hands away to stare at Barbossa with clear eyes, “that she holds the medallion you all so desperately seek.”

It was jarring how suddenly all noise from the pirates ceased. It was as though all of the oxygen had been sucked from the vicinity, leaving everyone breathless. Ironically enough, Merry felt as if she had just broken through the surface of water, taking in a big, gulping breath and letting it fill her lungs.

“A medallion, ye say? What care do we have for such a piece?”

Merry was saved from answering any more questions as all attention was focused solely on Elizabeth, who shot a glare her way before walking over to the edge of the boat and holding a fist out. A round, gold token swung from the string she clasped tightly in her hand.

“Very well, then. I’ll drop it.”

“Me holds are burstin’ with swag. That bit of shine matters to us?” A pause. “Why?”

“It’s like she said,” Elizabeth replied, looking over to Merry in awe, “it’s what you’ve been searching for.”

‘This was the conversation I’d been waiting for. Why is it only happening now?’

The answer, obviously, did not come, and so she was helpless to do anything but sit and watch a conversation she knew by heart unfold before her.

It was a few, quick exchanges before Barbossa stepped forward and asked, “You have a name, missy?”

Merry glanced at Elizabeth, desperately trying to convey through her eyes not to do what she was thinking. She knew it was futile when Elizabeth simply returned her gaze with one of subtle determination.

“Elizabeth…Turner. I’m a maid in the governor’s household.”

Merry would have slapped her palm to her forehead if everything required to do so weren’t already cut or bruised to hell. Murmurs broke out throughout the group, as she knew they would, and she could see the change in demeanor almost instantaneously.

“And how does a maid come to own a trinket such as that? Family heirloom, perhaps?”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean.”

Merry rolled her eyes. ‘That is, most decidedly, not what he means.’

“Very well. You had it over, and we’ll put your town to our rudder and ne’er return.”

“Wait a second,” Merry interjected, “you might want to rethink—“

Whatever she had been about to say went unheard as Elizabeth dropped the medallion into the captain’s open palm. This time, she did smack her forehead. And it hurt just as much as she thought it would. She turned to Elizabeth, fully prepared to chew her out for not recognizing the loophole in his wording, only to be roughly pulled away by Pintel.

“Oi, Captain! What do we do with this one?”

“Throw her in the brig,” he shouted over his shoulder with nary a pause in his step.

“Ho-hold on a second—what?”

Pintel sneered down at her, grossly overjoyed at the command. He tugged hard on her uninjured arm, and though she tried digging her feet into the boards in an attempt to cull her journey, all she gained was an additional injury in the form of splinters.

“Come now,” Ragetti snickered as he placed his arm into the crook of her unoccupied one to help pull her along, “best not to dawdle!”

‘Oh, this is some bullshit!’

“Why is it that I get thrown in the brig while she gets a fancy dinner and a dress!”

That seemed to hit a nerve as he abruptly turned on her, eyes blazing.

“What did ye just say?”

Merry blanched. She hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud. In fact, she didn’t even think she’d be able to given what happened earlier. Fully expecting the magical force to act as it had before, she had no qualms about blurting the first thing that came to mind. Apparently the rules were a lot more loosy-goosy than she originally suspected.

Merry’s saving grace once again came in the form of Elizabeth, who was currently pushing her way through the crew to where they all stood. With a roll of his eyes, Barbossa gestured to the side with his head, and Pintel and Ragetti continued in their quest to bring Merry below deck.

The last thing she saw before she went under was the captain’s eyes as they pierced through her over Elizabeth’s shoulder, burning with curiosity.

She looked up at her couriers.

“Can I at least get a pair of pants?”

The wind that blew through the trees was harsh and cool, jostling the two women making their way down the street. Giggles escaped them as they bumped into each other, their tipsy state causing them to be more susceptible to be knocked over.

They spoke loudly and passionately, uncaring about the looks thrown their way by other passersby. Not that there were many to begin with at that time of night.

One of the women—the one on the right, on the inside of the sidewalk—said something that had her companion blushing hotly, despite the chilly air. The other woman—the one on the left, precariously teetering along the edge of the sidewalk—pulled her cardigan tight around her middle before gently slapping her friend on the arm. The one who had been smacked laughed boisterously and retaliated with an action of her own.

A light push to the shoulder that could have been classified as more of a shove; a stumble off the curb that could have easily been corrected by a more sober mind; a speeding pickup truck that no one saw come barreling over the hill.

The blaring sound of a horn.

The sharp squeal of tires.

The blinding glow of headlights.

Then—

Silence.

Nothingness.

Black.

Merry blinked her eyes open, suddenly awake. She hadn’t dreamt much since she inhabited this body, but when she did it was alway of the same thing—the moments leading up to, and including, her death. She could never hear what they were saying, and their faces were always a bit fuzzy, but she instinctually knew that she was the one that had been accidentally pushed into the street that fateful night. She just hoped that the person she was with didn’t blame themselves. Merry sure didn’t.

The sway of the floor beneath her, and the subsequent searing pain bursting from her right shoulder at the motion, brought her back to her current predicament. With a groan, she rolled over onto her left side and propped herself up into a seated position, scooting back so that she rested against the solid wall of the ship’s cell.

Though it was unclear how much time had passed since she had been ‘escorted’ to the holding cell, she assumed it couldn’t have been more than an hour. Then again, she could have been sleeping all day and not even know it. There were no windows around, and she slept like the dead.

Merry was surprised she had even been able to fall asleep but was glad for the reprieve from the throbbing that coursed throughout her entire body. Gently cradling her right elbow in her palm she gently tested the motion in her shoulder.

‘Thankfully doesn’t seem to be dislocated,’ she thought with a wince as she pulled it just a little too far, ‘just extremely bruised.’

The sound of creaking wood drew her attention to the stairs that led up to the deck. Sure enough, Ragetti’s spindly body came trouncing down the wooden steps before he made his way over to where she was being held. She could see through the metal bars that he had a cloth bundle draped over one of his arms. In his other hand he held a key and, with the flick of his wrist, inserted it into the padlock to release the irons. The door swung inward, hitting the side of the cell with a loud clank.

“The captain requests that you join him for dinner.” Merry stared up at him from where she sat, shocked. “And he said if you refused, then you’ll have to—“

“No, no,” Merry interrupted, scrambling to her feet. “I’d love to join him!”

Ragetti seemed taken aback, as if her compliance was the last thing he’d expected. She winced internally. Perhaps it was a little too weird how readily she accepted? Maybe she should have pushed back a tad—make it more believable?

‘No,’ she convinced herself, ‘anyone in my position would be jumping at the chance to speak with the captain. If only to persuade him to let me out of prison.’

She looked at Ragetti, who seemed to be awaiting her response.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

His brow furrowed as he thrust his arm out presenting the item that laid upon it.

“He also requests that you wear this.” Gingerly, Merry plucked the cloth from his arm, letting it fall open to reveal a pair of small, black breeches. “He sends his apologies for the lack of a fancy dress and assumed you would prefer these given your…history with skirts.”

She gripped the material tightly in her hands, flushing at the poorly hidden jab. It was embarrassing enough that the pirate in front of her had seen more than she would have liked, but to be blatantly teased about it? Two can play at that game. Inhaling deeply, she relaxed her shoulders and raised her head to give him a smug smile.

“Speaking of, how’s your nose?”

His own grin fell as he brought a hand up to cup his face.

“S’fine,” he grumbled. “Was a bit more worried about me eye when it popped out as a result of your kick.”

“Oh. Uhm, well, sorry about that.” Merry genuinely did feel sorry. She knew how hard it was for him to keep a grip on that thing. She gestured towards him, “Looks like you found it, though.”

He shrugged, turning on his foot to make his way up the stairs.

‘Guess that’s the end of that conversation.’

She jammed her legs into the breeches, which, she noted with pleasant surprise, fit shockingly well, let her dress fall over them to act as a long shirt, and scurried after Ragetti.

One staircase and two left turns later found them stopping just outside the captain’s quarters. Her companion rapped thrice on the door in quick succession, gave her a curt nod, and then left.

‘Okay, stay calm. There’s nothing to be afraid of—you already know what’s coming. All you have to do is be chill and attempt to convince the undead skeleton pirate captain that you’re necessary to his survival.’ She inhaled sharply. ‘I’m totally fucked.’

In the few heartbeats it took for Barbossa to walk to the door, Merry had sufficiently worked herself into a frenzy.

The double doors swung open—Merry having to jump back to avoid being hit by them—and suddenly he was standing before her with an extended arm and a wide smile.

“My lady.”

“Captain.”

No further words were exchanged as she strut into his quarters. Her mind was on high alert as she gazed at the decadent spread of food upon his table, along with the plethora of candles that lit the room, taking note that Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen.

“Fergive me, miss, but it has come to my attention that I have yet to ask fer yer name.”

Instead of responding, Merry chose to sit down at the placing closest to her—a seat just to the left of the head of the table—and asked, “ Where is Elizabeth?”

“Miss Turner will be joining us in naught but a moment,” he answered, taking the seat across from her. “I won’t be asking again. Name?”

A thought popped into Merry’s mind. One she knew was a terrible idea but also something she couldn’t shake. She traced the rim of the glass in front of her, keeping her eyes downcast in a sense of false nonchalance.

“Perhaps that’s something you don’t need to know right now.”

The silence that followed was almost deafening. She snuck a quick peek at him from beneath her lashes. His mouth was pulled into a tight smile and his eyes were thinned into slits.

He hummed, short and low, tapped twice against the table, then leaned back in his chair.

“Tell ye what, lass, I’ll continue to play this game with ye until Miss Turner arrives. After then, well, let’s just say ther isn’t much you’ll be knowing, if ye catch my drift.”

Merry gulped, equal parts terrified and furious at the position in which she put herself. ‘Message received loud and clear.’

She sat up straighter in her seat and took a sip of water from the goblet she was fiddling with earlier, taking care to use her left arm to raise it to her mouth, which felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton balls.

“Look, what I said earlier still stands. I do have knowledge that is beneficial to you. There just happens to be…stipulations as to what I can reveal.”

“Stipulations?”

“Yeah, you know, like—“

He cut her off with a scoff, rolling his eyes.

“I’m well aware of what the word means, miss. What kind of stipulations are involved?”

Merry blanched in embarrassment, tugging on the bottom of her earlobe with a thumb and forefinger.

“Right, um, that’s actually something I’m still trying to figure out myself?”

Her voice rose at the end, transforming her statement into an uneasy question. She chanced a glance over at Barbossa, who smirked condescendingly.

“Yer not making a great case here.”

“Ugh, I know, but look,” she gestured around the room, “I was right about the fancy dinner, wasn’t I?”

His smile grew as if in response to a joke only he heard.

“Who’s to say you weren’t the one that gave me the idea? Everyone heard ye shout it across the deck, after all.”

Merry frowned. He did have her there. It would be nigh impossible to prove otherwise under normal circumstances, and it isn’t as if she could come out and say she’d watched him do it before. And that’s if the unknown force would even allow her to say that much.

A knock at the door had Merry jolting forward in her seat. She threw Barbossa a panicked look, who, in response, placed both palms on the table and stood gracefully to look down on her with a wild grin.

“Time’s up.”

She spluttered, frozen in her seat as she watched him walk around the table. She held her breath as he passed behind her, and for a split second she let herself believe that he had been bluffing and was actually on his way to answer the door. That belief was immediately dashed by the tight grip around her left bicep.

‘I’m getting real tired of being pulled around everywhere,’ she thought as Barbossa dragged her out of her seat and towards the door.

“Okay, hold on, what if—“ she racked her brain for any little detail she’d have no way of knowing as they got ever closer to their destination. “ What if I told you the color of her dress?”

He froze in his tracks, turning to her with a look not of apprehension but incredulity. He said nothing, but the message was clear: ‘You can’t be serious.’

She took advantage of the moment to wrestle her arm away from his grasp, which turned out to be easier than expected. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to flinch too severely as she jostled her bruised shoulder, and stared up at him in defiance. She missed the flicker of his eyes as they landed on her lame limb before moving quickly back to her face.

“Seriously. If Elizabeth is wearing a dark red dress, then you have to accept what I said as the truth and at least let me stay for dinner.”

He rolled his eyes before stomping his way to the door.

“Fine! If only to prove you wrong and get ye out of me hair once and for all!”

He pushed the doors open with a huff, and time seemed to move in slow motion as the young woman who stood behind them was revealed.

