Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Why didn't you ever get married, Cee?" Elizabeth had asked her once.

Cecilia had simply smiled sadly, and said, "I was going to, once."

"To who?"

"Oh, you never met him. He was a sailor, captain of a beautiful ship."

"Was he a pirate?"

"No, Lizzie. He was a good man."

"Why didn't you marry him?"

"He died."

"Oh... What was his name?"

"Jack."

Cecilia Guillemot opens her eyes, and immediately wants to return to her dream. Maybe this time it would continue, Jack would come back to her and they would get married, and she wouldn't have to face the horrible news that he was dead. Jack is dead.

She twists the ring on her finger, the ring that she hasn't removed for twelve years, the last piece of him that she has other than her memories.

The door to the bedroom swings open, and Mary, her maid, bustles in.

"Good morning, miss."

"Good morning, Mary." Cecilia smiles, then winces when the curtains are flung open, letting the morning sun stream into the room. "What's it like out there?"

"Due to be warm today, miss."

Cecilia sighs, sitting up in bed and looking across the room. Draped over the back of the chair of her vanity is the dress she's set to wear today, pale blue and heavy-looking. She'll likely overheat in it, but Captain Norrington's promotion ceremony calls for everyone to be dressed in their best.

"Do you know when the carriage is arriving, Mary?"

"In an hour or so, miss."

"Thank you."

Since the death of her parents almost seven years ago after the family's move to Port Royal, Cecilia had become close with Governor Swann and his daughter, Elizabeth. Both had told her more than once that they regarded her as a member of their own family, which was why she was riding up to the fort in their carriage.

Cecilia dresses with the help of Mary and another maid, then sits patiently as her hair is pinned and rouge is applied to her cheeks and lips. She's just finishing her tea and fruit when she hears the gates opening and horses hooves on the driveway.

Elizabeth is waiting by the front door as Cecilia descends the steps, and wastes no time rushing to her to pull her into a hug.

"You look gorgeous! I missed you, Cee."

"You saw me last week," Cecilia laughs, stepping back to admire Elizabeth's dress.

"It's so boring in the house without you there, everything's much better when you come to stay."

"I'll come and visit soon, okay? You might even want my help with the wedding planning—"

"Oh, don't you start. He might not propose today."

"You know he will, Lizzie. Norrington's had his eye on you for quite some time." Cecilia frowns; she and the soon-to-be Commodore rarely cross paths, but whenever they do it ends up as a poorly-concealed argument about something or other.

Elizabeth doesn't say anything, looking down.

Cecilia softens. "If he does ask, what will you say?"

"I'll say yes, of course."

"And you'd be happy to marry him?"

"He's a fine man. He's what any woman should dream of marrying."

That isn't a yes, but Cecilia doesn't push it, changing the topic as they head down the front steps. "Is that a new dress?"

"Yes, a gift from my father. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"It certainly is."

"Though I shall have to get used to not breathing for the day."

"Is your corset tied correctly?"

"Supposedly." Elizabeth gives a small half-smile. "I'll be fine."

"Well, you could always use it as an excuse to get out of Norrington's proposal -"

Elizabeth shushes her hurriedly as the carriage door is opened for them, suppressing her laugh as she climbs in to sit beside her father, with Cecilia opposite them.

"Good morning, Governor," Cecilia greets, smiling at the older man.

He returns her smile. "And to you, Cecilia."

The journey to the fort passes in silence, an unspoken tension between Elizabeth and her father that Cecilia doesn't dare question in his presence.

The ceremony itself is largely uninteresting. Cecilia stands beside Elizabeth near the front of the crowd, fanning herself as the sun gets more and more intense the longer the proceedings take. Finally, it's over, and they can take cover in the shade as people mill about making idle conversation.

"Look, I think I'm going to go," Cecilia says, looking around and noticing Norrington making his way through the crowd a little way away.

Elizabeth grabs her hand. "Don't leave me here."

"Norrington's on his way over, you know the two of us don't get along," she says apologetically, watching as Elizabeth's eyes widen almost comedically.

A clearing of a throat behind Cecilia makes her turn around. Norrington is standing there, but he's not looking at her; he only has eyes for Elizabeth.

"May I have a moment?"

"Good luck," Cecilia murmurs to Elizabeth, leaning in close so that Norrington can't hear her, and then moving away without looking at him. If she meets his eyes, she'll only have the urge to insult him. Glancing back, she sees him leading Elizabeth away.

The thought of marriage has put Cecilia in a rather bad mood, considering her dream earlier, so she decides to visit Will in the blacksmiths. He'll likely be feeling bitter about the idea of Elizabeth getting married too, though for different reasons.

She makes a brief trip home in a borrowed carriage to change into a less heavy dress, then picks her way through the streets of Port Royal, avoiding the worst of the muck in an effort to preserve her shoes.

"Will?" Cecilia calls, closing the door of the workshop behind her, then stopping in surprise when she sees the donkey running in circles. She runs to stop it, shushing it gently, then looks around to see what might have startled it. "There's nothing here, you fool," she chides the donkey, patting its muzzle fondly.

"Not quite," says a scarily familiar voice, and Cecilia bites back a scream when someone steps out from the shadows.

He looks different than he used to. He never used to wear kohl around those dark eyes, didn't have the braided beard nor the red bandana around his head, wasn't glittering with trinkets like he is now. But he always had the look in his eyes that he does now, whenever he looked at her. It's that look, more than anything, that makes her believe it's him, even though it shouldn't be possible.

"Jack..."

"Cecilia." There are layers to the way he says her name—confusion, shock, regret, perhaps she could fool herself into thinking she hears love there, too.

"This can't... you're dead."

"Not quite." His voice is rougher than it used to be.

"Beckett told me—"

"That I was dead?" Jack's tone turns sharp. "Funny, he told me the same thing about you."

Cecilia remembers very clearly the day that Cutler Beckett stood before her and told her about Jack—after all, it's featured in almost every nightmare she's had since. But all of it must have been a lie: his look of regret, his bowed head, the shake in his voice when he had told her that her fiance was dead. As for what came after... If Cecilia ever has the misfortune of laying eyes on Beckett again, she'll kill him.

What has happened in those twelve years, years that the two of them should have spent together? What did Jack do that caused Beckett to turn on him, to tell such an egregious lie? Has there been anyone else, or has he thought only of her as much as she has thought only of him?

The closest she comes to verbalising any of this to Jack is a humourless laugh, short and sharp in the silence of the workshop.

Jack doesn't make a sound, doesn't move. There's a weight to his gaze, though, made heavier by the silence that accompanies it.

"He told me..." Cecilia clears her throat, tries to stop her voice from trembling. "He told me that you had been killed by pirates."

"He was right, in a way." Jack sounds cold, detached, nothing like he used to when he spoke to her. He gestures to himself, his clothing, the pistol on his belt. "I'm not the man I was twelve years ago, Cecilia."

She releases a shaky breath, unsure what to say.

"I'm willing to bet you're not who you were, either," he continues, frowning. "Who's Will?"

Cecilia laughs, but again there's no humour in it. "My God, Jack... he's a friend, he's over a decade my junior."

Jack's expression remains hardened.

"But why should it matter?" She continues, letting her own voice turn icy to match his. "Like you say, we're different people now."

He opens his mouth to say something, but then the door opens again, and he disappears into the shadows quickly, with a practised ease.

Cecilia spins around, trying not to look guilty. "Will."

Will frowns, to which she tries not to take offence. "Cee. Who were you talking to?"

"Just... myself. Someone once told me it's a sign of intelligence." She smiles, but it's entirely false, and Will definitely notices.

"I thought you'd be up at the fort?"

"No, I had to get away. You know how I feel about Norrington—"

His frown deepens.

"What? What's happened?"

"It's Elizabeth, she fell from the wall into the water."

Cecilia lifts a hand to her mouth. "My God, is she okay?"

"I think so, I haven't seen her. A pirate pulled her from the water, but he threatened her with a pistol to get away, they're still searching for him."

Cecilia stiffens a little, whatever she was going to say getting stuck in her throat. She feels hyper-aware of Jack's presence in the shadows.

"Cee? I thought you'd have more to say, you hate pirates."

She does, doesn't she? Or rather, she did, because she thought they'd killed the love of her life. But now... despite herself, she still cares about Jack, even if he did threaten Elizabeth. Even though he's a pirate, she can't help but think of him as a good man.

"I'll go and visit Elizabeth later, to check on her," she says, after a pause which is probably too long.

Will doesn't say anything, staring at something over her shoulder. He walks past her towards an anvil, staring at a hammer atop it. "I didn't leave this here." Then he reaches for something, and Cecilia follows the motion to see his hand moving to grab a tricorn hat from the table nearby.

Before he can touch it, a sword comes down, smacking the back of his hand. Jack had crept silently around the shop to stand in front of Will, where he now points the sword in his face. Cecilia exhales sharply, moving away from the pair but not taking her eyes off them.

"You're the one they're hunting," Will says, backing away as Jack walks forward. "The pirate."

Jack tilts his head. "You seem somewhat familiar, have I threatened you before?"

"I make a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates."

"Ah. Well then it would be a shame to put a black mark on your record, so if you'll excuse me." He turns to leave.

Will grabs a nearby sword and moves forward, pointing it at Jack. Unbidden, a noise of protest slips from Cecilia's lips before she can stop it. Will glances at her, confused.

Jack steps forward, glancing at the sword pointed at him and smirking. "You think this wise, boy? Crossing blades with a pirate?"

Will raises the sword a little higher. "You threatened Miss Swann."

Running his blade across the other, Jack leans forward. "Only a little."

Then they're fighting, Jack pushing Will backwards as their swords clash. Will swipes at him, Jack leans back, and then their roles are reversed, Will moving forward, Jack backward. Cecilia remains out of the way, watching with interest. She and Will spar occasionally, picking up where Jack's teaching from twelve years prior had left off, though she hasn't told Will the identity of her initial teacher. Will is good, certainly, but Jack is unpredictable, and that gives him the advantage.

They come to a stop; Jack lowers his sword, Will keeps his raised.

"You know what you're doing, I'll give you that. Excellent form." The mockery in Jack's words is clear. He narrows his eyes. "But how's your footwork? If I step here..." They circle each other, swords clashing one, two, three, four times. "Very good. And now I step again." A step in the other direction, several more blows. They move around enough that Jack ends up closest to the door; with a final swipe at Will he steps back. "Ta." Jack glances at Cecilia as he turns to leave, something unreadable in his eyes, but whatever he's thinking doesn't stop him as he sheaths the sword and jumps up the step to the door.

Cecilia catches movement out of the corner of her eye, turning just in time to see Will hurl his sword towards Jack's head. "Will, no—"

The sword embeds itself in the door, inches from Jack's head. Cecilia sighs in relief.

Jack studies the sword for a moment, then reaches for the handle, but despite his efforts the blade won't dislodge from the door. He sighs, turning back to Will. "That is a wonderful trick." He walks back towards Will, glancing briefly at Cecilia again. "Except once again, you are between me and my way out. And now..." he unsheaths his sword, "you have no weapon."

Will grabs the poker from the fire, pointing the red-hot end straight at Jack's face. The donkey brays in distress, moving further away.

"Will..." Cecilia warns.

The younger man glances at her, and Jack wastes no time in trying to get away whilst he's distracted, but Will rounds the pillar to meet him. This time when their swords clash sparks fly. Cecilia backs further away, watching with a morbid intrigue. 

Will grabs another sword; Jack eyes all of the nearby weaponry with irritation.

"Who makes all these?"

"I do. And I practise with them three times a day."

Said like that, it sounds rather sad.

Jack echoes the sentiment aloud: "You need to find yourself a girl, mate." He grabs a hammer, swinging both weapons at Will until the two seem to reach an impasse, face to face with their weapons in hand above them. "Or, perhaps the reason you practise three hours a day is that you already found one, and are otherwise incapable of wooing said strumpet."

That's something that hasn't changed, Jack's uncanny ability to read people despite knowing next to nothing about them.

"You're not a eunuch, are you?"

Though no one can be correct every time, Cecilia supposes.

"I practise three hours a day so that when I meet a pirate, I can kill him!" Will pushes back, slashing at Jack.

Jack backs onto a plank, and Will follows him, dislodging the block keeping it stable in the process. The two rock back and forth as if on a seesaw, but don't cease fighting despite the difficulty balancing.

Will manages to hook his sword through the chains around Jack's wrist, pinning him to the ceiling beam. Jack knocks Will to the floor, hoisting himself up to free his hand. When he falls it sends Will, who had just stood on the end of the plank, flying up to the ceiling, out of sight.

Cecilia comes forward, trying to see where Will went. She locks eyes with Jack, who is doing the same, but the clanging of a blade forces their gazes apart, both looking up to the ceiling. Will cuts down a mass of barrels, sending Jack up onto the beams as well.

It becomes difficult for Cecilia to see what's going on from her position on the floor, only able to hear the clash of blades as she tries to avoid the risk of a sword landing on her.

Both Jack and Will swing down unexpectedly, the former landing on a ledge whilst Will lands level with Cecilia. He rushes forward, only to be halted abruptly as Jack empties a sack of dirt onto him. Cecilia ducks out of the way, coughing.

When the dust clears, Jack is standing closest to the front door, his pistol pointed at Will's face.

"You cheated," Will says, as if he hadn't expected it. Maybe he hadn't.

"Pirate."

There's a sudden banging on the door. Jack turns to look; Will pushes past Cecilia to stand in front of the back door, the only other exit. When Jack turns back his pistol is pointed at Cecilia, and he swiftly moves it back to Will, eyes a little wider.

"Move away."

"No." Will's eyes dart between the front door and Jack.

"Please move?"

"No! I cannot just step aside and let you escape."

Jack glances at Cecilia, something desperate in his eyes, and cocks his pistol at Will. There's movement behind him; Mr Brown has woken up.

"Jack—" she gasps. She isn't sure if it's in shock or a warning.

Yet again, his eyes flit to Cecilia, then back to Will. "This shot is not meant for you."

A bottle smashes over Jack's head, and his eyes go blank as he slumps forward, landing heavily on the floor.

It takes everything in Cecilia to not drop down beside him, to check if he's alright. That wouldn't do, not here, not now.

The door bursts open, and several Navy men with rifles stream into the workshop, followed by Norrington.

"Excellent work, Mr Brown. You've assisted in the capture of a dangerous fugitive."

"Jus' doing my civic duty, sir," Mr Brown slurs, clearly still inebriated.

Cecilia and Will exchange looks, hers bemused, his irritated.

"Well —" Norrington sounds unbearably smug— "I trust that you will always remember this is the day that Captain Jack Sparrow almost escaped."

Captain Jack Sparrow. Sparrow hadn't been his name back then, but it suits him more than the other ever had.

"Take him away." Norrington turns sharply and heads back towards the door, the Navy men with Jack's unconscious form behind him.

Will pulls Cecilia aside, far enough that they're out of Mr Brown's earshot. "Why did you lie?"

She tears her gaze from the door that Jack had disappeared through to look at him. "Hm?"

"You said you were talking to no one, but it was Sparrow, wasn't it?"

"...Yes."

"So why lie? Were you protecting him, do you know him?"

"No, I... I don't know him, no."

That's true, from a certain point of view. Twelve years can change a person beyond recognition.

"You called him Jack," Will points out. "How did you know his name?"

Cecilia doesn't know how best to answer that, so she remains silent, averting her eyes.

"He threatened Elizabeth, Cee."

"So I've heard," she says, a little more sharply than she intends to. "I'll go to the house now to see how she is."

"Cee—" Will protests as she rounds him to walk towards the front door.

"I'll come and visit later in the week," she says over her shoulder, quickening her pace a little. "Good day, Mr Brown."

She gets a vague noise in response, and Will's protesting is drowned out when she steps through the door and shuts it behind her with a little more force than is strictly necessary.

Part of her wants to go to the jail, where Jack will undoubtedly be held, just to check that he's okay. But she's not sure how he'll react, and she's not sure she could bear it if he turned her away, which he undoubtedly would. Besides, she has to visit Elizabeth before nightfall, to check if she's okay and to receive an update on the new Commodore's proposal.

As the sun begins to fall in the sky, Cecilia hurries through the streets of Port Royal towards the Swann household, unsettled by the chill in the air after what had started out as such a pleasant day.

Chapter Text

Cecilia arrives at the Swann household as dusk falls, catching Governor Swann on his way out. He invites her to stay the night, but she declines; she would rather be alone as she considers the events of the day.

Elizabeth is already abed, but smiles when she sees Cecilia, beckoning her in.

"It was a difficult day for you, I'm sure," her maid is saying as she tucks in the sheets.

Cecilia perches on the edge of the bed, glancing over Elizabeth to check for any obvious injury.

Elizabeth hums. "I suspected Commodore Norrington would propose, but I must admit I wasn't entirely prepared for it."

"I meant you being threatened by that pirate, sounds terrifying!"

Cecilia smothers her laugh with a cough at Elizabeth's rather caught-out expression.

"Oh... yes, it was terrifying."

"But the Commodore proposed? Fancy that. Now that's a smart match, miss, if it's not too bold to say."

"It is a smart match. He's a fine man. He's what any woman should dream of marrying."

That's what she had told Cecilia that morning, word for word, almost as if it's rehearsed.

"Well, that Will Turner, he's a fine man too."

"That is too bold," Elizabeth says coldly.

"Begging your pardon, miss. It was not my place." The maid moves away and out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.

"Are you alright?" Cecilia asks, leaning forward.

"I'm fine," Elizabeth says shortly, her hand moving toward the unfamiliar chain around her neck.

"J— the pirate, he didn't hurt you?"

"No, only used me as leverage."

Cecilia nods slowly, turning this over in her mind. It would have been easy to hate Jack if he had hurt Elizabeth, but as it is she only remains confused about how to feel. "And Norrington? Did you give him an answer?"

Elizabeth sighs. "I'm tired, Cee. Could we talk in the morning?"

She blinks once, twice, the abruptness startling her. "Of course." She rises, heading for the door. "Goodnight."

"Cee," Elizabeth calls before Cecilia can turn the doorknob.

"Yes?"

"Will you stay the night?"

"I should return home," she says, hoping she sounds apologetic, "I'll come by tomorrow."

"Will you take the carriage, then? It's a fair walk."

"I could do with the walk, I think. To clear my head."

Elizabeth frowns, but doesn't question the statement. No doubt she's saving that for the morning.

The candle at the bedside flickers, both women turning to stare at it in time to see it go out. Elizabeth turns back, looking alarmed.

"It's only the wind," Cecilia says calmly, despite the fact that the windows are closed and neither of them moved enough to blow out the flame.

"You don't feel it?" Elizabeth asks, sounding small suddenly. "In the air?"

Cecilia does, but she had thought it was only her anxiety and confusion and fatigue catching up to her. To hear Elizabeth mention it too is alarming. "I think we both need to sleep, we'll talk in the morning. Goodnight, Lizzie."

"Goodnight..."

Night has fallen completely by the time Cecilia steps outside. The moon is hidden behind a thick cover of cloud, and she's grateful for the lamp that she had troubled a maid for.

There is something foreboding in the air, stronger now that she's outside. A heaviness, almost like the kind you get before a storm, but living in the Caribbean means Cecilia has experienced many such lulls before, and none of them felt quite like this.

She walks faster than she normally would down the road, unnerved. She's beginning to regret leaving Elizabeth alone, but there's nothing to be done now. After about twenty minutes of walking, the Swann house has disappeared behind the trees, and Cecilia can see the lights of her own home in the distance.

Her mind drifts to Jack, and she finds that the simple thought of him brings her a little comfort. He'll be securely in a cell by now, probably awake and hopefully unhurt. If the jail wasn't so far on foot she would sneak in to see him tonight, to get some answers to all the questions she didn't get the chance to ask. It'll have to be another night, hopefully one more pleasant than this one.

But how long will you have?  says the snide voice of reason in her head. He has an appointment at the gallows, remember?

Cecilia shakes her head. Whatever Jack may have done in their twelve years apart, she is confident that he doesn't deserve to hang. For all that he's changed, she can tell he's still a good man. His reluctance to shoot Will despite the younger man meaning nothing to him is proof of that, for one—

There's a loud bang from somewhere across town, in the direction of the docks. Cecilia ducks on instinct, flinching away from the sound. Several more bangs follow the first, the Navy returning fire, no doubt. But who could be firing on Port Royal? Not more pirates, surely...

Amidst the cannon fire, Cecilia can hear screams coming from the town. She watches in horror as a cannonball strikes a building, scattering the chimney. Part of her wants to go down there, to help, but what could she do?

She begins to run in the direction of her house. From the balcony she should be able to get a better idea of what's going on—

The gates are in sight when Cecilia stops in her tracks, breathing hard. Coming up the road in the other direction, up from the town, are shadowy figures, several holding flaming torches to guide their way.

Cursing, Cecilia extinguishes her lamp, ducking into the trees to watch as the figures force the large gates open and rush inside towards the house. Windows are smashed, the door forced open, and then she loses all sight of the pirates—for that must be what they are—as they disappear inside. Only the gunshots allude to what must be happening inside the house.

Cecilia feels her eyes sting with tears. Her poor staff, caught unawares... Yet, the regret that she feels is tinged with selfish relief that she had chosen to visit Elizabeth tonight rather than in the morning, because if she hadn't she would surely be dead as well.

Elizabeth... If the pirates are ransacking the houses, they've likely made it to the Swann house too.

Cecilia sinks to the floor, her back against a tree as she brings her knees up to her chest. The lamp rolls across the dirt, stopping a little way away. She brings her hands up to her ears, trying to drown out the gunshots and cannon fire and screams, and prays to the God that she doesn't really believe in that Elizabeth and Will... and Jack are alright.

For one horrible moment, Cecilia has no idea where she is when she wakes up. Then the memories of the night before come back to her.

She's curled up on the floor, staring up at the trees above her. Sunlight is shining through the leaves, blinding her briefly when the trees sway in the breeze. She sits up, squinting through the foliage at the town. It seems silent now, compared to last night. The pirates must be gone, then.

There are many things that Cecilia wants to do first, and one that she knows she must do first. Standing up and brushing the dirt from her skirt, she grabs the unlit lamp and begins the short walk back to her house.

Though the exterior looks bad, with the smashed windows and splintered front door, inside is worse. Cabinets and drawers have been thrown open, anything valuable stolen. Stains of oil and what looks to be blood are all over the once-polished floor. Worst of all, the surviving staff have lined up the bodies of the dead in the entrance hall, and there are many.

Cecilia raises a trembling hand to her mouth, choking on whatever she had been about to say. She knows these people, has known them for years. And now so many of them are gone, all in one night.

"Miss Guillemot!" Someone exclaims, coming down the stairs. It's Mary, thank God. The other staff milling around look over at Cecilia in shock.

"Mary," Cecilia says, clearing her throat, "how... how many...?"

She looks pained. "We're not sure yet, miss."

"I see. I'm glad you're alright."

"Likewise, miss."

"Has there been any word from the town? Or from Miss Swann?"

"Nothing, miss."

Cecilia nods slowly, still struggling to process the bodies. "I will go down in a moment. If you need anything, if any of you need anything—" she looks around at the other staff, who are all apparently awaiting instruction— "anything at all, please take it. Food, medical supplies, anything."

At the nods and murmurs of gratitude from the staff, Cecilia heads up the staircase towards her bedroom. That's been ransacked too, and the mirror has been shattered. She catches sight of herself in one of the shards and grimaces; her night in the trees has done nothing good for her hair, which is falling out of its updo. She takes it down with some difficulty and refastens it in a much simpler bun, then reaches into the wardrobe, which has been left largely untouched. From the back she pulls a pair of breeches—they were her father's originally, but she had since had them tailored to fit her so she had something more practical for when she and Will sparred. Cecilia changes into them and a shirt which she had stolen from Will, securing both with a belt around her waist before she tugs on a pair of worn boots. It's best to look less like herself if she intends to sneak into the jail and see if Jack is still there.

With a final glance at herself in the mirror, Cecilia hurries back down the stairs and down the front steps. The town is closer than the Swann house, so she'll make a round trip to check on Jack and Will first and then come up the far road to visit Elizabeth.

The streets are in shambles, with townspeople and Navy men alike tending to the wounded and carrying the dead. Several buildings have fallen victim to the cannons, leaving rubble scattered across the streets. Animals are roaming around, freed from their pens, and it's as she's skirting around a group of chickens that Cecilia spots a familiar figure sprawled on the ground.

"Will!" She rushes to him, kneeling and feeling at his neck for a pulse. She finds one, and with a sigh of relief starts to shake him awake.

He opens his eyes blearily, sitting up and raising a hand to his head with a groan.

"What happened?" Cecilia asks urgently, feeling for wounds on his head. Her fingers come back tacky with dried blood when she reaches the back, but considering Will is conscious, she figures it can't be too bad.

"Elizabeth," Will gasps, struggling to his feet.

She rises with him, a steadying hand at his elbow. "What about her?"

"They've taken her!"

Cecilia feels her heart drop. She should never have left Elizabeth alone...

"I need to speak to him," Will mutters, pulling his arm from her grip and taking off at quite a pace down the street.

"Will!" She calls, running after him.

He leads her to the fort, where Governor Swann, Norrington, and several other Navy men have gathered.

"They've taken her!" Will is saying as Cecilia comes to a stop behind him. "They've taken Elizabeth!"

"Mr Murtogg, remove this man," Norrington says, not bothering to look up.

Murtogg comes forward, Will dodges his grip.

"We have to hunt them down, we must save her!"

Governor Swann comes forward. "And where do you propose we start? If you have any information concerning my daughter, please share it."

Will is silent, looking away. Governor Swann steps back.

"That Jack Sparrow," Murtogg says hesitantly.

Cecilia starts in surprise at the name, turning to look at him, as does everyone else.

"He talked about the Black Pearl," Murtogg continues.

"Mentioned it is more what he did," the other Redcoat interjects.

"Ask him where it is!" Will says, turning back to Norrington. "Make a deal with him, he could lead us to it."

"No." Norrington sighs. "The pirates who invaded this fort left Sparrow locked in his cell, ergo they are not his allies." He turns back to Swann. "Governor, we will establish their most likely course —"

Will brings the axe in his hand down onto the table, where it embeds in the wood. "That's not good enough!"

"Mr Turner —" Norrington pulls the axe from the table and rounds the table to Will— "you are not a military man, you are not a sailor. You are a blacksmith." He grabs Will by the shoulder, pushing him towards the exit. Cecilia follows, unwilling to be manhandled. "And this is not the moment for rash actions. Do not make the mistake of thinking you are the only man here who cares for Elizabeth." He moves away, raising an eyebrow at Cecilia as he passes her. She glares at him, deliberately knocking against him as she leads Will out of the fort.

"Come on," Will says, already in motion again.

"Please tell me we're not going where I think we are..."

"We're going to the jail block, and we're going to make a deal with Sparrow," Will says grimly. "He should come along fairly easily, considering how close the two of you seem to be."

"I knew him a long time ago, Will, I mean nothing to him now," Cecilia protests, quickening her pace as he does.

"It's still worth a try." Will stares resolutely forward as the jail comes into view.

It's unguarded, which is odd considering there is still someone locked inside, but makes their endeavour far easier. The door opens easily when Will pushes it, and he leads the way down the stone steps, Cecilia close behind.

Jack is sprawled on the floor of his cell, though his eyes are open. The cell next to him is empty, the wall blasted open.

"You!" Will says, coming to a stop in front of the bars. "Sparrow!"

Jack lifts his head. "Eh?" His eyes drift to Cecilia as she moves to stand beside Will, and he does a double-take.

Will either doesn't notice or ignores this. "You're familiar with that ship, the Black Pearl?"

Jack lowers his head again. "I've heard of it."

"Where does it make berth?"

He lifts his head again. "Where does it make berth? Have you not heard the stories?" Once more he lowers his head. "Captain Barbossa, and his crew of miscreants, sail from the dreaded Isla de Muerta. It's an island that cannot be found—" he looks up— "except by those who already know where it is."

"The ship's real enough, therefore its anchorage must be a real place, where is it?"

Jack studies his fingernails. "Why ask me?"

"Because you're a pirate."

"And you want to turn pirate yourself, is that it?"

Will moves forward, hitting the bars. "Never!" He sighs, moving back a little. "They took Miss Swann."

"Oh, so it is that you found a girl." Jack sits up, grinning. "I see. Well, if you're intending to brave all, hasten to her rescue and so win fair lady's heart... you'll have to do it alone, mate. I see no profit in it for me."

Will gestures to Cecilia, who frowns, slightly offended to be regarded as profit. "I can get you out of here, and you two can sort out... whatever it is you've got going on."

Cecilia gapes at him, then averts her eyes, embarrassed.

"How's that, the key's run off," Jack says, tactfully ignoring the latter part of the sentence.

"I helped build these cells. These are half-pin barrel hinges." Will looks around, gesturing for Cecilia to move so that he can lift a bench over.

Jack raises an eyebrow at Cecilia; she shakes her head, just as confused.

"With the right leverage," Will continues, "and the proper application of strength —" he hooks the bench through the bars— "the door will lift free."

Jack pauses, tilting his head. "What's your name?"

"Will Turner."

He leans forward, sitting up a little straighter. "That would be short for William, I imagine. Good strong name. No doubt named for your father, eh?"

"Yes."

"Ah." Jack stands up. "Well, Mr Turner, I've changed me mind. If you spring me from this cell, I swear on pain of death I shall take you to the Black Pearl, and your bonny lass." He sticks his hand through the bars. "Do we have an accord?"

Will takes his hand, shaking it. "Agreed."

"Agreed. Get me out."

Will pushes on the bench, and the door lifts and pulls free. "Hurry, someone will have heard that."

"In a moment," Jack says, turning to face her. "Cecilia -"

"There isn't much time, Jack," she says, meeting his eyes steadily.

There's a brief flicker of hurt in his eyes, expressive as ever, but he masks it quickly.

"There'll be plenty of time on the way," Cecilia continues.

"Eh?"

Will frowns. "What?"

"I'm coming with you," Cecilia says firmly, turning to Will. "She's the closest thing I have to a sister, Will, I won't just sit here without a clue what's going on."

He looks like he wants to protest, but their lack of time stops him. "Hurry," he says to Jack, who's glancing between the two of them.

"Not without my effects." He darts past Will to grab them.

"Why bother with that?" Will asks as Jack picks up his pistol, "You could've escaped if you'd killed me before but you weren't willing to use it."

Jack raises the pistol, pointing it at Will. "Are you advising me that was a mistake? When you've only got one shot, it's best to wait for the opportune moment. That wasn't it. Nor is this." He lowers the pistol, and turns, leading the way up the steps.

Will glances at Cecilia a final time, then follows him, letting her bring up the rear.

Chapter Text

There's still no guard stationed at the jail, so they make it onto the street easily, but have to take the long way around to the docks to avoid being spotted, as Jack's rather distinctive appearance would give them away in seconds. Shielded under a bridge―though unfortunately with wet feet after splashing through several streams—they can survey the dock without any interference.

"We're gonna steal the ship?" Will says, talking to Jack over Cecilia's head. He follows Jack's eyeline to the Dauntless. "That ship?"

"Commandeer," Jack corrects, "we're going to commandeer that ship." He points to the Interceptor. "Nautical term. One question about your business, both of you, or there's no use going." He turns to face them. "This girl... how far are you willing to go to save her?"

"I'd die for her," Will says, boldly and a little too quickly for Cecilia's liking.

"Oh good. No worries then," Jack remarks lightly, turning to her. The two of them are standing quite close together, the proximity forced by Will's presence behind her. It's the closest they've been in twelve years, Cecilia muses. "And you?"

Cecilia nods, one short, sharp motion.

Jack's mouth sets into a thin line. He seems less entertained by her answer than he had been by Will's.

"How will we get onto the ship?" Cecilia asks. It's a fair distance into the water.

He smirks. "I'm afraid you'll have to trust me for this next bit. I can assure you it works."

As much as she'd like to say she trusts Jack, Cecilia finds it hard to do so when he leads them to an upturned dinghy and gestures that they should crawl underneath it. She's even more skeptical when they shuffle to the water, certain that they'll drown, but Jack's calm certainty is something of a comfort.

The water is warm on the surface, though it gets colder as they walk deeper. Their air bubble persists, however, so Cecilia can't complain.

"This is either madness or brilliance," Will mutters behind her.

"It's remarkable how often those two traits coincide," Jack says.

Cecilia glances over her shoulder when Will grunts, snickering when she sees his foot caught in a trap.

The hull of the Dauntless looms ahead of them in the water.

"I'm lifting this off in three," Jack says, turning to face the two of them. "Swim up, unless you fancy drowning." He counts down from three, and Cecilia holds her breath on the final count, closing her eyes and pushing up from the floor as she feels the dinghy lift away.

The water isn't too deep, so she breaks the surface quickly, Jack and Will following shortly after. They're near the Dauntless's rudder, close enough that they can't be seen by anyone on deck. The deck that there's no obvious way to get up to.

"We climb?" Cecilia asks, slightly incredulous. The Dauntless is a big ship, and with nothing obvious to grab onto...