Elizabeth took a sudden step back as the doors came flying out towards her. Her eyes grew wide as the two occupants inside simultaneously pinned her with a searing gaze. No, not her, she realized, but her dress—which was, indeed, a deep, dark red.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth took a sudden step back as the doors came flying out towards her. Her eyes grew wide as the two occupants inside simultaneously pinned her with a searing gaze. No, not her, she realized, but her dress—which was, indeed, a deep, dark red.

“Ha! Told you,” Merry exclaimed, throwing Barbossa a smug grin which immediately fell at the withering glare he sent her.

“‘Tis not the time to be gettin’ cocky, missy, I assure you!”

Merry held up her hands, placating. “Right. Got it. Sorry.”

“Should I come back at another time?”

At Elizabeth’s question his demeanor changed entirely, smoothly transitioning from angry pirate captain to gracious dinner host.

“Please, Miss Turner, have a seat.” He gestured to the table, letting her pass by before moving to shut the doors. On his way back he leaned down to Merry, who had remained firmly rooted in her spot, and whispered through clenched teeth, “You may also sit before I change me mind.”

Dinner began as well as Merry expected with she and Barbossa taking their previous seats while Elizabeth now occupied the head chair. THe air between the three was tense, everyone unsure as to who would make the first move.

It came as no surprise when it was Elizabeth, picking up her fork and knife to cut a small cube off of the piece of meat in front of her and bring it delicately up to her lips. Her actions drew Barbossa’s gaze like a moth to a flame.

“There’s no need to stand on ceremony, no call to impress anyone. You must be hungry.”

It was as if these words were the permission she needed, dropping her utensils, along with her forced sense of propriety, to tear into her food. Barbossa continued to watch her eat in awe, so enraptured was he by the display he failed to notice Merry observing him in kind as he offered food and drink for Elizabeth to consume.

Did he really stare at her that damn hard in the movie?

She looked on in amusement, plucking a grape from the bunch in front of her and popping it into her mouth.

Though I suppose I could understand the novelty and appreciation of watching others enjoy their food, she rolled the grape around her mouth, teasing it between her teeth without actually piercing the skin, if I, too, had not been able to taste anything in over a decade.

She accentuated the end of her thought by biting down hard on the grape, juices bursting in her mouth and across her tongue, savoring the sweet, sugary flavor that lingered on her tastebuds the way Barbossa’s eyes lingered on her lips.

Merry blinked twice, certain she had been seeing things. But sure enough, as she had stared at him and gotten lost in her musings he had turned that stormy gaze on her, watching with the same reverence he afforded her companion. She swallowed thickly, the remnants of the fruit now feeling like bits of lead as she worked it down her throat.

Uncomfortable with the amount of eye contact being directed at the bottom half of her face, Merry gave an uneasy smile as she reached for another grape.

A bright, green apple was thrust in her direction. “And the apples? Try one of these instead.”

Her heart and eyes softened. No harm in giving him what he’s looking for, I suppose.

Her fingertips had been mere centimeters away from grazing the apple’s waxy surface when too small fingers slotted themselves around her already imprinted wrist to yank her hand away. Merry cried out, shooting Elizabeth a pained glance.

“Don’t,” she hissed, “it’s poisoned.”

Merry fought down the urge to roll her eyes as she tried to gently extract herself from the girl’s grip. Even if that had been his end goal, there’d been no point in wasting a feast such as this on people he was planning on killing. And she told Elizabeth as much.

She didn’t look convinced, but Merry was more concerned with removing her throbbing wrist than attempting to explain further.

A low chuckle floated across the table.

“She’s right, Miss Turner. There would be no sense to be killing ye.”

“Then release us. You have your trinket. We’re of no further use to you.”

He reached into his breast pocket, pulling out the gold piece and holding it up in between two fingers. “You don’t know what this is, do you?”

“It’s a pirate medallion.”

And so launched Barbossa into weaving the beginning of his yarn. HIs voice was soft yet commanding, and Merry felt even more captivated watching it play out in real-time. Her eyes followed him as he got up and walked around to Elizabeth’s other side, recalling Cortez’s supposed curse that was placed upon the Aztec gold before he paused in between their seats and leant down to address the both of them.

“There be the chest. Inside be the gold. We took ‘em all!”

He shot a hand out before quickly retracting it in a move to emphasize his point. Merry and Elizabeth jerked back from the action and only then did Merry belatedly realize that she had still been in Elizabeth’s grasp when her hand tugged painfully away. She bit down hard on her lip to keep from making any noise, tucking her injured hand into her lap to soothe the ache with the thumb of her other hand.

“We spent ‘em and traded ‘em and frittered ‘em away on drink and food and pleasurable company.”

He extended his palm out to Merry at these words. She stared at the gesture, dumbfounded. He curled his finger ever so slightly inwards, and Merry, already aware that she was on fairly thin ice with the captain, figured she had little choice but to go with whatever he was planning.

Though she had been fearful of how rough he would be, it came as quite a shock when he delicately clasped the hand that she offered. It was almost as if he were actively attempting to avoid exacerbating her injury. This was only further proven when she felt one of his fingers softly glide along the inside of her wrist in the exact spot she’d been rubbing only moments earlier. She desperately hoped he didn’t catch the way her pulse skyrocketed.

Jesus Christ, I need to go touch some grass or something because this is ridiculous!

He guided her over to the other side of the table where he had previously been seated before continuing his speech.

“The more we gave them away, the more we came to realize,” he plucked a cloth napkin up from the tabletop, “the drink would not satisfy,” he dunked the edge of the napkin into a water goblet, “food turned to ash in our mouths,” he raised the napkin up to her face and pinned her with a stare as if his next words were only for her, “and all the pleasurable company in the world could not slake our lust.”

He rubbed the cloth against the top of her right cheek, firm but still gentle. The shock of the cool material was nothing compared to what she was experiencing at this insane turn of events.

What the hell is going on?!

She was vaguely aware that he had continued speaking, but lord help her if anyone asked what was actually said. Another pass of the cloth across her cheek and a sharp sting clued her in to what he was doing. She almost couldn’t believe it.

Is he cleaning the blood from my face?

Jack screeched loudly, distracting Merry from her thoughts and Barbossa from his task at hand. He deposited the napkin on the table and turned to tend to his monkey while Merry remained in place.

Movement in her peripheral drew her attention to Elizabeth, who had just tucked a butter knife under the napkin in her lap. The action jogged something in Merry’s memory, and she inhaled sharply.

Oh shit, we can’t be at that scene already, can we?

Merry eye’s were wide as she watched him walk from Jack’s perch, said monkey now resting atop his shoulder, to where Elizabeth had remained seated—her heart thumping heavily in tandem with each thump of his boots across the wooden floor.

“There is one way we can end our curse. All the scattered pieces of the Aztec gold must be restored and the blood repaid.” Stopping just behind the seat Merry previously occupied, he let Jack off his shoulder to scamper off somewhere. The tension between Elizabeth and Barbossa was palpable, charging the air around them in an almost suffocating manner. “Thanks to ye, we have the final piece.”

“And the blood to be repaid?”

“That’s why there’s no sense to be killing ye,” he replied in a raspy whisper, offering the same green apple from earlier in his extended hand. “ Yet.”

Don’t listen to him! Merry wanted to shout. He’s only messing with you!

But it was too late. Merry could pinpoint the exact moment comprehension dawned on Elizabeth, mere seconds before she jumped to her feet brandishing her knife. Merry took a step forward in a last ditch attempt to intervene, but it was proven futile as they tousled their way out of r reach.

She followed them as they made their way to the double door entrance, Barbossa grabbing Elizabeth by the neck until she swiftly turned around and—

Shunk.

Elizabeth and Merry expelled twin gasps, the latter cupping her hands over her nose and mouth in shock. She had never witnessed a stabbing in person before, and, while she inherently knew Barbossa was unaffected, the thick, wet squelch it made as it pierced through his flesh and down to his heart was a noise she’d never forget. It was only rivaled by the sound of him removing said knife from his chest.

“I’m curious. After killing me, what is it ye plan on doing next?”

Elizabeth stumbled back into the cloth that covered the doors, pushing through them and out onto the deck with the force. Her scream pierced through the night, and Merry could only take a guess as to what Elizabeth had just discovered. The sound ebbed in and flowed out of the cabin as she floundered her way around the ship while Merry simply stood, watching Barbossa.

“Are you okay?” Merry wasn’t quite sure what compelled her to ask—be it her sense of politeness or because she just didn’t know what the hell one should say when faced with this kind of thing—but it grabbed his attention either way.

He did a double take at her, almost as if he had forgotten she was there. He laughed condescendingly, foregoing answering her question to ask one of his own.

“Why? So ye can have a frame of reference for when ye try it yourself?” He wiped the knife off on his pants and held it up to a candle to inspect both sides were properly cleaned of his blood before flipping it in his hand to offer it to her, handle first. “No point ta waitin’. I say give it a try now.”

She looked back and forth between him and the knife.

“Are you asking me to stab you again?” He waggled it in his fingertiips, saying nothing. “Why would I attempt to do something so utterly pointless?”

“You never know. It might actually work this time.”

“You’re either a masochist or you’re mocking me, and I’m not entirely sure I’m a huge fan of either option.”

He flipped the knife in his hand again with a shrug. Then, quick as a flash, he jerked his arm to the side, embedding the blade deep into the wooden pillar next to him. Merry’s eyes widened at the casual display of strength and wondered if the curse had anything to do with it or if that was all Barbossa.

“I’m more wonderin’ why you didn’t take off screaming like the lovely Miss Turner. Perhaps you didn’t see her strike me with the blade; wanted to give ye the opportunity to witness it first hand.”

“There was no mistaking what I saw, Captain. It very clearly went through you, and here you are: walking and talking as if it were a mere scratch.”

“Aye. And yet you are still not afraid. Why?” He stared deep into Merry’s eyes, and though she did not verbally respond, he still arrived at an answer. “Ah, I see. This be another of those things ye already knew, eh? Seems I wasted my narrative skills on someone who’s already heard the stories.”

“It would seem so.”

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing, milady,” he walked over to the curtains that had fallen down in the scuffle to drape over the entrance, grabbing one tightly in his hand to roughly pull it out of the way, “hearing about something is vastly different from experiencing it.”

She moved to stand next to him in the doorframe, looking out at the crew with a blank expression. The first thing that hit her was the smell. That’s not to say that the pirates’ stench had not been prominent at any other time, but now a tangy, musky scent permeated the air as they were turned into their skeletal forms. She could only assume it had something to do with the way their rotting flesh fell from their bones, caking their very presence in the scent of decay. Belatedly, she realized it was the same pungency she smelled off Ragetti when he slashed her dress earlier.

“You’re right.” A small smile bloomed on her lips as she turned her face up to her companion. “The smell is something I never would have been able to imagine.”

The laugh she had bubbling up in response to his flabbergasted look was cut short as they unexpectedly both found themselves barreled over —Barbossa, as Elizabeth ran straight into him as she was attempting to escape the crew, and Merry, as she suddenly had an armful of fuzzy Jack the monkey.

Whatever Barbossa was currently saying to Elizabeth was drowned out by the sharp screeching in Merry’s ear as Jack hopped onto her shoulder. His tail—still soft and warm due to them standing in the shadows beneath the upper deck—wrapped around the base of her neck while his tiny hand pulled at the baby fine hairs at her temple.

“Ow, Jack! What do you want?”

He gestured out to the crew, a clear indication that he wanted her to join them.

“You want me,” she pointed to herself, “to go out there,” she pointed back out at the skeletonized pirates, “with them?”

He screeched again, tugging once more on her hair as if in confirmation.

“And do what, exactly?!”

No response came—not that Merry was particularly expecting one—as Elizabeth ran screaming past them and back into the chambers, Barbossa cackling loudly as he slammed the doors shut behind her.

Jack chattered happily, joining in in his capitain’s mirth and subsequently attracting his attention. Barbossa smirked at Merry, took two steps backwards so that he was fully bathed in the moonlight, and held his arms out at his sides.

Merry watched his transformation with baited breath and wide eyes. It wasn’t gradual, like in the movie, but happened instantaneously in between the blinks of her eyes. One second he was a rogue pirate captain, flesh and blood and fully man. The next, he was something out of a nightmare, sunken eyes and lipless grin and sloughing skin. Jack pushed off of her shoulders with one last screech, scampering his way onto Barbossa’s as he underwent his own transformation.

“Well, what do ye think?”

Merry sighed deeply, her body and mind feeling fatigued after everything that had so far transpired. She pressed her fingers to her temples, attempting to staunch the oncoming headache.

“Honestly, I think that could have gone a lot better.”

The graying dawn was fast approaching, streaking through the windows to brush atop Merry’s cheeks. The rustle of Elizabeth’s dress was deafening in the quiet that had settled over them as she fisted the material in her hands.

“Were you in on this from the beginning?”

The whispered question cut through the still air, assaulting Merry’s ears as if it had been shouted at her.

“What?” Merry blinked, completely caught offguard. She had joined Elizabeth in the captain’s quarters shortly after the truth about the Black Pearl and its crew were revealed. Meaning, after all the hours they sat together through the night, this was the first thing Elizabeth wanted to ask about? She turned to face her head-on thought Elizabeth refused to meet her eyes. “Why would you ever think that?”

“It doesn’t seem too farfetched, does it? You didn’t run away when I told you to. You weren’t even phased when they turned into those…things.” She spat the word venomously, as if it personally offended her what they were. “In fact, you seem almost excited to be here, and don’t even get me started on whatever the hell that was with the captain at dinner. None of what you’ve done makes sense unless you already knew what was on.”

Purposefully ignoring any mention of her and Barbossa’s interactions, Merry could only watch as Elizabeth continued to work herself into a frenzy. Her eyes widened and she pinned Merry with an accusatory stare.

“You knew about the medallion! Are you the reason they attacked Port Royal? Did you tell them where it was?”

“No, no! Don’t you think if that were the case, I would have just taken the medallion and left? There’s no need for me to get you involved at all!”

“Unless you also knew that it was my blood that was needed to complete the ritual! That’s it, isn’t it? Get close to me as a chambermaid so I’d be less suspicious when you tagged along under the guise of just another captive!”

“What? No! In case you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re not even the one whose blood they need!”

That seemed to strike Elizabeth to the core, her lips flapping as she attempted to come up with a retort. The only thing she could manage was a meek, “What?”

Merry pushed a breath through her nose, sending a silent prayer to whatever deity that’s been playing with her like a doll that she’d be able to share what she was thinking.

“If you recall, they didn’t take a true interest in you until you told them what your name was.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth was quick to refute, “but that was only because you told me they were there specifically to kidnap me. The real me.”

“True, but I—“ Merry groaned. I didn’t want to say that. “You could have chosen literally any other name!”

“I just don’t understand—why is Turner so important?” She paused, inhaling sharply as if in realization. “Merry, why is the name Turner so important?”

Merry chewed on her bottom lip, shrugging one shoulder and averting her gaze. “I think you already know why.”

“No, Will—“

The doors opened with a creak, alerting the women to presence of the four crew members who had just entered the room.

“Time to go, poppet,” Pintel said with a sneer, reaching out for Elizabeth.

Merry grabbed her arm before he could reach her, attempting to gently squeeze it in a comforting way. “Everything’s going to be fine, I just know it.”

Elizabeth seemed to turn stony at her words, wrenching her arm hard enough out of Merry’s grasp that her wrist started to throb again. “Yes, you would know that, would’t you?”

Merry flinched. She knew why Elizabeth reacted the way she did, but it still hurt nonetheless. Watching as she pushed her way past the pirates to join the rest of the crew on the deck, Merry wished there was a way for her to tell Elizabeth all that she knew. For now, she’d have to be satisfied with the knowledge that the young woman was not currently in danger and that she’d soon be finding safety in the arms of her future lover. She only wished she’d at least gotten the chance to say goodbye.

Pintel turned back to Merry, grabbing her roughly around the right bicep and causing her to wince. “You’re coming, too!”

“Woah, wait. What? Why?”

“Cap’n doesn’t much trust ye ta be left alone on the ship.”

He escorted her out of the quarters to the deck where she witnessed said captain step up behind Elizabeth. Merry’s heart thumped hard in her chest as she watched him brush her hair behind her shoulders to delicately place the chain that held the pendant on her neck. Tearing her eyes away, Merry swallowed thickly, trying to push the rising unease along with her saliva down her throat.

“Why not just lock me in his rooms?”

“And risk you pilfering anything you can get your hands on in there? Not likely, missy.”

“Where would I even keep it? There’s no place you wouldn’t be able to search on my person when you got back.” The way he leered down at her denoted a place he’d gladly search for stolen loot. She chose to ignore the visual implication. “What about placing me in the brig again? No chance for me to steal there.”

She knew she had gone too far with her questioning or, perhaps, had asked too logical a question that had frustrated him with the fact that he had no simple answer to it, when he snarled at her, removing his hand from her arm to push her from behind.

“Enough talk. Keep moving!”

She continued to be pushed to the railing of the ship where she noticed one of their smaller boats was being prepared to be lowered into the water. Elizabeth sat on the middle bench and two pirates sat on the rear one, while Barbossa climbed his way over into the front seat, Jack perched dutifully on his shoulder.

Merry paused at the railing, her feet refusing to take her over the small gap between the ship and the boat. She glanced downwards for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to bring forth all the memories from her first night on the ship. Her stomach rolled like the waves that crashed against the hull below, and she swayed on her feet. Whether it was from her sudden onset queasiness or the natural movement of the ship, she was unsure.

Pintel prodded her back. “Go on.”

“I can’t,” she pushed through gritted teeth, “but I’ll try.”

She reached a tentative foot out across the gap and over the boat, only to snatch it back to her side with a small gasp. Her eyes shut tight at the mental image of her flailing for her life, mere moments away from falling to the water below. She took a deep breath of fortification before opening her eyes and trying again. Her reaction was even more visceral this time, throwing herself backwards into Pintel and causing them to stumble a few steps back.

Pintel shoved her forward angrily, trying to get her to move toward the railing, but her feet were planted firmly on the deck. She refused to budge even a centimeter.

“Goddammit, I told you to move!”

“And I told you I can’t!” She rounded on him, her voice sounding close to hysterics.

“And why the hell not?!”

“Because I—“ her voice dropped off abruptly as she realized she was close to hyperventilating, her panting breaths escaping her almost as quickly and hard as her heart pounded against her chest. “ Because I’m scared.”

There was no other way to say it, but it was true. When she had attempted to step off the ship a second time, it was not the idea of falling into the water that had stopped her but the memory of the last time she had stepped (stumbled, was pushed) over a curbed edge. She briefly flashed back to that night, that moment, that—her—death. And so, most undoubtedly, it was an understatement to say that she was scared. No, Merry was absolutely petrified.

Sharp, cruel laughter erupted around her, but she was completely unfazed, already too wrapped up in her fear.

“Did everyone hear that? Little lady’s afraid of us mere pirates!” Another crew mate came up behind her, grasping her shoulders in his grasp almost bruisingly. Twigg, she would have noted had she been able to focus properly. “Let’s show her there’s nothing to be scared of, eh?”

Only then did Merry realize just how lenient Pintel had truly been with her when she found herself practically being shoved towards the rail. Try as she might to dig her heels in, he simply grabbed her around the waist, lifting her effortlessly just high enough to frog march her to the edge.

“No, please! I’m begging you to stop!”

Twigg cackled loudly in her ear, the sweet rot scent of his breath wafting into her nose and causing her to gag. The high-pitched crack of a gun rang throughout the air, pausing everyone in their movements.

“That’s enough of that, Master Twigg. Ye can put her down now.”

Barbossa’s voice was the embodiment of nonchalance as it floated over to them, the rough tones acting as a paradoxical balm to soothe Merry’s shaking nerves. Twigg took it for face value, not picking up on the tension hiding underneath.

“Come on, Cap’n. T’was just a bit o’ fun—“

“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear.” Barbossa smirked stiltedly, an expression that didn’t reach his eyes. With the cock of his gun, his attitude shifted instantaneously—his eyes hardening and voice demanding—as he aimed the barrel at the center of Twigg’s forehead. “Put her down. Now.”

Grumbling that he wouldn’t be able to die anyway so what was the point of threatening him, Twigg released Merry’s waist unceremoniously, giving her barely enough time to catch herself on the railing. She looked down at Barbossa in befuddlement who only gave her an amused smile as he tucked his pistol away.

“Do ye trust me, lass?”

Caught offguard by the sudden question, Merry took a moment to find her voice, and when she did it came out as a squeaky whisper.

“Not particularly, no.”

Merry could have kicked herself if she were thinking straight. As it was, her combined fear and subsequent relief at being released had overridden any sense of self-preservation and so she had no thought to be anything but honest. Barbossa, thankfully, took no offense and chuckled.

“Well, then can ye at least trust me to catch ye if ye fell? Again?”

Her heart now pounding for a very different reason, she felt heat blossom behind her cheeks. She nodded.

He gave her a wide grin, bowing slightly at the waist and holding a hand out, palm up. “Milady?”

Oh? Oh. He means to…because he believes that what I’m afraid of is…

Merry gripped the jagged hem of her torn dress tightly in her hands. While she hadn’t been able to express exactly what it was of which she was so frightened, he’d still picked up that it had nothing to do with getting onto a boat full of pirates and everything to do with just getting on the boat. His gesture was almost, dare she say, sweet.

With that in mind, as wary and frightened as she was, Merry was shocked to find that she actually did trust Barbossa enough to not let her fall as she tentatively placed her palm in his.

His long fingers wrapped around her small hand, gentle but firm. She watched an indescribable emotion flicker behind his eyes.

“Apologies, lass, but this has been a long time comin’, and I’m quite finished waitin’ around for others.”

She had no time to ponder his words as he suddenly tugged hard on her arm, sending her tumbling over the safety of the ship’s edge and into the boat where he stood. The sensation of falling overtook her senses, and she broke her hand free of his grasp to cling on to anything that would prevent her descent—which just so happened to be Barbossa’s neck. Her arms enfolded themselves tightly around him, not even caring that she had knocked Jack off, and her betrayed shout was cut short when her face became firmly lodged between the junction of his neck and the crook of her elbow.

To his credit, he remained solid in his stance, barely moving as he took the full force brunt of her weight. Almost absentmindedly, his arms came up to brace her from behind—one on her back with the other across her waist. He seemed almost flabbergasted at the turn of events, only becoming even more confused when he registered that she was frantically whispering into his ear.

“Please don’t let me fall. I don’t want to die again. Please don’t let me die. Please, please, please…”

On and on it went—the two of them locked in that position, Merry muttering in his ear, and Barbossa sending sharp glares to anyone whose gaze lingered on them too long—as their boat was slowly lowered into the calm sea below.

Barbossa stood at the front of the small boat as the two pirates in the rear rowed it towards the island looming before them. His hand subconsciously came up to stroke Jack’s tail only for him to remember he was not resting on his usual perch. Instead, the monkey had been cradled in the arms of the woman who sat on the bench next to him, looking quite content with himself.

Barbossa rolled his eyes before resting his raised hand down on the hilt of his sword he could not deny that she might have needed the comfort from his fuzzy partner, but he couldn’t help but feel slighted by the capuchin’s choose of travel companion. Mind now on the woman by his side whose name he still didn’t know, it drifted back to the words she had been whispering in his ear.

She didn’t want to die—he’d understood that, no one did—but again? What had possessed her to say something like that? He wondered if she had somehow taken part in the curse; it would line up with the knowledge she claimed to have and why the crew’s ghastly sight had no affect on her. But if that were the case, then she should have no fear of dying at all.

He scowled in a self-reprimanding manner, tightening his grip around his sword. There was no time to be thinking about any of this! He was mere hours away from lifting this blasted curse; it would do no good to fill his mind with pointless frivolities about a woman he barely knew!

Still…

He found if he closed his eyes, he could still feel the warmth of her body as she coiled herself tightly around him. Shockingly, even more so, he could have sworn that he felt his dead heart give one, heavy thump.

Chapter Text

How in the world has it come to this?

Merry stood in the vast, cavernous grove that sat in the middle of the Isla de Muerta. It’s not that she was surprised that this is where she found herself — it was the path the plot line followed, after all — but she was shocked on which side of the crew she currently resided.

When they had all originally arrived at the island, she fully expected for her hands to be bound so that she may be dragged alongside Elizabeth. She had even thrown her a sympathetic look as a show of camaraderie, only for it to be blown off with a haughty huff. Sulking, Merry gave the little monkey in her arms one final squeeze as Barbossa approached to collect him from her.

So it came as a complete and utter shock to all when Jack screeched loudly at the captain before wrapping his tiny fingers around clumps of Merry’s hair to pull himself onto her shoulder. The sudden movement threw Merry off-kilter, careening backwards until that familiar grip reached out to capture her wrist. Or, it would have had she not first grabbed the lapels of Barbossa’s jacket in a desperate attempt to keep from falling.