"We climb," Jack confirms, grabbing onto the barrel that's attached to the trap Will is stuck in. "Unhook yer foot," he says to Will, who is able to do so easily now that he isn't holding the dinghy anymore. Jack throws the barrel upwards, and it flies impressively high, hooking over the railing of the lower balcony. He then forces the trap onto the rudder chain, pushing it a little to jam it in place before turning back to Cecilia. "Now, ladies first?"

She squints up at the barrel. It's a fair way up, and she's not entirely sure it'll hold. "Oh, there's no need to stand on ceremony."

His answering smirk seems mocking, but there's something warm in his eyes that betrays the true feeling behind it. "As you wish. Mr Turner can bring up the rear." Jack hoists himself out of the water, flicking the two of them with water as he does so, and climbs the rope expertly, looking back down at them when he's securely atop the first balcony.

Cecilia takes a breath, then lifts herself out of the water to climb in the same way that Jack did, though more hesitantly. It's not the sort of exercise she's used to, and her muscles burn with the strain, but she makes it to the first balcony in only a little less time than it took Jack, accepting his hand to help her over the railing.

They both watch as Will climbs the rope, then one by one climb up to the next balcony and onto the deck. Jack offers Cecilia his hand again when she climbs the final railing, squeezing it so lightly before he lets go that she almost doesn't notice. He doesn't offer his hand to Will, she notices.

There's no one at the helm, so it's easy to get to the stairs, which Jack descends easily, his pistol in one hand.

"Everyone stay calm, we are taking over the ship!"

"Aye, avast!" Will raises his sword.

Cecilia rolls her eyes, suppressing a laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

The men on the ship don't feel the need to hide their laughter.

"This ship cannot be crewed by two men," a man Cecilia suspects is called Gillette says.

Cecilia raises her eyebrows; apparently she's invisible.

"You'll never make it out of the bay," he continues.

"Son, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." Jack steps forward, cocking his pistol. "Savvy?"

The introduction of a weapon changes the Navy men's attitudes quite quickly. If Cecilia cared enough, she'd bring up with Norrington that his military is useless, but she doesn't care and likely never will. It's easy to crowd the men into a dinghy and lower them into the water so long as Jack keeps his pistol on them. They can't be stopped from waving or shouting once they're out of the pistol's range, though, and soon the Interceptor is coming toward the Dauntless.

"Here they come," Cecilia says, touching Jack on the arm to get his attention. The motion is instinctual, but Jack's look of surprise makes her wish she hadn't done it.

The surprise is gone in a second though, replaced by a grin when he looks out at the Interceptor. "Time to hide," he says, gesturing for Will to stop messing with the sails and come over.

They duck behind some cargo, watching through a gap as the Interceptor pulls up and Norrington's men swing over, along with the man himself. They seem to make the assumption that Cecilia, Jack, and Will are hiding below deck, as they don't make much of an effort to look for them up top, which leaves the three free to swing over to the now-deserted Interceptor.

Jack runs for the helm as Will cuts the ropes connecting the two ships and Cecilia knocks away the gangplanks. By the time Norrington's men have worked out what has happened, it's far too late. One man tries to swing across but misses by some distance, plunging into the water.

Jack removes his hat, waving it at Norrington, who is just barely visible on the deck of the Dauntless. "Thank you, Commodore, for getting us ready to make way! We'd have had a hard time of it by ourselves!"

Cecilia and Will duck out of sight as the Redcoats begin firing at them; Jack moves back a little but doesn't seem particularly bothered. There's an energy to him now, something slightly manic but decidedly self-satisfied. It suits him.

"You aren't worried they'll catch us?" She says, straightening up now she's sure they're out of range.

"One of those idiots in the red coats just so happened to let slip that no ship can match this one for speed," Jack says, patting the helm. "Aside from the Pearl, of course."

"Then how will we catch her?"

"Barbossa won't be sailing at full canvas if he can help it, not with all the reefs 'round here. That gives us time."

"But we can?"

He nods. "We're shallower on the draft. And we'll be sailing even faster once we pick up a crew."

Cecilia nods slowly, glancing back. The Dauntless is just a tiny shape in the distance now.

"Stop worrying, love. We'll get yer friend back."

"We?"

Jack raises his eyebrows. "Didn't think I'd ditch you, did ye?"

"I though you might, once we'd got you out."

He hums, looking forward again. "It just so happens I've got a score of me own to settle with Barbossa."

Cecilia wants to ask questions, but gets the sense that this isn't the time, that it would only ruin the fragile thing that they've built back up between them.

"Go and see if there's anything to drink, would ye? We'll need it in this heat."

She nods, casting one final glance back at Port Royal before she descends the stairs to the main deck to search through whatever cargo is on board. She's still in search of a knife when Will approaches.

"Cee?"

Cecilia straightens up, leaning against the side of the ship. "Yes?"

He sighs, glancing up at the helm. They're far enough away that Jack is out of earshot. "You and Jack, how do you know each other?"

She narrows her eyes. "Does it matter?"

"Apparently. I've seen you looking at him, and him looking at you. There's a history there."

"Whatever you're thinking, it's not as bad as that." Cecilia looks at Jack out of the corner of her eye. He's standing proudly at the helm, steering them out of the bay. "Jack wasn't always a pirate. When I knew him he was working for the East India Trading Company."

Will's eyebrows shoot upwards.

Cecilia laughs. "I know, you wouldn't know it looking at him now. He was the first mate on one of the cargo ships. I used to sneak down to the docks at night to look at the ships, and one night he was there too, and we got to talking." And a lot of it, too, almost every night for months. Jack had regaled her with tales of his time at sea, had even mentioned his... colourful past and his pirate father. She'd fallen in love with him quickly. "Maybe six months later he asked me to marry him."

Will's eyebrows raise impossibly higher. "You could have married him?"

"Yes. But... well, it didn't happen."

"Why not? Did he leave you?" Will bristles, suddenly protective in the way a brother would be.

"Not as such, no. He was promoted to Captain and sent off on a new assignment, but he never came back. We assumed he'd died." She decides to omit Beckett and his apparent scheme from this story, not willing to get into that.

"Apparently not," Will says.

"No."

"Have you spoken to him about it?"

"Not yet."

He hums. "Just... be mindful of what he says, yeah?"

"He wouldn't lie to me about this, Will."

"He would, he's a pirate, dishonest by nature. Jack might have been a good man when you knew him, Cee, but he isn't anymore."

"The two aren't mutually exclusive," she protests.

"He threatened Elizabeth —"

"He didn't hurt her."

"— and pointed his gun at me."

"He didn't shoot."

"Do you honestly think that if he had more than one shot he wouldn't have shot me?"

"Yes!"

Will gives her a look that suggests she's being terribly naive, as if he knows Jack better than she does.

Cecilia sighs. "I'm going to look for a drink, if you've learnt everything you wanted to know."

He nods, something pitying in his gaze. There's a reason she had held off telling him this story.

She brushes past him, resuming her search for a knife amongst the cargo on the other side of the deck.

A few hours later the three of them have ended up sitting in fairly close quarters, but far enough away that they don't have to talk to each other. Though Cecilia eventually succeeded in finding something for them to drink eventually, the heat has made all of them feel rather unsociable. Not that that stops Will.

"When I was a lad living in England, my mother raised me by herself," he says, polishing his sword. "After she died I came out here, looking for my father."

"Is that so?" Jack sounds bored and thoroughly disinterested as he messes with the ropes.

"My father, Bill Turner?" Will stands and follows Jack to the helm. "At the jail it was only after you learned my name that you agreed to help."

Cecilia, minding the helm for Jack, observes the two of them in interest. She had been wondering about that, too.

"Since that's what I wanted, I didn't press the matter," he continues. "I'm not a simpleton, Jack. You knew my father."

Jack sighs, turning to face him. "I knew 'im. Probably one of the few who knew him as William Turner. Everyone else just called him Bootstrap or Bootstrap Bill." He jumps down, taking the helm back from Cecilia, who perches on the railing beside it instead.

"Bootstrap?" Will mutters.

"Good man. Good pirate. I swear, you look just like him."

If Cecilia knows anything about Will, it's that finding out his father was a pirate won't go down well. She's right.

"It's not true. He was a merchant sailor, a good, respectable man who obeyed the law."

Jack rolls his eyes, turning back to Will. "He was a bloody pirate, a scallywag."

"My father—" Will draws his sword, pointing it at Jack— "was not a pirate!"

"Will," Cecilia protests, standing again.

Jack only sighs. "Put it away, son. It's not worth you getting beat again."

"You didn't beat me. You ignored the rules of engagement, in a fair fight, I'd kill you."

"That's not much incentive for me to fight fair, then, is it? Duck, love."

Though bewildered, Cecilia quickly does as he requests. Will seems too distracted by Jack's use of a pet name to process what else was actually said, and when Jack spins the wheel, sending a sail moving quickly across the deck, it catches him in the middle, pushing him to hang over the open water.

Cecilia stands up, moving to help him, but Jack catches her arm and holds her back.

"Trust me, eh?" He murmurs, letting go to grab Will's sword from the deck. "Now, as long as you're just hanging there, pay attention. The only rules that really matter are these: what a man—or a woman," he adds, glancing at Cecilia, "can do, and what a man or a woman can't do. For instance, you can accept that your father was a pirate and a good man, or you can't. But pirate is in your blood, boy, so you'll have to square with that someday. Now, me, for example, I could let you drown, but Cecilia and I can't bring this ship into Tortuga all by our onesies, savvy? So..." He gestures for Cecilia to duck again and spins the wheel again, swinging the sail back. Will falls gracelessly onto the deck, looking up at Jack, who points the sword at him. "Can you sail under the command of a pirate?" Jack flips the sword so that the blade is in his own hand, the handle pointing at Will. "Or can you not?"

Will takes the sword. "Tortuga?"

Jack grins, nodding. "Tortuga."

The heat gets to be too much for Cecilia, who retreats into the cooler captain's cabin and naps on the bunk there for what she estimates must be several hours based on the light levels and how thirsty she feels when she wakes. After quenching her thirst she ventures back out onto the deck, and promptly stops in her tracks.

The deck is empty, so Jack and Will must be at the helm or below, but the sight of the sunset is what captures her attention. The sky has exploded with oranges and pinks and purples, and as Cecilia steps out further she can see the sun sinking to her left. With an entirely unobstructed horizon, the sunset seems to engulf them, stretching on for miles in every direction.

Cecilia climbs the stairs to the helm, stopping in surprise when she sees Jack standing there. The sunset has bathed him in golden light, the trinkets in his hair sparkling. His eyes look amber in the glare of the sun.

Jack catches her eye and grins knowingly. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It certainly is." Cecilia turns in place, admiring the view from every angle possible. When she completes her turn she finds Jack staring at her, his lips parted slightly. "What?"

He stares for a moment longer, then blinks, though his gaze remains just as intense. "I think you and I need to talk, love."

Love. He's said it a few times now, but Cecilia hadn't really processed it properly. It's what he used to call her, along with a whole host of other endearments, but love was always his favourite.

"Yes, I think we do," she says softly. "Is Will —"

"Below deck and remaining there for the foreseeable."

"Right." She nods, suddenly unsure of what to say. Since they set sail she's been trying to work out how to go about this, but now that the moment has come it's as if everything she had planned has vanished from her mind.

Jack seems to be having the same problem; he remains uncharacteristically silent.

"What actually happened to you?" is what Cecilia settles on.

He clears his throat, looks away from her towards the horizon. "The job I was given was to transport cargo, aye?"

She nods.

"Well, the cargo turned out to be slaves, a hundred of them."

"My God..." Cecilia murmurs, horrified.

"I set them free, all of them. Beckett's men attacked the ship — the Wicked Wench, remember her?"

"How could I forget her? She was yours."

Jack smiles bitterly. "They set her on fire."

Cecilia draws a sharp breath. Jack had loved that ship fiercely; she could only imagine what watching her burn would have done to him.

"And then Beckett branded me a pirate." He lifts the sleeve of his coat, revealing the P burned onto his wrist.

Unthinkingly, Cecilia reaches out, taking his arm in her hand and tracing the scar gently with her finger. Jack watches the motion, his expression unreadable.

"I escaped Beckett, obviously," he continues. "But not before he told me that he'd just received word from Port Kingston, that you were dead. Yellow fever, he told me."

"To stop you from coming back, do you think?"

"Maybe. What did he say to you, when he came back to Kingston?"

"He told me that you had been killed by pirates." Cecilia laughs at the irony of it, but it's entirely humourless.

Jack hums, his expression suggesting he's thinking the same thing.

"And then," she continues, cautiously. She's not sure how Jack will take this. "He asked me to marry him."

In any other circumstance, Jack's expression would be utterly comical. "He..."

"— asked me to marry him, yes. There was nothing romantic about it, of course. He said that I'd 'require someone to take care of me', in the wake of your loss." She scoffs. "I suspect he had heard that my father was being promoted to Admiral."

"If I ever have the misfortune of laying eyes on 'im again, I'll take great pleasure in killing him, and I don't say that lightly, love."

"I was thinking the same thing," Cecilia agrees.

Jack grins, pleasantly surprised. "So then, twelve years... what've you been up to?"

"Nothing nearly as exciting as you, I'd imagine. We moved to Port Royal about four years after... everything. My parents both died not long after."

"'M sorry, love."

She shrugs. "It was a long time ago."

"So where do the boy and this Miss Swann come into it, then?"

"Elizabeth and her father arrived in Port Royal shortly after I did. They were good company, after my parents died. Lizzie had met Will on the crossing from England, fished him out of the water when his ship was attacked by pirates."

Intrigue gleams in Jack's eye at that, but he doesn't ask further questions.

"She introduced me to him," Cecilia continues, "and when I found out he was apprenticing at the blacksmiths and learning how to use a sword I asked him if he needed a sparring partner."

"You remembered...?"

"What you taught me? Of course." Jack had taught Cecilia how to use a sword a few months into their courtship, having regaled her with enough tales of swordfights he had witnessed or partaken in to pique her interest. "What about you, Jack, what have you been up to these twelve years?"

"It's a long story, love."

She shrugs. "We've got the time."

It's almost like twelve years haven't passed at all, like they're back at the docks in Port Kingston as Jack tells story after story, each more fantastical than the previous. Cecilia begins to suspect that there is some degree of embellishment occurring, that many of the tales may be more fable than fact, but that doesn't stop her from watching and listening closely, interjecting where necessary, enthralled by the glint in his eyes and his swooping gestures as he talks.

The sun has disappeared below the horizon and the sky is darkening rapidly by the time Jack finishes speaking. "And then I ended up in Port Royal. You know the rest."

She nods, humming. "Piracy suits you." Freedom suits him, more than any EITC rank ever could.

Jack grins, lips parting to say something else, but he's interrupted by Will coming up the stairs to the helm. Cecilia steps back, suddenly aware of how close she and Jack had been standing.

Will glances between the two of them, then turns to Jack. "How long until we reach Tortuga?"

Jack scowls. "Another day at least, depending on the wind."

"But Elizabeth—"

Jack sighs loudly. "Will be just fine, boy, trust me. Barbossa won't be so quick to get rid of a pretty thing like her."

Will frowns, looking very much like he would like to hit Jack with something quite weighty. He swallows and turns away to head back to the main deck; whatever argument he clearly wants to have with Jack remaining below the surface for tonight.

"Christ, he really would die for her, wouldn't he?" Jack says, perhaps a little too loudly.

Despite herself, Cecilia laughs. "I'm afraid so. He's been in love with Elizabeth for as long as I've known him, but he's never said anything to her, despite my insistence otherwise."

"Scared he'll be rejected?" Jack pauses, looking thoughtful. "Is he a eunuch?"

She pulls a face. "I really have no idea. As for being rejected, anyone with eyes can tell Elizabeth feels the same way about him, but she won't say anything either. I suspect she thinks her father would disapprove."

"That never stopped you," Jack points out, tilting his head.

"No," Cecilia says softly, looking down. "No, I don't suppose it did."

Neither of them says anything else after that, remaining side-by-side in a silence that somehow manages to be comfortable despite the undercurrent of things unsaid, and watching as the stars become visible in the wide sky above them.

Chapter Text

The following night, they arrive at Tortuga. It's... quite something. More than once, Cecilia had had the idle thought that the streets of Port Royal had fallen to disorder. Looking around now, she realises that she was tremendously wrong. Wherever she looks there are people fighting, some clearly sparring, others seeming genuinely malicious. Men, women, children run around brandishing weapons of all sorts, guns and swords and clubs; Cecilia stays close to Jack, though he looks to be amused by the whole thing rather than concerned. In stark contrast to the rowdiness of the fighting, there are people slumped at the sides of the streets practically drowning themselves in drink, and men meandering about with women hanging off their arms. Someone, somewhere, is playing what sounds like an out-of-tune harpsichord.

"It is indeed a sad life that has never breathed deep the sweet, proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga, savvy?" Jack is saying as he leads Will and Cecilia through the crowded streets. He snatches a cane from a man who is chasing another with it, gesturing broadly to the square. "What d'you think?"

"It'll linger," Will says, frowning.

Jack pulls a face, turning to Cecilia at his other side. "Love?"

"It's quite something."

He grins. "Indeed it is." He turns back to Will. "I'll tell you, mate, if every town in the world were like this one, no man would ever feel unwanted."

Cecilia grimaces. She's not jealous, she certainly wasn't so naive as to believe that Jack hadn't been with anyone else in twelve years, she's just... a little put-out to hear it acknowledged aloud. She watches warily as a redheaded woman strides up to them.

"Scarlett!" Jack moves forward, only to reel back when he's slapped across the face. "Not sure I deserved that," he says, frowning. He turns back, only to come face-to-face with another woman, blonde this time. "Giselle."

Giselle scoffs. "Who was she?"

"What?" Jack barely gets the word out before he's slapped across the face again. "I may have deserved that," he concedes, wrinkling his nose.

"Friends of yours?" Cecilia says lightly, smothering a laugh.

He glares playfully at her, spinning to face forward. "Come, come." He starts walking again. "We should escape this wretched pit as quickly as possible."

"With a crew?" Will says, ducking to avoid a bullet that whizzes past them.

"Ah, yeah," Jack says, as if he'd forgotten. "Well it just so happens that you know the man who knows the man who knows the finest sailors in all Tortuga." He tosses the cane to Will, then stops to pull his compass from his belt. He opens it, then shakes it when the needle spins in fast circles rather than pointing north. Eventually the needle stills, and Jack rounds a corner to follow the direction it points. Will passes the cane to Cecilia, who passes it to a nearby man, and the two of them follow Jack.

They pass through a few marginally-less-rowdy streets, coming to a stop in front of a pigsty, dark and shadowy and stinking of manure. But what's most surprising is that there's a man sleeping amongst the pigs. Jack lifts a finger to his lips, reaching for a nearby bucket of what Cecilia hopes is water and dumping it onto the man, who startles awake, raising a knife.

"Curse you for breathing, ye slack-jawed idiot!" He blinks the water out of his eyes and then focuses on Jack, sagging against the pig a little. "Mother's love! Jack! You should know better to wake a man when he's sleeping. 'S bad luck."

"Ah, fortunately, I know how to counter it." Jack moves forward, kneeling. "The man who did the waking buys the man who was sleeping a drink. The man who was sleeping drinks it while listening to a proposition from the man who did the waking."

The man who was sleeping frowns for a moment, then it dawns on him. "Aye, that'll about do it."

Jack helps him to his feet, moving swiftly out of the way as Will throws another bucket of water on the man.

"Blast, I'm already awake!"

"That was for the smell," Will says. Cecilia laughs at Jack's suddenly wary expression.

On their walk to Jack's favourite tavern the man is introduced as Joshamee Gibbs, and he shakes both Cecilia and Will's hands enthusiastically, chattering away about the last time he saw Jack and what stories he has heard since, until they reach their destination, a tavern near the centre of the town.

The Faithful Bride doesn't appear to be the sort of place where many brides remain faithful, is Cecilia's first observation of the place. Even outside, there are various couples wrapped in each other's arms, or up against a wall, and a drunken brawl has broken out in the street. Jack leads them around the scuffle and into the tavern, which is loud and rowdy and bustling with people. Somehow he manages to find a table, which he gestures for Gibbs to sit at, leaving Cecilia and Will beside a nearby beam and then disappearing into the crowd. He returns several minutes later with two tankards, leaning close to the two of them as he passes.

"Keep a sharp eye."

Cecilia sighs, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Will and then focusing on the crowd in front of her. Every person seems to be in motion, pushing towards and against everyone else, either in a fight or a dance, it seems. Several men have various weapons drawn, but few are making a move to use them, instead just gesturing threateningly towards their opponents. Those using only their fists seem far more willing to engage in combat.

She peers around the beam to look at Jack and Gibbs, who are bent close together, in deep discussion. When she looks back to Will, there's a woman hanging off his arm, clearly quite inebriated and clearly trying to drag him away and offer her services. A prickling sensation at the back of her neck makes Cecilia look up, and she finds several men from various tables looking at her, something unpleasant behind their eyes. One stands up when she meets his gaze, and she's struck with the sudden and slightly panicked urge to be outside and out of his eyeline.

"I'm gonna go for some air," she says to Will, raising her voice over the din.

"And just leave me here?!" He gestures to the woman tugging on his arm, alarmed. He's not noticed the fast-approaching man, it seems.

"Absorb some of the culture, Will, it'll be good for you." She winks at him and then pushes away from the beam, into the stifling crowd.

Somehow Cecilia makes it outside without being crushed in the masses of people, and the cool night air is a relief even if it isn't much quieter. She wanders along the tavern's porch a little, keeping a wary eye on the door, but the man doesn't emerge. Fairly certain she's lost him, she leans on the railing and stares up at the almost-full moon.

They'll set off tomorrow, provided Gibbs has gathered a sufficient crew, and they can make good time with a fully-manned ship rather than just the three of them. Cecilia isn't entirely sure how far behind the Black Pearl they were, perhaps a day or so, but if Jack is right about Barbossa avoiding sailing at full mast, then they must have a decent chance of catching up. Of getting to Elizabeth in time.

God, she hopes Lizzie is okay—as okay as she can be on a ship full of pirates, anyway. In the eight years that she's known Elizabeth, Cecilia has come to regard her as a younger sister, the same way she regards Will as a nephew of sorts. Beyond ensuring that she's safe, Cecilia hopes that they find Elizabeth for Will's sake, too. Not only because it'll mean he avoids too harsh a punishment for freeing a pirate and stealing a Navy ship, but because she thinks it would break him beyond repair to lose Elizabeth. When all this is over, Cecilia is going to double down on her efforts to get the two to admit their feelings for each other, Norrington be damned.

Someone steps up beside her, and Cecilia jumps.

Jack raises his eyebrows, amused. "Thought we'd lost you."

"You'll have to try a little harder for that, I'm afraid. I came out for some air, I was getting a few... unsavoury stares in there."

He frowns, glancing over his shoulder to the open door of the tavern. "Who —"

She shrugs. "I don't know, it doesn't matter."

Jack leans on the railing, staring up at the moon with a scowl. Then his expression softens, and he turns to her. "Ye looked like you were deep in thought out here."

"Just worrying about Elizabeth, that's all. And Will, what he'll do if we don't find her."

"He did say he was willing to die for her," Jack points out. When Cecilia doesn't laugh he sighs. "Look, if what I think Barbossa thinks is true is true, she'll be fine."

Cecilia nods once, slowly. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"Just..." She sighs, gesturing in such a way that hopefully suggests everything.

Jack seems to get it, for he nods, turning to face the moon again. In the silence that follows Cecilia takes the time to study his face. Though it's been twelve years, he hasn't aged much, perhaps it's hidden under the kohl around his eyes. There's something aged in the way he holds himself, though, a certain quality that only people who have seen a lot and done a lot seem to possess. And yet, whatever's changed about him, be it his tan or his wild hair or the swagger in his walk, one thing hasn't: that Jack Sparrow is undeniably attractive—alluring, even.

It's as Cecilia is thinking this that Jack turns back to her again, and she has to avert her gaze for fear that her thoughts would be written across her irises for him to read.

"It suits you too, y'know."

She looks back at him, the statement so out-of-the-blue that it has her wondering if she'd missed him saying something. "What does?"

"Piracy."

Cecilia laughs at that, caught off-guard. "I'm hardly a pirate, Jack."

He tilts his head, humming. "I'd beg to differ. Sprung a man from jail, commandeered a ship of the fleet—Port Royal won't be enough for you after all this."

"You seem very certain," she says, somewhat haughtily, as if that isn't what she's been thinking herself.

"One word, love. Curiosity." Jack's voice dips low, but he seems to drown out all the noise of the tavern as he leans closer. "You long for freedom. You long to do what you want to do because you want it. To act on selfish impulse. You want to see what it's like. One day, you won't be able to resist." He smirks, smug as ever.

"Why doesn't your compass work?" Cecilia asks, changing the topic to distract from the fact that he's right. It's something she's been meaning to ask him, at any rate.

Jack frowns, clearing his throat and glancing down. "My compass works fine."

"Will is convinced that you're entirely dishonest," she says, fairly certain herself that that last statement was a lie.

"Well then, compass aside, young Mr Turner is correct for once. After all—" he gestures to himself— "pirate." He says it the same way he had in the blacksmiths.

"I don't think that's entirely true. I'm sure there will come a moment when you have the chance to prove me right. To do the right thing."

"I love those moments. I like to wave at them as they pass by."

"Whatever you say, Jack," she says lightly, teasingly. "But underneath it all, I think you're still a good man, however deep down."

He huffs a laugh. "All evidence to the contrary."

"Oh, I have faith in you." Cecilia turns to face him fully, leaning sideways against the railing. "Want to know why?"

Jack also turns, each of them facing the other head-on, now. "Do tell, dearie."

"Curiosity. You're going to want it, a chance to be admired and gain the rewards that follow. You won't be able to resist. You're going to want to know what it tastes like."

Jack's eyes go wide. "I do want to know what it tastes like." He leans forward a little further; Cecilia leans back, just an inch or so.

She wants this, she realises, even in all its impossibility. They're not the match they once were, neither could be content with the life the other leads... except Jack is right, the idea of a life of freedom is becoming more and more appealing to her.

It would be so easy to lean in and press her lips to his, to close the scant few inches between them, to ignore the voice in her head screaming that this isn't the time, that she should be focusing on Elizabeth, that—

But Jack is looking down at her, and when he meets her eyes she can tell that he wants as much as she does. He brings a hand up, slowly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face and then tracing his fingers along her jaw, coming to rest under her chin, where he tilts her head back just so and—

Someone behind Jack clears their throat, and it takes everything Cecilia has to not groan aloud in frustration. Jack scowls, dropping his hand and stepping a more respectable distance away. The air where he was feels cold, though Cecilia can still feel the heat of his hand against her skin.

Will is standing there, eyebrows raised. Cecilia averts her eyes.

"Gibbs has left to round up a crew, says he'll meet us at the dock at noon tomorrow," he says, glancing between the two of them.

Jack nods shortly, then moves around Will to head back into the tavern. With a glance at each other, Cecilia and Will follow him inside.

By the time they locate him Jack has claimed a table, which he leaves them both at as he returns to the bar. The table is hidden away in a quieter corner of the tavern, out of sight of any leering men, which Cecilia is grateful for, whether Jack intended it or not.

When he comes back, it's with three bowls of what could be a stew, though it's an interesting colour and texture.

"Eat," Jack says, placing a bowl in front of each of them and then sitting opposite with the third bowl for himself, "you'll need it. We've a bit to do before meeting Gibbs tomorrow."

He takes great care not to look at Cecilia for the whole meal and the walk back to the ship, she notices.

Jack seems to be out of whatever mood he was in by the next morning, shaking Will and Cecilia out of their hammocks as the sun is coming up. Their 'bit to do' is gathering supplies from around town, primarily food and drink, though Cecilia also takes the opportunity to acquire a rather nice waistcoat and overcoat for herself.

By noon they're ready to sail, and Gibbs is waiting for them on the dock, a line of men in front of him.

"Feast yer eyes, Cap'n. All of them faithful hands before the mast, every man worth his salt... and crazy to boot," he announces proudly.

"So this is your able-bodied crew?" Will says, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.

Jack ignores him, walking down the line a little and focusing on one of the men, an older man with a parrot on his shoulder. "You, sailor!"

"Cotton, sir."

"Mr Cotton, do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?"

Cotton remains silent, glancing at Gibbs.

"Mr Cotton! Answer, man!"

"He's a mute, sir," Gibbs says, leaning forward. "Poor devil had his tongue cut out, so he trained the parrot to talk for 'im. No one's yet figured how."

Cotton opens his mouth, revealing the remains of his tongue. Cecilia winces. Jack sticks out his own, as if to check it's still there.

"Mr Cotton's... parrot. Same question."

The parrot squawks. "Wind in your sails! Wind in your sails!"

"Mostly we figure that means yes," Gibbs says.

"Of course it does." Jack turns to face Cecilia. "Satisfied?"

She nods, smiling slightly.

Jack returns the grin, looking to Will, who remains straight-faced.

"Well, you've proved they're mad." He still sounds unimpressed.

Jack frowns a little, then goes still when a distinctly feminine voice speaks up.

"And what's the benefit for us?"

He glances at Cecilia, who shrugs, for it wasn't her who had spoken. Then his gaze falls on a sailor in a wide-brimmed hat that covers their face. He moves slowly along the line to them, then pulls the hat off in one swift motion, revealing a woman.

"Anamaria," he greets, and she slaps him hard across the face.

"I suppose you didn't deserve that one either?" Cecilia says, raising her eyebrows.

"No, that one I deserved." Jack turns back to Anamaria, who's nodding.

"You stole my boat!"

"Actually -"

She smacks him again, harder this time.

Jack grimaces, turning back slowly. "Borrowed. Borrowed without permission, but with every intention of bringing it back to you."

"But you didn't!"

"You'll get another one!"

Anamaria points an angry finger in his face. "I will."

"A better one," Cecilia adds.

Jack grins slightly manically, nodding. "A better one!"

"That one," Will says primly, pointing to the Interceptor.

"What one?" Jack whirls around to Will, who nods towards the Interceptor. "That one?!" He sighs. "Aye, that one. What say you?"

"Aye," Anamaria calls, echoed by the rest of the crew.

"Anchor's away!" The parrot squawks.

The crew begin to make their way along the dock towards the ship, and Cecilia follows, intending to talk with Anamaria. When Jack, Will, and Gibbs don't follow, she hesitates.

"No, no, no, no, no, it's frightful bad luck to bring the women aboard, sir," Gibbs is saying.

"It'll be far worse not to have them," Jack says, apparently staring up at something in the sky, but when Cecilia looks there's nothing there. When Will and Gibbs turn to look he turns to leave, stopping briefly in surprise when he sees that Cecilia had overheard. "Better get yer sea legs on, love, there's a storm coming," he says, falling into step with her.

"How can you tell?"

"Can feel it in me bones," he says, his grin teasing.

Cecilia rolls her eyes, unable to stop a small smile of her own.

"Aha," Jack murmurs, plucking a stray hat similar to his own from atop a crate on the dock and setting it upon Cecilia's head. It fits surprisingly well.

"Do I look the part?" She asks, giving him a twirl mid-step.

He nods, and suddenly there's something warmer and more subdued in his expression. There's a quiet intensity to it, Cecilia thinks. "It suits you."

Chapter Text

The journey from Tortuga to the Isla de Muerta is a difficult one. For one thing, Jack's compass still doesn't seem to be working as it should, despite his protests otherwise. But the island is marked on no map, so the faulty compass is their best bet.

The other main issue comes in the form of the storm that Jack had predicted. It hits them a few days into the journey, beginning with light rain that quickly becomes hard and fast, pelting the deck until it's slick with water. Cecilia is forced into the captain's cabin by Jack and Will, despite her insistence that she is willing to help. At first she's irritated by this, but as the ship rocks harshly beneath her feet and she watches waves crash onto the deck and knock the crew off their feet, she's glad of it, perhaps selfishly.

The day after is calm, though the sky remains overcast, the vibrant sunrise and sundown hidden behind grey clouds. There's a freshness to the air that can only be brought about by rain, though the closer they get to the Isla de Muerta, the heavier the air begins to feel.

The first thing Cecilia notices when she wakes on the morning of the fourth day is that she is filled with an unusual and deeply unsettling sense of foreboding. When she heads out onto the deck, she pauses; there's a preternatural chill in the air, and a thick fog surrounding the ship. The island looms up ahead, dark and ominous even in the daylight. Most of the crew are lined up along one side of the ship, watching silently as the Interceptor drifts closer.

"Dead men tell no tales," Cotton's parrot squawks, as if the place wasn't eerie enough.

Cecilia finds Will in the lineup, standing beside Gibbs, and approaches the two of them. "Good morning."

Gibbs greets her with a smile that is slightly brighter than Will's, as the younger man doesn't look away from the island, his expression deeply apprehensive.

"Puts a chill in the bones, how many honest sailors have been claimed by this passage," Gibbs mutters.

Cecilia shivers, glancing up again at Jack, who's scowling down at his compass. He has an unusually grave air about him, somewhat sullen.

Will had done the same, apparently, because he follows Gibbs, asking, "How is it that Jack came by that compass?"

"Not a lot's known about Jack Sparrow 'fore he showed up in Tortuga with a mind to go after the treasure of the Isla de Muerta. That was before I met him, back when he was captain of the Black Pearl."

"What?"

Gibbs, looking rather guilty, takes a swig from his flask.

"He failed to mention that," Cecilia says, glancing at Jack again.

"Well, he plays things closer to the vest now, and a hard-learned lesson it was. See, three days out on the venture the first mate comes to 'im and says, 'everything's an equal share, that should mean the location of the treasure, too'. So, Jack gives up the bearings. That night there was a mutiny. They marooned Jack on an island and left him to die, but not before he'd gone mad with the heat."

"Ah," Will says sagely. "So that's the reason for all the..." He trails off, moving his arms about in the manner Jack is prone to and pulling a face.

Cecilia can't bring herself to laugh, still going over Gibbs' story. Jack hadn't mentioned that, not that she blames him. Compared to the other exploits he'd described, it's a rather sorry tale.

"Reason's got nothing to do with it," Gibbs says, sitting down. Cecilia follows, and Will halts his impression to do the same. "Now, Will, Miss Cecilia, when a pirate's marooned, he's given a pistol with a single shot, one shot. Well, that won't do much good hunting, nor to be rescued. But after three weeks of a starving belly and thirst, that pistol starts to look real friendly." He mimes putting a pistol to his temple. "But Jack, he escaped the island, and he still has that single shot. Oh, he won't use it though, save on one man. His mutinous first mate."

"Barbossa," Cecilia realises. Jack's comment about having a score to settle makes more sense now.

"Aye."

"How did Jack get off the island?" Will asks, frowning.

"Well, I'll tell ye." Gibbs leans forward, obviously enthused to be telling this story. "He waded out into the shallows and he waited there three days and three nights, 'til all manner of sea creatures 'came acclimated to his presence. And on the fourth morning, he roped himself a couple of sea turtles, lashed 'em together and made a raft."

"...He roped a couple of sea turtles," Will says disbelievingly. Cecilia doesn't blame him.

"Aye, sea turtles."

"What did he use for rope?"

Gibbs opens his mouth to speak, then pauses, considering this.

"Human hair." Jack's voice behind her makes Cecilia jump. "From my back."

She grimaces.

"Let go the anchor!" Jack shouts, receiving a similar shout of response from the crew. "Young Mr Turner and I are to go ashore."

Cecilia stands, frowning. "Forgetting someone? I've not come all this way just to sit and wait, Jack."

For a moment his expression remains stony, then his mouth twitches into something of a grin. "I was hoping you'd say that, love." He turns to go, Cecilia and Will in his stead.

Gibbs follows too. "Cap'n! What if the worst should happen?"

"Keep to the code," Jack says.

"Aye, the code."

The three of them climb into the rowboat and are lowered into the water. Jack takes the oars without question, and Will moves to the front of the boat. Cecilia sits between the two of them, which she's grateful for; there's a chill in the air akin to the one when Port Royal was attacked.

They round a corner, bobbing in the water, and a ship that can only be the Black Pearl comes into view. Silhouetted in the fog, Cecilia can just about make it out. It looks every bit like a pirate ship from one of Elizabeth's stories: tattered sails, a blackened hull, surrounded by fog that makes the figures milling about on deck look ghostly.

They remain a fair distance away, partially concealed by an outcrop of rock, and Jack produces a spyglass, leaning around Cecilia and Will to get a better look.

"Is she there?" Will says, the first any of them have spoken since they left the Interceptor.

Jack lowers the spyglass. "No."

"So where is she?" Cecilia asks.

"It's begun," Jack says, unnecessarily ominous. He snaps the spyglass shut and tucks it back into his coat, then takes up the oars again.

The deeper they go into the island, the darker it gets. Will lights a lamp so they can avoid wrecking themselves on the jagged rocks. The air feels more and more oppressive, worse than it had initially on the deck of the Interceptor.

"What code is Gibbs to keep to if the worst should happen?" Will asks, breaking the long silence that the three of them had been maintaining.

"The Pirates' Code," Jack says. "Any man who falls behind is left behind."

"No heroes amongst thieves, eh?"

"Y'know," Jack says, apparently resigned to conversation now, "for having such a bleak outlook on pirates, you're well on your way to becoming one."

Though Cecilia can't see Will's face, she can picture his bewildered expression well.

Jack lists the same that he had to Cecilia in Tortuga, adding, "sailed with a buccaneer crew out of Tortuga... and you're completely obsessed with treasure." He cranes his head to peer over Cecilia's shoulder at the gold that has transfixed Will, sparkling in the water.

The boat hits the shore, and Will climbs out first, followed by Cecilia and then Jack. The latter creeps towards an overhang, ducking to not be seen.

"That's not true," Will protests. "I am not obsessed with treasure."

"Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate," Jack says. He meets Cecilia's eyes then, and that quiet intensity is back. Just as quickly, it's gone, he's looked away, down at the pirates that have gathered below.

"Gentlemen, the time has come!" One pirate calls, standing beside a chest. This must be Barbossa. Elizabeth is standing behind the chest, still alive, thank God. The assembled crew cheer. "Salvation is nigh!" Another cheer. "Our torment is nearing an end! For ten years, we've been tested and tried and each man-jack of you here has proved his mettle a hundred times over, and a hundred times again!" Another cheer, louder this time. "Punished we were, the lot of us, disproportionate to our crime! Here it is!" Barbossa kicks off the lid of the chest, revealing that it's filled almost to the brim with sparkling gold. "The cursed treasure of Cortes himself. Every last piece that went astray, we have returned, save for this." He points to a medallion hanging around Elizabeth's neck.

Will scrambles up, knocking some of the treasure. "Jack!"

Cecilia, closer of the two, pulls him down again.

"Not yet," Jack hisses. "Wait for the opportune moment." He stands, moving past them towards the water.

Will stands and follows him. "When's that? When it's of greatest profit to you?"

Though Jack has his back to them, his sigh is apparent. "May I ask you something?" He turns around, leaning close to Will. "Have I ever given you reason not to trust me? Do us a favour, I know it's difficult for you, but please, stay here, and try not to do anything stupid." He glances over Will's shoulder at Cecilia. "Both of you." He turns to leave again.

Barbossa, evidently still unaware of their presence, continues his speech below. "And who among us has paid the blood sacrifice owed to the heathen gods?"

"Us!" The pirates shout.

"And whose blood must yet be paid?"

"Hers!"

Cecilia curses under her breath, debating whether or not to just ignore what Jack said, because they're going to kill Elizabeth. And yet, so far Jack hasn't given her a reason not to trust him. She does trust him.

It seems Will has reached a different conclusion; he grabs an oar from the boat and follows Jack.

"Will, no!" Cecilia hisses, chasing over him.

Jack turns at the sound of her voice, just in time to be hit over the head by the oar.

"What are you doing?" Cecilia kneels down beside Jack, who has crumpled to the floor.

"I'm not going to be his leverage," Will says shortly, tossing the oar aside. "Come on."

"What?"

"We need to get to Elizabeth, Cee, come on."

"We can't just leave him here," she protests, glancing down at Jack.

"He'll be fine. Come on, there isn't much time."

"I..." Cecilia glances from Jack to Will and back again. "You go ahead, we'll catch up. Good luck."

Will looks briefly conflicted, but the chanting from the pirates spurs him into action. He nods shortly, then turns and rounds the corner, out of sight.

Cecilia sighs in frustration, rising up a little to peer over the rocks hiding them from the cave. The chanting gets louder as Barbossa snatches the medallion from around Elizabeth's neck, placing it in her hand and drawing a knife across her palm. The chanting stops abruptly as Barbossa takes Elizabeth's hand and forces her to drop the gold into the chest.

There's a powerful, expectant silence. Cecilia doesn't know what exactly the nature of this curse is, nor why they need Elizabeth's blood, but she expects she'll find out.

Jack begins to rouse, lifting a hand to his head and groaning. Cecilia shushes him hurriedly, glancing over him again to check he's alright.

"Cecilia?" He murmurs, blinking up at her blearily.

"Will knocked you out," she says, sitting back on her heels as he struggles upright.

There's a gunshot then, making both of them jump. Cecilia peers over the rocks again in time to see Barbossa tucking a gun back into his belt.

"You're not dead," one of the pirates says. That must be the curse, then.

"Undead pirates," she murmurs to Jack, "that sounds like something Elizabeth would read in one of her stories."

"Most think it is only a story."

Barbossa whirls around to face Elizabeth. "You, maid! Your father, what was his name?" He grabs her shoulders, shaking her. "Was your father William Turner?"

"No."

"Where's his child, The child that sailed from England eight years ago? The child in whose veins flows the blood of William Turner?"

So that's why Jack agreed to help once he heard Will's name. It wasn't out of some debt to Bootstrap, like Cecilia had presumed, it's because Will is the only one who can break the curse.

When Elizabeth doesn't answer Barbossa he backhands her hard, sending her tumbling out of sight. Without the younger woman to worry about, Cecilia turns to Jack.

"What exactly is this curse?" She asks. "They're undead, only Will's blood can break it—why?"

Jack sighs. "It's a long story, love, when we're out of here I'll tell it to you." He takes her arm and grabs the oar Will had hit him with, but they don't get far before Barbossa's crew come flooding around the corner, stopping short at the sight of them.

"You!" One points to Jack.

"You're s'posed to be dead!" another yells.

"Am I not?" Jack looks down at himself and then hums, turning around so that he is between Cecilia and the pirates and then pushing her forward lightly. She stops abruptly when a sword and a pistol are pointed in her face. When they turn back they find the same thing. The pirates have blocked them in. Jack opens his mouth, but instead of word what comes out seems to be just a string of letters.

Cecilia stares at him, wondering if he had been hit harder than she had thought.

"Parsnip, parsley, par—partner, pardoner..."

"Parley?" One of the pirates suggests.

"That's the one!" Jack snaps his fingers, pointing. "Parley! Parley!"

"Parley? Down to the depths whatever muttonhead thought of parley!"

"That would be the French."

No one is amused, it seems, because Cecilia and Jack are grabbed and dragged roughly into the main cave, surrounded by pirates so tightly that there's no possible way they could escape. Cecilia can feel hungry eyes on her, and shivers, but keeps her chin held high, refusing to let them see that they're getting to her. She can't see Elizabeth or Will anywhere in the cave, they must have escaped somehow.

The crowd parts for Barbossa to come forward, and he stops short at the sight of Jack. "How the blazes did you get off that island?"

Jack leans forward on his oar. "When you marooned me on that godforsaken spit of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Ah, well, I won't be making that mistake again." Barbossa approaches Jack with each word, leaning close, then his eyes flick over Jack's shoulder to Cecilia. "And who might this be?"

"No one, she's no one," Jack says hastily.

Barbossa ignores him. "Ye have a name, miss?"

"Cecilia Guillemot."

"Cecilia Guillemot," he repeats, hitting the t hard. He leans forward, taking her hand and pressing his lips to the back. He's cold, far too cold. "The pleasure's all mine, I take it?"

"Something like that," Cecilia says, drawing her hand back quickly the moment he lets go.

Barbossa makes a small sound that could be a scoff, could be a laugh, and steps back. "Gents, you all remember Captain Jack Sparrow?"

There's a murmur of assent from the crew.

"Kill him." He turns, beginning to walk away. "Leave the lady."

Various weapons are drawn and pointed at Jack.

"The girl's blood didn't work, did it?" He says, and Barbossa stills.

So does Cecilia. Jack won't give up Will, surely...

"Hold your fire!" Barbossa turns around, coming forward again. "You know whose blood we need."

Jack nods, his grin smug. "We know whose blood you need."

Chapter Text

With that, they're dragged unceremoniously out of the caves and into a boat with Barbossa, the monkey that's taken residence on his shoulder, and a pirate that Cecilia doesn't recognise. Using the oar snatched from Jack and what appears to be a parasol as another, the pirate rows them towards the Black Pearl, which looms ahead of them a little way out in the water. The Interceptor is gone, presumably with Will and Elizabeth on it.

Pressed up against Cecilia in the cramped space of the rowboat, Jack finds her hand and links their fingers together. She looks over at him, surprised, to find that he's already looking at her.

"Trust me?" He says, his voice barely even a whisper.

Cecilia nods. "Of course," she murmurs, squeezing his hand.

Though he says nothing else, Jack doesn't let go of her hand until they're being hoisted up to the Pearl.

"Put 'er in the brig," Barbossa says once they're on deck, waving a hand at Cecilia.

She's seized by rough, cold hands and dragged into the darkness below deck. The floors are flooded and the stench of rotting wood hangs in the air. The pirate holding her shoves Cecilia backwards into a cell; she grasps onto the bars, steadying herself as the door is slammed shut and locked. The pirate leers at her, reaching a hand through the bars, then turns and leaves.

Unsure what else to do, Cecilia moves towards a hole in the side of the ship, peering out at the expanse of ocean. She can't see a way out of this one, but she trusts Jack more than anyone at the moment, considering Will abandoned her. That stings, a little, but at least he and Elizabeth are safe. Though that might not be the case for very long if Will's name comes up in Jack's negotiation with Barbossa. Cecilia hopes that Jack wouldn't put a target on Will's back unless it was absolutely necessary... but perhaps he would deem this situation necessary, who knows?

Cecilia sighs heavily and rakes a hand through her hair, which has long since fallen down around her shoulders. She moves to the side of the cell where the water is most shallow, keeping her eyes fixed to the peephole as if it might suddenly grow large enough to escape through.

Not long has passed when she hears footsteps on the stairs, and Jack appears, being pushed along by a different pirate to the one that had escorted Cecilia, which she's glad of. Jack is thrown in and the door is locked again.

"There's a leak, it seems," she says dryly as he stares at the water on the floor with confusion.

"Ah." He looks up at her. "We're coming up on the Interceptor."

"Why? You didn't tell him—"

"I didn't tell him that dear Mr Turner is the one he needs to break the curse, no. But Barbossa wants that medallion back."

"They took it?"

"Seems so."

Cecilia nods, leaning back against the bars. She would sit down, but the water is rising. "You said you'd tell me about the curse."

"So I did." Jack clears his throat. "The legend goes that hidden away on the Isla de Muerta there's a chest of eight hundred and eighty-two pieces of Aztec gold, upon which is placed a terrible curse." He pauses, presumably for dramatic effect. Cecilia raises her eyebrows. "Any mortal who removes a piece from the chest would be punished for eternity. Spooky, eh?"

"Punished how?"

He shrugs. "The stories never specified. We know they can't die, but that seems like a plus to me, so there's got to be a catch somewhere. In the moonlight they turn to skeletons," he adds, grimacing slightly.

The sudden sound of something heavy hitting the water makes Cecilia jump, and Jack leans over to peer through the hole.

"They've brought out the sweeps," he says, glancing over his shoulder at her. "We'll catch up easily."

Cecilia moves near to him, looking out of the hole also. Various barrels and crates are floating past in the water, bobbing in time with the rhythm of the Pearl's oars. "Are they trying to lighten the load on the Interceptor?"

He nods shortly. "It won't work."

The ship tips suddenly; both Cecilia and Jack grab onto the bars in an effort to stay standing. They glance at each other, then move back to the hole, pressed close together in an effort to look out at the same time. The Interceptor has turned around, pulling up next to the Pearl.

There's a moment of stillness, though shouts can be heard from both ships, and then the cannons start to fire.

Cecilia drags Jack down as something comes soaring towards them, the two of them sprawling in the water as the side of the ship splinters.

"Stop blowing 'oles in my ship!" Jack shouts. His eyes fall on something floating in the cell, which turns out to be a hipflask when he lifts it.

"It's an unconventional cannonball," Cecilia remarks.

He tips it to his mouth, then frowns. "And it's empty."

She laughs, then notices the break in the bars of the cell. She stands, and at her push the door swings open. Jack scrambles up from the floor, tucking the flask onto his belt, and the two of them head up onto the deck, where chaos has ensued.

The air is hazy with the smoke of the cannons, not to mention loud with the firing of guns and the shouts of both crews. People are swinging from ship to ship, some successfully, others less so, crashing into the water below.

Jack jumps up to the edge of the ship, snatching a rope from a man swinging over and sending him hurtling to the deck with a loud crash. "Thanks very much." He holds out his free hand to Cecilia.

She takes it, climbing up and grasping the rope tightly with one hand, holding onto him just as tightly with the other. Jack brings his other arm around her waist, pulling her to him.

"Ready?"

Cecilia nods, and Jack pushes off from the edge, sending the two of them soaring towards the Interceptor. They collide with a pirate, knocking him into the water as they swing back towards the Pearl. The second time they make it, landing rather ungracefully near to Gibbs, who shouts their names in relief.

Scrambling to her feet, Cecilia grabs a sword from one of the fallen pirates, turning to fend off several of Barbossa's crew who are approaching her. The problem with fighting undead pirates, she quickly realises, is that the best you can do to beat them is simply disable them for a little while, and even then they'll end up coming back.

She glances over her shoulder, spotting Jack with Elizabeth, then ducks as a bullet comes her way. That is a mistake, apparently, as she's seized from behind by two pirates and dragged backwards. She struggles profusely, but can't break their hold, and a blade to her throat makes her go still rather quickly.

"Cee!" Someone calls, and Cecilia looks over to see Elizabeth, who's also being held and restrained.

"Elizabeth!" Though she tries not to move to avoid touching the blade, Cecilia can't help smiling in relief.

"Gents, our hope is restored!" Barbossa calls, clutching the medallion. His crew cheer in answer.

Cecilia, Elizabeth, and the rest of the Interceptor's crew are escorted roughly back to the Pearl, Jack trailing behind. Though he isn't restrained, Barbossa's crew are keeping a watchful eye on him. Cecilia looks around frantically for Will, but can't see him anywhere. Hopefully he's somewhere in the crowd; if not, he's stuck on the rapidly-sinking Interceptor.

The Interceptor's crew are secured to the mast with a rope, though at Barbossa's order Cecilia is pulled from the crowd to instead be restrained separately by another pirate. She glances in confusion to Jack, standing nearby—it can't be because she's a woman, for both Anamaria and Elizabeth are also tied to the mast.

Speaking of Elizabeth—she ducks under the rope, heading for Barbossa, but stops short when the wreck of the Interceptor explodes. Cecilia flinches back, and her captor tightens his hold as if she had made to escape.

Will. If he had still been on, or even near, the wreckage...

Elizabeth lunges for Barbossa, screaming.

Barbossa grabs onto her arms, pinning them to her sides. "Welcome back, miss. You took advantage of our hospitality last time, it holds fair now you return the favour." He pushes her into a crowd of his crew, who begin to pull at her hair and clothes. Elizabeth screams; Cecilia struggles against the man holding her, but his grip only gets harsher.

"Barbossa!" Someone calls.

Cecilia turns her head quickly at the familiar voice. Will is standing on the edge of the ship, soaked through but alive.

He jumps down to the deck, pulling a pistol on Barbossa. "She goes free!"

Barbossa moves forward. "What's in your head, boy?" He snaps.

"She goes free," Will repeats.

"You've only got one shot, and we can't die," Barbossa points out.

"Don't do anything stupid," Cecilia hears Jack plead quietly, his hands clasped together.

Will glances at Jack, then runs back, jumping up to the rigging again. He points the pistol at his head. "You can't. I can."

Jack sighs. "Like that."

"Who are you?"

"No one," Jack says before Will can talk, running forward to stand in front of Barbossa, "he's no one. Distant cousin of my aunt's nephew twice removed. Lovely singing voice, though. Eunuch."

"My name is Will Turner," Will calls. Jack sighs, shuffling back to his previous place. "My father was Bootstrap Bill Turner. His blood runs in my veins."

"It's the spittin' image of ol' Bootstrap Bill come back to haunt us!" One of the pirates calls, pointing.

"On my word, do as I say," Will continues, "or I'll pull this trigger, and be lost to Davy Jones' Locker!"

Barbossa considers this for a moment. "Name yer terms, Mr Turner."

"Elizabeth goes free!"

"Yes, we know that one. Anything else?"

For a moment Cecilia genuinely thinks Will has forgotten her existence before his eyes seek her out in the crowd.

"Cecilia too," he adds. Jack is pointing to himself, Will notices this and amends, "and the crew are not to be harmed."

"Agreed."

It seems Will has a little more to learn about the fine print of the Pirates' Code, because the moment he has relinquished hold of the gun Barbossa orders for Elizabeth to walk the plank. Cecilia watches, helpless in the hold of her captor, as Elizabeth is pushed out over the water by jeering pirates, several swords pointed to prevent her turning back.

"Barbossa, you lying bastard!" Will spits, struggling against the pirates holding him back. "You swore she'd go free!"

"Don't dare impugn me honour, boy!" Barbossa snaps, whirling to face Will. "I agreed she'd go free, but it was you who failed to specify when or where." This isn't looking too good for Cecilia either, then. He turns back to Elizabeth. "Though it does seem a shame to lose something so fine, don't it, lads?"

"Aye!"

"So I'll be havin' that dress back before you go."

Elizabeth pulls the red dress off, to whoops and whistles from the crew, and tosses it at him. "Goes with your black heart."

Barbossa catches the dress and lifts it to his face. "Ooh, it's still warm." He tosses it into the crowd.

In only her shift, Elizabeth steps out a little further onto the plank.

"Off you go! Come on!" Someone calls as she hesitates on the edge.

"Too long!" Another pirate shakes the plank, causing Elizabeth to fall into the water.

Cecilia struggles forward, trying to see over the edge of the ship, but is pulled back before she can get far.

Jack is dragged to the plank next. "I'd really rather hoped we were past all this."

"Jack. Jack." Barbossa drags out the 'a' as he puts an arm around Jack's shoulders. "Did ye not notice? That be the same little island that we made you governor of on our last little trip."

Jack looks to the island in the distance and back again. "I did notice."

"Perhaps you'll be able to conjure up another miraculous escape. But I doubt it." Barbossa draws his sword and points it at Jack, who edges backwards a little.

"Last time you left me a pistol with one shot."

"By the powers, you're right. Where be Jack's pistol? Bring it forward."

One of the pirates does so.

"Seeing as there's two of us, a gentleman... would give us a pair of pistols."

"Though there's three of ye, it'll be one pistol as before, and you can be the gentleman and pick a lady to shoot, then starve to death with the other yourself."

"Sorry, three of us?"

Barbossa turns to Cecilia, who is pushed forward. "Tis a shame, of course, but a deal's a deal."

Jack's eyes widen a little—whether in relief or despair, she can't tell.

Barbossa tosses the pistol into the water, and, with a final glance at her, Jack dives in after it.

Cecilia is pushed forward next, finally out of the grasp of the man holding her. She steps cautiously onto the plank, feeling immediately unstable with nothing to hold onto and deep water several feet below her. She glances back, not at Barbossa, but at Will, who has been gagged and is watching with wide eyes. With a small smile his way that she hopes is reassuring, she faces forward and jumps.

The water isn't cold, at least, though she feels weighted down by her clothes. Cecilia breaks the surface with a gasp, shaking her wet hair out of her eyes and beginning to swim. She's out of practise, and by the time she gets to the shore her muscles are burning and she's out of breath. The moment she is standing on dry land she sheds her outer layers, feeling immediately lighter.

"Are you alright?" She asks Elizabeth, panting slightly.

She nods shortly.

Cecilia turns to Jack, who is standing in ankle-deep water and staring out at the Black Pearl. "Jack?"

For a moment he remains silent. "That's the second time I've had to watch that man sail away on my ship."

Chapter Text

Elizabeth wanders off without another word, leaving Cecilia and Jack alone to watch the Black Pearl sail away.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Cecilia says once it's a mere spot on the horizon.

Jack doesn't say anything, just makes a quiet, non-committal sound.

"Surely it's better not to be alone, though?" She tries.

He turns to her, something defeated in his eyes. It's a foreign expression on him, and it scares Cecilia. "Not when we're all going to die here, love."

"How did you escape before?"

Jack shakes his head, venturing away from the water's edge and sitting down with the pistol and sword. "It won't work, not this time."

This pessimism is unusual from him, too. Cecilia sits down beside him, keeping a little space between them. She wants to reach out and touch him, but she suspects he would pull away.

Cecilia kicks off her boots and rolls up her breeches, then works on raking the salty tangles out of her wet hair as Jack dries off the pistol and works the sand out of the crevices. When Elizabeth comes back from her walk around the island she stops in front of the two of them, but doesn't say anything.

"It's really not all that big, is it?" Jack says, eyes fixed on the pistol.

Elizabeth turns to face him. "If you're going to shoot me, please do so without delay."

Jack looks up, leaning forward. "Is there a problem between us, Miss Swann?"

"You were going to tell Barbossa about Will in exchange for a ship," she says, gritting her teeth.

"We could use a ship," Jack points out, gesturing around them. "The fact is, I was going to not tell Barbossa about bloody Will in exchange for a ship, because as long as he didn't know about bloody Will, I had something to bargain with. Which now no one has, thanks to bloody, stupid Will." He stands, aggravated.

"Oh." Elizabeth looks away, chastened.

"Oh," Jack mocks.

Cecilia also stands, glancing between the two of them. Whilst she can understand the animosity coming from each, it's decidedly unhelpful in their current predicament.

"He still risked his life to save ours," Elizabeth says.

"Ha!" Jack turns to march along the shore, going at quite a pace. Cecilia and Elizabeth exchange glances and follow him.

"So we have to do something to rescue him!" Elizabeth continues.

Jack whirls around, flapping his hands. "Off you go then, let me know how that turns out." He turns again, continuing walking into the sparse trees.

"But you were marooned on this island before, weren't you, so we can escape in the same way you did then!"

"To what point and purpose, young missy?" Jack snaps, spinning around again. "The Black Pearl is gone. And unless you have a rudder and a lot of sails hidden in that bodice—" he glances down— "unlikely, young Mr Turner will be dead long before you can reach him." He turns again, heading for a tree and knocking on it.

"But you're Captain Jack Sparrow," Elizabeth protests.

Jack ignores her, taking four large steps forward and then jumping on the sand.

"You vanished from under the eyes of seven ages of the East India Company!" Elizabeth continues. "You sacked Nassau Port without even firing a shot! Are you the pirate I've read about, or not? How did you escape last time?"

Jack sighs, glancing at Cecilia and then back to Elizabeth. "Last time... I was here a grand total of three days, alright? Last time—" he bends down, opening a trapdoor hidden beneath the sand to reveal a small space filled with bottles and sand— "the rum runners used this island as a cache. They came by and I was able to barter passage off." He climbs down the steps into the hole. "From the looks of things, they've long been out of business. Probably have your bloody friend Norrington to thank for that." He reaches down and re-emerges with three bottles.

Some ridiculous part of Cecilia feels disappointed that that's it, even though she knew it couldn't have ever been sea turtles. A kinder part of her feels relieved for the acknowledgement that Jack is only human like the rest of them, that he hasn't been changed to something else in the twelve years that had passed.

Elizabeth makes no effort to hide her own disappointment. "So that's it, then? That's the secret grand adventure of the infamous Jack Sparrow. You spent three days lying on a beach, drinking rum?"

Jack smiles falsely at her. "Welcome to the Caribbean." He brushes past them, passing a bottle to Cecilia and heading back towards the beach.

Elizabeth chases after him again. "So? Is there any truth to the other stories?"

"Truth?" With another glance at Cecilia, Jack lifts his sleeve to show the P branded onto his skin. Lifting his other sleeve reveals a long burn scar up the inside of his arm, and when he pulls aside his shirt there are two bullet scars on his chest. Cecilia steps forward, but still doesn't reach out to him. "No truth at all." Jack sits down. "We still have a month, maybe more. Keep a weather eye open for passing ships, and our chances will fly." He uncorks his bottle, taking a long drink.

Cecilia sits down next to him and does the same, grimacing a little at the strength of the drink.

"What about Will?" Elizabeth's voice is smaller now, defeated. "We have to do something."

"You're absolutely right." Jack rolls the second bottle along the sand towards her, then raises his own. "Here's luck to you, Will Turner."

Cecilia clinks her bottle against his, the two of them each taking another swig of rum.

Elizabeth sits down next to her, staring at the bottle in her hands. "Drink up me hearties, yo ho," she mutters, taking a drink.

Jack leans forward to look over at her. "What was that, Elizabeth?"

"It's Miss Swann," she snaps. Jack raises his hands in surrender. She sighs. "Nothing, just a song I learned as a child when I actually thought it would be exciting to meet a pirate."

"Let's hear it," Jack says.

"No."

"Come on, we've got the time," Cecilia prompts, fairly certain that she knows the song in question. Elizabeth stares at her, seemingly betrayed. "Let's have it."

"No." Elizabeth sighs again. "I'd have to have a lot more to drink."

"How much more?" Jack smirks, tipping his head back to drink again.

Quite a lot, it seems, but eventually Jack and Cecilia manage to coax the lyrics of the song from Elizabeth as they build a fire, the sun sinking in the sky. By the time darkness falls, a significant dent has been made in the rum cellar, and Cecilia is most certainly feeling the effects.

"We're devils, we're black sheep, we're really bag eggs, drink up me hearties, yo ho!" She and Jack sing loudly as they dance around the fire. Elizabeth has disappeared, presumably for more rum. "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!"

"I love this song!" Jack exclaims, stumbling a little on the sand. He links arms with Cecilia and the two of them twirl around, laughing delightedly. "Really bad eggs!" He falls back onto the sand, pulling her down with him. "When I get the Pearl back, I'm gonna teach it to the whole crew, and we'll sing it all the time!"

This is familiar, a piece of twelve-year-old history, the two of them sitting side-by-side late at night, discussing their hopeful futures.

"And you'll be positively the most fearsome pirates in the Spanish Main," Cecilia says, leaning close to him.

Jack's eyes go wide. "Not just the Spanish Main, love. The entire ocean, the entire world!" He gestures out to the sea. "Wherever we want to go, we'll go. That's what a ship is, you know. It's not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails, that's what a ship needs. But what a ship is, what the Black Pearl really is, is freedom."

Transfixed, Cecilia stares at him. The alcohol has made the world go blurry, but Jack is as clear as if she were seeing him in daylight, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight.

"Jack," she says softly, leaning back against his shoulder with a sigh, "it must be really terrible for you to be trapped on this island."

"Oh yes." As close to him as this, Cecilia can hear the pleasant rumble of Jack's voice in his chest. He brings his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. Cecilia closes her eyes, basking in the comforting warmth of him. "But the company is infinitely better than last time, and the—" he clears his throat— "scenery has definitely improved."

Cecilia opens her eyes, suddenly feeling much too sober. "I'm not sure I've had enough rum for that sort of talk, Jack."

Jack leans back a little, withdrawing his arm to point at her. "I know exactly what you mean, love." He twirls the ends of his moustache, the action ridiculous but somehow endearing.

Cecilia laughs, raising her bottle. "To freedom."

He lifts his hand again, running it through her hair and letting it rest against the back of her neck. "To the Black Pearl." He clinks his bottle against hers and tips his head back to drink, slowly falling back against the sand as he drains the liquid. His hand slips down her back and then falls to the sand, limp. He's asleep, it seems.

Cecilia stares down at him, watching the shadows dancing across his face. She feels the way she had that night in Tortuga, wants to be close to him, impossibly so. At least if they die out here, she won't have to return to Port Royal, to restrictive ceremony and a part that she's tired of playing. She glances up, squinting into the trees for a sign of Elizabeth, but can't spot her. Perhaps she's fallen asleep. Satisfied she's unobserved, Cecilia lifts a hand to Jack's face and leans forward, pressing her lips briefly to his forehead. Pulling back, she brushes her thumb along his cheekbone, then lies down in the sand next to him, her head pillowed against his shoulder, and closes her eyes.

"Cee."

Cecilia hums, turning her head away from the voice and into the warmth of the body beside her.

Someone shakes her with a hand on her shoulder. "Cecilia."

She opens her eyes a crack, her head immediately protesting the action. Elizabeth is leaning over her, the sky behind her a pale orange as the sun comes up. "What?" Her voice comes out as a croak, her throat dry.

"I need your help."

Cecilia rubs her eyes in an effort to wake up, then opens her eyes. She's still lying on the sand next to Jack, her head resting on his chest. She sits up slowly, her head throbbing a little. On the sand next to her is an almost-empty bottle of rum, which she uncorks and drains, quenching her thirst and doing a little to help with her headache.

"My help with what?" She asks, her voice a little stronger now.

Elizabeth nods towards the trees. "I'll show you, come on."

Cecilia glances down at Jack, who's still fast asleep. She moves carefully out of his hold on her waist, resting his hand upon his chest. Her fingers linger against his, and Elizabeth definitely notices, her eyebrows raising. "Let's go," Cecilia says, struggling to her feet.

Elizabeth leads her to the rum cellar, from which she appears to have hauled several barrels, leaving them scattered on the nearby sand. "I'm not going to stay here and wait to die," she says. "We're making a signal."