The leather felt worn and buttery under her fingertips as she tightened them around the material to right herself.

“What’s going on with you, little guy?” She turned her attention to the capricious monkey, paying no mind to the pirate to which she still clung. “ Don’t you want to go with your—the captain?”

Merry blanched. She’d had a particularly bad habit of thinking of pets as ‘kids’ and their owners as ‘parents’, considering the pirate captain in the same manner as she watched them throughout the franchise. Consequently, she had almost just referred to Barbossa as Jack’s ‘daddy’.

She looked up at him sheepishly, but he either didn’t catch on or was probably ignoring her linguistic faux pas as he pushed her away by the shoulders with a scowl.

“Keep ‘im. There’s no time ta’ be waitin’ on such trivial matters anyhow.”

Merry was left to blink owlishly at his retreating form, only to be returned to her senses with a hip check from Elizabeth as she was ushered past.

Movement on her shoulder brought Merry back to the present, and she shifted her weight to counteract Jack’s excited bouncing as they watched Barbossa and Elizabeth climb up the giant pile of treasure upon which sat an intricately engraved chest. He turned to address the crew while Elizabeth glared down hard at Merry, who could do nothing more than look away.

“Gentlemen, the time has come,” Barbossa began. “Our salvation is nigh! Our torment is near an end!”

Racous cheers erupted from the pirates that surrounded her, jostling Merry from both sides.

“For ten years we’ve been tested and tried, and each man here has proved his mettle a hundred times over and a hundred times again!” He threw his hands into the air, sending the pirates practically into a frenzy.

“Suffered, I have,” claimed Ragetti from her far left.

“Punished we were, the lot of us, disproportionate to our crime!”

Merry had to refrain from rolling her eyes. Dramatic as it might be, if there was one thing she could give Barbossa, it was that he knew how to deliver a damn good rousing speech.

“Here it is!” He walked over to one side of the chest, enthusiastically kicking the cover off in one fell swoop. “The cursed treasure of Cortez himself.”

The crew shifted on their feet, some pitching forward as if in attempt to once more lay their eyes on the gold that had forsaken them.

“Every last piece that went astray, we have returned. Save for that!”

He thrust an accusing finger at the medallion that hung just under Elizabeth’s collarbone, and they let out another cry.

Tentative chittering sounded in Merry’s ear, and she looked at Jack only to notice that his attention was drawn elsewhere. He was looking curiously at the wall just beyond her right shoulder. Directing her gaze in the same direction, she saw nothing but a few heaps of stacked golden coins. One stack looked disheveled, as if it had just been knocked over.

“What is it, Jack? What do you see?”

He climbed his way onto her other shoulder, tilting his head like he’d heard something, and chittered again.

“There’s nothing over there Jack, it’s just—“

Then Merry saw it, too.

The wall the two had been staring at was not just a wall. There was an opening in the bottom where a slightly curved hill sat just before it to give the illusion of a perfectly flat surface. Now, Merry knew better as she watched a brown, tri-cornered hat bob just out of view of the hole in the wall.

And she also knew exactly to whom that hat belonged.

Merry realized, with a sinking feeling, that she was running out of time—and fast. Startlingly, she just didn’t know what she was running out of time for. Up until now, she’d been flying by the seat of her pants with nary a plan to her name. She wouldn’t have even been able to come up with one if she wanted to, what with the magically placed gag order.

What she did know was that her head would be on the line if she didn’t find a way to convince Barbossa she was on his side once the truth about Elizabeth came out. And if that didn’t work, her next best bet was to grab Will Turner out of that alcove and bring him to Barbossa herself.

Merry’s heart skipped several beats.

Of course, that’s it! I just have to go up to him and say where Will and Sparrow are hiding, and he’ll be able to break the curse, easy-peasy!

A self deprecating scoff instantaneously left her mouth. She looked over at Jack, who was currently chewing on the ends of her hair. Gently prying the strands out of his mouth, she ran two fingers over his head soothingly.

“As if I would really be able to simply walk over to your dad and say, ‘I know who’s blood you actually need. Oh, and guess what? They’re hiding right over there!’” She scoffed again. “Like that could ever happen.”

A beat passed.

Wait a goddamn minute. Did I just?

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

“You need Will Turner’s blood,” she muttered quietly amongst the soft cheers.

“And whose blood must yet be paid?”

“You need his blood, and he’s here,” she exclaimed firmly, though her voice was drowned out from the shouts around her.

She could say the words out loud! She would be able to tell Barbossa! Merry was ecstatic; she was elated; she was…her eyes widened as he gripped the back of Elizabeth’s neck to bend her over the chest. She was about to miss her chance!

Pushing through the few chanting pirates that had closed in around her, Jack screeching loudly as he held tightly onto her hair, she emerged at the bas of the treasure pile where Barbossa was raising a knife high above his head.

“Begun by blood. By blood un—“

“Barbossa, wait!”

His eyes flashed in anger at the interruption. “There shall be no more waiting, lass. Ten years has been long enough!”

“Please, if you’d just listen—“

“I’m done listenin’! There be nothing ye could say now that would change me mind.”

It was with that tone of finality that Merry’s window of opportunity—along with her throat—closed with resounding force. Spluttering wildly, she could only watch in defeat as he snatched the necklace from Elizabeth’s neck, sliced open her palm, and closed the medallion in her fist before dropping it into the chest with the hundreds of others.

Merry’s heart pounded against her rib cage, the thrumming rush of blood in her ears the only sound she could hear. Her eyes darted to Elizabeth who, as she wrapped her hand in a strip of cloth, glared down hard at Merry, no doubt believing that she’d just been betrayed.

And soon Barbossa would feel the same.

Plan B it is, then.

Merry wanted to cry. There was no way in hell this would work in her favor—she’d be laughed off at best, taken hostage at worst—but she’d be damned if she didn’t at least try.

Though he tried his hardest to keep his grip on her hair, Merry managed to detract Jack from her shoulder—grabbing him around the waist to gently deposit him atop a nearby boulder.

“I’m off to find your savior,” she whispered apologetically. “I just hope he hasn’t turned on Sparrow yet.”

She leaned down to give him one last head scratch, her heart clenching in her chest as he looked up at her with his big, brown eyes, before slipping away into the many winding tunnels that surrounded them.

Forgive me Barbossa, but it’s for your own good.

It was done.

It was finally done. And yet…

Barbossa felt no different.

He inhaled deeply, picturing his chest and lungs expand with the incoming breath, but the action fell flat as it always did—the breath went nowhere. His chest remained the same.

He hadn’t known what to expect when he finally regained his life. Perhaps he had simply forgotten that breathing was such a natural function that he would not be able to clock that mere of a change, but he’d surely notice something drastic like the return of his own heartbeat, no? He discreetly placed a hand on his chest, closing his eyes to better feel for the telltale thump.

But he couldn’t feel that either.

In fact, if he were honest, he felt exactly the same as before: static, empty, dead.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one.

The sound of murmurs from the crew had him opening his eyes to see that they all looked as uncertain as he felt. Losing his patience, he whipped out his pistol to shoot the questioning Pintel square in the chest.

To Barbossa’s utter surprise and disappointment, the pirate remained standing.

They were still cursed.

He was still cursed.

Furious, he whipped around to confront the young woman still standing beside him.

“You, maid! Your father, what was his name?” He gripped her hard around her shoulders, shaking her violently. “Was your father William Turner?”

Her smug smirk was all the response he needed, and yet she still deemed it necessary to pierce his (still) undead heart with a resounding, “No.”

“Where’s his child? The child that sailed from England eight years ago and in whose veins flows the blood of William Turner? Where?!”

He snatched the medallion from the chest, waving it desperately in her face as he awaited an answer. None came, and so, in a fit of anger, he backhanded her hard across the face, sending both her and the ill-fated piece of gold tumbling down to the rocks below.

“You two,” the bosun shouted, pointing at the pair of constantly bumbling pirates. “You brought us the wrong person!”

“No! She had the medallion. She’s the proper age.”

“She said her name was Turner. You heard her,” chimed in Ragetti. “I think she lied to us.”

Barbossa was beginning to think that she hadn’t been the only one lying, either. He started to turn to where he knew the other woman was standing, only to be caught in a crossfire of accusations as his crew began to turn on him.

He countered their barrage of questions, even going so far as to unsheath his sword should it come down to a fight, but Jack’s insistent jabbering finally caught his attention. He looked over, stupidly expecting the little monkey to be tangled up with the woman and pulling at her hair as she attempted to calm him down, only for his stomach to plummet when he saw his companion sitting alone, pointing at a hidden alcove.

His throat constricted tightly as he looked over his shoulder in a panic, his worst fears confirmed when he saw neither hide nor hair of the false Turner child or the cursed gold.

“The medallion,” he heard himself shout, “they’ve taken it! Get after them, ye feckless pack of ingrates!”

Falling back into the captain’s role externally was easy, but on the inside his mind was full of turmoil. There was a loud ringing in his ears, drowning out everything else that was going on around him. He glanced over to Jack, pathetically hoping it was all just a trick of the dark, cavern lighting and she’d still be standing there, cradling his monkey to her chest as she looked up at him with big doe eyes full of concern.

But, no. She, along with his one hope of salvation, was gone.

He growled in unmitigated anger, roaring at the top of his lungs. He had been duped, bamboozled, swindled, conned. Every word one could come up with for fooled, that’s what he had been.

Because he was.

A fool.

All because she had, what? Treated him not like a feared pirate captain, but a person? He scoffed. So she had smiled at him, laughed with him, clung to him. So what? Plenty of other women had done the same and for much less trouble. Granted, the kind of clinging they did was vastly different than hers, always seemingly gripping to him for dear life as if she actually trusted him.

He frowned, a sour taste filling his mouth.

Was that all it took to pull the wool over the great Captain Barbossa’s eyes? To be looked for, seen, not as a fearsome leader or ghoulish pirate fiend—or even as a source of payment as many of the wenches in Tortuga had surely viewed him—but simply as a man? He could feel the phantom sensation of his stomach turning, and Barbossa was sure if he still possessed the ability to vomit, he would.

Swallowing thickly, he made one final vow to himself: he would never again fall victim to that wretched woman’s charms.

And he would never forgive her.

“Let me get this straight: I’m expected to give up my bargaining chip for you—someone I;ve never met before and have no relations with?”

Merry felt more and more regret with each trailing step she took behind her companion as they traversed throughout the dark tunnels.

“Not give up, per se. I just need to be the one to say it.”

It hadn’t been long after she found her way into the alcove that she stumbled across the prone figure of one Captain Jack Sparrow and groaned loudly at her impeccably bad timing.

“Why wait to make a deal with me? Why not just tell Barbossa out right?”

Not too long after that did she suddenly remember, with a painful wince at Barbossa’s anguished cry, that had she just stayed behind and tended to Elizabeth she would have caught Will Turner in the middle of his rescue mission and been able to offer him up on a silver platter right then and there.

“If it were that simple, I would have done so already,” Merry ground out, shaking the water off her leg after stepping into a hidden puddle.

Instead, she had been left with one unconscious scoundrel, a missing medallion slash escaped blood sacrifice, one pirate captain who no doubt had a new personal vendetta against her, and a massive, splitting headache.

“Sorry to disappoint, luv, but the applications for traitorous sidekicks are closed, I’m afraid.”

After waking Sparrow with a splash of water to the face, she had been quick to try and explain her case. Something she thought she’d been making headway in until this very moment.

“Look, I’m not trying to betray you. I’m just trying to save my own life.”

“Funny how often those two coincide, eh?”

“I’m being serious!”

“And I am suffering from apparent head trauma, so if you could be a doll and stop shouting, that would be wonderful.”

He suddenly froze in place, Merry thankfully far away enough to keep from crashing into his back, and turned an inquisitive gaze on her.

“D’you hear that?”

Merry frowned, tilting her head as if it would help her hear better.

“What are you talking ab—“

“Shh!”

He held a grimy fingertip to her lips, and she huffed at it indignantly. Smacking his hand away, she placed her own on her hips.

“Don’t put your dirty hand on my—mmph!”

He pressed said hand firmly against her mouth this time, maneuvering his way around her so that her back was plastered to his front. She struggled in his grasp, stopping only when she felt a cold, cylindrical object being held to her side.

Removing his palm from her face, he leaned down to quickly whisper, “Be quiet and follow my lead.”