"A signal?" Cecilia's brain still hasn't quite caught up.

"If we can burn the rum, let the trees catch alight, the column of smoke should be visible to passing ships."

"...Yes. Who's to say a ship will pass?"

Elizabeth looks at her as if she's gone mad. "The Navy is searching for us as we speak."

Honestly, in all the chaos of the previous day Cecilia had forgotten the initial purpose of their venture. "For you, perhaps. I helped steal one of their best ships, and it's certainly in no condition to be returned."

"Still, they'll be in the area. Help me with this?" Elizabeth descends into the cellar, lifting barrels for Cecilia to haul onto the sand.

They work in silence for a while, steadily emptying the cellar. When Elizabeth isn't looking, Cecilia pushes some bottles to the side, not content to die of thirst whilst they're waiting to be picked up. Elizabeth climbs out when the cellar is empty, selecting a sizeable bottle of rum, but she pauses before uncorking it, turning to Cecilia.

"It's him, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Sparrow. He's your sailor."

Cecilia stares at her. She's sure she hadn't ever even told Elizabeth her fiance's name, let alone what he looked like. "How do you figure that?"

Elizabeth glances over her shoulder at Jack's prone form on the beach, then back to Cecilia. "You look at him like you've loved him for a long time."

Struck speechless, Cecilia can only watch as Elizabeth uncorks the rum and begins to splash it over the pile of barrels and the surrounding trees.

Like you've loved him for a long time. Cecilia loved Jack before, certainly. All the years she thought he was dead, she still loved him, was in love with the memory of him, it's why she never married anyone else. Finding out he was alive—and a pirate—was a shock, but did it stop her from loving him?

In the time Cecilia has been lost in her head, Elizabeth has managed to ignite a flame, which spreads quickly with the aide of the alcohol, the trees catching alight.

"Lizzie," Cecilia says haltingly. Elizabeth looks over to her. "You won't... tell anyone—"

"About you and Jack? No."

"About who he was," Cecilia corrects. "There is no me and Jack."

"Whatever you say," Elizabeth says, something faintly teasing in her tone now. She tosses another barrel onto the flames, ducking as it explodes. The column of smoke has to be nearly  a thousand feet high now, dark against the blue sky of the morning. She throws another barrel, but Cecilia is distracted from the small explosion by the sound of scuffling on sand.

Jack is running towards them, waving his arms. "No! Not good! Stop! Not good! What are you doing? You've burned all the food, the shade! The rum!"

Elizabeth moves away from the fire back towards the sea, dusting off her hands. "Yes, the rum is gone."

"Why is the rum gone?!"

She whirls around to face him. "One, because it is a vile drink that turns event he most respectable men into complete scoundrels! Two, that signal is over a thousand feet high. The entire Royal Navy is out looking for me, do you really think that there is even the slightest chance that they won't see it?!"

"...But why is the rum gone?"

"Just wait, Captain Sparrow," she says, sitting down. "You give it one hour, maybe two, keep a weather eye open, and you will see white sails on that horizon." 

Furiously, Jack draws his pistol from his belt, but then seems to think the better of it, tucking it away again and stalking off along the beach.

"I'll go after him," Cecilia says, "make sure he doesn't shoot himself."

"It'd solve one problem."

"He's our only chance of finding Will," Cecilia reminds her sharply.

Elizabeth sighs, glancing at Cecilia over her shoulder. "I know, I'm sorry."

"I'll let you know if we spot a ship," she says, turning to run after Jack.

By the time she catches up to him they're a considerable distance from the fire, which has spread further back to more trees, and she can hear him imitating what she had said the night before.

"Must've been terrible for you to be trapped here, Jack, must've been terrible for you—well it bloody is now!" He turns, stopping short when she sees her. "Was this your idea, or the iniquitous Miss Swann's?"

"Elizabeth's," Cecilia says truthfully. "Though I agreed with her reasoning."

He nods shortly, looking over her shoulder at the smoke.

"What're you thinking about?" She asks softly, watching as his eyes track back and forth in thought.

Jack sighs. "It wasn't what I had in mind when I agreed to help you, handing meself back to the Navy at the end of it."

"This isn't the end. Elizabeth and I are going to press for them to rescue Will, we'll need your help to get back to the Isla de Muerta. Once we're there you can defeat Barbossa—" her eyes flick down to the gun at his hip— "reclaim the Pearl and sail away. If you're right about her being the fastest ship in the Caribbean, there's no chance anyone could catch you."

Some of the life bleeds back into Jack's eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "Thought long and hard about this, have ye?"

"I don't want to see you hanged, Jack." Over his shoulder, she spots familiar white sails appear on the horizon.

Jack follows her gaze, stiffening slightly when he sees it. "Then we'd best hope they listen to you, love."

Norrington is... not particularly inclined to listen to Cecilia, it seems, even when Elizabeth agrees with her.

"But we've got to save Will!" Elizabeth protests.

"No," Governor Swann says firmly. "You're safe now. We will return to Port Royal immediately, not go gallivanting after pirates!"

"Then we condemn him to death!"

He sighs. "The boy's fate is regrettable, but then so was his decision to engage in piracy."

Cecilia pretends she can't feel the accusing stare of Norrington on her at that statement.

"To rescue me! To prevent anything from happening to me!"

"If I may be so bold as to inject my professional opinion," Jack says, stepping away from the Redcoats flanking him to stand in front of Norrington, "the Pearl was listing near to scuppers after the battle, it's very unlikely she'd be able to make good time. Think about it. The Black Pearl. The last real pirate threat in the Caribbean, mate. How can you pass that up, eh?"

"By remembering that I serve others, Mr Sparrow, not only myself," Norrington says sharply, turning to leave.

Elizabeth pushes past Cecilia and Jack, chasing after him. "Commodore, I beg you, please do this! For me. As a wedding gift."

Cecilia sighs, disappointed. She intended to make some headway with Elizabeth and Will after all this was over.

Norrington turns back, staring at Elizabeth.

Governor Swann comes forward. "Elizabeth? Are you accepting the Commdore's proposal?" He sounds delighted.

"I am." Elizabeth doesn't.

"A wedding, I love weddings!" Jack exclaims. "Drinks all around!" He falters when he sees Norrington's less-than-impressed expression, and holds out his wrists. "I know, clap 'im in irons, right?"

Norrington comes back down the steps towards him. "Mr Sparrow, you will accompany these fine men to the helm and provide us with a bearing to Isla de Muerta. You will then spend the rest of the voyage contemplating all possible meanings of the phrase 'silent as the grave'. Do I make myself clear?"

"Inescapably clear." Jack winces as he's grabbed by the arms and dragged towards the helm. He glances over his shoulder, winking at Cecilia, to which she can't help a small smile in answer, and disappears from view.

Cecilia doesn't realise that Governor Swann has witnessed this exchange until he pulls her aside, leaving Elizabeth and Norrington to discuss their engagement, presumably.

"Cecilia," he says, "whilst I am glad you're alright, you must know that your actions in Port Royal cannot go without consequences."

She had been preparing for this since she stepped onto the Dauntless's deck, but from Norrington, not from the Governor.

"I understand, sir," Cecilia says, proud that her voice doesn't waver. "Am I to be punished for piracy?"

He looks surprised, as though it's a strange thing for her to ask. "No, no, not at all. Sparrow coerced you, of course—"

"I wouldn't say—"

"—and since you are... unmoored, shall we say—"

"Sir—"

"—you had little choice but to go along with it."

"Governor, I—"

"The Commodore and I have agreed that a marriage would be best, for you."

Cecilia stops short, stunned into brief silence. "A marriage?"

He looks almost pleased with himself. "Yes."

"As a punishment?" Surely he realises how absurd this sounds?

"As a solution," he corrects. "You've been on your own for far too long, my dear."

"Governor, I—you and I both know that I'm... beyond the age when men tend to care for such things," she says, stilted and uncertain. Cecilia isn't old, but at thirty she's not exactly eligible to be married off.

"Captain Dawes lost his wife several months ago, the two of you should make a wonderful match. He's a fine man, you know, surely due for another promotion in the coming years."

Cecilia doesn't dare mention that there is a different captain that she would like to spend her days with, sensing that she's already on thin ice after the wink.

"Think about it, won't you?" Governor Swann's smile is warm as he reaches out to touch her arm. He turns and retreats into the cabin without waiting for her answer.

Cecilia slumps back against the railing, letting out a shaky breath. She's not even family to Governor Swann, why on Earth does he think he has the right to... And Norrington, that's even worse; demeaning, insulting, impertinent...

She spots Elizabeth and Norrington a little way along the deck, their backs to her, and glares. If looks could kill, the Commodore would be dead several times over.

Chapter Text

Cecilia is still fuming about the decision by the time darkness falls, as they're drifting through the waters near the Isla de Muerta. Once again, there's a persistent chill in the air, and it does nothing to improve her mood.

"You look troubled."

There's a smile on her face before she can even try to repress it at the sound of Jack's voice. Taming it into something a little less manic, she turns to him. "They've let you out of their sights, then?"

"Depends on your definition of 'let'." He grins, mischief glittering in his eyes, but it quickly softens into something else. "What's on yer mind, love?"

"It's nothing, really." Cecilia looks away, her hands curled around the railing. "Utterly insignificant, in the grand scheme of things."

"What isn't?" Jack moves forward, resting his own hands on the railing, tantalisingly close to her own. "Come on, tell me."

She sighs, looking out at the eerily still water. "Apparently I'm to be married when we get back to Port Royal."

Jack's expression lies somewhere between disgust and intrigue. "Oh?"

"The Commodore feels that I'm... unmoored was the word the Governor used. They both seem to think that there's no way I would be here if I had a husband waiting for me."

He hums, wrinkling his nose. "You and Norrington don't get on, then? You've been glaring daggers at 'im all day."

She laughs, short and humourless. "No, we've never gotten along, really. I think he's a pompous bastard, and he thinks I'm... well, I got on his bad side somehow."

"Seems easy enough to do." He pauses, glancing at her and then looking back out at the water. "So, this... marr-i-age. I would've thought it would've happened years ago, no?"

Cecilia shrugs. "There was never anyone else I wanted to marry." She glances at Jack out of the corner of her eye.

His expression is unusually pensive, and when he speaks he sounds unusually cautious. "I've been meaning to ask... that ring?"

She lifts her hand, moonlight reflecting off the jewellery. "It's the one you gave me."

"And you've never—"

"I've never taken it off," she finishes, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the water.

Jack remains unnaturally silent. The sound of the water lapping at the hull seems louder than ever in the sudden absence of anything else.

Their hands are still close on the railing, almost touching but for the whisper of space between them. Slowly, Cecilia closes that gap, the tip of her finger brushing against his. The speed with which Jack moves his hand, strong fingers interlinking with hers atop the railing, makes her draw a sharp breath. Slowly, shakily, she releases it, turning to look at him.

He's already looking at her, with that same look in his eyes that he had in Tortuga. Cecilia wishes they were back there, not on a ship filled with Naval officers, because they're pushing boundaries as it is but once again she wants nothing more than to lean up and kiss him.

At the sound of footsteps, both of them freeze, but neither moves to pull their hand away. These steps are soft, feminine; there's only one person that they could belong to and she knows enough about Cecilia and enough about Jack that this won't surprise her.

Elizabeth, now dressed in a uniform, leans against the railing a little distance from the two of them. She clears her throat, tracing patterns on the railing with her fingers. "You didn't tell them about the curse, either of you."

"Neither did you," Cecilia points out, "I imagine for the same reason."

She sighs. "He wouldn't have risked it."

"Could've gotten 'im drunk," Jack says, swaying slightly as if to emphasise his point. "Don't get me wrong, Miss Swann, I admire a person who's willing to do whatever is necessary."

Elizabeth smiles faintly. "You're a smart man, Jack. But I don't entirely trust you." She glances pointedly at their joined hands.

Jack follows her gaze. "Now, that is a matter in which you can trust me irrefutably, Miss Swann."

Cecilia turns to smile at him, but her face falls quickly when she sees Norrington approaching over Jack's shoulder. She squeezes his hand and pulls away, letting her fingers drag across his for a moment longer than is strictly necessary before she steps a more respectable distance away.

Norrington stops in front of the three of them, tossing the compass at Jack, who catches it deftly. "With me, Sparrow."

Jack follows him, glancing back at Cecilia, who mouths good luck.

When she turns back to Elizabeth, the younger woman is smiling. "Don't start, or I'll resume my teasing about Will—though really I should say Norrington, now. That was an interesting proposition you made."

"It wasn't a proposition, it was a—a request," Elizabeth protests. "I'd be marrying James regardless of his answer."

"But do you love him?"

Elizabeth's silence is answer enough.

"What a pair we make, hm?" Cecilia says, bitter despite her efforts to not sound so. "Neither of us able to marry the man we really love."

Because she's finally come to accept it, the fact that she does love Jack Sparrow. She loved him then, she loves him now, and she doubts she'll be able to stop regardless of what happens.

"What do you think I should do?" Elizabeth asks, sounding desperate suddenly.

"Nothing for tonight. Wait until Norrington comes back, and then—"

"Comes back?"

Cecilia frowns. "Yes. He's sailing out to the island with Jack."

"But—" Elizabeth darts off towards the other side of the ship without another word.

Cecilia follows, confused. "Lizzie, what—"

"He doesn't know about the curse!"

To be entirely honest, that doesn't bother Cecilia, but it occurs to her that though Elizabeth may not wish to marry him, she may still care for Norrington in some respect.

They make it to the other side of the ship, but before either can say anything they're seized by the arms and pushed towards the cabin by a pair of Redcoats each. Cecilia struggles against the hold, the memory of being held captive on the Black Pearl a little too fresh.

Elizabeth is also struggling relentlessly, and considerably more vocally than Cecilia. "Let me go!"

"Sorry, miss, it's for your own safety—"

"I don't care what the Commodore ordered, I have to tell him! The pirates! They're cursed, they can't be killed!"

The men holding Cecilia release her rather forcefully, pushing her into the cabin. Elizabeth is thrown in in a similar fashion.

"Don't worry, miss, he's already informed of that," Gillette says smugly. "A little mermaid flopped up on deck and told him the whole story." He chuckles to himself, obnoxiously, and slams the doors on the two of them.

"This is Jack Sparrow's doing!" Elizabeth calls through the glass, hands clenched into fists.

"Perhaps Jack will tell them about the curse," Cecilia suggests.

"You know he won't."

She holds her hands up in surrender at Elizabeth's snappy tone. "Alright, I know he won't. Just trying to make you feel better."

"A way out of here would make me feel better," she says, looking wildly around the room.

Cecilia crosses to the window at the back of the cabin, craning her neck to look down to the water. "You may just be in luck." There's a dinghy floating at the stern of the ship, having either broken loose or been left there for some other purpose. "If you can find a rope of some kind..."

Wordlessly, each of them takes half of the room, searching drawers and cabinets for rope, but none is to be found. Elizabeth does manage to find a length of material that looks to be used for repairing the sails, though, which they decide could work just as well.

Cecilia goes first, lowering herself carefully down the makeshift rope and landing unsteadily in the rowboat. It feels simultaneously like a long time ago and only yesterday that she, Jack, and Will climbed up the back of the Dauntless rather than down it. Elizabeth lands in the rowboat marginally more gracefully, facing forward as Cecilia takes the oars and begins to row towards the Pearl.

The ship is quiet, which is somehow more unsettling than when it was populated by cursed pirates. The two of them scale the side of the ship cautiously, pausing when they hear voices: two pirates discussing what they'll eat when the curse is broken. They carry on climbing, making it to the empty deck with little difficulty.

Cecilia nearly jumps out of her skin when the monkey swings down in front of them, hissing. In the moonlight its fur and skin have melted away, leaving it skeletal. Before Cecilia can do anything Elizabeth reaches forward, seizing the animal and dropping it over the edge of the ship. There's a clang as it hits the cannon; the two of them lean over the edge to see if it's still alive. That is a mistake, as the two pirates they heard previously have done the same, and look upwards to see the two women above them.

Elizabeth gasps, Cecilia curses, and the two of them run to the stairs leading below deck, turning a corner and hiding out of sight as the pirates thunder past.

Too close, Cecilia mouths, straining to hear if the pirates are coming back in their direction. Apparently not, so the two of them take the next set of stairs two at a time, coming to a stop in front of the cells in the brig.

"Miss Cecilia, Miss Elizabeth!" Gibbs exclaims, standing up when he sees them.

"Are you all alright?" Cecilia asks, scanning the brig for the keys.

"Fine, fine. Where's Jack?"

"Good question." Cecilia catches the keys that Elizabeth throws to her, unlocking the cell and opening the door for the crew to come flooding out.

"This way!" Elizabeth says, leading the way up the stairs.

The deck is no longer empty, the two pirates they had evaded still searching for them. They're facing away, leaned over the edge of the ship, and with the combined manpower of the crew it's easing to raise a dinghy on its ropes and swing it at them, sending them over the edge of the ship and into the water, to cheers from the crew.

"All of you with me!" Elizabeth says, running forward to the boat. Cecilia comes forward with her, leaning down to assist in lifting it. "Will is in that cave and we must save him! Ready, heave!"

But the boat is far too heavy for it to be the whole crew lifting it. In fact, Cecilia and Elizabeth are the only ones attempting to lift it.

"Please, we need your help, come on!" Elizabeth says, sounding desperate once again.

Cecilia tries to make eye contact with Gibbs, Anamaria, Marty, Cotton, any of the people she had befriended on the trip from Tortuga, but none of them will look at her.

"Any port in a storm," the parrot squawks.

Gibbs glances at the bird. "Cotton's right, we've got the Pearl."

"What about Jack?" Cecilia snaps. Gibbs has the decency to look guilty. "Are you just gonna leave him?"

"Jack owes us a ship," Marty says.

"And there's the code to consider," Gibbs adds.

"The code?" Elizabeth scoffs. "You're pirates! Hang the code, and hang the rules! They're more like guidelines, anyway!"

Neither of them is successful in convincing the others to do any more than help lower the rowboat into the water, so Cecilia rows herself and Elizabeth, and only herself and Elizabeth, further and further into the waters of the Isla de Muerta.

Even from a distance, as they step out of the boat onto the shore, they can hear the clash of swords and the occasional shout. Peering over the rocks as they creep past, Cecilia spots Jack and Barbossa locked in a duel. A little way away, Will—thankfully still alive—has been left to deal with several other undead pirates. Elizabeth leads the way around a pile of treasure, both of them ducking as an explosion scatters gold into the air. There's a grunt as Will lands on the floor not far from the two of them, his weapon knocked out of his hand.

"I'm gonna teach you the meaning of pain," a pirate snarls at him.

Elizabeth, seizing what looks to be a staff of some sort, darts around the pile of treasure. "You like pain?" She swings the staff, knocking the pirate to the floor. "Try wearing a corset."

"Not supposed to hurt," Cecilia reminds her, lightly considering the situation. She holds out a hand to help Will to his feet.

He pulls her into a brief embrace, then pulls back and turns to Elizabeth. Cecilia almost laughs at the awkward hesitation between the two of them, each seeming keen to wait for the other to move first.

The clash of swords catches Cecilia's attention, and she turns to see Jack and Barbossa fighting, only for her jaw to drop. Under a beam of moonlight, Barbossa's flesh has melted away the same way that the monkey's had. Oddly, that isn't what's surprising. What is surprising, is that Jack is equally skeletal.

"Whose side is Jack on?" Elizabeth says, also watching the fight.

Will laughs, breathless. "At the moment?"

Cecilia also laughs, slightly hysterically. "Look out." There are more pirates headed their way.

There's not much in the way of actual weaponry amongst the piles of treasure, so the three of them have to make do with Elizabeth's staff and whatever other heavy objects they can find. Though they aren't outnumbered by the pirates, they're still disadvantaged by their own mortality.

The intricacies of this curse are fascinating; though Elizabeth had told Cecilia that Barbossa had said that the cursed pirates couldn't feel, they still seem able to experience pain, crying out each time they're struck.

Cecilia's eye is caught by something amidst the treasure, and she leaves Will and Elizabeth to the fight to see what it is. She can't help but grin when she realises that it's a grenade. She turns back to the other two, who have succeeded in skewering the pirates together with the staff, and manages to light the grenade off the side of a rock. Cecilia pushes it between the ribs of the middle pirate, then she, Elizabeth, and Will shove them out of the moonlight, trapping the grenade inside.

"No fair," the pirate says, hands gripping his middle as if he'll be able to tear away his flesh and get to the grenade that way. He's unsuccessful, and the explosion is loud and bright.

Cecilia and Elizabeth stagger forward to avoid the blast. Jack and Barbossa pause their fighting, both looking over. Will runs ahead, jumping up to the chest. With Barbossa distracted, Jack cuts his hand. Barbossa turns back; Jack slashes at him twice more, knocking him back. Jack tosses the bloodied medallion to Will. Barbossa recovers... and points his gun at Cecilia.

A shot rings out, echoing in the sudden silence of the cave.

Cecilia flinches at the sound, expecting pain or cold or something, but she feels nothing. She looks down. Her white shirt is still entirely white. No bullet has hit her. She hasn't been shot. But someone has. She looks up, and—

Jack is pointing his pistol at Barbossa.

"Ten years you carry that pistol, and now you waste your shot," Barbossa drawls. His gun is still pointed at Cecilia, who doesn't dare move.

"He didn't waste it," Will says, dropping the two bloodied medallions into the chest.

Barbossa turns from Will back to Jack, his sword and gun clattering to the floor. He parts his coat, revealing the blood seeping into his shirt.

Jack lowers his pistol slowly, eyes wide.

"I feel..." Barbossa breathes, so quiet that Cecilia almost can't hear him, "cold." He falls backwards against the treasure, unmoving.

For a moment all four of them hold their breath, waiting for him to jump up again. But he doesn't. He can't. He's dead.

Cecilia breaks the stillness, running to Jack. He catches her when she barrels into him, bringing his arms around her and holding her to him tightly. Cecilia hides her face in the crook of his neck as she tries to get her breathing under control.

"You're okay?" She murmurs, muffled with her face hidden away, but he hears her.

"Never better, love." With his hands on her shoulders, Jack pushes her back gently, just enough that they can see each other's faces. "You?"

Cecilia nods, unable to calm her wide smile. "Being undead, then, what was that like?"

He pulls a face. "Interesting. Feels a lot lighter, without all the..." he trails off with a vague noise, gesturing to himself. "It's not a bad look really, eh?"

She laughs, nodding to the chest. "Don't tell me you're planning on keeping one of those."

Jack smirks, swaying slightly. "The immortal Captain Jack Sparrow has such a lovely ring to it, don't you think?"

"It certainly does. Not being able to feel anything pleasurable might be a downside to that though, no?"

His smirk fades to something softer as he lifts a hand to her face, brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek and then bringing his hand to rest at the base of her neck. "So it would."

His touch is warm in the persistent chill of the cave, and Cecilia can't help but lean into it. Like in Tortuga, like on the island, like on the Dauntless, barely an hour ago, she feels the strong, strong urge to lean up and kiss him.

So she does.

For once, Cecilia Guillemot manages to catch Jack Sparrow off-guard, as he goes still for perhaps a second before he's kissing her back. It's everything at once: hard, soft, gentle, fierce, greed, desperation, satisfaction, infinitesimal and immeasurable—the culmination of twelve years of longing manifested in one action, as if that could ever be enough.

Jack pulls away too soon, resting his forehead against Cecilia's and staring into her eyes with that intensity that doesn't scare her anymore. "Come with me."

"What?"

"Join me on the Pearl," he breathes, eyes glittering in the moonlight. "Be free. Sate that otherwise insatiable curiosity of yours, eh?"

It's madness. And yet, it's brilliance.

Cecilia nods, grinning, and pulls Jack in for another kiss. He tastes like rum, sweat, the sea, and she knows intrinsically that nothing else will ever be enough for her.

"Why did we wait so long?" She murmurs against his lips, laughing at their own idiocy.

"Didn't I tell you, love, it's best to wait for the opportune moment?" Jack grins, leaning in for a shorter, chaster kiss, then releases his hold on Cecilia, moving aside to examine the piles of treasure.

Lips tingling, Cecilia skirts around Barbossa's body to study the chest, though she takes care not to touch the gold. She smiles anew at the thought of Jack's proposition, but it fades as she remembers that the Pearl could well be gone by now, unless Gibbs had a sudden change of heart. She glances at Jack, who is lifting various trinkets up to the light and setting them down again; she can't tell him, can't taint the victory of the night, not yet.

A little way away, Will approaches Elizabeth, though neither of them speak. Funny, how they seem just as doomed as Jack and Cecilia are, though for entirely different reasons. If either one of them would just tell the other how they felt, everything could be resolved. That isn't enough for Cecilia and Jack.

Speaking of Jack, he begins rifling noisily through the treasure, tossing whatever doesn't interest him over his shoulder. Each of the younger couple jumps, whatever spell they had been under seemingly broken.

"We should return to the Dauntless," Elizabeth says, so quietly that Cecilia almost can't hear her.

"Your fiance will be wanting to know you're safe," Will says.

Cecilia feels like banging her head against the chest, their obtuseness endlessly infuriating.

Elizabeth moves past Will, heading for the exit. Cecilia jumps down from the pedestal, intending to follow her.

Jack comes up behind Will, covered in jewellery with several golden items in his hands, and a crown on his head. "If you were waiting for the opportune moment... that was it." He walks past Will, slowing for a moment to wait for Cecilia to fall into step beside him. "Now if you'd be so kind, I'd be much obliged if you'd drop us off at my ship."

The four of them crowd into the rowboat, Elizabeth seated at the back as Will rows, and Jack and Cecilia sitting in the front. The anticipation of not knowing whether the Black Pearl will be there is sickening as they row out to the open water, though what is even more sickening is Cecilia's awareness that Jack has no idea that there's a chance he might not escape from this.

They round the corner, and are confronted with empty, still water. Cecilia feels Jack stiffen beside her, though he makes no noise nor gives any other indication of his disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Elizabeth says, and, to her credit, she does sound genuine.

"They done what's right by them," Jack says, and though his voice doesn't waver there's an apparent sadness there. "Can't expect more than that."

But Cecilia did, and that's almost the worst part, second only to the knowledge that it is more than likely that Jack is going to be hanged. That their only future is one with cell bars and then the hangman's noose between them.

Chapter Text

Jack is arrested and escorted to the brig the moment his feet hit the Dauntless's deck. Will is granted clemency by Governor Swann—to the distaste of Norrington, judging by the Commodore's expression—and recruited to help clean up the deck. It seems in their escape Cecilia and Elizabeth missed a fight between Barbossa's crew and the Navy, though it doesn't take much imagination to guess what happened once the curse was lifted. The two women are steered into the cabin once again, away from the grisly sight.

Elizabeth paces up and down the length of the cabin, conflict written across her face. Cecilia slumps in the chair behind the desk with her head in her hands.

"You really do love him, don't you?" Elizabeth suddenly speaking makes Cecilia jump, lifting her head slowly from her hands.

"I do. But what does it matter, Norrington won't change his mind, certainly not for me."

"He might for me."

Cecilia shakes her head. "Letting Will off is probably a stretch for him. Besides, I think there's too much... evidence against Jack for him to get out of this." She sighs, drops her head again. "I should have tried harder to convince Gibbs to stay..."

"This isn't your fault," Elizabeth says sharply, leaning forward on the desk. "Talk to my father, he thinks of you as another daughter, maybe he can—"

"Your father intends to marry me off when we get back to Port Royal," Cecilia cuts her off, looking up again. "Says I've been on my own for too long." Another sigh. "Look, let's... let's not talk about me. What are you going to do about Will?"

"Nothing."

God, it feels like they're going in circles, both of them stuck in stasis.

"Why not? You love him, he clearly loves you, you don't love Norrington—"

"I could learn to love him."

"You shouldn't have to learn to love the man you're going to marry—" Cecilia cuts herself off abruptly when the door opens and Governor Swann walks in. She stands. "Sir—"

He holds up a hand, and Cecilia falls silent. "The two of you have behaved admirably today, if somewhat foolishly. For that, I must thank you. However—" he frowns, looking at Cecilia— "this association with pirates must end here. Yourself and Mr Turner are very lucky to not be facing further reprimand for your actions in Port Royal, Cecilia."

"Being forced into a marriage is reprimand enough, then?" Beside her, Cecilia feels Elizabeth inhale sharply.

The Governor sighs. "I know it isn't something you've been wanting, but perhaps it will be for the best. You've been alone for a long time, you said it yourself, ever since your fiance—"

"He didn't die," Cecilia says, before she can think the better of it. "I thought he had, but he hadn't. He's in the brig of this ship. Captain Jack Sparrow is the man I was going to marry. So you can understand, Governor, why I cannot bear to see him hanged."

"Don't tell me you still love him," Governor Swann says, stunned. "He's a pirate."

"He's a good man," she corrects. "And I love him for it."

"If he was alive, how come he never came back for you?" Elizabeth leans forward at her father's question, apparently also curious.

"He thought I was dead, too." Cecilia rounds the desk, takes a step forward. "Governor, I beg you, don't let him die. Please."

"I am bound by the law, Cecilia," he says, and though he looks genuinely apologetic Cecilia feels a wave of bitterness towards him. "I'm sorry."

She takes a breath, blinks away the stinging behind her eyes. "Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?"

He doesn't say anything, and that's enough of an answer.

"Excuse me." Cecilia moves around him and exits the cabin hastily, moving to the side of the ship to watch the Isla de Muerta disappearing in the fog. Though they're moving further away this time, the sense of dread in the air lingers.

That night, Cecilia sneaks down to the brig, needing to talk to Jack, to apologise, to see him alive whilst she still can.

He's lying on the floor, eyes closed, the way he had been at the jail in Port Royal. He opens his eyes at the light from her lantern, sitting up a little.

"Cecilia." His voice is hoarse from disuse.

"Jack." She hangs the lantern on a hook and approaches the cell, wrapping her hands around the bars.

Jack stands, resting his hands on top of hers. "You're okay?"

Cecilia shakes her head. "No."

His eyes dart up and down her frame, as if he's trying to assess what could be wrong.

"You're going to hang, Jack," she clarifies, "of course I'm not okay."

He looks away, but doesn't react otherwise. The lamplight casts flickering shadows that only emphasise the stillness of his face.

"How are you so calm?" She asks.

"'S a risk of the job, isn't it?" Jack still isn't looking at her.

"Jack..."

"I had it all planned out, y'know?" He says, suddenly very quiet. He looks back at her, his eyes wide and dark in the lamplight. "You and me on the Pearl, sailing together, pirating together... most fearsome pirates in the Spanish Main, that's what you said, eh?"

"Not just the Spanish Main," Cecilia corrects. "The entire ocean, the entire world."

Jack smiles, wistful and bittersweet. "Freedom. Was looking forward to showing you freedom."

"So was I," Cecilia says softly. She sighs. "I've tried talking to the Governor. I even told him about us, what we were to each other."

Jack raises his eyebrows. "Oh? What did 'e say?"

"That there's nothing he could do. For all he says I'm like a daughter to him, he won't listen to me."

"About us... what did you say?"

"That you hadn't been dead all this time, that you thought I was, that I can't watch you hang... that I love you." She says the last under her breath, but Jack hears it.

"Don't say that, love," he says quietly, looking away again.

Even as her heart sinks a little, Cecilia leans closer to the bars. "Why not?"

"You said it yourself. I'm going to hang."

"I've loved you for twelve years, Jack, even though I thought you were dead. I won't stop now."

Jack looks up at her again. His hands move from hers to reach through the bars, twirling her hair through his fingers. "Good. I can't stop loving you, either." In one smooth motion his hand moves up to the base of her neck, and he tugs Cecilia towards him to press their lips together.

If the kiss in the cave felt like a victory, this feels like a commemoration. Unbidden, tears slip past Cecilia's closed eyelids, turning the kiss salty. It doesn't stop them from clinging desperately to one another, as if by sheer force they could banish the bars of the cell.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Cecilia gasps out when they pull apart, refusing to loosen her hold on his waistcoat.

Jack lifts his hands to her face, wiping her tears. "What for, love?"

"All of it, everything. I'm sorry I can't change their minds—"

"That is not your fault. There's nothing to be done, darlin'."

Cecilia stares at him. "You've given up." It's there, plain and simple, in his tone, his words, even in his body language.

Jack doesn't say anything, which only confirms that it's true.

"You're Captain Jack Sparrow," she tries, but her voice sounds weak, helpless, even to her own ears.

"For once, love, I don't think that'll save me."

"Why did Barbossa think you were a Turner?" Cecilia asks, glancing over at Elizabeth.

Three days into the voyage back to Port Royal, the two of them stand at the bow of the ship, shielding their eyes from the midday sun. A silent agreement has been made to not talk about Jack or Will or Norrington or marriage, and Cecilia is finding their conversation a welcome distraction from... everything.

Elizabeth hesitates, looking slightly sheepish. "I told them that I was."

"Why?"

"I didn't know that they were looking for a Turner, at the time. My maid said they were coming for me because I'm the Governor's daughter, so I gave a false name."