Heart pounding, she was finally silent enough to hear just what it was that led to her current predicament.

Angry shouts wafted in from one end of the tunnel, the soft, bouncing glow of a torch following swiftly after. In the blink of an eye, the pair was faced with a horde of angry, undead pirates.

“You,” Ragetti exclaimed softly.

“Aye,” Sparrow responded. “Me.”

“No, not—“ Pintel began before cutting himself off with wide eyes. “You! You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Am I not?”

He leaned away from her, still keeping whatever object he held pressed against her, to give himself a once-over. Shrugging, he grabbed Merry around the waist to turn them around and escape the other way, only to be cut off by another group of pirates brandishing their weapons. The duo turned back around.

“What’re you doing ‘ere with ‘im?”

Merry couldn’t help but give an exasperated sigh at Ragetti’s accusatory question. “I’m sorry, but does it look like I’m here willingly?”

“To be fair, you’re the one who came after me,” Sparrow interjected unhelpfully.

She frowned at the way Ragetti sneered at the revelation. Opening her mouth to offer some kind of rebuttal, her throat closed in response to Pintel pointing his gun directly at the two of them.

“Pearlie,” Sparrow whispered. “Par-lay-lee-loo.”

The pirates looked at each other, confused.

For fuck’s sake, let’s just get this over with.

“He’s trying to say parlay. Can you please take us to Captain Barbossa so I can try and explain what’s going on?”

“Oh, we’ll take you to him, pet,” Pintel spat. “But I have a feeling he’s done with your explanations.”

Merry’s heart clenched.

“Be that as it may, I just want him to know—regardless of what ends up happening to me—my intention was never to betray him.”

Pintel nodded solemnly, looking around at the other pirates.

“Sure, we’ll tell him that. Won’t we, lads?”

A moment passed before they all erupted into cruel laughter, spittle and torched embers flying onto Merry as they ripped her away from Sparrow’s grasp.

She threw him a panicked gaze only for it to turn incredulous when she saw exactly what it was he had been threatening her with as the pirates wrestled his items away from his hand.

“Is that a telescope? Were you really threatening me with a telescope?”

“I needed you to listen, and it was the best I could do under the circumstances,” he responded. “Y’know, I thought you’d be relieved to learn it wasn’t a real gun.”

The two were shuffled around, squeezed together as they were marched into the main cavern.

“I’d have been more relieved to not be threatened at all!”

He gave her a look but said nothing more. Not that there was much time to say anything else. In a few, short moments they were back and suddenly finding themselves face-to-face with the captain.

Standing there in front of her, he looked down at her as if she were a mere speck of dirt on his shoe. No, perhaps even less than dirt. At least he would have let that stick around. He looked as if he were ready to chuck her straight into the ocean without a second thought.

She was surprised at how much that idea hurt.

Her first instinct was to run to him, to take him by the hands and plead for forgiveness, but the hateful gaze he burned into her froze her in place.

Brushing her aside, Barbossa addressed the pirate beside her. “How the blazes did you get off that island?”

“When you marooned me on that godforsaken spit of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate.” If Merry weren’t on the cusp of hyperventilating she would have mockingly joined in on his next words. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow.”

“Ah. Well, I won’t be making that mistake again. Gents, you all remember Captain Jack Sparrow and a former lovely lady captive of ours?”

The pirates murmured in affirmation.

Merry’s face began to heat up.

“Kill them.”

They suddenly had numerous guns pointed in their direction. She caught Sparrow’s eye, silently—desperately—begging him to think on what he was about to say.

He ignored her.

Merry felt tingles crawl up the back of her neck, into her ears, and throughout her head.

“The girl’s blood didn’t work, did it?”

Everyone froze.

Merry swayed on her feet.

“Hold your fire!” Barbossa’s blurred figure turned back around, approaching them in three angry strides. “You know who’s blood we need.”

Merry suddenly felt overwhelmingly cold, her lips and fingers going numb.

A pause. A possibility he might not say the words that would seal her fate.

“I know who’s blood you need.”

Merry fainted.

Chapter Text

The wind that blew through the trees was harsh and cool, jostling the two women making their way down the street. Giggles escaped them as they bumped into each other, their tipsy state causing them to be more susceptible to be knocked over.

They spoke loudly and passionately, uncaring about the looks thrown their way by other passersby. Not that there were many to begin with at that time of night.

There were two women that night.

One woman was on the right—the safe side of the sidewalk. The other one was on the left—the side of the sidewalk where one can be accidentally pushed to their death.

In her dreams, Merry always took up the perspective of the woman on the left.

So, why now, has she appeared as a separate entity behind the two?

Though she could not decipher the woman on the right's face, the woman on the left was very clearly a clone of her.

The woman on the right said something that had her companion blushing hotly despite the chilly air.

And for the first time, Merry could actually hear what was being said.

"I can't believe you have a crush on Barbossa!"

The statement was startling enough to freeze her in place.

She had a crush on... "Barbossa?"

The woman on the left, precariously teetering along the curb, pulled her cardigan tight around her middle before gently slapping her land on the arm.

The action jolted Merry into action, running after the duo in a desperate attempt to prevent her clone's next actions.

"Wait, don't do that," Merry pleaded, her words falling on deaf ears.

"Oh, please," she watched her other self say, "at least it's not on someone like Davy Jones or something."

"Stop!" Merry tried again with the same result.

Her friend laughed boisterously and retaliated with an action of her own.

Merry reached out in a last ditch attempt, desperately trying to grasp her own arm. Anything to keep herself from—

A light push.

A drunken stumble.

A speeding truck.

Headlights.

Darkness.

Empty.

"So you expect to leave me standing on some beach with nothing but a name and your word it's the one I need and watch you sail away on my ship?"

"No. I expect to leave you standing on some beach with absolutely no name at all, watching me sail away on my ship, and then I'll shout the name back to you. Savvy?"

Barbossa couldn't believe the gall of the pirate standing in front of him, though he supposed it was his fault for not expecting as much.

"But that still leaves us with the problem of me standing on some beach and naught but a name, and your word it's the one I need."

"Of the two of us, I am the only one who hasn't committed mutiny." Annoyed, he watched Sparrow fuss with the bowl of apples in front of them as he spoke before finally selecting a Granny Smith. "Therefore, my word is the one we'll be trusting."

Seemingly satisfied with his choice, Sparrow took the seat across from Barbossa and threw his legs up to rest on the tabletop.

"Although, I suppose I should be thanking you because, in fact, if you hadn't betrayed me and left me to die, I would have an equal share in that curse, same as you." He took a sizable bite of the apple, and Barbossa had to stomp down the pressing need to leap over the table and choke the other man. "Funny old world, isn't it?"

Funny old world indeed, Barbossa thought.

And when Sparrow mockingly offered up the apple for him to take his own bite, he was less inclined to refrain himself from acting on his earlier desire.

"Bar...bos...sa."

The strangled sound of his name, however, brought his attention to the woman sprawled on a nearby chaise.

He turned to face her with a grimace, ready to snap at the person he blamed for putting him in this predicament in the first place, only to realize that she was still unconscious. He watched her struggle against the ropes that bound her hands, her brows furrowed and her breath shallow.

It was clear she was in the throes of a nightmare. One, assumedly, about himself.

"And what have you decided to do about your bonnie lass there?"

Barbossa stiffened in his chair—his gaze hardening towards the fitful woman—as he remembered exactly how she ended up back on his ship in such a state.

"You mean your co-conspirator? It is, after all, by your request that she's even on board again."

Sparrow looked at him curiously.

"I simply asked if you intended on leaving her behind. You're the one who took it upon himself to have her carried here."

Barbossa shot him a withering look but had to concede that what he said was the truth. Because, despite everything that had happened in the cavern, he had questions to which only she could provide the answer.

For one, had a meeting on the island not been discussed beforehand, how had she known to go looking for Jack Sparrow?

"Your guess is as good as mine, mate."

He tried not to look startled at Sparrow's response, not realizing that he had asked the question aloud.

"All's I know is one minute I was napping on a rock floor, and the next I was wipin' water out me eyes as yer girl yammered on."

Pointedly ignoring Sparrow's comment for multiple reasons, Barbossa leaned forward in his seat, intrigued.

"What was she sayin'?"

"Can't say. 'tis all a bit fuzzy really, though that could be chalked up to the repeated head trauma." He paused to take another bite of the apple, and Barbossa wished for him to choke on it. "Though I must say, wasn't very smart of her to try to get the name out of me by pretending to already know it."

"She what?"

"D-don't...stop..."

Her quaking voice caught Barbossa's attention again, and he turned to her with a sharp gaze.

"Yer saying she knows who we need?"

"Mate, are you listening? I said she was pretending."

Barbossa didn't hear anything else, focusing only on the woman who was on the cusp of falling off the chaise with how hard she was thrashing. He got up and walked to where she laid, leaning over to shake her awake. He only managed to grasp her shoulders before she shot up in her seat with a shout.

"I said stop!"

Merry felt the remnants of her dream fade away the moment she reached out to grab herself from falling off the curb.

Though she knew it was just a dream, she couldn't shake how real it felt. So much so that she could still feel the worn leather of the coat she had worn under her fingertips.

No, wait...

She was for sure wearing a light Cardigan that night, so why..?

Her eyes snapped open, immediately flinching back at the piercing blue gaze that met her own.

That's right. No matter how hard she tried to prevent it, her death was something that already happened. Now, she was an insert in her favorite movie, sailing with her favorite characters. On one of which, she's just recently recalled, she might have had a teeny-tiny crush.

More important than that, though, she was alive.

She let out a relieved laugh.

"Everything's okay. I'm still alive."

"Aye. That you are."

It wasn't that she'd forgotten Barbossa was still in front of her that startled Merry but the pure animosity that was clear in his voice as he addressed her.

"Sorry?"

"But make no mistake," he ripped her hands from their position on his coat, and it was only then Merry realized they had been bound together, "it won't stay that way until you tell me everything yer hiding."

"Barbossa, what—"

"Captain," the boatswain interrupted as he entered the quarters, "we're coming up on the Interceptor."

Barbossa's eyes narrowed, giving Merry one last scathing look.

"I'll deal with ye later."

He stood up to follow the boatswain above deck, revealing someone Merry was loathed to see.

"You!"

Her outburst reminiscent to Ragetti’s earlier one on the island, Merry could better understand why everyone was always so exasperated to see the elusive Captain Jack Sparrow.

"I cannot believe you did the one thing I asked you not to do!"

"To be fair, I never actually agreed to anything. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Merry watched incredulously as Sparrow ran after Barbossa before jumping up to do the same.

"Hey! I wasn't done talking to you!"

Sparrow paid Merry no mind as he trounced up the stairs to meet Barbossa, who was standing by the ship's wheel with a telescope to his eye.

"I'm having a thought here, Barbossa. What say we run up a flag of truce, I scurry over to the Interceptor, and I negotiate the return of your medallion?"

"Now you see Jack, that's exactly the attitude that lost you the Pearl. People are easier to search when they're dead."

"Except that's just the problem, isn't it? Can't have a chip to bargain if it winds up dead. Isn't that right, Sparrow?"

Managing to push her way through the crew to follow the scurrying pirate, Merry stopped short just behind the two—well aware of what Sparrow was scheming.

Barbossa collapsed his telescope with a sharp snap.

"And what could she possibly mean by that, I wonder."

"Nothing! She's talking nonsense! Must have hit 'er head too hard when she fainted."

He bounced over to Meny, a hint of panic dancing in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He used his other hand to prod at her left temple.

"Ow!" Merry flinched away from his touch. "Wait, you're saying no one tried to catch me?!

"Might I remind you that you are in the presence of pirates, luv."

"Oh, yes. Not working together, at all!” Barbossa's angered snarl cut through the two of them, effectively shutting down the childish back and forth.

"You," he thrusted a finger at a nearby crewmember. "lock him in the brig! And you," he turned to Merry, a fire burning wildly in his eyes, "I'm giving ye one last chance ter prove yerself. What. Do. You. Know?"

He leaned down with each punctuated word, hovering just a few inches over Merry as he stared at her unwaveringly. It was clear that he had reached the very end of his rope with her, and there was a very real possibility that her next words may well be her last.

Merry, on the other hand, found herself concerned with something else entirely.

Namely, how on Earth she planned to keep her newfangled crush on the pirate captain in front of her a secret! She'd always been a shit liar—probably why she was gagged in the first place, to keep the story on track—but this?

How was she supposed to hide this?

She could feel her face become hot and as she took a step back in order to retrieve some semblance of space, he followed. She continued backwards as he moved forwards until her lower back bumped against the ship's railing. He leaned closer to her then, bracing his hands on either side and caging her in.

"Well?"

His breath fanned over her, and, though it gave off the same sickly stench of sweet rot that the others did, Merry could have sworn there was a distinct scent of apples.

It was impossible, of course. He himself said that he hadn't been able to enjoy an apple in years. And yet, if she closed her eyes and really focused, she could smell its delicate aroma lingering above everything else.

The thought came then that the reason she might be able to pick up on it was because it could have been the last thing he ate before he ‘died’.

She could practically picture it: Barbossa taking a huge chunk out of an apple, juice running down his chin as he laughs manaically before he and his crew plunder the treasure that sealed their disastrous fates.

A sad, soft smile bloomed on her face.

Because while what happened was so unfortunate, she couldn't deny the fact that it was just so...him.

Her eyes flicked back up to his, only for her to immediately wither at his glare.

"Still insisting on keeping yer mouth shut, eh?"

Merry blinked up at him, dumbly.

"Was I...supposed to be saying something?"

He curled his lip in disgust, pushing away from her to stand at the helm.

"You don't want to answer my question, fine. Perhaps ye'll be more willing to talk when I kill the rest of your companions."

"Question? What?"

Why do I get the feeling I just monumentally fucked up?

He ignored her, instead choosing to address his crew.

"Haul on the main brace! Make ready the guns!” He turned to his boatswain. "And run out the sweeps."

"Barbossa, I—"

"And someone lock this wench in the brig!"

"Welcome to the party, luv."

"Don't start with me. I'm not in the mood." Merry noticed him staring out a small hole in the hull of the ship. "They still dumping stuff off the ship?"

"No, actually."

"I suggest you hold on to something. It's about to be a bumpy ride."

A particularly large swell rocked the ship violently, sending Merry careening into Sparrow. Unable to catch herself with her still bound hands, her knee found its way into his gut in her attempt for balance.

"Couldn't possibly get any bumpier than this," he wheezed out.

"Wanna bet?"

Another hard sway to the left, and Merry was on her back with Sparrow straddling her.

"Why, hello there. Interested in a repeat when we're in less dire circumstances?"

"Oh, shut up and go check if the other ship turned around yet!"

Sparrow got off of her with a grumble, scooting over to take a glimpse out the lookout. Merry managed to get herself into a sitting position, noticing the wrinkle between his brows.

"Well?"

"I see it." He turned to her with a questioning glance. "How did you—"

"You might want to duck."

"What?"

"Duck!"

Without a second thought, Merry lunged at Sparrow, pushing him down onto the watery floor while the scattered debris whizzed passed, narrowly missing both their heads.

"You know, you could have just told me you wanted to be on top, luv.”

Merry rolled her eyes in response, catching sight of the freshly busted lock of their jail cell. She scrambled to her feet and upped a jagged edge of metal between her palms to rub it against the ropes that kept her bound.

”Would they stop blowing holes in my ship!”

"Ah ha," she exclaimed once she was finally free. Taking a look back at Sparrow, she watched him pick up Gibbs' drinking flask and try to take a drink only to find it empty. He looked up at her scoff, and she shrugged before pushing the gate open. "Come on, let's go!"

By the time she made it above deck, the entire ship had descended into mayhem. The Interceptor's sail had already fallen and Barbossa's men were beginning to board. Merry felt Sparrow brush by her before he hopped onto the taffrail and grabbed a rope. He paused, giving her a questioning look over his shoulder.

"You coming?"

But Merry's eyes were already focused elsewhere on the ship, spotting Barbossa as he barked various orders at his crew. She was a moment away from declining when Jack scampered off the captain's shoulder and across the plank connecting the ships, presumably to grab the medallion.

She knew then where she should head first.

Joining Sparrow up where he waited, she gave herself no time to think on the consequences of her upcoming actions. His arm came around her back to pull her close to him, and she let out a little squeak before wrapping her own arms around his neck.

"Ready?"

"On second thought, why don't I—"

"Hold on tight!"
   
"Waiiiiiaahhhh!”

Her protest morphed violently into a terrified scream as she suddenly found herself flying through the air. They bumped into something, jostling her enough to slightly lose her grip. Panicked, she wrapped her legs around Sparrow's waist, clinging to him and wailing like a demented banshee-koala hybrid.

"Would you relax?"

"Why are we still swinging?!"

"Just—let go in three!"

"What?"

"Two!"

"Hold it!"

"One!"

Against her better judgment, Merry released her iron grip on his count. Her everything ceased to function for the moment or two she was suspended until it all came crashing down against the deck of the Interceptor.

Her heart was pounding, her stomach was queazy, and her head was spinning now that logic and sense were finally catching up to her.

"I am never doing that again with you. Ever!"

A hand was thrust into her face, and she accepted it begrudgingly. She sneered at the self-satisfied smirk he wore as he helped her to her feet.

"You're welcome."

Movement of a little brown monkey jumping across the ship caught her eye, and she was quick to drop Sparrow's hand to follow him. She doubted her abrupt departure mattered to the pirate seeing as he had his own plot to follow.

Dodging flying shots, swinging swords, and scattered shrapnel, Merry succeeded in making her way over to where Will was trapped down below. She could barely see the fingers he was attempting to poke up through the gate. Glancing down at him, she offered a bright smile.

"Hi, I'm here to save you!"

He was obviously baffled but was overrode by manners as he gave his name.

"Will."

"Nice to meet you! I'm—"

"Merry!"

Elizabeth's voice cut through the noise as she ran to her side. Whatever anger she had been holding on to was forgotten in the moment as she squeezed her former handmaid in a tight hug.

"Elizabeth!"

The sound of Will's shout broke the girls' embrace, and Elizabeth kneeled down to peer at her beau's predicament.

"Will!"

"Yes, yes, we all know each other's names," Merry quipped exasperatedly. "Now can we please get to moving this cannon!"

She and Elizabeth each took up an end of the cannon that laid heavily atop the lower deck hatch. The work was barely effective and taking too long, the women only able to move their side up a few inches at a time. Merry, red in the face, knew they would need more strength if they were ever going to get anywhere fast and, upon seeing Sparrow chase after Jack, formed an idea.

"Keep pushing your side. I'll be right back!"

Rushing behind the pirate, Merry reached out to grab his belt and narrowly missed by a margin. He crawled on to the connecting plank and she dived after him, grasping him hard by the boot.

"Forget about Jack, I need your help!"

He kicked her hand off, continuing his pursuit.

"Sorry, luv. Kinda busy."

"Sparrow!"

Merry debated getting up on the plank herself but was frozen when Barbossa's eyes met her own. His lip curled at the sight of her, though the expression was fleeting as Jack crawled up his body to perch atop his shoulder, medallion in tow.

Don't mind me. I'm only trying to save your life.

There was no chance for Merry to dwell on it as Elizabeth's nearby squawking indicated that she was running out of time. Passing by Elizabeth, who did not miss the fact that she was once again restrained while Merry remained free, Merry could only give her another apologetic look.

Her only parting words were, "Save Will! Please!"

Not bothering to give a response, Merry ran over to Will noticing that Elizabeth had impressively managed to get her half of the cannon off enough to slightly open the hatch. She peered down again, barely able to make out the top of Will's head.

"Hey, Will? You still with me buddy?"

"Eliza—no...Merry?"

"That's me! Look, I'm going to get you out of here, but I need your help."

"What can I do?"

"I don't have enough leverage to lift this hatch on my own. Do you think there's any way for you to sit on that beam and push up at the same time I'm pulling?"

"I'll try, but we've got to hurry. I'm running out of air here."

"Trust me, it'll work...I hope."

"What was that?"

"Nothing! Just let me know when you're ready to push!"

There were various grunting noises and a lot of splashing until Will finally called back up to her, his voice sounding much closer.

"Ready!"

Merry pulled the hatch up, only able to lift it a few inches, but it was enough for Will to slot his fingers in the gap and press up hard with both palms. The opening jumped up a few more inches and the cannon shifted even further off.

"Yes, that's it! A little bit more!"

They continued to push and pull until the gap was just over a foot high. Will was standing on the beam now, and one more good push would be enough for him to have enough room to slide out.

"There's no time for laughing. We're not home free quite yet," Merry commented in a strained voice.

"How could I be laughing," Will replied in an equally strained voice.

"Huh?"

Merry looked around the ship. Aside from her and Will there didn't seem to be anyone else in the area. They had either been killed or taken captive, so where..?

The laughter sounded again, and Merry's eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of the culprits as they emerged from the opposite direction.

"Oh, shit."

"I'm sorry?!"

There was no time to revel in Will's flabbergasted look at a lady using such foul language. She had to hide, and fast.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

"Miss Merry, I—"

"Will, I have to hide really quick, but I promise I'll be right back!" With those words, she dropped the gate and sent an unexpecting Will back down below. "And whatever you do, don't let them see you!"

"Merry, the water! It's—"

"Just hold on for one minute!"

Merry scurried over to throw herself behind a pile of debris that consisted of wooden shards, crates, and even a body or two. Hunkering down and holding in the urge to gag, she waited with baited breath for the two meandering pirates to make their way off the ship.

What are those two still doing here? They snickered again as they hopped on to the plank, and Merry was able to get a better look at one of them. Isn't that Twigg? Why is that name ringing a bell?

And then, like the chained cannonballs to the mast that started it all, it hit her.

"Fuck!"

Merry slapped a hand to her face, desperately praying they were out of earshot. When no one came to haul her to her feet, she figured she was in the clear and ran back over to Will where a horrible sight awaited her.

Lifting the hatch, Merry saw that the water had risen to only a couple of feet below the opening, and in the middle of it was Will's quickly sinking hand. Using all the strength she possessed, she positioned her hands under the lid and pushed with all her might. With a frenzied shout she flung the hatch open violently, and the cannon fell off with a loud clang—not at all assisted by the huge swell that hit the boat at the same time.

Diving below, she grasped Will's hand tightly and pulled, sighing in relief when she felt him grab her back. He breached the water with a loud gasp, and she lifted him enough to get him halfway on the deck before falling backwards with a groan.

She barely let either of them take a breath as she rolled to her feet.

"There's no time to waste. The ship is going to blow up."

Will had hardly regained his footing, still hacking up water as he choked out, "What?"

"No time. Ship's gonna explode!"

"The ship..?"

"Ship go boom. Let's go!"

Will was on his feet now and she grabbed his arm to pull him to the far side away from the Black Pearl. She knew they'd have to swim back around the other direction, but she didn't want to risk being seen prematurely.

Again, it was only once she was standing atop the taffrail and looking to the water below that she began to feel afraid.

While it was true that actively choosing to jump was a very different notion than accidentally falling (or being pushed) off, it was the sensation that made her scared. The flip of her tummy, the uncertainty of where or how she'll land.

Whether she'd survive.

It's a feeling she'd been fighting the whole time, and she could never seem to beat it. Would it ever be something she'd get over? She didn't know. What she did know was that if she didn't jump off the ship now she'd more than likely die in the ensuing explosion anyway.

That didn't make the upcoming jump any easier.

A warm hand covered her trembling one, and she looked up at Will with a sharp inhale. His eyes sparkled down at her, and his boyish grin sent a comforting sensation down her spine.

"Together?"

He spoke so gently it was hard to believe they were in the middle of jumping for their lives. Merry could see now why Elizabeth ultimately chose him in the end. Despite all the adventure Sparrow could have offered her, all Elizabeth wanted was a truly good guy.

And Will was a good guy.

He was helping her, potentially missing his own window to jump and leave her behind, all because he could see she was scared.

How come I never liked Will again?

As she lamented her poor taste in fictional men, Merry returned the smile and took a deep breath.

"Together."

Then they jumped.

Chapter Text

Barbossa couldn’t help the sneer that marred his face when he saw the duo that had come chasing after his monkey. Sparrow he could understand, but her? What need would she have of his beloved pet?

She shouted something that had him bristling as she grabbed at the other pirate’s boot.

Of course her furtive chase hadn’t been about the monkey at all. No, she was merely attempting to get Sparrow’s attention and assistance. He almost felt bad for the poor lass.

Didn’t she realize this fool before him would serve no one but himself?

He ignored the niggling voice in his head that reminded him he currently had no place to be calling anyone else a fool.

He heard her shout again, calling after Sparrow as he kicked her off—Barbossa felt no sense of petty satisfaction about that, no siree—and watched them both freeze in place when they spotted the capuchin on his shoulder.