Cecilia decides not to comment on Elizabeth's decision to take Will's name, considering their prior conversation.

"But it was the medallion that was calling to them," Elizabeth continues, lifting a hand to her neck as if she expects it to still be there.

"That's another thing I meant to ask, where did you get it? I'd never seen it before that day, as far as I can remember."

Again, Elizabeth's expression turns sheepish. "Will had it the day that we rescued him. I didn't want them to think he was a pirate, so I took it and hid it."

"And I suppose your fascination with pirates had nothing to do with it," Cecilia teases.

"Perhaps it's a good thing the medallion's gone," Elizabeth says, not rising to the bait. "I've had enough of pirates. I'll be glad when all this is over."

"Yes," Cecilia says, a beat too late and entirely unconvincingly.

"What is it?" Elizabeth turns to face her properly. "I mean, aside from the obvious, aren't you glad to be going home?"

Cecilia stares out at the water, and the wide stretch of horizon in front of them. "There's something that Jack said to me, about curiosity. He said—and he's right—that I want freedom, that I want to do the things I want to do purely because I want to do them. I'm... worried that Port Royal... will feel too much like a cage, after a taste of real freedom."

Elizabeth is quiet for a long moment, thinking this over.

"Do you feel the same?" Cecilia asks, quiet and uncertain despite the fact that she's meant to be the older, the wiser, of the two of them.

"No," Elizabeth says, though her voice wavers.

Eight years of knowing each other is long enough for Cecilia to detect a lie, and that certainly is one. She doesn't push it though, as Elizabeth continues,

"I think one encounter with cursed pirates is enough for a lifetime, don't you?"

Despite herself, Cecilia laughs. "I suppose so. Perhaps I'll simply have to get a boat, take up sailing."

"It sounds like a safer alternative, certainly."

"Though I regret not getting to see the effects of the curse more closely."

Elizabeth shudders. "Trust me, you wouldn't want to."

"No? What was it like?"

Getting lost in the recent past is a sad solution to a problem, Cecilia thinks, but compared to what confronts her in Port Royal, anything is a valid solution.

As she has every night, Cecilia slips into the brig on the final night that they will be on the water. Tomorrow the Dauntless will arrive in Port Royal, and the day after that, Jack is due to be hanged. Cecilia is excruciatingly aware that this is likely the last time that she will see Jack before he's at the gallows.

Jack is obviously thinking about this too; he's quiet, content to sit in silence with Cecilia's hand in his and the bottle of rum that she had scavenged for him in the other. Every so often, one of them leans in for a kiss, a desperate, longing thing though they both know it can't lead anywhere. It's as though they are each trying to commit the taste, the sight, the feel, of the other to memory before it's gone forever.

One such kiss is interrupted by the sound of urgent footsteps on the stairs, and Cecilia hastily retreats into the shadows to avoid being caught.

She's surprised when Will comes into view, as is Jack, it would seem, because he simply stares at him for a moment before he recovers and stands, swaying a little. "William, what a pleasant surprise." The ship rocks slightly, and the motion sends the bottle rolling across the cell.

Will frowns. "Where did you get...?"

"That would be me," Cecilia says, emerging from the shadows.

He nods, offering her a small smile in greeting, which she returns.

"I hear the Governor granted you clemency, congrats," Jack says. He tilts his head, frowning slightly when Will only nods. "Trouble in paradise?"

"What?"

"You look... somewhat wretched, if you don't mind my saying so—"

Will bristles.

"— and my guess is that it has something to do with a certain Swann, eh?"

Will goes still, scowling slightly. "She's to be married."

"So I've heard." Jack glances over Will's shoulder at Cecilia, widening his eyes just enough to convey the sentiment of something along the lines of, Christ, you were right, love. "Tell us, William, how do you feel about this engagement?"

Will hesitates. "It's her choice —"

Cecilia actually groans aloud this time. The two idiots have what they want right in front of them, but neither can work up the courage to reach out and take it.

Will glances back at Cecilia, bewildered. "What?"

"William, William, William," Jack says, leaning against the bars. Will turns back to him. "So good at swordfighting, sword-crafting, whatever, but not so good at thinking."

"I won't stand here and be insulted."

Cecilia almost laughs at that. She's of the opinion that a few insults might be just what he needs to start heading in the right direction.

"Hold on, mate, don't be like that," Jack says as Will takes a step back to leave. "The point I'm trying to make—and the point that dear Cecilia has been trying to make for years, it sounds like—is that Miss Swann loves you."

Will frowns. "She's betrothed to someone else."

"Who she doesn't love," Cecilia says. "It doesn't stop her loving you."

"She risked her bloody life in that cave to come and rescue you, for one," Jack adds.

"Even if she does, there's nothing to be done. She and Norrington will be wed the moment we get back to Port Royal." He sighs. "Besides, we need to think about you, Jack."

"Me?"

"You're going to be hanged."

"Why, William, I didn't know you cared."

"I don't," Will says shortly. "But I owe you for helping to rescue Elizabeth, and you matter to Cecilia. Is there nothing that can be done?" He turns to Cecilia, who shakes her head.

"I've tried everything, so has Elizabeth."

"It's over, boy, face facts."

"I'll get you out," Will says.

Both Cecilia and Jack stare at him, at the bold and entirely implausible statement.

Jack recovers first. "How d'you plan to do that? Half barrel pin hinges or whatever they were can't help you now."

"I've got something in mind," Will says. "I won't tell you what, it's probably best that way."

The first light of morning filters into the brig from the stairs.

"We should go," Will says to Cecilia, "the guard will be back soon." He turns to leave, but turns back when Jack calls his name.

"Yer father would be proud," Jack says, the closest thing to sentiment he's shown Will since the two of them met.

Will nods once. "Thank you."

Cecilia moves close to the bars and rests her hands atop Jack's, leaning in to press her lips to his. "I love you," she murmurs, lips brushing his with each word.

"Love you," Jack murmurs back, leaning in for another kiss. His thumb brushes the ring on Cecilia's finger, the ring he gave her.

"I always will," she says. She doesn't cry, not even during their final kiss; she's not sure she's got any tears left.

Jack nods.

Cecilia squeezes his hands, then steps back, glancing at Will. He's studying the wall quite intently, and she almost wants to laugh.

She glances back at Jack a final time as she ascends the stairs with Will. He's still standing in the same place, hands around the bars, watching them leave. The despair on his face is almost grotesque with how much it doesn't belong there.

Chapter Text

Everything goes far too quickly from the moment the Dauntless docks in Port Royal, and before she knows it Cecilia finds herself standing in the fort once again, staring forward with Elizabeth's hand in hers as Jack is led to the gallows. The last time she was here, she hadn't left Port Royal for eight years, she wanted nothing to do with pirates, and she had been under the impression that Jack was dead. None of those things are true anymore.

Cecilia glances at the crowd, looking for Will, but she can't see him. He hadn't told her anything more about his plan to rescue Jack beyond the words themselves, and she feels frozen in place by the anxiety creeping up her throat. The relentless drumming isn't helping, either.

"Jack Sparrow!"

Her gaze immediately darts from the crowd to the man holding the scroll, and then to Jack, who, sure enough, looks to be correcting him.

The man then lists Jack's various crimes, and Cecilia's eyebrows creep further and further upwards as the list goes on. If she ever gets the chance to speak to him again, she'll have to ask him about when he impersonated a cleric of the Church of England.

"This is wrong," Elizabeth says, eyes fixed on the gallows.

"Commodore Norrington is bound by the law, as are we all," Governor Swann says, glancing at Cecilia as he says this. She refuses to meet his eyes, staring at Jack.

"For these crimes," the man continues, "you have been sentenced to be, on this day, hung by the neck until dead."

A figure moving towards them through the crowd catches Cecilia's attention. It's Will, partially concealed beneath a rather extravagant hat.

"Governor Swann," he says, nodding. "Commodore. Cecilia. Elizabeth." He takes a breath, glancing at Cecilia, who nods, certain she knows what he's about to do. "I should've told you every day from the moment I met you. I love you."

Cecilia smiles; both Governor Swann and Norrington turn quickly to face Elizabeth, who is staring at Will. She doesn't get a chance to answer before he turns away, pushing through the crowd.

The drums speed up as the noose is put over Jack's head. Cecilia's heart speeds up with it, her hands trembling where they're clenched into fists at her side. Will's haste to get through the crowd becomes more apparent, and Norrington moves forward, calling for the Marines.

"I can't breathe," Elizabeth gasps out, slumping backwards.

Cecilia barely catches her before she hits the floor, glad of a reason to look away from Jack as the hangman steps towards the lever. Both Governor Swann and Norrington kneel too, fussing over Elizabeth. There are screams from the crowd, but Cecilia isn't looking, she can't—

Elizabeth's eyes snap open with another gasp, and she pushes herself up to sit just as the lever is pulled and Jack drops.

Cecilia, unable to watch, keeps her eyes fixed on Elizabeth, who looks miraculously fine and somewhat guilty. She drops her head to the younger woman's shoulder, murmuring a relieved thank you when she realises that Elizabeth has bought both Jack and Will more time.

Perhaps not enough, though; Norrington, no longer distracted, rushes into the crowd as Will climbs onto the gallows to confront the hangman.

Governor Swann is scolding Elizabeth, but Cecilia can't hear a word, her eyes fixed on Jack and the noose that is still around his neck. Somewhere amidst the fighting between Will and the hangman, the rope gets cut, and he disappears from view.

Cecilia helps Elizabeth to her feet, and the two of them move as quickly as they can in their dresses to the wall, where the Marines have gathered. Governor Swann moves to stand in front of the two of them, obscuring what exactly has happened from view.

"I thought we might have to endure some manner of ill-conceived escape attempt," Norrington says. Will has been caught, then. "But not from you."

"On our return to Port Royal, I granted you clemency," Governor Swann says, accusingly. "And this is how you thank me, by throwing in your lot with him?"

Whilst he's distracted Cecilia and Elizabeth manage to push past him. Jack is standing behind Will, thankfully unharmed, weapons pointed at the two of them from every side. He catches Cecilia's eye, and she's delighted to see that a spark of hope is back in his, rather than the crushing despair from the brig of the Dauntless.

"He's a pirate!" The Governor continues.

"And a good man."

Behind Will, Jack grins and points to himself, mouthing 'that's me'.

"If all I've achieved here is that the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it," Will says, admirably authoritative even with Norrington's sword against his neck. "At least my conscience will be clear."

"You forget your place, Turner." Norrington's voice is low, dangerous, as he takes a step forward.

"It's right here, between you and Jack."

Before she can think better of it, Cecilia steps forward. "As is mine."

Elizabeth follows her swiftly. "And mine."

"Elizabeth, Cecilia," Governor Swann says, sounding somewhat scandalised. "Lower your weapons," he instructs the Marines. "For goodness sake, put them down!"

Though slightly hesitantly, they do as he says.

"So this is where your heart truly lies, then," Norrington says to Elizabeth. Cecilia almost feels sorry for him.

She nods. "It is."

Discreetly so as not to be noticed, Jack taps rather frantically at Cecilia's hip. She glances back at him, but he isn't looking at her. When she follows his gaze, it's just in time to see what looks to be Mr Cotton's parrot flying out to the water.

"Well, I'm actually feeling rather good about this," Jack says brightly, moving around Cecilia to approach Governor Swann. "I think we've all arrived at a very special place, eh? Spiritually, ecumenically... grammatically." He moves to Norrington. "I want you to know that I was rooting for you, mate. Know that." He turns back to Cecilia, Elizabeth, and Will, the three of them still standing in a group despite the lack of need for it anymore. "Elizabeth? It would never have worked between us, darling. I'm sorry, but there's someone else." He glances over her shoulder at Cecilia, and winks. "Will? Nice hat. Cecilia?" Jack holds out a hand, the question evident in his eyes.

Cecilia takes it, delighting in the startled murmurings from the assembled Navy men when Jack presses a kiss to her knuckles.

"Elizabeth, Will," she says, turning back a little but refusing to release her hold on Jack's hand. "Thank you, for everything, both of you. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavours together." She makes sure to stress the final word, keen to ensure that they find the chance to talk properly about their feelings once she's gone. It's not everything that Cecilia would like to say in a goodbye, but she's pressed for time.

"And to you," Elizabeth says, her smile wide. Beside her, Will nods, also grinning.

Cecilia glances over their shoulders at Governor Swann, who is smiling faintly, despite his disapproval on the Dauntless. She dips her head, giving him a small smile, and he returns it.

Jack and Cecilia rush to the edge of the wall, followed by the Marines. Jack flings his arms out, calling theatrically, "Friends! This is the day that you will always remember as the day that you—" He takes another step back, and that's one too many, sending him tumbling over the precipice. Cecilia, her hand still in his, falls with him.

The seconds before they hit the water are terrifying, but the moment they surface she feels lighter than she has in a long time. Not literally, however; her dress is weighing her down quite considerably.

"Help me with this," she says to Jack, gesturing to the ties on the front.

"Already asking me to undress you, eh?" He murmurs, grinning as he undoes the dress with ease, letting it fall away into the water. He raises his eyebrows when he sees the breeches that she's wearing underneath the skirt of her shift.

"I was very hopeful," she says, producing a knife from where she had tucked it into her corset and cutting away the shift's skirt to create a makeshift shirt instead, "that Will's rescue attempt would be successful."

Jack's grin widens as he leans in and kisses her, though it's brief in their efforts to stay above the surface. Cecilia tucks the knife back into her corset, turning sharply when she hears a voice call, "Sail ho!", echoing around the port.

The Black Pearl comes into view, her sails no longer tattered and a Jolly Roger flag flying high upon the mast. In the morning light, she looks magnificent.

So does Jack, excitement and rapture and life illuminating his entire expression as he stares at the Pearl, his eyes wide.

"Come along, Captain, or they'll leave us behind," Cecilia says, light, teasing, and Jack startles from his trance.

They swim to the Pearl together, catching the rope that is thrown to them and clinging to each other as they're hauled aboard. They land rather ungracefully on deck, blinking the water from their eyes. Once Cecilia can see again, she finds Gibbs in front of them, the rest of the crew behind him.

"Thought you were supposed to keep to the Code, eh?" Jack says, sounding understandably peeved.

"We figured they were more actual... guidelines," Gibbs says, grinning. He offers each of them a hand and pulls them to their feet.

Cotton offers Jack his hat, which he accepts and sets back on his head.

"Thank you."

"Captain Sparrow." Anamaria moves away from the helm with Jack's coat in hand, placing it around his shoulders. "The Black Pearl is yours."

Jack approaches the helm with familiarity, stroking the wood with a fondness that has Cecilia grinning. She's not the only one, she notes with a glance at the rest of the crew. Jack pauses, looking up at everyone standing around. "On deck you scabrous dogs! Hands to braces! Let go and haul to run free!" Everyone scatters at his orders, but Jack catches Cecilia by the arm before she can do the same, pulling her towards him. Keeping one hand on the helm, he kisses her deeply, dipping her back a little. There are several whistles from the crew, and the two of them pull back, laughing. "You ready for this, love?" Jack says, pressing another, shorter kiss to her lips.

Cecilia nods. "Wherever we want to go, we'll go, that's what you said. Freedom." She savours the word, savours the sensation of feeling it—truly feeling it—for the first time.

"Freedom at its finest," Jack agrees. "As for where we want to go..." He pulls his compass from his belt and opening it.

"You never did tell me why it doesn't point north," Cecilia says, staring at the needle in fascination as it spins wildly, seeming to favour two directions as it pauses there the most: straight into the horizon, and towards her.

He glances down at the spinning needle, then back up to her. "It points to whatever you want most in the world." His voice is hushed, as if he doesn't want the crew to hear, though they're all a decent distance away.

Cecilia glances down, noticing the needle skipping now, pointing to her more often than any other direction. She looks up at Jack, the question stuck in her throat.

He understands her, though, of course he does. "Aye, it's pointing to you."

"You want me?"

"I'd be a fool not to, darlin'."

Cecilia smiles, feeling a rush of something unbearably fond in her chest. "I love you."

"Love you more," he breathes, leaning in close enough that she feels the words against her lips before he closes the gap between them. When they pull back, just barely, breath still ghosting across each other's lips, they both glance down at the compass. The needle is now pointing firmly to the horizon.

Cecilia laughs breathlessly. "Well, now we know how to solve that problem."

"Then hopefully it's a problem I have to solve often, eh?"

She laughs again. "You're insatiable."

"Incorrigibly so, love." Jack leans in again, the kiss short and sweet this time. When he pulls back he snaps the compass closed and hooks it back onto his belt, resting his now-free hand at Cecilia's waist.

She leans into his touch, staring out at the unbroken horizon line ahead, and then glancing up at Jack, who is doing the same. "And now?"

"Now..." His gaze darts back and forth along the line, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Bring me that horizon."

As they begin to sail, Cecilia finds that song that Elizabeth had taught them stuck in her head. A pirate's life for me... How correct that turned out to be. She hums a few lines, laughing when Jack joins in for what appears to be his favourite line.

"And really bad eggs... Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!"

Chapter Text

After only a year on the sea, Cecilia Guillemot can't help but question how she remained on land in Port Royal for so long without descending into madness. To wake up and feel the sway of the Black Pearl beneath her feet; to step out onto deck and hear the spray of the sea and smell the salt in the water; to watch the sunset bloom across the horizon each night; to feel free... it all seems so indispensable, now.

That isn't to say that the whole of the previous year has been entirely smooth sailing, though. Norrington had chased the Pearl across the seas until they managed to lose him in a hurricane near Tripoli, and even then they couldn't be sure they were rid of him until they got back to the Caribbean and heard various murmurings that the Commodore hadn't returned. And just once they had gotten rid of one adversary, another returned, in the form of Barbossa's monkey, somehow still undead, which has been wreaking havoc on the ship ever since. There are certain... moral issues, too, that come with piracy. Though Jack is thankfully reluctant about killing and excess violence unless it's deemed absolutely necessary, Cecilia still isn't quite used to the idea of chasing down merchant vessels unprovoked and taking their wares.

It's all worth it, however, for what she has gained. The newfound freedom makes her feel slightly delirious at times; being able to do what she wants, when she wants, without resistance from people who expect better from her. She does miss Elizabeth and Will, though her friendships with Gibbs, Anamaria (until she left to sail with her own crew, once Jack finally got her the ship that he owed), Marty, Cotton, and others in the crew are worthy substitutes.

And then there's Jack. Jack, who is hers once again, and she his. Even their relationship is more free than it was thirteen years earlier, now unrestrained by societal expectations. They sleep in the same bed, though unmarried, spend comfortable evenings together as Jack manages his charts and Cecilia reads the books that he buys for her each time they make port. He taught her how to shoot a gun, how to man the helm, how the cannons on the Pearl function, and in turn she taught him bits of French, Latin, tidbits from her upper class education that he may find interesting or useful. And each day Cecilia wakes up to the realisation that she's happy, with him, with this, with her new life as a pirate.

But something has been off with Jack, recently. Cecilia had thought that perhaps he was dissatisfied with her, but when she brought this up he denied it so vehemently that she felt foolish for even thinking it. Still, she can tell that there's something he isn't telling her. More and more frequently she catches him staring off into the distance, a slight frown creasing his brow. She feels him startle awake beside her at night, feels him pull on his breeches and duck through the curtain into the main cabin, where he refuses to be coaxed back into bed. And if he's become quieter, a little more distant, around Cecilia, then he's only become more eccentric around the crew. Such eccentricity is only made worse by his reliance on the compass, which has been bothering him increasingly, lately, the needle spinning in furious circles no matter what he does to fix it in one direction. Almost certainly, the malfunctioning compass is the reason why the Black Pearl has been making stops at seemingly random locations, and leaving with only average plunder or nothing at all despite the efforts taken to get there. Tonight is one such night. After several days sailing on the Mediterranean Sea, Jack had ordered that they stop a fair distance from the land on the horizon, then took the longboat and rowed out himself, refusing both Cecilia and Gibbs' offers of company.

With a weary glance at Gibbs, Cecilia had retreated back into the cabin, but several hours have passed now and she's made very little progress with the book in her hands. Heaving a sigh, she marks her page and sets the book on the desk, heading out to the deck.

Night has fallen in the time that she was inside, and now the Pearl is enveloped in shadow, the lamps unlit and the deck seemingly empty. There's a persistent fog, made worse by a persistent breeze which sends it across the deck in plumes, only further obscuring things from her sight. The Pearl creaks in the wind; Cecilia runs a comforting hand against the side of the ship as she secures a flapping rope that had come loose.

"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum."

At the sound of Gibbs' voice, Cecilia ventures across the deck to him.

"Drink and the devil had done for the rest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum." Gibbs laughs, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand.

A bell tolls in the distance, and he turns to face the sound, jumping when he sees Cecilia standing there, half in shadow.

"Miss Cecilia," he nods in greeting, taking another gulp of drink. "You snuck up on me."

"Apologies, Mr Gibbs." Cecilia looks up at the caw of a bird, in time to see a flock of crows flying over their heads, dark against the sky. "Somewhat eerie, isn't it?"

"Aye, ye can say that again." He offers her the bottle in his hand.

She takes it, sipping the rum as she stares out through the fog. "Any sign of him?"

Gibbs shakes his head. "Nothing. He told you what he's looking for, by any chance?"

"Not a thing, no. Have you ever seen him like this before, so... on edge?"

"Not to my memory. He's not the only one on edge, so's the crew."

Cecilia sighs, lifting a hand to rub at her forehead. "I've noticed."

"He risks a mutiny if he doesn't stop runnin' us all over the place without tellin' us what it is he be looking for."

"Do you think it'll come to that?"

"Hopefully not, lass."

She moves to the side of the ship, staring out at the still water. Gibbs follows. "I just wish he would talk to one of us, at least. Perhaps then we could—"

A gun shot rings through the air, making both of them jump. With a glance at each other, they run to the other side of the ship. In the distance, barely visible through the fog, a figure emerges from a floating coffin and begins rowing towards the Pearl.

"Thank God," Cecilia murmurs, though she's a little concerned by the absence of the longboat that Jack left in. She darts back into the cabin to fetch Jack's coat, and by the time she comes back out to deck Gibbs is holding out a hand to help the captain up.

Jack passes Gibbs what appears to be a skeletal leg, climbing onto deck himself.

"Not quite according to plan," Gibbs says.

"Complications arose, ensued, were overcome."

"Complications?" Cecilia steps out of the shadows to join the two of them.

Jack grins at the sight of her, pulling her into a short kiss before he allows Cecilia to rest his coat around his shoulders. "As I said, overcome. Nothing for you to worry about, love."

Gibbs passes the bones to Cotton and jogs to catch up to the two of them. "You got what you went in for, then?"

"Mmhm." Jack pulls what looks to be a rolled up piece of grimy cloth from his pocket, waving it in the air triumphantly.

Cecilia raises an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Gibbs as Jack brushes past the two of them, heading once more in the direction of the cabin. He stops abruptly as he rounds the corner, suddenly faced with the majority of the crew, who all look rather disgruntled. Cecilia and Gibbs share another cautious glance.

"Captain," Gibbs says, moving forward before any of the others can get a word in, "I think the crew, meaning me as well, were expecting something a bit more... shiny, what with the Isla de Muerta going all pear-shaped, reclaimed by the sea and the treasure with it."

"And the Royal Navy chasing us around the Atlantic," Leech says.

"And the hurricane!" Marty adds.

There are various "ayes" from the rest of the crew. Cecilia glances at Jack, whose nose twitches in annoyance.

"All in all, it seems some time since we did a speck of honest pirating," Gibbs concludes.

Jack is silent for a moment. "Shiny."

"Aye, shiny."

"Is that how you're all feeling, then? That perhaps dear old Jack is not serving your best interests as captain?"

"Walk the plank!" Cotton's parrot squawks. Cotton covers its beak before it can commit further contumacy.

Jack whirls around with alarming speed, pointing his pistol at the parrot. "What did the bird say?!"

"Ignore the bird," Cecilia says. "What's on the cloth?"

Before Jack can respond, Barbossa's wretched monkey swings down and snatches the cloth from his hand. Jack fires his pistol, which stalls, then snatches Cecilia's from her belt and shoots the monkey, making it drop the cloth.

"You know that doesn't do any good," she says, reclaiming her pistol and blowing the smoke from the end.

"It does me," Jack grumbles, returning his own pistol to his belt.

Marty picks up the cloth from the deck and unrolls it. "It's a key."

"No." Jack moves forward and takes it from him. "Much more better. It is a drawing of a key." He holds up the cloth. Indeed, there's a rather faded inking of a dual-pronged key on it. No one says anything, staring blankly. Jack sighs. "Gentlemen, m'lady, what do keys do?"

"Unlock things," Cecilia says, unable to help a small smile now that she thinks she understands where he's going with this.

"And whatever this key unlocks, inside there's something valuable," Gibbs continues, "so we're setting out to find whatever this key unlocks!"

"No. If we don't have the key, we can't open whatever it is we don't have that it unlocks. So what purpose would be served in finding whatever need be unlocked, which we don't have, without having first found the key what unlocks it?"

"We're going after this key, then?" Cecilia says.

"You're not making any sense at all, love," Jack says, though his subsequent wink conveys that the answer is actually yes. "Any more questions?" He calls to the rest of the crew.

"So... do we have a heading?" Marty asks.

"Ah, a heading." Jack pulls his compass from his belt, flicking it open. As is usual as of late, the needle refuses to settle in one direction. "Set sail in a..." Jack follows the needle with his finger— "general..." When the needle doesn't stop spinning, he picks a direction at random. "That way direction!"

"Cap'n?"

Jack snaps the compass closed, turning back to Gibbs. "Come on, snap to and make sail, you know how this works. Go on. Oi, oi, oi!" He waves various crew members out of this path, meandering back towards the cabin.

"Not quite the outcome we were hoping for, then," Cecilia murmurs to Gibbs, who frowns, moving over to the side of the ship in the direction that Jack had pointed.

"No."

Marty comes to join the two of them. "Have you noticed lately, the captain seems to be acting a bit strange...er?"

Gibbs nods. "Setting sail without knowing his own heading, something's got Jack vexed. And mark my words, whatever bodes ill for Jack Sparrow bodes ill for us all."

Cecilia sighs. "I'll try and talk to him. Goodnight Gibbs, Marty."

"G'night, Miss Cecilia."

She crosses the deck to the cabin, noting the way Jack jumps when she opens the door and steps through. He's already sitting at the desk, charts out in front of him and a bottle of rum beside him.

"Only me," she says lightly, removing her coat and belt with her pistol and dagger, and hanging both by the door. She grabs her usual chair and drags it over to the desk, sitting down and leaning forward. Jack watches her, half fond and half wary. "So, what's in the chest?"

He clears his throat. "The chest... is irrelevant at the present moment. As you so sagely put together, love, the key is what we're after."

"But we're going after the key because we're going after the chest... so what's in it?"

"A surprise," Jack says after a moment, widening his eyes.

"A surprise." Cecilia repeats, skeptical. "What kind of surprise?"

"Sometimes—" he stands, rounding the desk— "it's better to be left in the dark, love." He rests his hands over her eyes, gentle but still enough to block out the light of the candles. "Gives you a chance to appreciate your other senses, eh?"

Part of Cecilia wants to push him for a better answer, but every other time she has tried that has ended in an argument, and it's highly likely that this would only be the same. Besides, some baser, wanting part of her is keen to take advantage of Jack's proximity and momentary distraction from his charts.

She tips her head back, expecting him to move his hands, but he doesn't. Cecilia tsks, licking her lips deliberately.  "Is that so?"

Jack leans down to kiss her, the upside-down angle and the fact that Cecilia can't see making it slightly awkward but no less pleasant. Pulling back, Jack removes his hands from Cecilia's eyes, his expression sly. He raises an eyebrow.

Cecilia hums, straightening up and turning in the chair to face him. "I'd like to test that theory more, I think. Horizontally, preferably."

"Insatiable, you are," Jack says, even as he pulls her up from the chair and guides her towards the curtain that hides the small bedroom from the rest of the cabin.

"Incorrigibly so," Cecilia says, throwing his own words from their first day on the Pearl back at him. "Though I'm feeling second best to your charts at the moment," she snipes lightly, unable to help herself.

Jack pulls her close to him, lips brushing her ear as he whispers, "We'll have to fix that then, eh?"

And though he makes good on his promise, Cecilia can't help but suspect that she has just been used to try to pull the compass's needle away from her. And yet, as she stretches out on the bed, feeling pleasantly warm and undoubtedly satisfied, she can't quite bring herself to mind.

Jack, redressed and distracted once more, had retreated back to the main cabin with a final kiss to Cecilia's lips, his ringed fingers dancing teasingly along her side. She had listened to him sit heavily at his desk once more, along with the telltale clink of a bottle of rum.

Cecilia opens her eyes and stares up at the ceiling, considering this key and this chest, and what Jack could possibly want them so desperately for. In the past year there have been multiple close calls, and yet she has never seen him like this. Even when they came close to being caught by Norrington, when there was the threat of being hanged, Jack had been cocky, confident, in his element, because he knew that Norrington couldn't beat him. He's Captain Jack Sparrow, after all.

But that implies that this time Jack is so uneasy because there's something that can beat him, Captain Jack Sparrow or not, and that... well, that's unnerving, to say the least.

Two weeks later, little has changed.

Cecilia pushes aside the curtain, intending to scour the cabin for another book, having finishing her current one. Jack is leaning over his charts, tapping at his compass, presumably unsuccessfully, as he sets his pencil down with a sigh, reaching for the bottle beside him. Frowning, he tips it upside down, then sighs again when only a few droplets tip out.

"Why is the rum always gone?" He stands, then immediately staggers when the ship sways.

"That's why," Cecilia laughs.

Jack shoots her a halfhearted glare, reaching for his hat and setting it atop his head.

"I don't know if you'll find much down there," she says, nodding towards the stores below deck, "we're due a restock."

"If I've a nose for anything, love, it's rum," he points out, pulling on his coat.

She grins. "Ah, that's true."

"Back in a mo." Jack winks at her and disappears through the door.

Cecilia remains where she stands for a moment longer, staring at the closed door, then glances over at the desk. Immediately the compass catches her eye, the compass that Jack has been so protective of lately. It's lying open on the desk, though it snaps shut when Cecilia crosses the room and lifts it. She considers the gold detailing on the top of the lid, then opens it in one swift motion. Unlike when Jack holds it, the needle points steadfastly in one direction: back towards the desk where the charts lie. Well, Cecilia wants answers; perhaps that's where they are.

Snapping the compass closed again, she rounds the desk to sit in Jack's chair, studying the charts. They're firmly in the middle of the Atlantic, having made it out of the Mediterranean just over two weeks ago. Though a course is plotted to Puerto Rico, presumably for a restock, there are several marks over Cuba, as if Jack has tapped it more than once with his pencil. Cecilia sits back in the chair, pondering this. She doesn't recall Jack ever mentioning anything significant in Cuba, aside from several ports. She leans close to the charts again. The pencil markings are all near the mouth of a river called Pantano, which is nowhere near any ports of note. Perhaps this is where they'll find the key from that drawing—

There's a commotion below deck, loud and panicked and getting louder still. Cecilia stands, quickly tugging on her boots and coat and running out to see what's happening. 

The deck is a flurry of movement, half-dressed crew members dashing about to manage the ropes and the sails. Cecilia's eyes fix immediately on Jack, who is running across the deck, shouting at the top of his voice.

"Run! Keep running! Run as if the devil himself and itself is upon us!"

"Jack!" Cecilia runs forward, catching him by the shoulders. Jack goes still under her hands. "What's going on?"

He stares at her, mouth opening and closing. There's a wild, panicked look in his eyes.

"Do we have a heading?"

Jack nearly jumps out of his skin when Gibbs appears behind him. "Ah! Run! Land." He twists out of Cecilia's hold, darting behind the mast.

Gibbs exchanges a glance with Cecilia, who shrugs helplessly, and the two of them round the mast on either side.

"Which port?" Gibbs asks.

"I didn't say port, I said land, any land. Ah!" Jack jumps again when the monkey swings over his head and snatches his hat, tossing it into the water.

Gibbs dashes to the side of the ship. "Jack's hat! Bring her about!"

"No, no! Leave it!"

Cecilia stares at him in disbelief. Jack has done stupid things in the past to reclaim that hat, so why this is too much for him is beyond her.

The rest of the crew also stare at Jack, who falters. "Run." He turns and dashes away again.

Cecilia heads after him, barely hearing Gibbs' order for the crew to return to their stations. Jack is hiding under the stairs, his back pressed against cabin windows as he stares forward.

"Jack?" She murmurs, ducking a little to see him properly.

"Shh!"

"For the love of mother and child, Jack," Gibbs says, coming up behind Cecilia. "What's coming after us?"

Jack is silent for a moment, eyes darting back and forth. "Nothing."

Cecilia exchanges yet another weary glance with Gibbs, who rests a hand on Jack's shoulder before turning to go, presumably back to bed.

"Come inside, Jack," she says, keeping her voice gentle like she's speaking to a spooked animal.

He allows her to coax him into the cabin and goes willingly when she presses him down into his chair. Cecilia kneels in front of him, resting her hands on his knees and looking up at him.

"You're trembling," she says, reaching for his hands, but Jack withdraws quickly. "What's wrong with your hand?" She asks, noticing the way he refuses to uncurl his fist.

"Nothing."

"Jack. Let me help, please."

With a sigh, Jack extends his closed fist to her, letting Cecilia pull his fingers away. She tilts his hand up to the candlelight, and gasps. The flesh on Jack's palm has been turned black. Cecilia has learned a lot in the past year, but even in her life before she knew from Elizabeth's stories that the Black Spot is a mark of death.

Carefully, Cecilia traces her finger against it. It's cold, uneven on his skin. She looks up at him again. "What's going on, Jack?"

He sighs again, staring down at his hand. "Remind me what I told you about... that day, before?"

Cecilia knows what he means without having to ask. "The cargo you were given was one hundred slaves. You set them free. Beckett's men set your ship on fire, and he branded you a pirate and told you I was dead. You escaped."

Jack hums, nodding. "Didn't say how, did I?"

"No..."

"As you well know, love, getting out of someone's reach isn't the hard bit, that's staying away from their reach. It was easy enough to jump ship, swim to the nearest bit of land, but then what? I needed a ship of me own." He takes a breath. "So I called upon Davy Jones."

"Davy Jones?" Really, Cecilia shouldn't be surprised that another pirate legend has turned out to be real.

"Aye. I made a deal with 'im. He raised the Wicked Wench from the depths, I renamed her the Black Pearl after her blackened hull. Jones gave me thirteen years as her captain... in exchange for my soul."

Cecilia stares at him. "So what does that mean, now that it's been thirteen years? What does..." She trails off, staring down at the Black Spot again.

"I saw Bootstrap Bill Turner down there." He jerks his head in the direction of the stores below deck.

"Will's father?"

Jack nods. "The very same. He's part of Jones' crew, since we broke his curse. Says there's a leviathan after me, ready to drag the Pearl back down, and me with it."

"A leviathan... a sea monster?"

"Ever heard of the Kraken?"

Cecilia has. A sea creature of enormous size, which pulls ships down to the depths and drags sailors to their doom alongside the wreckage. Gibbs had gone off on a spiel about it one night when he was drunker than usual, and Cecilia had dismissed it as one of his usual tall tales at the time, but now...

"Oh God..."

"Not sure he'll be much help, in this case." Jack pulls his hands from Cecilia's, rummaging in a drawer of his desk. He pulls out a strip of cloth and begins struggling to wrap his left hand with only his right.

Cecilia takes the cloth, doing it for him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Didn't want to scare you. Thought I could fix it before my time was up."

Finally, she has an answer to the question that's been plaguing her and Gibbs for months. "That's why you've been so on edge, sending us all over the world? To try and find a solution?"

"Aye."

Cecilia ties a knot in the cloth, then takes his hands gently in hers. "Jack... why make the deal in the first place? I know how much you love the Pearl, loved the Wench, but... she's only a ship, surely there would have been others, another way out?"

Jack looks down at their joined hands, brushing his finger against the ring that he had given her all those years ago. "She was my last reminder of you, love. D'you remember when I found out I was going to be her captain, I asked you to marry me right out there?" He nods towards the door, to the deck beyond.

Cecilia has always known there was something about the Pearl which felt achingly familiar, but she had never been able to put her finger on it until Jack told her. She had thought she remembered the Wicked Wench well, but clearly not so well as she had thought, if she couldn't pick out the almost-identical appearance of the two ships. She smiles. "Of course I do."

"If I'd known Beckett was lying, I wouldn't've made the deal," Jack says, eyes wide and earnest.

"I know," Cecilia murmurs, sitting up on her knees to kiss him softly. "Maybe once all this is over we should seek him out, ruin his life the way he ruined ours."

"Sounds like a plan, love." There's an unbearable dejection in his expression, even as he answers in the affirmative.

"Can I ask you another question?"

He nods.

"What's in the chest that the key we're looking for opens?"

"If the stories are true, Davy Jones put his heart in a chest. I intend to use that as leverage to get him to call off the beastie. Provided it doesn't catch up to us first," he adds, grimacing.

"And what's in Cuba?"

Jack only looks surprised for a moment before it melts away to something like pride. "Someone who can tell us if the stories are true, and where we can get hold of this key."

Cecilia nods, leaning in to kiss him again. "It'll be okay, Jack. We have a chance, that's all we need."

He kisses her once more, then his gaze drifts to the charts on the desk. "All we need..." he mutters grimly, lifting his compass and lifting the lid cautiously, as if he's afraid of what he'll find underneath.

The needle doesn't stop spinning.

Chapter Text

Cecilia spends the rest of their voyage back to the Caribbean in a state of perpetual anxiety, though she tries to hide it for Jack's sake. He's on edge enough as it is. Gibbs has clearly picked up on it, though he hasn't said anything; Cecilia almost hopes he thinks they're fighting, as the truth is far worse, especially for a man as superstitious as Gibbs is.

Jack's general state of unease for the past few months is making far more sense now. Cecilia spends much of her time off deck scouring the bookshelves in the cabin for tales of the Kraken or Davy Jones. On deck she finds herself distracted, staring out at the water as if she'll be able to see the beastie coming for them, and at night she sleeps fitfully.

The compass continues to give them grief, too, spinning in endless circles. Jack had passed it to Cecilia as a test, but for all that she tried, she couldn't get it to focus in a single direction either. Too much is on her mind, she supposes—wanting to get to land, wanting to find the key, wanting to find the chest, wanting Jack to be safe.

But luck finally gets back on their side as they reach the Caribbean Sea. An island on the horizon, uncharted on their charts, but land all the same.

Jack, suddenly more enthusiastic than he's been for weeks, calls for the crew to beach the Pearl, ignoring the incredulous looks that he receives from several crewmen.

"Shouldn't we send someone out to scout the island first, Cap'n?" Gibbs is saying as Cecilia climbs the steps to the helm.

"No time, Mr Gibbs. We shall get the Pearl onto land first, then we can take a look." Jack squints up at the high mountains of the island.

Gibbs glances back at Cecilia, frowning slightly. She nods, and though his frown deepens, he doesn't say anything else, turning to shout more orders to the crew.

"Are you sure about this?" Cecilia murmurs, leaning close to Jack so Gibbs can't hear them.

Jack glances at her, then at the sea, then back to her. "Quite sure, love." He studies her face for a moment, though she can't begin to imagine what he's looking for. "What's wrong?"

She sighs, looking up at the island as the Pearl draws closer. "I have a bad feeling about this. It's not on any of our charts—"

"There are hundreds of small islands that go uncharted."

"This isn't a small island though, Jack." The closer they get, the more apparent that is.

Jack pulls her close with a hand at her waist, pressing a light kiss to her temple. "We'll be fine, darlin'. 'S just until we figure out the next step."

Beaching the Pearl is easy enough, and Jack jumps down to the beach with the rest of the crew in tow. Cecilia suspects that if it weren't for the presence of everyone else, he would kneel and kiss the sand at his feet. The crew splits off into smaller groups as Jack orders a search of the island for any useful supplies, gesturing for them to head off in different directions.

The island is tremendously green, the shrubbery wild and overgrown. Birdsong that Cecilia doesn't recognise echoes overhead, and the quiet trickling of a river or stream can be heard in the distance. Dry sticks and leaves, fallen from the tall trees overhead, crack beneath her feet as she ventures into the trees alongside Jack, Gibbs, Marty, and Cotton, among others. Gibbs is midway through a spiel about the last time he was in a place like this one when there's a scream from somewhere in the trees, sounding small and fairly distant from where they are.

Jack goes still, head tilted in the direction of the sound. When there are no other screams, he lifts a hand, gesturing for them to continue in the direction they had been going.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Cecilia mutters, quickening her pace to walk a little closer to him.

"Probably just one of 'em making the others jump, love," Jack says, though he also keeps his voice lowered.

The trees get closer together, casting shadows across their little group as they travel further and further from the shore. Cecilia had been anxious when they were at sea, but she would prefer to be on the shore now than so deep in the forest. She can't shake the uncanny feeling of being watched, of being hunted by something that they can't see.

"Let's go back," she pleads quietly, catching Jack by the hand. "There's nothing here, it's just tree after wretched tree—"

He sighs, turning to face her. "Darlin'—" But then he stops, eyes glazing slightly as he sways in place.

"Jack?"

He crumples to the ground, and as he falls Cecilia catches sight of the dart embedded in his neck.

"Leave him!" She hisses as Gibbs and Marty move forward. "Get down!" She drops the floor, keeping her head low, the others doing the same behind her. "Poisoned dart," she whispers over her shoulder. "There's someone else here."

The forest feels eerily silent now, not even the sound of a bird's wings in the air. Jack isn't moving, though when Cecilia crawls over to him she is able to find his pulse fairly easily.

"There's no one here." At the voice behind her, Cecilia glances over her shoulder to see one of the crewmen climbing to his feet.

"No—" she starts to say, but it's too late.

Another dart flies from the trees, striking the crewman clean in the neck, and at the same time the trees seem to explode in a flurry of movement. People jump out into the clearing, clutching spears and other handmade weapons, their faces painted for camouflage. A tribe, perhaps.

Even as Cecilia draws her sword, she knows it's pointless; she and the other crewmen are surrounded and outnumbered quite considerably. On the ground, Jack still hasn't stirred, but several of the tribe are kneeling beside him, examining him with some interest.

"I don't see a way out of this," Cecilia mutters to Gibbs, who is standing closest to her. "Shall we come quietly?"

"That might be best, aye." Gibbs warily eyes the spear pointed straight at his face.

Cecilia lowers her sword slowly, and makes a show of tucking it back into her belt. The man directly in front of her observes the motion closely. For a moment she thinks that they might come to some sort of truce, as he looks up again and meets her eyes, but the stinging sensation of something sharp striking her neck quite swiftly erases any hope of that. Whatever poison they're using, it's good; the world goes dark very quickly.

Cecilia wakes up slowly, groggily. Her head feels heavy, almost like a bad hangover, but she hasn't had one of those in almost a year, and she certainly doesn't remember drinking enough rum to warrant one, either. She opens her eyes, and immediately wishes it was just a bad hangover. She's lying on dusty ground, half-curled into herself, her tangled hair swept across her face. Blinking hard, she pushes her hair aside and begins to sit up, aided by a pair of hands on each side. Gibbs and Cotton, as it turns out.

"Coming quietly didn't work, then?" She says wryly.

"No," Gibbs says, his brow furrowed.

Cecilia looks around. Most of the crew are sitting close together in the dirt, kept in place by the spears that are pointed at them from all sides, wielded by various members of the tribe. And it certainly is a tribe; what looks to be hundreds of people with painted faces are milling between the huts built in the clearing. The beginnings of a fire are being built in the center.

"Where's Jack?" She asks, glancing with rising panic across the assembled crew.

"They took him into one of the huts not long ago. Seemed very excited."

"Oh." Cecilia glances around at the nearby tribespeople. Gibbs is right, there is something decidedly animated in the way that they move around and talk to each other.

Their language isn't English, obviously, and seems to be a hybrid of French and something else that Cecilia doesn't recognise. Though she hasn't retained much of her French lessons from her youth, she remembers enough to pick out a few words from an enthusiastic conversation between two women a little way away. Dieu—God; libérer—to release; festin—feast.

She relays this to her surrounding crewmates, and Gibbs pales.

"What?" Marty asks, leaning forward.

"I've heard stories," Gibbs begins, because of course he has, "of a tribe called the Pelegostos. Only a few know the island they reside on, because no one has made it off alive."

"Let me guess," Cecilia says, dread beginning to pool in the pit of her stomach, "this is that island?"

"Seems that way." Gibbs grimaces. "They're devout, supposedly, but not to any god that the likes of you and me know. And—" he pauses, either for dramatic effect or out of genuine fear— "they're cannibals."

That's... not ideal.

"What about Jack?" Cecilia says, panic rising once more. "Have they taken him to—"

"No, no," Gibbs says, and it would be reassuring but for his next words. "Not yet."

"What does that mean?" Marty asks, after a beat in which Cecilia simply stares at Gibbs.

He sighs. "If the stories are to be believed, the Pelegostos believe that Jack is a god in human form, and they intend to do him the honour of releasing him from his fleshy prison."

"And how do they intend to do that?" She has the sinking feeling that she already knows the answer. Festin.

"They'll roast him and eat him." Gibbs nods towards the beginnings of the fire in the center of the clearing.

"You said 'not yet'," Cecilia says slowly. "Why is that?"

"They have to show him the reverence a god deserves first, lest he enact his wrath on them once he's released."

As if on cue, a distinct figure is led out of one of the huts by two women. Jack. His back is to the captive crew as he is taken to a throne that Cecilia hadn't noticed before, but when he sits down, he's looking straight at them. Looking at them through eight eyes, in fact, because six more have been painted down his face, blue in colour and staring endlessly. There's a fourth pair painted on his eyelids, so that even when he blinks or closes his eyes, he still seems to be watching. There's a metaphor there—omniscience, or something like it—but Cecilia is too concerned about Jack to give further thought to it. 

Settled in the throne, Jack looks discreetly over to the crew, to Cecilia. He visibly relaxes a little when he sees her awake.

"Does he know?" She murmurs to Gibbs, not taking her eyes off of Jack for fear that she won't be able to catch his gaze again.

She feels Gibbs shrug beside her, and sits up a little, slowly, wary of the spear pointed at her. The motion catches Jack's attention, though he hasn't looked away; he leans slightly closer as if expecting Cecilia to call out to him.

You're not safe, she mouths to him instead.

Even from a distance, she sees Jack's brow furrow.

What? He mouths back.

You're. Not. Safe.

His eyes widen in realisation, though he still looks confused.

They're going to eat you, Cecilia continues. She doesn't bother telling him why, he can work that out himself. Besides, the point of the spear is inching closer to her face.

Jack's eyes widen further, and he glances warily at the people standing either side of him.

"What will happen to us?" She leans over to Gibbs once more.

"I reckon," he says, grimly, "that they'll need something to tide over their hunger until it's time for the feast."

Cecilia's heart sinks, and when she looks to Jack again, her helpless expression is reflected in his face.

Gibbs was right. As the sun comes up on the second day, ten crewmen are picked at what seems to be random, and dragged out of sight. Their screams echo across the clearing, then are cut short abruptly. The bodies are dragged back into the clearing, where several tribes people begin to strip them of skin and flesh and whatever else they find underneath. Cecilia closes her eyes and covers her nose so that she doesn't have to smell the bodies. That doesn't stop her from hearing the retching of the crew who didn't have the foresight, though.

Ten bodies aren't enough, it seems. Several hours after the first, another small group is picked out. Cecilia watches Jack as it happens, notices the panic in his eyes whenever the point of a spear comes too close to her. The same happens again, and again: screams, silence, a slow disassembling. By nightfall, Cecilia estimates that more than forty of the crew must be dead.

"Look." Marty's whisper rouses Cecilia from her uneasy doze against Gibbs' shoulder.

She opens her eyes. Dawn is breaking, just barely, the sky a paling purple, but already the Pelegostos are at work. The bones from the bodies of the day before are being strung together with vines, creating the start of what seems to be a spherical structure.

"Cages," says Gibbs.

"My God..." Cecilia murmurs. "For us?"

"Who else?"

Again, Gibbs was right. By the time the sun is high in the sky, the cages are complete. Jack is brought over to examine the work of the tribespeople, which he compliments uneasily, and is then led back to his throne. The remaining crew—which isn't many, there are less than twenty of them left now—are ushered to their feet and back towards the trees at the points of spears.

"Jack," Cecilia calls as their little group approaches him.

His eyes find her in the cluster immediately.

"Be careful," she says, trying to convey everything she wants to say in as few words as possible. There's not a lot of time, not at the rate that they're being pushed out of the clearing.

Jack nods. "I love you."

"I love you," Cecilia returns, surprised at the announcement of affection in front of the crew. Though, she supposes it doesn't really matter, if this is to be the last time that they see each other.

The tribespeople lead them into the trees, and they walk for what feels like a very long time—and quite likely is, considering the size of the island. Four people in front of their pitiful procession are rolling the cages. Eventually they come to a stop at the top of a ravine, the open ocean in tantalising view. As they're being split up and crowded into the cages, a commotion in the trees catches Cecilia's attention. Someone is shouting, and it's a shout that seems somewhat familiar...

Four men come out of the trees, holding between them a long stick onto which someone is attached by their wrists and ankles. And as they come to a stop, Cecilia can see that the person held captive is Will Turner. Instinctively, she steps towards him, but the point of a spear coming dangerously close to her eye makes her draw back. Will is untied, and immediately begins to struggle, seemingly unaware of the crew even as he is backed towards them.

"Will!" Cecilia calls, noticing out of the corner of her eye a man lifting a dart gun.

Will spins around, recognition mingled with surprise on his face as he registers her, the rest of the crew, and the fact that they're halfway into cages.

"Don't do anything stupid," she continues, widening her eyes meaningfully. There's a lot that he should know before he even considers getting into a fight with the Pelegostos.

Will is pushed into a cage alongside Cecilia, Gibbs, Marty, Cotton, and others, and the cages are sealed shut and lowered into the ravine. Cecilia closes her eyes, clinging to the bars despite her disgust at what they're made from, and doesn't open them again until the cage has stopped swaying.

Will is in front of her face, frowning deeply. There's a lot in his expression; concern, fatigue, irritation, anger. "Are you alright?"

She gestures at their surroundings, shrugging and steadfastly not looking down at the drop that she knows is beneath them. "As much as can be, I suppose. What about you, why are you here?"

He sighs, running a hand over his face. He looks so much older than the last time she saw him, the burden of a man weighted down by many more years about his shoulders. "Elizabeth is in danger, we were arrested for helping Jack. I need his compass."

Cecilia frowns. "The compass?" That's interesting, certainly. But who could want the compass, when only a select few know the truth about it...?

"I can trade it for our freedom, mine and Elizabeth's... and possibly yours."

"Mine?"

"There's a warrant for your arrest, too."

Who would bother making such an effort as arresting three people—one of whom hasn't been seen near Port Royal for a year—to ensure punishment for helping Jack so long after the action itself? Perhaps a bitter Norrington did make it back to the Caribbean, after all. Cecilia sighs. "Well, there's little to be done about any of it now, given the circumstances."

"Why would he do this to us?" Will says, his tone suddenly angry. "If Jack is the chief—"

"Aye, the Pelegostos made Jack their chief, but he only remains chief as long as he acts like a chief," Gibbs says.

"So he had no choice. He's a captive, then, as much as the rest of us."

"Worse, as it turns out." Gibbs explains what they know about the tribe and Jack's soon-to-be fate, as well as the origins of the cages. "The feast is about to begin," he finishes. "Jack's life will end when the drums stop."

"Well, we can't just sit here and wait then, can we?"

Cecilia notes the familiar glint in Will's eye, and straightens up a little. "You've an idea?"

"I might do. If we can rock the cages far enough, we might be able to reach the side and climb up it."

She studies the walls of the ravine, rich with foliage that would be sufficient to climb, then makes the mistake of looking down. Her stomach lurches a little at the size of the drop if Will's plan were to go horribly wrong and the rope holding the cage were to snap.

"It could work," Gibbs says, the beginnings of a familiar grin on his face. Despite the fact that they've hardly been in the cage for a full hour, he seems as keen as Cecilia is to get out as quickly as possible.

They shout Will's plan across to the crew in the other cage, then tentatively begin to move back and forth. It isn't easy; the flooring consists more of holes than something solid to stand on, and there's the lingering fear of the rope snapping or of being seen, but eventually they manage to get a momentum going, swinging closer to the ravine wall each time. They come close enough that their fingers brush the plants, and on the next swing manage to gain footholds and hold on.

Cecilia laughs breathlessly, unable to believe that they've made it without falling to their deaths.

"Put your legs through, start to climb!" Gibbs orders.

"Come on!" Will calls. "It'll take all of us to crew the Black Pearl!"

"Actually, you wouldn't need everyone!" Leech calls from the other cage. "About six would do."

Both cages come to a halt as everyone seems to realise the same thing: there are six people in one cage, and seven in the other. If only one cage were to make it, there wouldn't be an issue.

"Oh dear," Leech says, clearly aware of the competition that he has started, however unintentionally.

"Hurry!" Will shouts.

They struggle up the side, pulling into the lead inch by inch. Cecilia can feel friction burns and scrapes from thorns on her palms, and her arms ache with the strain of moving the cage, but she can't help her grin as they draw further ahead. That is, until Will stops them.

"Wait, wait! Stop!" He hisses.

Cecilia stares at him incredulously, then follows his line of sight and realises that he's right. Someone is walking across one of the bridges, and if their attention is drawn to the moving cages, all of them are as good as dead. And yet, that doesn't seem to stop the men in the other cage for very long.

"What are they doing?" Marty mutters, as Will motions frantically for them to stop.

Leech grins wickedly at them as the other cage draws into the lead, several other men sneering alongside him. That is, until Leech grabs hold of a snake instead of a branch, and in a panic all of the men let go, sending the cage careening backwards.

Back to square one, Cecilia muses, and then the rope snaps. She turns away quickly, but that doesn't prevent her from hearing the fading screams and the eventual sickening crunch as the cage splinters on impact.

"Move!" Will yells suddenly, spurring them into action again.

"They've seen us?" There's no other reason for speed, now that their opponents are gone.

He nods frantically, and Cecilia redoubles her efforts, her muscles burning.

In the distance, the drums stop. Cecilia falters, glancing over her shoulder in the direction that the sound had been coming from. If Gibbs was right, then Jack... may very well be dead, or dying, this very moment. There's no time for grief, however, as the ledge of the ravine grows nearer and nearer. Besides, he's Captain Jack Sparrow... there's a fair chance that he managed to escape.

With groans of effort, they make it over the edge, on solid land once more. Cecilia laughs in relief, breathless and still a little too close to the precipice for comfort.

"Cut it loose, find a rock!" Will orders.

Cecilia ducks down, finding a particularly sharp stone at her feet and hacking frantically at the ropes binding the bones together. Beside her, Gibbs cuts the rope that they had been hanging from. But their efforts are short-lived, as a commotion in the trees makes everyone turn to look. Cecilia immediately wishes she hadn't, a swooping feeling of dread in her stomach; the Pelegostos are emerging from the trees, obviously aggravated and heading straight towards the cage.

"Roll the cage!" Will yells.

They surge to one side, setting the cage into motion down the hill, but very quickly lose control, rolling head over heels as they gain speed. Cecilia closes her eyes, the fast motion making her feel rather ill, and prays to anyone listening that no one smashes their head open on an ill-placed rock as they careen down the hill. The cage eventually hits a tree, rolling slightly up the trunk and then coming to a total stop, the ground too flat to regain momentum. Not good. Cecilia opens her eyes, looking around desperately, but the cage is still intact, and the Pelegostos are still chasing them through the trees.

"Lift the cage!" She calls, scrambling to her feet.

"Hurry!"

"Come on, lads! Lift it like a lady's skirt!"

"Gibbs!"

"Apologies, Miss Cecilia!"

With difficulty, they manage to coordinate enough to lift the cage and begin to run with it, but the tribespeople gain on them with every step. That is until, unable to see what lies ahead in their haste, the cage goes tumbling over the edge of another—thankfully smaller—ravine. The cage shatters as it hits the water, the impact knocking the breath out of Cecilia and almost causing her to choke as she is submerged. She surfaces with a pained breath, mentally checking off each person as they come up from the water.

"This way!" Gibbs calls, beginning to swim through the ravine, with everyone else close behind him.

The shouts of the tribespeople get louder, and when Cecilia glances back she can see them over her shoulder, gathered at the edge of the ravine. Arrows and presumably poisoned darts start raining down, and she ducks below the surface once more to avoid being hit.

"Take cover!" Someone gasps when she comes up for air, and Will pulls her around a corner, out of the line of fire.

The Pelegostos line up across the edge once again, weapons raised, but before anyone can fire, a distant cry rings through the trees. Without a backward glance at the crew in the water, they turn away and leave.

Everyone turns to Cecilia, as the one who had been translating, but she shakes her head. "Nothing I recognised. Could it be Jack, do you think?" The small flame of hope that he might have escaped gets a little brighter.

"Could be," Gibbs says, nodding.

"Come on." Will pushes off from the rocks,

They swim through the ravine for what feels like a long time, aching and sore from the climb and the fall. Eventually the walls begin to shrink, the trees overhead coming evermore into view, until they're able to climb out of the stream and set off on foot again. The trees aren't as thick here as in the heart of the forest, and Cecilia laughs in relief as the beach comes into view through the foliage, the Black Pearl a dark smudge on the coastline.

Impossibly, there are already two figures at the Pearl, one on deck and one ankle-deep in the water, yelling orders at the first. As she draws closer, out of the forest and onto the sand, Cecilia recognises them as two of the previously-cursed pirates from Barbossa's crew.

"Excellent, our work's half done!" Gibbs says, splashing through the water. "Make ready to sail!"

"What about Jack?" Will calls. "I won't leave without him."

"I second that," Cecilia says, though she's increasingly aware that that may not be a possibility. A distant shout captures her attention, and she turns. At the other end of the beach, Jack runs around a corner, arms flailing, heading towards them. Cecilia grins, but it drops quickly when hundreds of the tribe round the corner, close behind him.

"Time to go," Will says, and she's much inclined to agree with him.

"Cast off those lines!" Gibbs shouts, voice cracking slightly in his haste to get onto the deck.

Cecilia aids in the unmooring of the Pearl, then jumps for the rigging as the ship slides smoothly into deeper water. She hauls herself onto the deck, soaked to the waist by the water and only half-hearing Gibbs' shouted orders as she watches Jack get closer, her heart hammering wildly in her chest as the Pelegostos gain on him. The tribe don't seem to want to get too deep in the water, though, as they stop on the shoreline, shouting in disappointment as Jack splashes through the water and climbs onto the rigging.

"Alas, my children!" He calls, waving an arm theatrically. "This is the day you shall always remember as the day that you almost—" A wave splashes up the side of the Pearl, soaking Jack and cutting off his grand farewell. "Captain Jack Sparrow," he finishes half-heartedly, climbing onto the deck.

Cecilia pulls him to her and kisses him soundly, uncaring that he's dripping with water. She laughs in relief as they pull back, studying the smudged paint on his face. "Well, you certainly look the part of chief."

There's clearly something in her tone, because Jack pulls a face. "You don't like it?"

She hums, leaning in to kiss him again, shorter this time. "I think you suit the look of a roguish pirate captain far better. Less risk of being eaten, too."

"Let's put some distance between us and this island and head out to open sea," Gibbs says, appearing behind Cecilia.

"Yes to the first, yes to the second, but only insofar as we keep to the shallows as much as possible."

Cecilia watches in confusion as the once-cursed pirates—she's not sure she ever knew their names, and if she did she's forgotten them since—reappear with Jack's coat, draping it over his shoulders. The shorter one salutes when Jack glances at him in similar confusion.

Gibbs also frowns, but for a different reason. "That seems a bit contradictory, Cap'n."

"I have every faith in your reconciliatory navigational skills, Master Gibbs, now where is that monkey? I want to shoot something."

The monkey in question chatters overhead, dropping what looks to be a wooden eye onto the deck. The taller of the two pirates kneels down to grab it. Jack grabs his pistol, ready to take aim, but Will's approach stops him.

"Jack."

"Ah."

"Elizabeth is in danger."

Jack moves away, heading up the stairs to the helm. Will and Cecilia follow. "Have you considered keeping a more watchful eye on her, maybe just lock her up somewhere?" Jack suggests over his shoulder.

Will looks over at Cecilia, clearly incensed by this. She simply shrugs; she knows that Jack doesn't mean what he says, but Will likely doesn't. He frowns, turning back to Jack.

"She is locked up, in a prison, bound to hang for helping you," Will snaps, his tone venomous.

"There comes a time when one must take responsibility for one's mistakes." Jack doesn't look at Will as he speaks.

Will snatches a sword from a nearby crewman's belt, lifting it to Jack's throat. Cecilia moves forward in protest, hand going to her own sword, but Jack holds up a hand, warning her off. He fixes Will with a level stare, absent of anything resembling fear.

"I need that compass of yours, Jack. I must trade it for her freedom."

Jack shifts the sword to his other shoulder, moving the sharp edge away from his neck. "So, you get the compass, you rescue your bonny lass yet again... where's my profit?"

"I will deliver to you the Letters of Marque. You will be granted a full pardon, commissioned as a privateer in service to England." Will turns the sword so that the blade is back at Jack's neck.

"Accepting those things is what you want me to do for you, agreed. But what will you do for me?"

Will hesitates, and when he finally speaks it looks like the word pains him to say. "Anything."

Jack smirks, shifting the sword to his other shoulder again. "Mr Gibbs."

"Cap'n?"

"We have a need to travel upriver."

"By need, do you mean a trifling need, fleeting, as in, say, a passing fancy?"

"No, a resolute and unyielding need." Jack moves forward, heading for the stairs, but Will intercepts him.

"What we need to do is make sail for Port Royal with all haste."

Jack sighs. "William, I shall trade you the compass, if you will help me—" from his pocket, he pulls the cloth with the drawing of the key— "to find this."

"You want me to find this?"

"No. You want you to find this, because the finding of this finds you incapacitorially finding and/or locating in your discovering of the detecting of a way to save your dolly belle, ol' what's-her-face. Savvy?"

Will is silent for a moment, then takes the cloth from Jack. "This is going to save Elizabeth?"

Jack leans close to Will, speaking in hushed tones. "How much do you know about Davy Jones?"

"Not much."

"Yeah, it's going to save Elizabeth." He glances at Cecilia on his other side, widening his eyes slightly.

That certainly isn't true, not that she blames Jack for the lie; Will has always been rather short-sighted when it comes to matters concerning Elizabeth. Though Cecilia is worried about Elizabeth too, she figures that the quicker they solve the problem of Davy Jones, the quicker they can head for Port Royal to assist her.

"Upriver?" She murmurs, leaning close to Jack.

"Cuba." He presses a last kiss to her lips, then descends the stairs to head for the cabin, deliberately choosing the steps furthest from Will.

Cecilia smiles faintly, hoping beyond all hope that things will start to go better for them once they've found out how to get this key. She turns to Will, who hasn't moved, staring out at the sea.

"So, what else have I missed? Aside from the obvious, are you and Elizabeth both alright?"

Will nods, his expression slightly mournful. "We were going to get married."

"That's wonderful news!" Cecilia's grins drops as she registers the past tense. "What happened?"

"We were arrested before the ceremony."

"I'm sorry, Will."

"Don't be," he says, voice a little sharper now. "Your..." he trails off, apparently uncertain about how to refer to Jack in relation to Cecilia, "is the one to blame."

"That isn't fair, Will. You knew the risks when you saved him, we all did." Cecilia sighs, glancing away and then back. "He does care, don't let him fool you into thinking he doesn't, the same way he's managed to fool almost everyone else."

"He's got a funny way of showing it."

"He's got a funny way of showing everything," she says, unable to keep from sounding fond.

Will stares at her for a moment, then softens a little. "And you? How has the past year treated you?"

"It's been good, really good." Good feels like an understatement, ignoring the last month or so, but her smile must convey the depth of her feelings, because Will relaxes a little. "Some hitches along the way, of course, and I've missed you and Elizabeth terribly, but on the whole... I'm very happy."

He smiles. "That's good, I'm glad to hear it. Elizabeth would be too."

"Try not to worry too much," Cecilia says gently, resting a hand on his arm as she notes the droop in his posture at his fiancee's name. "Finding this key... well, it's a good place to start."

Chapter Text

The journey to Cuba from the Isla de Pelegostos is a fairly short one, though it's made longer by Jack's insistence to remain in shallow water. When they reach the mouth of a river that must be the Pantano, Jack orders a small number of the crew into two of the longboats. Cecilia settles into the front of the first alongside Jack, with Cotton rowing, whilst Will, Gibbs, Marty, Pintel, and Ragetti crowd into the other.

The rainforest gets thicker around them the further they row along the river, and the Isla de Pelegostos is raw enough in Cecilia's mind that she can't help but feel uneasy. Jack is just as on edge beside her, tense as his eyes dart back and forth across the surface of the water and into the shadows of the trees. Unfamiliar bird calls echo through the air, alongside the chirping of insects and the rhythmic splash of two pairs of oars.

"What do you intend to do about Elizabeth?" Cecilia asks, her voice barely more than a whisper as she leans close to Jack, unwilling for Will to overhear even from his place in the other boat.

"Nothing, 'til I've squared my debt. Then, I promise you, love, we'll sail for Port Royal with all haste and rescue the troublesome Miss Swann."

"And how do you suggest we do that? Surely you won't accept the Letters of Marque?"

Jack grimaces. "Been there, done that, never again. I dare say my rescue attempt will be a little more explosive than the powers that be would prefer."

"Our rescue attempt," Cecilia corrects, frowning.