Barbossa wanted to relish in the shock he would surely find in her face. He had, once again, caught her seeking help from his enemy. There was no way she’d be able to adorably fumble her way out of this one.

He might even pretend to shed a tear when they throw her overboard.

But there was no shock in her expression. No panic, no distress. There wasn’t even the slightest bit of surprise, almost as if she’d expected him to be standing there.

In fact, the only emotion he could detect seemed to be a hint of annoyance.

Whether it was directed at him or the pirate between then he had no way of knowing, nor could he potentially determine as her attention was abruptly directed elsewhere.

A chittering in his ears had him dropping all thoughts of the woman as he grabbed the dangling medallion from his companion’s paws. The cool, firm feel of the gold on his fingertips was a minor dousing relief to the burning rage he had felt since the betrayal at Isla de Muerta.

With a condescending smirk to the pirate still on all fours in front of him, he drawled, “Why, thank ye, Jack.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Not you. We named the monkey Jack.” Looking around, he raised the medallion high in the air. “Gents, our hope is restored!”

It was only when two of Barbossa’s crewmen were hauling Sparrow up and onto his ship, additional commands to capture the woman and bring her aboard catching on the tip of his tongue, that a thought occurred to him.

He had been telling the truth when he told her that she had one final chance. He tired very quickly of the runaround she was putting him through, not to mention the mutters he heard floating around the ship stating he was being soft on her. He wanted to scoff.

Prepare one dinner and help her onto one boat, and suddenly he’s ‘soft’. God forbid any of these heathens hold themselves with an ounce of class even once in their miserable lives. Kindness had never equated to weakness in Barbossa’s eyes. In fact, he found he’d gotten much farther in life by charming his way through it as opposed to fighting.

Regardless, what he had done could be considered the bare minimum of politeness, and if that was regarded as ‘being soft’, well….he held no high hopes for the women his crew had encountered.

Perhaps that had been his problem, though. Had she seen it as a way to get one over him? Maybe he had been too lenient with her, and now she felt as though she could walk all over him. He’d have to rectify that notion immediately.

To do that, he decided to give her one, truly last chance. Unspoken and last second, this would be her way to prove if she really did ‘know things’ as she so claimed not so long ago.

Because, if that were the case, she would be well aware the ship she continued to run around on would soon go up in explosive flames. And she should make it her mission to get her sweet ass aboard the Pearl before it does.

If not…

Barbossa dared not to think about that further, choosing instead to continue hollering orders at his crew.

He stood with his back to the captives, watching as the Interceptor gently sunk below the ocean, almost too nervous to see whether or not she’d made it.

“Any of you so much as thinks the word ‘parlay’,” he heard Pintel say, “I’ll have your guts for garters!”

Barbossa couldn’t help but smirk. It was funny how that one word had led them all to this moment.

Quite violently, then, did the ship he had been staring so hard at blow up, completely eviscerating anything left that hadn’t yet been claimed by the sea. His smirk dropped just as quick.

It was the moment of truth now, and Barbossa still wasn’t sure which outcome he wanted. He felt he should take a breath beforehand.

The chance to do so never came as the full force of a young woman barreling herself towards him landed on his back.

“You godless pirate!”

It was a fool’s hope to dream, but he had been proving himself to be more of a fool than ever these last couple of days. Still, it did not quell the disappointment he felt upon recognizing the screeching girl in his arms.

“Welcome back, miss.”

He had almost referred to her as Turner only to remember it was a blatant lie. Good grief, had he really been so desperate to return to life he had allowed himself to be outsmarted by such measly means?

“You took advantage of our hospitality last time. It holds fair now you return the favor.”

He threw her to the rest of the crew, watching as they pawed at her with grimy hands. The sight disgusted him.

He was disgusted by how his men couldn’t contain themselves. He was disgusted ny how they seemed to revel in her attempts to escape. Disgusted by how he took some sick joy in it as a way to get back at her for deceiving him. Most of all, he was disgusted by how much, when she’d first jumped upon him, he had wished for her to be someone else.

He was disgusted by himself.

“Barbossa!”

He turned at the shout of his name to see a mere whelp of a man standing atop the railing of his ship. Barbossa had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Yet another person bursting out of the woodwork to keep him from achieving his goal. For some reason, he felt he should have seen this coming.

He supposed he should have predicted the pistol pointed at his face, too.

How come I never liked Will, she said. He’s so nice, she said.

Merry spared a glance at the aforementioned man as he swam effortlessly beside her. Well, he was practically next to her. Okay, he was yards ahead of her and approaching the Pearl as she frantically doggy paddled behind him. By the time she reached it herself he had already pulled himself halfway up the side of the ship, his mind solely determined on his task at hand.

Maybe it’s because he was too nice, she went back to musing, taking a moment to steel herself for her own climb, maybe he was too much of a goody-two-shoes character.

She grit her teeth with every upwards step she took, her muscles in both arms and legs beginning to scream at her. Only by sheer will and determination—and just the slightest bit of crying—did she manage to get a good two-thirds of the way up before she heard Will make his declarative shout.

Or maybe it’s because he’s too much of a goddamn simp for Elizabeth it was hard to picture his head turning for anyone else!

Merry took a moment for the world’s shortest break in her desperate attempt to quell the burning sensation ripping through her lungs. She was still far down enough to only hear Will’s side of the conversation, but it was enough by which she needed to time herself.

“My name is Will Turner! My father was Bootstrap Bill Turner!”

Ope, time to go.

Valiantly pushing through the pain—again, with so, so many tears—she finally reached the top, the sound of her hand slapping against the deck covered by another exclamation from Will.

“On my word, do as I say or I’ll pull the trigger and be lost to Davy Jones’s locker!”

“Name yer terms, Mr. Turner.”

Merry opened her mouth to shout a warning only to have nothing but air escape her throat.

Wait…Will…loopholes…

“Elizabeth goes free!”

“Yes, we know that one. Anything else?”

She supposed she should be grateful to Will for distracting Barbossa with his demands. She was sure if he had noticed her pitifully try to drag her body onto his ship, he’d knock her off before she ever made it over the rail.

She was so exhausted she’d probably let him.

“And the crew. The crew are not to be harmed.”

Merry threw all her weight onto the deck at the same exact time Barbossa stepped forward, effectively causing her to land hard on his feet.

“I am…so done…with overexerting myself…today,” she eventually wheezed out.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?”

“Merry also goes free!”

Merry blinked owlishly up at the man with the gun to his chin, ironically appreciative of the position in which he’d put himself.

Your intentions are noble Will, but his question was rhetorical.

“Does she now?”

The drawling tone of Barbossa’s voice gave her the unmistakable impression that he did not, in fact, believe she should.

“It’s only fair. She did save my life from the explosion you caused.”

“Did she now?” His eyes darted down to where she still lay atop his feet, a faux smile playing about his lips that did not reach the fiery curiosity in his gaze. “Merry, is it?”

Guess that jig is finally up.

Swallowing thickly, she woodenly nodded her head and pushed out an affirmation through clenched teeth.

“Yes.”

He hummed in satisfaction, and movement in the corner of Merry’s eye revealed him to be tapping the tips of his fingers on the hilt of his sword, seemingly in thought. In a blink, his face morphed into mocking delight as a loud cackle spilled from his lips.

“I’ll agree to the terms of the crew being unharmed and Elizabeth going free. However! Miss Merry here will be staying aboard the Pearl until further notice.”

“Barbossa!”

“It’s fine, Will. I’ll be all right.” Merry sat up quickly, holding her arms out in a placating manner. “ Besides, Barbossa and I have some unfinished business to attend, don’t we?”

In an absurdly bold move, perhaps to regain a feeling of control now that he had learned her name or because she just wanted to see what he would do, she extended her hand to him as a sign to help her up.

In an even bolder, more absurd move: he took it.

He pulled her to her feet hard and fast, twisting her arm in such a way that at the end of it all they were pressed chest-to-chest with Merry looking deep into Barbossa’s eyes.

“Yes,” the word was hissed out near menacingly, “I believe we do.”

Merry gulped and took a step back, needing the space to think clearly. He let her go but not before indicating at nearby crew members with a tilt of his head. Her arms were grabbed roughly and she was marched towards the rest of the captives.

She had to wonder if it were mere coincidence she was stood next to Sparrow.

Barbossa scowled at the sight of that insipid pirate leaning over to talk to the girl he foolishly continued to spare. Merry, his brain reminded him annoyingly. The whelp, William Turner his brain supplied again, got down from his perch to join Barbossa where he was standing. He paid no attention to the lad and was about to signal to his crew to take him hostage when a sharp squealing hit his ears.

His head snapped over to Merry, the source of the squeal, and he was flabbergasted to see her in the midst of a joyous laugh.

“Aww, I missed you too, Jack!”

Sparrow reared back in disbelief, looking equally dumbfounded.

“I didn’t know you cared that much.”

Barbossa was on the verge of seeing red, an anger rising in him so quickly it was shocking.

So she’d spit in the face of his kindness once more, eh? The wench couldn’t even wait until they were away from the eyes of his crew before blatantly disrespecting him! He was seconds away from grabbing her and throwing her back overboard himself if not for the sudden look of disgust that marred her features.

“Ugh, not you! I was talking to the monkey!”

Taking another look, he actually did spot Jack the monkey cradled into her chest with one arm while she used the palm hand of the other to gently rub his head all the while continuing to coo down at him. The chitters and smiles coming from the monkey made it all too clear he was more than receptive of her affections.

The way she held the pet felt far too reminiscent of a mother holding a child.

His pet.

His child.

The thought overtook him so viscerally that he could almost imagine the feel of his heart jumping in response. In a desperate attempt to think of absolutely anything else his brain stumbled upon a memory from earlier, an observation he had simply thrown away.

At first, when he caught them at the plank, he believed Merry to be telling Jack Sparrow to forget about his quest in obtaining the medallion in order to help with whatever plight she had, addressing him by his first name to invoke some familiarity. And only after she was rebuffed did she resort to shouting his last name.

As in, ‘Forget about it, Jack’.

‘It,’ in this instance, being the medallion.

But now, thinking back on it, he had a feeling he’d misheard and that she’d instead said, ‘Forget about Jack.’

It was a minuscule difference—one word, a mere two letters long. The omission of ‘it’ changing the already simple statement into one of even more simplicity. Even so, the plain change brings up an extremely pertinent question.

How did she know his monkey’s name?

He was invariably certain that neither he nor his crew had ever said it in front of her, so it’s not as if she’d overheard it somewhere. And lord knows Sparrow couldn’t inform her of something he only just learned himself.

So, the question remains: How did she know?

Barbossa smiled mirthlessly as another question popped into his mind.

Would she even tell him if he asked?

He supposed these were questions he could ask in addition to the plethora of others he had for her. For now, though, he had a life to be getting back.

The pirates were rough and rowdy as they cheered for Elizabeth to walk the plank. They pushed and jostled one another aggressively, each trying to vie for the best position in which to watch her jump.

Merry stood to the back still pressing little Jack to her chest as if to block him from any potential harm. She watched as Will fought his way towards Barbossa, an angry fire in his eyes.

“Barbossa, you lying bastard! You swore she’d go free!”

“Don’t dare impugn me honor, boy!” He swung around to face Will, looking entirely offended at the thought. “I agree she’d go free, but it was you who failed to specify when or where.”

Barbossa and his loopholes. Though I did try to warn you, Will. A shy smile bloomed on her face as the pirates around her laughed. A curious look from Sparrow had her second guessing herself. Didn’t I?

Will was silenced with a handkerchief pulled tightly against his mouth as he was pulled back into submission by crew members. Barbossa looked to Merry, no doubt surprised by her smile, before turning back to the task at hand.

“Though it does seem a shame to lose something so fine, don’t it lads?” He took a couple steps towards Elizabeth. Merry tried to ignore the ridiculous twinge in her chest. “So I’ll be havin’ that dress back before you go.”

Merry looked away guiltily as Elizabeth took off the flowing dress and tossed it into Barbossa’s face.

“Goes with your black heart!”

“Ooh, it’s still warm.”

He pressed the material to his cheek before tossing the gown into the cackling crowd.

Merry frowned in distaste.

Barbossa noticed.

“And you, Merry.” She looked up at the sharp sound of her name to see Elizabeth glaring at her. “I see this is where your loyalties truly lie.”

“No, Elizabeth, please—“

“Too long!”

The boatswain interrupted, stomping on the plank of wood to knock Elizabeth off balance and send her into the ocean waters below.