Jack holds up his hands. "I happened to hear from one Mr Gibbs that there's also a warrant out for you, love. You neglected to mention that."

She sighs. "We've bigger problems at the moment."

"Doesn't mean it matters less."

"...No, I suppose not."

The sky darkens over head as they move further and further along the river, until only the moonlight and the light of fireflies can guide their way through the water. Cecilia moves a little closer to Jack when she squints into the shadows and realises that there are people standing amongst the trees, still as statues and increasing in number as they get closer to the golden glow that is just visible through the trees.

Jack rises to stand in the boat as they near the glow, which turns out to be the light from several lanterns around a hut that's otherwise decently camouflaged in the shadowy greenery. He climbs out of the boat the moment it nudges the shore, turning back to the rest of them.

"No worries, mates," he says, offering Cecilia his hand, which she takes, stepping carefully out of the boat to stand beside him. "Tia Dalma and I go way back. Thick and thieves. Nigh inseparable, we are." His reminiscent smile drops. "Were. Have been. Before."

Cecilia raises a curious eyebrow, but Jack doesn't elaborate.

"I'll watch your back," Gibbs says.

"It's me front I'm worried about."

"I'll have to watch that, then," Cecilia says silkily.

Jack smirks, raising his eyebrows somewhat suggestively. "After you then, love."

She begins to climb the ladder to the hut, Jack close behind her. Gibbs instructs Will to mind the boat, and the order passes along the line until it reaches poor Mr Cotton, who has no one left to give it to, and couldn't even if there was.

Cecilia peers through the window into the hut, not entirely unsurprised to find that it looks rather like a witch's hut from the stories she had favoured as a child. Candles and lamps line the walls, balanced haphazardly on various shelves and surfaces, and trinkets and jars hang down from the ceiling. There's a white snake curled around a shelf fashioned out of a tree trunk near the door. And, in the middle of it all, a woman is leaning over a table, studying something intently. Jack pushes the door open, slowly enough that it creaks on its hinges and makes the woman look up.

She smiles widely, revealing what looks like ink staining her teeth. "Jack Sparrow."

"Tia Dalma," Jack greets, walking forward and almost knocking his head on a hanging jar of eyeballs.

"I always know the wind was going to blow you back to me one day." She moves close to Jack, but then her attention is quickly captured by Will. "You... you have a touch of... destiny about you, William Turna."

Will moves forward from the doorway, frowning slightly. "You know me?"

"You want to know me," Tia Dalma croons, moving closer to Will.

"There'll be no knowing here," Jack says quickly, moving between the two of them. "We've come for help and we're not leaving without it." He leads Tia Dalma away from Will, frowning. "I thought I knew you."

"Not so well as I had hoped. Come," she calls as she makes her way to the table where she had sat previously.

"Come," Jack repeats, beckoning the rest of them over. Cecilia comes to stand beside him, leaning cautiously against a table, whilst Will sits.

"What service may I do you?" Tia Dalma says, caressing Will's face. She looks up at Jack, smile dropping. "You know I demand payment."

"I brought payment." Jack whistles for Pintel to bring over the cage with the monkey in it, whipping off the covering. "Look." He cocks his pistol and shoots the monkey, making it shriek and start to chatter angrily. "An undead monkey. Top that." He sets it on the table.

Watching the animal closely, Tia Dalma opens the door to the cage, letting it out.

"No," Gibbs groans. "You've no idea how long it took us to catch that."

That's true, unfortunately. It had taken hours to coax the damned thing down from the rigging, and each time they failed to grab it on deck it retreated up again. Jack had stood by the helm and watched, amused by their plight and refusing to lift a finger to help them. Eventually Cecilia had managed to grab the monkey, Gibbs and Marty serving as a distraction on deck whilst she hid up in the rigging and caught it off-guard.

Cecilia's gaze follows the monkey as it runs through a doorway into another room, and she's about to look away when she notices what it has run to. Someone is lying on what looks to be a low bunk in the next room, only their feet and the lower part of their legs visible. She gets the distinct impression that whoever it is isn't just sleeping, or the monkey wouldn't be so interested.

"The payment is fair," Tia Dalma says, recapturing Cecilia's attention.

Will pulls the cloth with the key on it from his pocket, unfolding it and setting it on the table. "We're looking for this, and what it goes to."

Tia Dalma stares at the cloth for a moment, then looks over at Jack, who is examining a hat. "The compass you bartered from me, it cannot lead you to this?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"Ah, I hear you." Tia Dalma sits down, smiling again. "Jack Sparrow does not know what he wants." Her gaze travels across the assembled crew, until it comes to rest on Cecilia. "Or, do you know, but are loathe to claim it as your own?"

Cecilia frowns, uncertain of the implication.

"Your key go to a chest," Tia Dalma continues, "and it is what lay inside the chest you seek, don't it?"

"What is inside?" Gibbs asks, leaning forward.

"Gold? Jewels? Unclaimed properties of a valuable nature?" Pintel sounds increasingly hopeful with each suggestion.

"Nothing bad, I hope?" Ragetti says.

"You know of Davy Jones, yes?" Tia Dalma asks. Everyone nods. "A man of the sea. A great sailor. Until he run afoul of that which vex all men."

"What vexes all men?" Will asks.

She touches his hand, smiling coyly. "What indeed?"

"The sea?" Gibbs suggests.

"Sums," says Pintel.

"The dichotomy of good and evil," Ragetti says. Everyone looks over at him, surprised.

Jack sighs, gaze flickering briefly to Cecilia. "A woman."

Everyone else turns to Cecilia, as if she's the cause of all their problems. Slightly perturbed by this, she turns back to Tia Dalma, who confirms, "A woman. He fell in love."

"No no no no, I heard it was the sea he fell in love with," Gibbs says.

She waves a hand. "Same story, different versions, and all are true. See, it was a woman as changing, and harsh, and untamable as the sea. Him never stop loving her. But the pain it cause him was too much to live with, but not enough to cause him to die."

"What exactly did he put into the chest?" Will asks.

Tia Dalma smiles, resting her hand on her chest. "Him heart."

"Literally or figuratively?"

"He couldn't literally put his heart in a chest," Pintel corrects Ragetti, then raises an eyebrow in uncertainty. "Could he?"

"It was not worth feeling what small, fleeting joy life brings. And so, him carve out him heart, lock it away in a chest and hide the chest from the world. The key he keep with him at all times."

Well, that poses a problem for Jack, and for Elizabeth, in the long run.

"You knew this," Will accuses, standing up to face Jack.

"I did not. I didn't know where the key was, but now we do. So, all that's left is to climb aboard the Flying Dutchman, grab the key, you go back to Port Royal and save your bonny lass, eh?" He snaps his fingers, turning to leave, but Tia Dalma stops him.

"Let me see your hand."

Jack pauses, then turns back slowly and offers her his right. At her glare, he frowns and holds out his bandaged hand instead. Tia Dalma unwraps the bandage, pulling it away to reveal the Black Spot.

Gibbs gasps. "The Black Spot!" Cecilia stares at him, bemused, as he does a strange dance of sorts and then spits on the floor.

"Black spot." Pintel and Ragetti do the same.

"My eyesight's as good as ever, just so you know," Jack says dryly, turning back to Tia Dalma only to find that she has disappeared behind a curtain into the back of the hut. In her absence, Jack pinches a ring from the table.

Tia Dalma returns with a sizeable jar in her arms. "Davy Jones cannot make port, cannot step on land but once every ten years. Land is where you are safe, Jack Sparrow, and so you will carry land with you." She holds out the jar, which Jack accepts hesitantly.

"...Dirt. This is a jar of dirt."

"Yes."

"Is the... jar of dirt going to help?"

"If you don't want it, give it back."

"No." Jack pulls the jar closer to himself, frowning.

She smiles. "Then it helps."

"It seems we have a need to find the Flying Dutchman," Will says.

Tia Dalma sits back at the table, clasping her hands and shaking something between them like one would a dice. "A touch... of destiny." She drops what seem to be crab claws of various sizes onto a grid chalked onto the tabletop.

Jack, still clutching his jar of dirt, ventures over to work out their heading. Will remains close by, but Cecilia takes the moment to look around the hut, figuring that Jack will tell her anything important when they're back on the Pearl.

Along the shelves are rows of jars filled with various coloured powders, some that Cecilia recognises as spices or herbs, and others that she doesn't recognise at all. What's hanging from the ceiling is far more interesting: jars filled with eyes, hair, bones, what look to be fingernails; cages with small birds, reptiles, rodents; potted plants, some wildly beautiful, others wildly grotesque. The chattering of the monkey in the next room catches Cecilia's attention, and with a glance back at the distracted crew she ducks through the doorway.

She had been right, there is a body here, reclined on a bunk and covered from the knees upwards by a sheet, with only the boots and lower half of the breeches on display. The monkey is sitting at the head of the body, still chattering. Whoever this is is obviously dead. Cecilia doesn't want to dwell on what Tia Dalma intends to use the body for, considering the contents of the jars in the other room.

Struck by a sudden curiosity, Cecilia moves slowly towards the body. Though she knows that whoever it is is dead, some foolish part of her remains wary, as if it will jump out at her from under the sheet. And yet, that doesn't stop her from extending her hand, reaching for the corner of the sheet to pull it back.

The monkey's chattering grows louder as its wide eyes fix on something over her shoulder. Cecilia swiftly withdraws her hand and turns, coming face-to-face with Tia Dalma.

"Forgive me," she says, before the other woman can speak.

"What is there to forgive?"

Cecilia opens her mouth, then closes it again, uncertain.

"Curiosity is an admirable trait," Tia Dalma continues, "but there are certain things that you should let come to you, rather than seeking them out." She tilts her head just slightly in the direction of the body.

Cecilia glances between the two. "Who is he?"

No answer—something she shouldn't seek out, then.

"What will you... do, with him?" She tries instead, hesitantly; she's not sure she wants the answer.

"Death is not always the end. There are times when destiny demands intervention before judgement can take place."

Not exactly an answer to Cecilia's question, but a better answer than nothing, if she has interpreted it correctly. "You're going to bring him back to life?"

Again, no answer, but there's a look that she would almost describe as mischievous in Tia Dalma's eye.

"Is death equally impermanent for everyone? Or are some people better off dead?" Cecilia can think of a few who she would deem to be the latter.

"That's a matter of perspective, for whoever may have the means."

Cecilia wants to ask what exactly those means are, wants a straight answer as to whether or not Tia Dalma has those means, but before she can ask another question Jack appears over Tia Dalma's shoulder, looking between the two of them with interest. "Ready to go, love?"

She nods, though slightly reluctantly, casting a final glance at the body. Though foolish, she half-expects it to have moved beneath the sheet during their conversation. She looks away, turning to Tia Dalma. "Thank you." It seems unsatisfactory, considering the answers that Cecilia thinks she has been given, but what else can she say?

Tia Dalma nods and steps aside to let Cecilia through the doorway, and doesn't move from that spot as they file out of the hut and back into the longboats that Cotton has been so dutifully minding.

"So, the plan?"

Cecilia, Jack, and Gibbs have gathered in the cabin, leaving Cotton at the helm after assuring that the Pearl is on the right course.

Jack glances down at his charts, then looks up, eyes darting between Gibbs and Cecilia. "If the wind stays right, we'll reach the place by nightfall. Someone will scurry aboard, fetch the key, and bring it back so we can get on to finding the chest, savvy?"

"Who will you send?" Gibbs asks.

"Well, that's the quandary. Someone we can trust not to do anything stupid, ideally."

Cecilia narrows her eyes; there must be another aspect to this, a reason why Jack won't go himself. But perhaps it's only that he doesn't want to risk coming into contact with Davy Jones whilst his debt is yet to be settled, and it's with this in mind that she suggests, "What about Will?"

Jack smiles, and there's something sly in it that gives Cecilia the distinct impression that he had been thinking the same but had wanted her to say it instead, even as he says, "Someone we can trust to not do anything stupid, love. You've said it yourself, young Mr Turner is considerably more short-sighted when his damsel in distress is involved."

"Yes," Cecilia concedes, "but this will make him feel useful, and prevent him from asking further questions. If he finds out that the key has nothing to do with Elizabeth, it won't be Davy Jones that you need to worry about."

"I beat him before," Jack says, shrugging haughtily.

"I think he'd have fewer qualms about fighting dirty, this time."

Jack considers this, then sits down in his chair, tipping it back onto two legs. "I should mention for your peace of mind, love, that there is something of a risk to dear William if we send him over. He could get caught, and Jones may very well consider his soul an apt replacement for my own." Jack looks decidedly unbothered by this, meeting her eyes with a steely resistance, as though he expects Cecilia to oppose the decision.

"That would settle your debt?"

"Aye."

"Would there be a way to get Will back without setting the Kraken after you again?"

Jack tilts his head, eyes wandering in thought. "In a roundabout way. With the threat of the beastie gone, we could resume our hunt for the chest and use it as leverage to get William back."

"Get the chest before the key, you mean?"

"Sometimes you have to reshuffle some steps of a plan for the optimum outcome, love. Trust me, eh?"

"Of course."

He grins and rocks the chair back onto four legs, reaching for Cecilia's hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles.

"So, it's settled, then?" Gibbs says, looking between the two of them. "We're sending Will aboard?"

Jack looks to Cecilia, and at her nod turns back to Gibbs. "Indeed we are. If you could inform the whelp, Master Gibbs, it'd be much appreciated. Leave out the risky bits, though, eh? Ta."

With a nod, Gibbs turns and leaves the cabin, stepping out into the rain that has started to fall.

Jack turns back to Cecilia the moment the door closes, a sly grin playing at his mouth. With a gentle tug of her hand, he pulls her forward to sit on his lap. "You, love, become more pirate every day."

She hums, pleased. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It most certainly is." He leans forward to press his lips to hers, teeth catching teasingly on her bottom lip when he pulls back. "I like it."

"Is that so?"

"Mmhm." He kisses her again, deeper this time, his hands skimming her waist to rest at her hips.

"How long before we get there?" Cecilia asks, suddenly breathless as she leans back just enough.

"Long enough." Jack leans in again, and Cecilia is more than content to forget about everything else for a little while.

The rain is falling hard and fast by the time the Pearl reaches the appointed place, slicking the deck with water. In the distance, barely visible through the mist of the rain and the shadow of the dark, is a wrecked ship, split straight in two down the middle. It's almost entirely submerged, only part of the deck and the masts and tattered sails above the surface, and though it might have once been impressive, it's a sorry sight now.

"This is the place?" She says to Jack as they cross the deck to where Will is waiting with Gibbs.

"Aye." Jack squints through the rain. "'S not the Flying Dutchman, as such, but it's where Jones'll be."

"And where the key will be," Cecilia continues, nodding. Her hair is already sticking to her face and neck, soaking wet despite the cover her hat gives.

Gibbs offers them a strained smile of greeting as they stop beside him, clearly soaked through and unhappy about it. The situation can't be doing much to help, either. Will is staring out at the wreck ahead, but looks back when he hears Jack and Cecilia approach.

"That's the Flying Dutchman?" He sounds decidedly unimpressed.

With a glance at Jack, Cecilia nods.

"She doesn't look like much," Will says, turning to look out at the wreck again.

"Neither do you." Jack steps forward. "Do not underestimate her." He elbows Gibbs, who clears his throat.

"Must have run afoul of the reef."

Cecilia steps forward to Will's other side, turning to look at him. "What's the plan?"

"I row over, search the ship until I find your bloody key." He sends Jack a particularly scathing glance.

"And if there are crewmen?"

"I cut down anyone in my path." Will walks past them, heading for the longboat.

"I like it," Jack says, shrugging. "Simple, easy to remember."

Cecilia rolls her eyes at his pretence that this plan isn't entirely of his own making, then follows Will, watching as he descends into the longboat that Ragetti has readied. Jack joins her, settling an arm around her waist. They watch in silence as Will settles in the boat, but Jack calls out before he can take up the oars.

"Oi! If you do happen to get captured, just say Jack Sparrow sent you to settle his debt! Might save your life."

"Bon voyage!" Ragetti calls with a cackle as he pushes Will out into the roiling sea.

"Douse the lamps," Jack says, and the nearby crew scatters to do so.

Cecilia remains at Jack's side as the rain gets impossibly heavier, the two of them watching in silence as Will rows towards the wreck. Jack produces his spyglass, pointing it at the wreck, whilst she squints pointlessly through the darkness, the wreck too far away to make out anything clearly.

"He's aboard," Jack mutters after a little while. He offers the spyglass to Cecilia, who takes it and peers through, spotting Will struggling onto what part of the deck remains above water. There are other people on the wreck, she hadn't noticed that, though none of them look to be in a particularly good state. She passes the spyglass back to Jack with a noncommittal hum.

It's a good job she does so, too, or she would have dropped it in shock at the sudden loud crash of water as something huge rises from the waves beside the wreck. Cecilia snatches the spyglass back, looking through. It's a ship, one with water spilling from the gunports and off the sides of the deck and the sails.

"That's the Flying Dutchman?"

"Aye."

On the deck of the wreck, people emerge from the damaged wood, though that should be impossible. They don't look like people either, not really, covered in seaplants and scales, with heads of sea animals, it seems.

"My God..." she murmurs, watching with equal parts horror and fascination as Will begins to fight them. He sets his sword aflame, waving it at the Dutchman's crew, but is overpowered fairly quickly.

Jack takes the spyglass back, lifting it to his own eye. He watches in silence, standing stiffly beside Cecilia. "Not good," he mutters after a few minutes, adjusting the glass against his eye.

Cecilia looks to him, frowning, but her question is answered before she even has the chance to ask it. She staggers backward in shock as a figure appears before them on the deck, hearing cries of shock from the crew as the fish-people from the wreck emerge from the wood of the Pearl and surround the crew, holding them in place. Standing beside the mast, Cecilia manages to avoid being grabbed, and she stays firmly in place, unwilling for this to change.

It has to be Davy Jones standing in front of Jack, it must be. There's certainly an air of captain about him, commanding the attention of all those on deck despite having not yet said a word. He's unlike anything Cecilia has seen before: a humanoid octopus, perhaps, with a beard made from tentacles and skin turned to a greenish integument. His eyes are still undeniably human, though, which almost makes his appearance more horrific.

"Oh," Jack says, staring at Jones.

"You have a debt to pay." He walks towards Jack, who backs away. "You've been captain of the Black Pearl for thirteen years.That was our agreement."

"Technically, I was only captain for two years, then I was viciously mutinied upon."

"Then you were a poor captain, but a captain nonetheless. Have you not introduced yourself all these years as Captain Jack Sparrow?" Jones moves past Jack as he speaks. The Dutchman's crew laugh cruelly at Jones' taunt.

"You have my payment," Jack says, turning to face Jones again. "One soul to serve upon your ship, he's already over there."

"One soul is not equal to another."

"Aha! So we've established my proposal is sound in principle, now we're just haggling over price."

Jones pauses, seeming intrigued. "Price?"

"Just how many souls do you think my soul is worth?"

"One hundred souls," Jones says, to further laughs from his crew. "Three days."

Well, that throws off their plan a little.

"You're a diamond, mate." Jack turns and crosses the deck again in the direction of the Dutchman. "Send me back the boy, I'll get started right off." He halts, grimacing, when one of Jones' crew stands in his way and hisses.

"I keep the boy. A good-faith payment. That leaves you only ninety-nine to go." Jones laughs, his crew joining him again.

Jack glances at Cecilia, and perhaps the slight widening of his eyes is meant to be reassuring, but it looks mildly panicked to her. "Have you not met Will Turner? He's noble, heroic, a terrific soprano. Worth at least four... maybe three and a half. And did I happen to mention... he's in love. With a girl." Jack begins to circles Jones, stopping behind him. "Due to be married. Betrothed. Dividing him for her and her from him would be only half as cruel as actually allowing them to be joined in holy matrimony, eh?"

Cecilia watches Jones' face with interest during this exchange. There's something almost haunted in his eyes, a deep sadness that a man without a heart shouldn't be able to feel. But it's gone as quickly as it appeared when he speaks again.

"I keep the boy. Ninety-nine souls." He turns to Jack. "But I wonder, Sparrow, can you live with this? Can you condemn an innocent man, a friend, to a lifetime of servitude in your name while you roam free?"

Jack pretends to think on this. "Yep, I'm good with it."

"And an innocent woman?" Quickly enough that it catches everyone off-guard, Jones turns to Cecilia, moving towards her.

She backs up against the mast, trying not to retch at the stench of rotting fish that assaults her senses as he moves close, close enough that she has nowhere to look but into his eyes. She daren't reach for her sword, all too aware of the claw that's in the place of his hand. Behind Jones, Jack makes a strangled noise of panic that he cuts off halfway, but even that is enough for Jones to finish connecting the dots.

"So, you are Sparrow's girl." Jones chuckles, the sound deeply sinister, and looks over his shoulder at Jack. "You failed to mention that you, too, are bound by the cruel bond of love, Sparrow."

Jack shrugs, feigning nonchalance, but for once—and quite possibly the worst moment to do so—it fails to come across as genuine.

"Perhaps," Jones drawls, turning back to Cecilia, who meets his gaze with what she hopes is a level stare, despite the fact that her hands are shaking at her sides, "to make it fair... I should take her too, and leave you with ninety-eight souls due."

"Not necessary, mate," Jack says, sounding just a touch too panicked as he comes forward. "I can get you extra, even, but Cecilia stays here. Shall we seal it in blood—I mean, uh... ink?"

Jones turns away from Cecilia, facing Jack once more. He seizes his hand, making Jack gasp, then releases it after a moment, with some difficulty due to the... tentacles.

"Ninety-nine souls, three days," he snaps, turning and disappearing as he reaches the edge of the ship. His crew echo him and then disappear the same way, releasing the Pearl's crew.

The moment Jones is gone, Jack moves to Cecilia, reaching for her with the hand that isn't covered in slime.

"Are you alright?" His eyes search hers frantically, as if he expects to find something different there despite the fact that Jones didn't even touch her.

"I'm fine," she assures him, glancing down at his slimy hand. The Black Spot is gone. "Does that mean...?"

"For the next three days, aye." Jack nods, then turns slightly to call over his shoulder. "Uh, Mr Gibbs?"

"Aye." Gibbs comes forward to stand beside Jack.

"I feel sullied and unusual."

"And how do you intend to harvest these ninety-nine souls in three days?" Gibbs asks.

"Fortunately, he was mum as to the condition in which these souls need be."

Cecilia frowns, not quite getting his meaning, but Gibbs catches on immediately.

"Ah," he says, grinning, "Tortuga."

"Tortuga," Jack confirms, wiping his hand on Gibbs' vest.

"What about Will?" Cecilia asks, leaning around the mast to look out at the wreck of the Dutchman.

"Well, if we can get a hundred souls, we can just ask for him back," Jack says brightly. Too brightly, considering they all know it will be almost impossible to achieve ninety-nine, let alone one hundred. "If not, we'll have to do things the long way."

Find the chest, and use it as leverage to get Will back—only now, the leverage will also be necessary to settle Jack's debt too, and on top of that there's now a time limit that neither of them had foreseen. There's still the matter of Elizabeth, too, though it's seeming less and less likely that Cecilia will ever see the younger woman again. But until they work out a way to get ninety-nine souls in three days or find this chest, there's little that can be done.

Jack touches Cecilia's arm again, startling her from her thoughts. "It'll be alright, darlin'."

She sighs, nodding, then ducks away when he tries to use her distraction to wipe more of the slime from his hands. Despite everything, Cecilia can't help but laugh just a little when Gibbs' vest falls victim again.

Chapter Text

Tortuga is as lively as ever, and The Faithful Bride is much the same. Cecilia, Jack and Gibbs have claimed a corner of the inn as their own, far enough away from the band that they can be heard without shouting at each other. Gibbs is sitting behind a table that he has commandeered, handling the recruitment of ninety-nine souls—if you can call them that, based on how dismal many of the stories have been. Cecilia is nursing a bottle of rum, watching the patrons of the tavern as she rests her head against Jack's shoulder. She can't help feeling guilty about Will; even if she hadn't known how things would turn out, she had been far too blasé about sending him into danger for her own gain, for Jack's gain.

Jack himself is preoccupied with the compass, opening it and closing it over and over again. "I know what I want, I know what I want, I know what I want," he mutters, opening the lid expectantly. The needle continues its relentless spinning, and his face falls.

Cecilia offers him her rum in sympathy, then looks over at Gibbs. "How's it going?"

"Including those four, that gives us... four."

"...Well, it's a start."

Jack shakes the compass vigorously, making Cecilia jump. "Sorry, love," he murmurs, pressing a light kiss to the crown of her head.

She sits up, intending to take the compass from him and see if it will work for her this time, but she's distracted by the man who approaches Gibbs next. There's something familiar about him, but there's so much grime on his face and clothing that she couldn't begin to attempt to identify him.

"And what's your story?" Gibbs asks, pleasantly enough.

"My story. It's exactly the same as your story, just one chapter behind."

Well, nothing good has ever come from an opening like that. Jack evidently feels the same, going still beside Cecilia as he listens.

"I chased a man across the seven seas."

Surely it can't be...? Cecilia glances at Jack, who is looking around for somewhere to hide.

"The pursuit cost me my crew, my commission, and my life." The man reaches for Gibbs' bottle of rum, taking a long drink.

"Commodore?" Gibbs speaks the dreaded word that Cecilia had been trying desperately to deny.

"No, not anymore, weren't you listening?!" James Norrington snaps. He leans down towards Gibbs. "I nearly had you all off Tripoli. I would have, if not for the hurricane."

Jack grabs a leafy plant from nearby and pulls it in front of him, hiding rather conspicuously. Cecilia, unwilling to get caught in whatever crossfire that will likely occur, stands slowly and creeps around the edge of the tavern until she's out of Norrington's line of sight.

"Lord," Gibbs says. "You didn't try to sail through it?"

"So do I make your crew, or not?" Norrington hisses, ignoring the question—which Cecilia figures almost certainly means that yes, he did try to sail through the hurricane. "You haven't said where you're going. Somewhere nice?!" Norrington flips the table, knocking Gibbs off his stool. The music halts as he struts around the tavern, arms spread wide. "So am I worthy to serve under Captain Jack Sparrow?" He draws his pistol, cocking it and pointing it in the direction of Jack, who had been attempting to sneak out with the plant as cover. "Or should I just kill you now?"

Jack ducks to the other side of the pillar between him and Norrington, grimacing when the gun remains trained on him. He moves back to the other side, lowering the plant slightly. "You're hired."

Norrington doesn't lower the pistol, his hand shaking slightly. "Sorry. Old habits and all that."

Cecilia realises what he's going to do seconds before the gun goes off, and rushes forward, angling his arm up at the ceiling. The bullet ricochets off a chandelier, smashing a bottle in a man's hand. All hell breaks loose as the man then punches whoever it is sitting next to him, and the band starts up again as various fights break out.

Jack sets the plant down, reaching for Cecilia and grabbing her hand, pulling her out of the fray. "Time to go," he calls to Gibbs, who scrambles to his feet.

"Aye."

The three of them meander through the tavern with some difficulty, trying to avoid various projectiles and brawls. Jack releases Cecilia's hand as they ascend the stairs so that he can try on various hats, but none seem to take his fancy like the one he had lost. Cecilia ducks as a bottle comes flying towards her head, shattering on the wall behind her.

"Thanks, mate," Jack says, trading hats with a man at the top of the stairs. He taps him on the shoulder in gratitude, but the motion unbalances the man, who topples over the railing into the chaos below. Jack grimaces, then turns to Cecilia, new hat upon his head. "Thoughts?"

She tilts her head, scrutinising, then shakes her head. "It's not your colour."

Jack pulls a face, but removes the hat nonetheless.

The exit is blocked by several men carrying another forward; Jack sets the rejected hat upon the man's head and steps back. "Carry on." The man with the new hat is hurled over the edge of the railing. Cecilia doesn't bother looking to check if he's okay, keen to get outside.

"Back to the Pearl?" Gibbs asks once they're out of the stifling heat of the tavern and in the only-marginally-less stifling night air.

Jack nods, then glances longingly back at the tavern. Cecilia, sighing, offers him her still-half-full bottle of rum. He grins, accepting it from her and taking a long drink. "Have I ever mentioned I love you?"

"Once or twice." Cecilia smiles, leaning into Jack's side as he settles an arm around her waist, keeping the bottle in his free hand.

As has become tradition, Gibbs regales them with some local gossip on the walk back to the Pearl, but Cecilia finds it harder to concentrate on than she usually would. She's thinking about Norrington, primarily about how he clearly hasn't been near the Navy in a very long time. She had thought that the orders for arrest came from him, but clearly not. And if that's the case, then who...?

She's about to voice this to Jack as they walk down the dock to the Pearl, when a voice calls out behind them. Another strangely familiar voice, come to think of it...

"Captain Sparrow!"

Jack glances back, his arm tightening slightly around Cecilia's waist as it often does when young men are in the vicinity. "Come to join me crew, lad? Welcome aboard."

"I'm here to find the man I love."

Jack halts in his tracks, dragging Cecilia to a stop with him. "I'm deeply flattered, son, but my love is right here." He glances at Cecilia, who would find the sentiment sweet if she wasn't slightly put off by the sound of someone vomiting behind them. Jack motions for Gibbs to get rid of whoever this is.

"Meaning William Turner, Captain Sparrow."

Both Cecilia and Jack register exactly who it is behind them at the same time, turning in unison to face her.

"Elizabeth!" Cecilia exclaims, moving forward to pull the younger woman into a hug.

"Hide the rum," she hears Jack mutter to Gibbs. Never forgive, never forget, it seems.

"It's so good to see you," Cecilia says earnestly, stepping back to give Elizabeth a once over. She's dressed in men's clothing, her hair tucked up underneath her hat, but it suits her. More than anything, it's a relief to see her here rather than in a jail cell, waiting to be hanged.

"And you," Elizabeth says, though her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes as she looks over Cecilia's shoulder. "Jack. I know Will came to find you, where is he?" Her voice trails off towards the end, small and vulnerable. It's moments like these where Cecilia is reminded just how young Elizabeth and Will really are.

"Elizabeth, I am truly unhappy to have to tell you this, but... through an unfortunate and entirely unforeseeable series of circumstances that have nothing whatsoever to do with me, poor Will has been press-ganged into Davy Jones's crew."

Cecilia takes great care to not let her expression change, because Elizabeth won't take kindly to an immediate lie from Jack. An understandable lie, given the circumstances that had everything to do with him, but it's doubtful that she will see it that way.

Elizabeth frowns. "Davy Jones?"

Norrington pauses his vomiting to turn and speak to them. "Oh, please. The captain of the Flying Dutchman?"

"You look awful, what are you doing here?" Cecilia says, trying and largely failing to suppress her delight at finally having the upper hand over the ex-Commodore.

He huffs, gesturing at Jack. "He hired me. I can't help it if his standards are lax."

"You smell funny," Jack retorts.

"Jack," Elizabeth says, with enough irritation in her tone that Jack immediately turns to her. "All I want is to find Will."

All I want. Cecilia picks up on the wording, and glances down at the compass on Jack's belt. It hasn't been working for either of them recently, but perhaps for Elizabeth... "Are you certain?" She asks. "That's what you really want most?" Sometimes you have to reshuffle some steps of a plan for the optimum outcome, Jack had said, and really the white lie on the tip of her tongue is just another answer to that. They'll be solving Jack's problem plus another, just with the damsels in distress reversed, this time.

Elizabeth stares at her as if she's gone mad. "Of course."

"I would think you'd want a way to save Will most, no?"

"Is there a way of doing that?"

Jack steps forward to stand at Cecilia's side, having caught onto her meaning. "Well, there is a chest."

"Oh dear," Norrington groans.

Jack ignores him. "A chest of unknown size and origin."

"What contains the still beating heart of Davy Jones," Pintel says as he and Ragetti carry a large chest past, the latter miming holding a beating heart.

"And whoever possesses that chest," Jack continues, "possesses the leverage to command Jones to do whatever it is he or she wants, including saving brave William from his grim fate."

"You don't actually believe them, do you?" Norrington says, incredulous.

Elizabeth glances between the three of them, then fixes her gaze on Jack. "How would we find it?"

"With this." Jack pulls the compass from his belt and lifts it to eye level. "My compass—" he snaps the lid open and closed— "is unique."

"Unique, here, having the meaning of broken," Norrington drawls.

"If that's all, former Commodore?" Cecilia says, with a pointed tilt of her head in the direction of the far side of the dock, relishing in the chance to use the exact method that Norrington had employed so many times in Port Royal to get rid of her.

He sneers at her, clearly recognising the tactic, but does turn and walk away, leaning over the side of the dock to throw up again.

Jack watches Norrington walk away, lips twitching as he tries to suppress a smirk, and only turns to face Elizabeth again when his expression is somewhat neutral. "True enough. This compass does not point north."

"Where does it point?"

"It points to the thing you want most in this world."

"Oh, Jack." Elizabeth shakes her head slightly, disbelieving. She turns to Cecilia. "Is he telling the truth?"

"Every word," Cecilia says, nodding. Well, every word about the compass is true, at least.