Merry reacted on instinct, reaching out to the man. Jack, perhaps reacting on his own instincts, hopped up onto her shoulder. She gripped the tall man by the arm, intent on having him face her, but he slipped out of her grasp and used the momentum to backhand her across the face.

The force of the hit was hard enough to have her seeing stars as it sent her backwards, falling hard on her butt. She could barely hear Jack’s screeching over the ringing in her ears.

Okay, yeah. I have to admit that was pretty stupid of me.

A pair of hands dragged her back up to her feet and she winced in response. God, she’d really taken a beating these last couple of days. A sore shoulder, splinter ridden hands and feet, a cut and bruised cheek. She dreaded just how much pain she’d be in once she finally got the chance to sit down and have it all catch up with her.

When her vision cleared enough to see Barbossa glowering at her, she added a verbal lashing to the ever growing list of her injuries.

“Go to my chambers and wait there. Quietly.”

“Bar—“

“Now!”

He growled the word so ferally, Merry felt she had no choice but to obey.

She really didn’t want to. Truly, it was one of the last things she wanted to do on this ship full of cruel men. But she was so tired, exhausted, embarrassed, humiliated, frustrated that when that telltale sting burned behind her eyes she didn’t try to fight it nearly as hard as she should have. And so, with a tear slipping over her watery smile, she turned and ran into Barbossa’s quarters with nary another word.

It was just her luck she missed the brief look of distraught on Barbossa’s face.

Chapter Text

“I know he probably didn’t mean to, but he still hurt my feelings!”

A chitter.

“Okay, maybe he did mean to, but it wasn’t my fault!”

A squeak.

”Fine. He’s furious with me, and I totally deserve it! Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?”

Jack blinked down at her and tilted his head, giving her the quickest flash of a smile. Merry’s shoulders, along with her body, dropped in defeat as she folded herself into the chair she’d placed in front of him. She tucked her feet into the chair and rested her chin atop her bent knees.

”Oh Jack, what am I supposed to do? I’ve totally lost the plot, anything I try to do seems absolutely futile, and it all doesn’t matter because the movie keeps barreling forward anyway!

”I still don’t even know why or how I got here. Is this all a dream? Have I actually just been in a coma this entire time, and this is my brain attempting to cope? Is this my purgatory before I’m finally judged and sent down the river? What the fuck is going on?”

Jack jumped down from his perch and scampered off somewhere behind her.

”Great. Now I’ve scared away the only one who would listen to me.”

A thump sounded nearby, and Merry looked around the back of her chair to see Jack fiddling with the fruit bowl on top of the table. The sound seemed to come from the apple Jack had pushed out of the bowl and it was now rolling towards her.

She hopped out of her chair to catch the apple before it rolled off the edge.

”Don’t play with those, sweetheart. You know Barbossa’s looking forward to eating them.” A pang hit Merry straight through her heart. “Even if he’ll never get the chance.”

She smiled derisively at the apple in her hand.

”Well, that isn’t completely true. I just wish he didn’t have to die.”

She let out a heavy sigh, her brow furrowing in frustration, before sparing a glance at Jack only to find him already gazing at her with wide, brown eyes.

”You know, when I first realized what happened to me and where I was I vowed to myself to utilize the knowledge I had in a foolish effort to prevent your dad’s untimely death. I remembered every time I watched it on my screen and the feeling that it simply wasn’t fair he had to die. All he really wanted was to live again.”

She cocked her head to the side.

”Granted, his methods were a bit uncouth, but could you really blame him? He’s a pirate, after all!”

Jack remained silent, simply watching Merry as she got lost in her thoughts.

”It’s funny. I always thought if I met Barbossa in real life without the glamorization of it being a movie I would actually be put off by his demeanor. But he really does seem to be quiet,” her unoccupied hand absentmindedly touched her right cheek, “charming when he wants to be. I mean, he’s obviously meant to be portrayed that way, but it wouldn’t explain everything else he’s done if he weren’t naturally.”

Merry’s mind drifted to each time she and Barbossa had been close, unable to deny that she was weirdly attracted to the man. She knew it was far fetched for him to feel the same, even without the constraints of his curse. She also knew that for all his charms he had a ruthless streak a mile wide to match, and she’d be dead a hundred times over if he didn’t feel at least a little tingle.

The thought of constraining curses had Merry frowning hard. 

She still didn’t understand her purpose here, and with the way she seemed to continuously push Barbossa’s limits, she wasn’t sure she’d live long enough to ever find out.

”Then again, what’s death to someone who’s already died.”

”Such frightful words from such a young woman.”

Merry jolted, dropping the apple she held. She watched it roll along the floor before it knocked against the side of his boot, halting it in its path. He bent down to pick it up, wiped it on the lapel of his coat, then looked it over for any blemishes. Finding no speck of anything of the sort, he approached the table across from where she was, stopped across from her, then held the fruit out for her to take. 

“Though what would you know of death, I wonder.”

She cautiously took it from her hands, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

”More than you’d think.”

Barbossa raised an eyebrow.

Merry smiled tightly.

The two stood there, staring unblinkingly and not saying a word, each waiting for the other to be the one to break the silence. Jack sat in the middle of it all, head turning back and forth between his parents.

His curious squeak drew Merry’s attention, and she looked down at him with softened eyes. Running a hand over his head, she conceded the stare down with a sigh.

”I’m trying my best here.”

”I’ve yet ta see what it is you’re exactly trying to do.”

Merry met his eyes, her own hardening with determination. It was imperative to her that of everything they were about to speak, this would be the statement he focused on the most.

”I’m trying to save your life.”

She could already tell he didn’t believe her. His lip curled with a mocking sneer, and he made to angrily grab for the apple she still held. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist in response.

”I suggest you unhand me, missy. My patience is already sparingly thin.”

”No. Not until I know you’ll listen to me.”

”I’ve already given you plenty of chances to talk. And ye’ve practically spit in me every time!”

”Barbossa, please. I don’t want you to die!”

”How dare you speak as if you actually care about my wellbeing. Let’s not forget it was ye who refused to share something as simple as yer name; I highly doubt we’ve reached the stage of it mattering whether I lived or died!”

He wrenched his arm out of her grasp so violently it pulled her forward, causing her pelvis to slam into the side of the table. She winced. While it was partially due to receiving yet another injury, she couldn’t deny that her actions thus far made her look highly suspicious. 

“And as it seems to have slipped your mind, I’m already dead!”

”No, you aren’t! Not yet!”

Merry gasped sharply at the words that left her lips, dropping the apple to slap both palms tightly over her mouth. Barbossa’s head snapped towards her, eyes wide.

”What d’ye mean, yet?”

She removed her hands, inhaled deeply through her nose, then opened her mouth to speak.

”I—“

You’re going to break the curse.

”—can’t—“

Sparrow will shoot you in the heart.

”—say.”

You’ll be dead before you hit the ground.

”Goddammit!”

Merry slammed her fist against the table, spooking Jack from his position in the fruit bowl. Her chest was heaving, no doubt in response to the effort she’d exerted in an attempt to get her words out.

Barbossa stared at her for a heavy moment and raised a hand to rest on the hilt of his sword, thumb stroking along the curve of the handle.

”Can’t? Or won’t?”

Merry wanted to tear her hair out.

”Do you really think I’m dumb enough to actively choose not to say anything right now? I may push your buttons, but I don’t have a death wish.”

”E’rything else you’ve done says otherwise.” He took her silence as an agreement before continuing. “Let’s say I believe yer claims—where do we go from here?”

”Not Isla de Muerta, that’s for sure.”

”What do you me—“

”Don’t ask. Trust me.”

”I do not.”

Merry could only shrug at Barbossa’s glare.

”Meh.”

Barbossa shifted his weight to one side and crossed his arms. Then he sighed before bringing a hand up to stroke his beard, pinning Merry with a scrutinizing gaze.

”Let’s start with this, eh? What is it that ye can tell me?”

She groaned softly, her hand gingerly reaching up to grasp the back of her neck.

”You have to know by now how hard it is for me to answer that.”

”Sure. But why?”

She gave a heavy sigh, sick and tired of that fucking question.

”I don’t know, Barbossa. Why is it that you and your crew can’t eat; can’t drink; can’t slake your lust with any of the pleasurable company you pay for?” Merry was getting frustrated now, her voice rising with every point. “Why is it none of you can die yet?”

She was close to hysterics now, the idea that though he could not yet perish but would soon face death and she would be helpless to stop it fueling her emotions.

Barbossa, on the other hand, simply stared at her, his bottom lip dropped a centimeter from his top in an imperceptibly aghast manner.

Merry slumped into the seat in front of her, her next words coming out in a defeated manner.

”Why is it that I can do nothing but watch when all I want to do is save you?”

”Lass…”

He paused, then leaned forward, resting a palm on the table. He wanted to make sure she heard him.

”Merry.” Her eyes looked to him, but he had a feeling she still wasn’t really seeing. “This whole time, have ye been trying to say that yer also cursed?”

A humorless laugh bubbled up from deep within her chest before spilling out between her lips in an almost maniacal manner. She laughed and laughed and laughed until the only reason she stopped laughing was because she choked on the tears pouring from her eyes.

”YES! Gods, yes.”

She could push out nothing more than that, stunted by the sobs wracking through her body. The sensation of a small, furry hand was felt upon her cheek and through water-filled eyes she could make out the very blurry, very tiny visage of a capuchin monkey. He tilted his head to the side then gave her a toothy grin.

This only caused Merry to cry even harder, baffling the poor creature as she reached out for him. Jack happily complied, wrapping his arms around her neck and his tail around her wrist.

~

Barbossa watched the entire interaction between Merry and Jack in a mixture of awe and frustration. On one hand, it was nice to get some kind of answer out of the lass. On the other, it didn’t answer much of anything at all, and they were still in the same boat as before:

Why was this young woman so hell-bent on saving him?

That was, at this point, the only question that still rattled around loudly in his head, somewhat coming to the acceptance that she could probably say nothing to his other inquiries in her accursed state.

And, he surmised, that opened him up to a whole plethora of other questions. One in particular stuck out to him. Namely:

Is that why?

Was she perhaps cursed to make sure he accomplished his goal of coming back to life? If so, by whom? It would certainly explain her determined behavior.

No, a small voice reared in his head, not all of her behavior.

The feeling of her warmth in his arms, clinging to him much in the same way that Jack was now clinging to her, flashed in his mind, and he screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head as if he could shake the memory away.

He sighed deeply, taking a step towards her.

”Look, lass…”

A sound froze him in his tracks. His eyes flew open, needing to confirm visually what he’d just heard. Though his mouth was no longer fully open, Barbossa could tell by the piercing gaze aimed in his direction that Jack had just hissed at him.

Jack had hissed at him.

His monkey had just hissed at him.

Barbossa.

His father.

Flabbergasted, Barbossa tried once more.

”C’mon, Jack. I’m only trying—“

Smack!

He stumbled back in shock. Not only did he get hissed at again, but Jack had actually reached out and slapped the back of Barbossa’s outstretched hand.

”Now look here ye ungrateful—“

Another sound paused his words. However, it wasn’t another hiss of betrayal from his once loyal companion. No, this sound was soft, light, gentle. The barest of giggles met Barbossa’s ears, and he watched as Merry lifted a hand to gently caress Jack’s back.

”Be nice, Jack. He’s not the reason I’m crying. This time, at least.”

It was spoken so quietly that Barbossa would have been unable to hear it over his own breath had he needed it. Nevertheless, the words pierced through to his ears, and when she giggled again, slightly louder, it pierced straight through to his heart.

Watching the two interact once more, something was made very clear to Barbossa: He still didn’t trust her—not yet, anyway—but maybe, just maybe, he could believe in her.

A knock at the cabin’s doors created a harsh interruption of the comfortable silence that had befallen the three of them, and Barbossa was prepared to chew heads off in retaliation.

Striding to the door in a few steps, he flung it open violently, sending the boatswain stumbling backwards. Barbossa took inward satisfaction from the startled look on his face.

Outwardly, he threw out a scowled, “What?”

”We’re coming up on the isle, sir.”

Barbossa’s demeanor changed instantaneously. His thoughts now solely focused on grabbing the Turner boy, his blood, and finally ridding himself of this wretched curse, he shifted effortlessly into ‘Captain’ mode. Gesturing with a nod to the boatswain, he headed for the brig below deck.

”And what of the girl?”

Without breaking his stride, he simply called over his shoulder,

”She knows what to do.”