"And what you want most in this world," Jack continues, taking Elizabeth's hands and placing the compass in them, "is to find the chest of Davy Jones, is it not?"

"To save Will," she corrects sharply.

"By finding the chest of Davy Jones," Cecilia says. There's a part of her that feels a little guilty for the lie that she started—though she supposes it's really only half a lie, and they would be killing two birds with one stone once they get hold of the chest.

Jack nods along with Cecilia's words, then lifts the lid of the compass. The two of them step back, neither wanting to risk influencing it.

The needle spins a few times, then settles.

"Mr Gibbs!" Jack calls.

"Cap'n?"

"We have our heading."

"Finally!" Gibbs turns to yell orders to the crew. "Cast off those lines, weigh anchor, and trough that canvas!"

"Miss Swann," Jack says, gesturing with a grand sweep of his arm for Elizabeth to lead the way to the Pearl.

Cecilia moves to catch up to her, but is stopped by Jack's hand on her waist. He pulls her towards him, leaning close to murmur in her ear.

"Very nice, love."

"I don't know what you mean, Jack," she says primly, though she can't help a small smile. She's not proud of the lie, as such, but of the solution? She certainly is.

"Pirate," he breathes, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

Cecilia hums, pulling back to look at him. "Well, I learned from the best."

Jack grins, leaning down to kiss her. Cecilia, ignoring the fact that they're blocking the dock and Norrington's noise of disgust behind them, lets him.

It is insensitive to kick a man while he's down, but when Cecilia steps out of the cabin the next day and notices Norrington scrubbing the deck a little way away, she can't resist. She steps deliberately on the place he had been scrubbing, blocking him with her foot.

He looks up, glaring at her.

"A bit of manual labour is good for you, former Commodore," she says lightly. "Builds character." She taps her foot once, twice.

"Of course, you'd know all about manual labour, wouldn't you?" Norrington says, sardonic even as he wipes the dirt roughly from her boot.

Cecilia doesn't rise to the bait; she has been accused by more than one bitter man about only keeping her place on the ship because of her value to Jack rather than her ability. She tries not to let it bother her, certain that all the people that matter don't see it that way and know that she does her part to help keep things shipshape, so to speak.

She examines her boot, humming in satisfaction, and turns to walk away. Elizabeth is on the other side of the deck, studying some papers, and Cecilia walks up to her.

"I meant to ask you last night," Cecilia begins, stopping at her side. The younger woman jumps at her voice, her grip tightening on the papers in her hand. "How did you get out? Will told us you were locked up."

"My father got me out," she says softly, sadly. "He had arranged a passage to England, where I would be safe, but we were ambushed before we could leave. I don't know what happened to him after I escaped."

"I'm sorry, Lizzie," Cecilia murmurs, looking down into the water. Though they had certainly had their disagreements, Governor Swann had been like a father to her after her own had passed. She dreads to think what could be happening to him. "How did you get to Tortuga?"

"I stowed away on a merchant ship, dressed like a man." Elizabeth laughs slightly self-deprecatingly. "I managed to convince the crew that there was a ghost on board, then directed them to Tortuga."

Cecilia laughs. "How on Earth did you manage that?"

"They found my wedding dress and assumed it was the ghost of a widowed woman searching for her husband lost at sea. I stole the dress back and made it look like it was floating, then wrote Tortuga in fire on the deck. They changed course quite quickly after that."

"I can imagine. That sounds like something from one of your stories."

Elizabeth looks somewhat proud at that, though it's dampened by a persistent sadness in her eyes.

"Your wedding," Cecilia begins, slightly hesitant. "I'm sorry."

Elizabeth shrugs. "There was nothing to be done. If we can fix... everything, then we'll have another wedding." She stares out at the horizon and sighs heavily, then turns to Cecilia. "At least I know how you felt, now."

"I'd argue it was worse for you," Cecilia says. "You made it all the way to the ceremony, Jack and I had only just gotten engaged."

Elizabeth tilts her head, pondering this. She's silent for a moment, and Cecilia is about to ask her whom she acquired the Letters of Marque from when she speaks again. "You weren't happy before, were you?"

"When?"

"In Port Royal."

Cecilia blinks, taken aback. "I wasn't unhappy."

"When we first met, I envied you," Elizabeth says, seemingly off-topic. "You were so perfect, you fit in so effortlessly as a lady. But seeing you now... well, it puts it all into a different perspective. You suit being a pirate much more. You look happy now."

"I am." Unbidden, Cecilia's gaze slides to Jack, who is standing at the helm.

Elizabeth follows her eyeline. "He makes you happy?"

"He does."

"That's good."

"Don't pretend to like him, we both know that isn't the case," Cecilia laughs.

Elizabeth rolls her eyes. "I'm not, I still think he's a... a reprobate."

"A reprobate," Cecilia repeats under her breath with an amused scoff.

"But he's good to you," Elizabeth continues, ignoring her, "and I appreciate that."

Cecilia nods, turning back to the younger woman. "You and Will are the same?"

"Of course."

"And a life with him in Port Royal, you'd be happy with that?"

Elizabeth narrows her eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not saying you shouldn't marry Will, don't worry," Cecilia laughs, "I spent far too long pushing the two of you together for that." She pauses, looking out at the horizon. "Do you remember what I said on the Dauntless about curiosity? That I was worried Port Royal wouldn't be enough after a taste of freedom?"

Cecilia watches Elizabeth's reaction to this closely, and sure enough, she sees what she was looking for. A slight widening of the eyes, a subtle slackening of the jaw, recognition that quickly spirals into denial.

"What of it?" Elizabeth says, a beat too late.

"Oh, I was just wondering if it was only me that it applied to. After all, you were always the one of us most interested in pirates." Cecilia gestures to the hat on Elizabeth's head, to her clothes. "Don't tell me that escaping and finding your way to us wasn't somewhat thrilling, worries aside."

"I think Jack is a bad influence on you," she says, deflecting. "You talk like he does when you want people to admit things, or do things."

Speaking of Jack, movement from him over Elizabeth's shoulder catches Cecilia's eye. He has left the helm to Cotton and is approaching the two women, unnoticed by Elizabeth. He meets Cecilia's eyes even from a fair distance away, raising a finger to his lips.

Cecilia turns her gaze back on Elizabeth before the younger woman can notice Jack's approach. "That assumes there's something to admit."

Elizabeth huffs, looking slightly caught-out, but doesn't get the chance to retort as Jack snatches the papers from her hand. "How dare you!" She exclaims, following Jack as he walks away, holding them just out of her reach.

"These Letters of Marque are meant to go to me, are they not?" He skims the page, pausing when he reaches the bottom. "Beckett?"

Cecilia freezes, staring at him. "Beckett?" She doesn't quite manage to keep her voice entirely steady against the torrent of bad memories and nightmares that she has had about the man.

Jack lowers the letter slightly to meet her eyes over the top of it, his own wide.

"Beckett?" Gibbs repeats, the name having attracted his attention too.

Elizabeth glances between the three of them, lingering on Cecilia, who can only imagine what her expression looks like at the moment. "Yes, they're signed. Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company."

"Lord?" Cecilia repeats, incredulous.

Jack makes a disgusted noise and sticks his tongue out, studying the signature intently. He passes the letters to Cecilia when she holds out her hand for them.

"Will was working for Beckett and never said a word," Gibbs mutters.

That's... Cecilia isn't quite sure how to feel about that. There's no way that Will could know about her and Jack's history with Beckett, but the fact that he was content to lie to their faces at all... she feels marginally less guilty about sending him over to the Flying Dutchman, now.

"Ah," Jack groans.

"Beckett wants the compass. Only one reason for that."

"Of course. He wants the chest."

"Yes, he did say something about a chest," Elizabeth says.

"If the Company controls the chest, they controls the sea," Gibbs says.

"A truly discomfiting notion," Jack adds.

"And bad! Bad for every mother's son what calls himself pirate. I think there's a bit more speed to be coaxed from these sails. Brace the foreyard!" Gibbs calls, walking away to advise the rest of the crew.

"Might I enquire as to how you came by these?" Jack asks, taking the letters back and holding them up.

"Persuasion," Elizabeth says, walking backwards as Jack moves towards her.

"Friendly?" Cecilia asks, though she knows that with Beckett, nothing ever is.

"Decidedly not."

"Will strikes a deal for these and upholds it with honour, yet you are the one standing here with the prize." Jack glances down, beginning to read. "'Full pardon, commissioned as a privateer on behalf of England and the East India Trading Company.' As if I could be bought for such a low price." He tucks the letters in his coat and turns to walk away.

Elizabeth chases after him. "Jack, the letters, give them back."

"No. Persuade me."

She comes up behind him, leaning in to speak close to his ear. "You do know Will taught me how to handle a sword."

Jack sighs and turns to face her. "As I said... persuade me."

Elizabeth huffs and takes a step back, looking to Cecilia instead. "How do you two know Beckett?"

Cecilia had been observing the two of them from a little distance, but now steps up beside Jack, exchanging a wary glance with him. "What makes you ask?"

"Your face when you heard his name, for one."

Cecilia sighs. "Beckett... is the reason we were separated thirteen years ago. He told me that Jack was dead, and Jack that I was."

Elizabeth frowns. "Why?"

"We don't know," Jack says shortly, wisely omitting anything about the Pearl and, by extension, Davy Jones.

"There must have been some reason."

"He wanted to marry me," Cecilia says after a moment's hesitation. It is true, and it's a shocking enough truth that Elizabeth hopefully won't ask further questions.

"He what?"

Cecilia explains the circumstances around the proposal, going into as little detail as possible and keeping her voice clinically blank. It's not a memory that she likes to return to. Jack's arm comes around her waist, his thumb tracing soothingly back and forth against her hip. "So, as you can imagine," she finishes, "being anywhere near him again isn't high on my list of priorities."

"It won't come to that, love," Jack says. "Norrington couldn't catch us, and he had a pretty good idea where we were. Unless he's got a compass of his own, Beckett won't get anywhere near."

Cecilia nods. That's true, at least, and with Elizabeth out of jail, there's no longer any need for the Black Pearl to go near Port Royal.

Jack presses a lingering kiss to the top of her head, then withdraws his arm and crosses the deck towards the helm, where Gibbs is waving him over.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth says, unprecedented. "I didn't know —"

"I know. How could you have, I never told you. I don't blame Will either, before you ask, he couldn't have known." Cecilia sighs, looking up to the sky. 

Elizabeth hums, nodding. "Thank you."

"I never had the chance to thank you, not properly" Cecilia says, looking at the younger woman again, "for helping Jack to escape. I know it caused problems for you. The Letters of Marque only offer one pardon, who do you intend to use them for?"

"Will, of course."

She frowns. "What about you?"

"My father still has some standing with the King. He can secure a pardon for me, he said."

Cecilia daren't say it, but she suspects that the chances of that are close to nil. If the Governor was caught helping Elizabeth escape, Beckett will surely take great pains to ensure nothing like it happens again. "And... if that isn't a possibility?" She tries, hesitantly.

"Then once we've found Will, he and I will simply have to make a life for ourselves elsewhere." Elizabeth says this with certainty, though she doesn't meet Cecilia's eyes.

"A pirate's life?"

At that, the younger woman's expression becomes decidedly conflicted.

Deciding against prodding her about freedom once more, Cecilia says, "Regardless, don't worry about the Letters, Jack will give them back when it matters. He has no use for them, as he said." Something else occurs to her, then. "Did Beckett say anything about the compass to you? Will mentioned it before."

Elizabeth nods.

"And I'm sure you understand the importance of not letting him get his hands on it? As we say, if he finds the chest... I'm surprised Jack's letting it out of his sight at all, he hasn't for months. We're still on course, I take it?"

Elizabeth takes the compass from her belt and flicks it open. From where she's standing, Cecilia can't see the needle, so instead she watches her face. The younger woman snaps the compass closed after a moment. "Yep, still on course. Excuse me." With a small smile at Cecilia, Elizabeth makes a rather hasty departure across the deck.

"Yep..." Cecilia repeats with a bemused smile, watching her walk away. Time spent with pirates is affecting Elizabeth's upper-class lexis, it seems. She turns to face the sea again, leaning against the side of the ship and tracing a finger along a line in the wood. There are things for her to do, surely, some task on deck that needs completing; as it is she's only proving Norrington right. And yet, instead of pushing away and finding work to do, Cecilia remains stuck in her head, attempting to decipher the tangled streams of consciousness there.

There's her persistent worry about Jack, first and foremost, which keeps her up at night and torments her during the day when she least expects it. Her concern for Elizabeth and Will is close behind that, worry about what the former will do about the threat hanging over her head, seeing as she's so keen to give the pardon to Will, and fear for the latter on the Flying Dutchman. Then there's the guilt, for lying to them both, even if it had been the easiest way to get the best out of a bad situation. Her one consolation is that they have the beginnings of a plan: get the chest, use it as leverage to call off the Kraken and hopefully rescue Will too, and if that doesn't work then they'll obtain the key somehow and kill Jones, freeing Will that way. But even then, they'll have to find some way of dealing with Beckett...

Strong arms encircle her waist from behind, breaking her out of the mess of her thoughts, and Cecilia relaxes into the hold as a soft kiss is pressed to the top of her head.

"My tremendous intuitive sense of the female creature informs me that you're troubled," Jack says, lightly humorous and close to her ear.

Cecilia sighs, resting her head against his shoulder. "I didn't think Beckett would cause problems for us again, that's all."

"He won't, not once we've got hold of this chest. I'll have to die before I let 'im separate us again, love."

"Say things like that and they might come true," she teases.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, love, such things are beneath me."

"What, dying?" She turns in his arms to face him, her back pressed to the side of the ship. "Now you're just tempting fate."

Jack raises his eyebrows, similarly teasing. "Fate loves me."

"Fortune loves you. Though it seems you're in something of a lover's quarrel at the moment, considering everything." Cecilia glances over her shoulder at the water, then back to Jack. "Perhaps you should have kept one of those coins from the Isla de Muerta. It worked out fine for the monkey."

Jack scowls, glancing up at the rigging as if he expects the monkey to be there, though they left it with Tia Dalma. When he looks down again at Cecilia there's something scheming behind his eyes. "Immortality, then? You weren't so keen on the idea before."

"That was before I knew about Davy Jones," she reminds him.

He has the decency to look somewhat bashful. "I'd want a more comfortable means of living forever, I think. After all, not being able to feel anything pleasurable..." He pulls her impossibly closer with hands on her waist, eyebrows raised meaningfully.

"I see your point," Cecilia says, laughing. "Not a curse then, but a gift, so to speak?"

"Aye. A gift, then, for the two of us—"

"The two of us?"

Jack nods sagely, as if this is something he's given a lot of thought to. "Together forever certainly makes up for those twelve years, eh?"

"That's true," Cecilia concedes. Living forever in each other's company would more than make up for their lost time. Though that's about the only thing that appeals to her about immortality. Watching everyone else she knows die, unable to stop it, being so removed from it... though as Tia Dalma had told her, death isn't necessarily the end. She voices this last point, and Jack tilts his head in consideration.

"But, not everyone has a witchy friend," he points out. "If it comes down to it, I wouldn't put money on dear old Tia Dalma going out of her way to help me."

"That risk excites you, though," she says, recognising the glint in his eyes well.

"Indeed it does."

"So when we erase your debt and get rid of the threat of Jones and the Kraken, would you still want immortality? To remove that risk?"

Again, Jack tips his head, eyes tracking back and forth in thought. "Maybe I'm going soft in me old age."

"You're hardly old, Jack," Cecilia scoffs, reaching up to twirl a finger through the dark hair that he's so proud of.

"I wouldn't have to worry about age at all if we found the means for immortality."

"Unless it meant that you continued to age but couldn't die," she points out.

He grimaces. "True."

"Besides," she continues, glancing over his shoulder and noticing the land on the horizon in the distance, "we've got time."

"Land ho!" Gibbs calls, somewhere on the other side of the deck.

Jack turns to look in the direction she nods, turning back as Cecilia moves out of his arms. He catches her by the wrist, tugging her back towards him. "Forgetting something, love?" He says, with a pointed glance to her lips and a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Forgive me, Captain," she says, smiling into the kiss that she leans up to press to his lips. He deepens it before she has the chance to pull away, one hand at the small of her back and the other moving up to brush her hair from her face, but then he freezes, pulling back abruptly. "Jack?" Cecilia studies his expression, the slight panic there, then notices the way he's holding his hand, curled into a loose fist near her face. She takes it gently in her own, and when he opens his hand she draws a startled breath at the sight of the Black Spot marring his palm once more.

"I want my jar of dirt," Jack says, pressing a brief kiss to her lips and rushing into the cabin to find it.

Cecilia remains where she is amongst the flurry of movement on deck, feeling slightly dazed, and increasingly more panicked. The Kraken is onto them once more.

Chapter Text

A small shore party of Cecilia, Jack, Elizabeth, Norrington, Pintel, and Ragetti is assembled and crowded into the longboat to row the short distance to the island. Jack scrambles out of the boat the moment that they reach land, leaving his coat and the jar of dirt behind as he grabs a shovel and passes another to Norrington. Cecilia gets out of the boat more steadily, though she's keen to put some distance between herself and Pintel and Ragetti, who had spent the whole time rowing over arguing about the pronunciation of 'Kraken'. 

"Guard the boat, mind the tide, don't touch my dirt," Jack instructs the two of them, hauling the shovel over one shoulder. Cecilia falls into step beside him easily and the two of them begin walking across the sand, Elizabeth and Norrington trailing a little way behind.

Jack doesn't talk, in an understandably poor mood, so Cecilia studies the island instead. It's similar to the Isla de Pelegostos, covered in green foliage though less mountainous, but instead of tribal huts Cecilia can make out a crumbling church in the distance.

"Is this Isla Cruces?" She asks, shielding her eyes from the sun to try and make out the church better.

"Might be, we were near it last time I checked the charts. Why?" Jack follows her gaze to the church. "Expecting someone to be here?"

"No, I just remember it from Elizabeth's stories. The Church came to the island and brought salvation... and disease and death. The priest had to bury everyone, apparently, then went mad and hung himself."

Jack grimaces. "Still, better than cannibals, eh?"

"Oh, definitely."

He glances back, then tsks when he notices that Elizabeth and Norrington have stopped walking. With a gesture for Cecilia to stay where she is, he ventures back to collect them, sending Elizabeth ahead and then following her, letting Norrington bring up the rear.

Elizabeth paces back and forth, compass in hand, the same taut frustration in her posture that Cecilia had observed in Jack for months. She pauses, the needle apparently still, but whatever direction it's pointing in doesn't satisfy her, as she shakes the compass, frowning.

"This doesn't work," she huffs, sitting down on the sand and setting the compass beside her. "And it certainly doesn't show what you want most."

Both Cecilia and Jack approach her; Norrington stays where he is, shovels in hand. As they near, the needle stops spinning, pointing back to Elizabeth.

"Yes, it does," Cecilia says, unable to prevent a grin from working onto her face. They have a chance. "You're sitting on it."

Elizabeth looks up at her. "Beg pardon?"

"Move," Jack says, flapping his hands at her.

Elizabeth scrambles to her feet, moving to stand beside Cecilia, and Jack whistles for Norrington to come forward and start digging.

There's a distinctly apprehensive energy in the air between the four of them as Norrington digs. Jack sits nearby in a meditative pose, eyes closed. Elizabeth stands on the other side of Norrington, biting at her fingernails. Cecilia, suddenly unable to keep still, paces up and down the dunes, focusing on the rhythm of her steps and the shift of the sand beneath her feet.

All of them perk up as the shovel hits something solid with a loud clang, and Cecilia, Jack, and Elizabeth rush forward to look down into the hole. It's covered in sand, but it's clearly there: a chest. The chest. They dust the sand off and lift it out, stepping back as Jack breaks the lock with a shovel. Inside are various papers and scrolls, but beneath them...

It's smaller, darker, but the carvings on the wood of the second chest within suggest that this has to be it. Jack lifts it, and they lean close. From within comes the steady beating of a heart.

"It's real," Elizabeth murmurs.

Norrington looks up at Jack with a disbelieving smile. "You actually were telling the truth."

"I do that quite a lot, yet people are always surprised."

"With good reason."

Cecilia turns at the unexpected voice behind them, gaping when she sees Will standing there, wet like he has just emerged from the water behind him. How on Earth did he escape Jones...?

"Will!" Elizabeth gasps, running to him. "You're alright, thank God! I came to find you!" She kisses him.

Jack grimaces, shifting closer to Cecilia to talk to her in a whisper that Norrington won't hear. "And the chances of him not telling her what really happened are...?"

"Almost certainly zero," she murmurs back, having been worrying about the same thing herself. Both Will and Elizabeth had been tricked and lied to by Jack and Cecilia, which she had been hoping would go undiscovered until everything had been resolved, at which point they wouldn't have cause to complain. Alas, luck is once more in her opposition, it seems.

"How did you get here?" Jack asks.

"Sea turtles, mate," Will says. "A pair of them, strapped to my feet."

Cecilia would laugh at the callback to Gibbs' story if she wasn't too busy worrying about being maimed in an undoubtedly creative manner by Elizabeth.

"Not so easy, is it?"

"But I do owe you thanks, Jack, Cecilia."

Cecilia winces, having hoped Will might keep her involvement under wraps, even if he deemed it necessary to call out Jack.

Jack frowns. "You do?"

"After you tricked me onto that ship to square your debt with Jones—"

"What?" Elizabeth snaps, looking between Jack and Cecilia. Cecilia averts her eyes.

"What?" Jack repeats, his unnaturally high-pitched tone giving him away.

"— I was reunited with my father," Will finishes.

"Oh, well, you're welcome, then."

"Everything you said to me," Elizabeth accuses, stalking forwards towards them, "every word was a lie!"

Jack winces. "Pretty much. Time and tide." He shrugs.

"And you!" Elizabeth turns to Cecilia, glaring so profusely that Cecilia actually shrinks back a little. "I should have expected this from him, but not from you!"

"Technically, everything I said to you was true." She glances at Will, grimacing. "I can't deny my involvement there, but look, he's fine!" She drops her hands, which she had lifted and flapped towards Will unconsciously; perhaps Elizabeth was right about Jack having too much of an influence on Cecilia.

Whatever Elizabeth was going to retort is overshadowed by Will kneeling beside the chest and pulling out a knife, a familiar two-pronged key in his other hand.

"Oi!" Jack calls. "What're you doing?"

"I'm gonna kill Jones."

Jack draws his sword, pointing it at Will. "Can't let you do that, William. Because if Jones is dead, who's to call his terrible beastie off the hunt, eh?"

After a moment's pause, Will sighs and rises to his feet again.

"Now, if you please." Jack holds out his free hand, the other still holding his sword aloft. "The key."

Will snatches Elizabeth's sword from her belt, pointing it at Jack. "I keep the promises I make, Jack. I intend to free my father. I hope you're here to see it."

Norrington pulls out his sword, also pointing it at Will. "I can't let you do that, either. So sorry."

"I knew you'd warm up to me eventually," Jack says, stepping towards Norrington, only to halt abruptly when the former Commodore shifts his sword to be pointing at him. In a bizarre display of loyalty, considering Jack's trickery, Will shifts his sword to Norrington, the three swords forming a triangle.

Cecilia and Elizabeth exchange a glance over the swords, momentarily reunited as the only ones not pointing a sword at someone else.

"Lord Beckett desires the contents of that chest," Norrington says. "I deliver it, I get my life back."

"Ah," Cecilia says, "the dark side of ambition."

Norrington sneers at her, though his sword remains firmly pointed at Jack. "Oh, I prefer to see it as the promise of redemption."

Norrington moves first, aiming for Will, but the other two spur into motion so quickly that it may as well have been simultaneous. Cecilia takes several steps back; Elizabeth does the same with a shriek as a sword comes a little too close to her. Will ducks under a blow from Jack, and sets off at a run across the sand, the other two quick to follow him.

"Stop it!" Elizabeth calls.

Somehow, Jack snatches the key from Will amidst their fighting, and takes off. Norrington kicks Will in the chest, sending him sprawling onto the sand, and runs after Jack.

"Will!" Elizabeth gasps, kneeling beside him.

Cecilia ventures close enough to check if he's alright, but keeps a fair distance. Considering Will's previous ire towards her, she would rather stay out of range of his sword.

"Guard the chest," Will says, getting to his feet and chasing after Jack and Norrington.

"No!" Elizabeth cries, running after them.

Cecilia, content to watch, remains by the chest, half-listening to Elizabeth's shouted ramblings about wobbly-legged, rum-soaked pirates. It's best to let Elizabeth get this all off her chest, and then maybe she'll be too worn out to confront Cecilia later.

If Jack and Will could only get over their mutual animosity towards each other, this would be easy. They could team up against Norrington—effective once, no reason why it wouldn't work a second time—Jack could use the heart as leverage to square his debt and call off the Kraken, and then Will could stab it and free his father. And yet, the men seem far more content to continue fighting, rather than working to solve the problem. Elizabeth has started throwing rocks at them, which Cecilia thinks is fair.

Then Elizabeth collapses, which is less good. With a glance back at the chest, which is really a two-person job to carry, definitely so at a run, Cecilia leaves it in the sand and hurries over to the younger woman, who has already started to sit up.

"Are you alright?"

Elizabeth sets her hat back on her head, huffing in frustration. "No, I—" She cuts herself off, her attention caught by something else, and Cecilia follows her gaze to see Pintel and Ragetti running into the trees, carrying the chest between them.

Cecilia curses, helping Elizabeth to her feet, and the two of them chase after the pirates. "You cut them off, I'll follow from behind," she calls, darting into the trees and trusting that Elizabeth will do the same.

Pintel and Ragetti are a little way ahead, their progress hindered by the thick undergrowth and the chest that they're carrying. They're laughing breathlessly as they run, but stop abruptly when Elizabeth steps out into their path. She reaches for her sword, but it isn't on her belt where it should be, it's in Will's hand... wherever he is. Cecilia runs faster to catch up as Pintel and Ragetti drop the chest and draw their own swords, advancing towards Elizabeth, who backs away, but all four of them halt in surprise as a giant wheel rolls past. Will and Norrington are somehow balancing atop it, swords clashing wildly, and Jack is chasing after them, arms flailing.

Before Pintel and Ragetti can advance on Elizabeth again, Cecilia clears her throat, her own sword drawn. The two turn to stare at her, looking slightly alarmed now, but no one manages to speak a word before an axe embeds itself in a tree close to Pintel's head. Cecilia snaps her head in the direction the axe came from, and immediately wishes she hadn't; Davy Jones' crew is rushing through the trees towards them.

Elizabeth stumbles backward in shock—of course, she hasn't seen them before—and finds herself with two swords in her hands as Pintel and Ragetti pass them to her in favour of picking up the chest and running in the opposite direction.

"Time to go," Cecilia says breathlessly, gesturing for Elizabeth to run ahead of her. She's done enough to put Elizabeth and Will in danger recently, there's no need to make it a habit. She runs close behind Elizabeth, unwilling to glance back for fear of how close the pirates will be.

Elizabeth does look back, and screams; Cecilia takes this to be a bad sign and pushes herself to run faster. Pintel and Ragetti, also looking back, collide with a tree, the chest dropping out of their hands. Both Elizabeth and then Cecilia nearly trip over it, but when they turn back to grab it, it's too late, Jones' crew are too close.

Cecilia raises her sword as one crewman swings at her with an axe, her arms trembling against the force of the blow. With effort, she pushes the weapon aside, stumbling backwards and then taking off at run after Pintel and Ragetti, who have started to run again. Elizabeth is close behind her, thankfully.

The fact that there are only three swords between the four of them is a rather significant problem. And yet, by tossing the swords back and forth as needed, they hold their own admirably, Cecilia thinks. She slashes wildly at a pirate with what looks like a shark's head, ducking a blow from another and then tossing her sword to Elizabeth.

"Sword!" She shouts as a pirate runs for her, catching Pintel's and managing to land a decent hit. Decent enough that, after passing her sword to Ragetti, Cecilia manages to slip away, ducking behind trees to backtrack towards where they left the chest.

It isn't where it was, which sends a spike of panic through her, until she catches sight of a familiar red bandana through the trees to her left. Jack. Cecilia runs to him, ignoring the headless pirate roaming behind him in favour of dropping to her knees beside him when she sees that he has the chest... and the key.

Jack glances up in surprise, his defensive expression softening when he sees that it's her. "Hello, love."

"Hi," she says, breathless. "Is this...?"

"This is it," he murmurs, slotting the key into the lock and turning it.

The carving around the lock turns with the motion of the key, and the chest unlocks with a loud clunk. With a glance at Cecilia, Jack reaches out and lifts the lid. Inside, sure enough, is a heart, undeniably real. It looks oddly vulnerable, small inside the chest as it beats.

"My God..." Cecilia murmurs, staring at the thing, simultaneously awed and repelled by it.

Jack lifts the heart from the chest, holding it up so that both of them can study it more closely, but at the sound of a commotion nearby he shoves it into his shirt, out of sight. Cecilia slams the lid of the chest down as Elizabeth, Ragetti, and Pintel come into view through the trees, the crewmen close behind them. She rises to her feet, intending to help, but Jack catches her by the arm and pulls her under the cover of the trees, out of sight as everyone rushes past. Pintel and Ragetti reclaim the chest, unaware that it's now empty, and disappear into the trees again. Elizabeth is close behind, holding her own admirably.

"Back to the boat, eh?" Jack tilts his head in the direction of the beach.

Cecilia nods, still breathless, and glances down at the faint lump underneath Jack's shirt.

Jack follows her gaze, his grin slightly mad. "We'll do it, darlin'. We'll fix this."

She can't help but laugh delightedly, surging upwards to kiss him before the both of them take off at a run towards the beach. They kick up sand into their boots and soak the bottoms of their breeches in the water in their haste to get to the longboat, then come to a sudden stop as they frantically search for somewhere to hide the heart.

"The jar of dirt," Cecilia exclaims. It makes sense, there's no way Jones could get to the heart if it is surrounded by land, and no one will think anything of Jack keeping the jar close by.

"Good thinking, love." Jack tips out some of the dirt and shoves the heart into the jar, scooping dirt back on top of it to hide it from view. If Cecilia leans close, she can just faintly hear the heart beating, but she doubts anyone other than Jack or herself will get close enough to do so.

A sudden shout from behind makes both of them duck, the jar falling into the boat as one of Jones' crew swings at them with a sword. Bizarrely, Jack grabs an oar to fight with, which leaves Cecilia free to snatch the sword from his belt. They fight well together, as they always have, though the sudden presence of a second pirate complicates matters somewhat.

The wheel from before rolls out of the trees and into the water, causing a momentary lull in the fight that only seems to reinvigorate Jones' crew once it begins again. Out of the corner of her eye, Cecilia spots Will and Norrington staggering out of the wheel, but her attention is quickly reclaimed when her opponent's sword comes dangerously close to slashing her abdomen. The tide is coming in, the water now at Cecilia's knees, which is only making it harder to dodge the blows coming down on her.

Jack and Cecilia are being pushed back towards the boat, unable to regain the offensive as the tide and their own fatigue begin to hinder them. Jack glances back, faltering, and though the motion is only brief, Cecilia feels it, standing as close to him as she is. She glances over her shoulder, and falters herself; Will is holding the chest, and if he opens it, nothing will go to plan. Jack hits the pirate in front of him with a new vigour, sending him stumbling back, then turns and hits Will across the head with his oar. The younger man crumples, the chest falling from his hands.

Elizabeth runs to Will, leaning over him in concern; both Cecilia and Jack run to cover her as she turns her back on the pirates.

"Leave him lie!" Jack calls. "Unless you plan on using him to hit something with."

"We're not getting out of this," Cecilia says, though she doesn't lower her sword. The pirates are closing in on them, and they seem to be lacking quite severely in weapons, as only Cecilia and Norrington still have swords.

"Not with the chest," Norrington says, grabbing it. "Into the boat."

"You're mad," Elizabeth protests.

Cecilia is inclined to agree with that, though she's entirely grateful for the—unbeknownst to Norrington—pointless sacrifice.

"Don't wait for me." Chest in hand, he runs forward into the throng of pirates, swinging his sword at them. They chase after him, drawn to the chest.

"I say we respect his final wish," Jack says, climbing into the longboat. He offers Cecilia his hand, which she takes. The two of them help Elizabeth to haul the unconscious Will into the boat, and Pintel and Ragetti push them into deeper water. Back towards the Pearl; back towards safety; back towards the end of it all, now that they've got the heart.

Chapter Text

Cecilia breathes a sigh of relief the moment her feet hit the Black Pearl's deck. She helps Elizabeth to drag Will onto the deck, then leaves the two of them to follow Jack, who is making for the helm, his jar of dirt clutched firmly to his chest.

"Where's the Commodore?" Gibbs asks, approaching the two of them.

"Fell behind," Jack says shortly.

"My prayers be with him... best not wallow in our grief! The bright side is you're back, and made it off free and clear."

All three of them flinch back when something rises in one swift motion from the water beside the Pearl. The Flying Dutchman. Cecilia curses under her breath, clutching at Jack's sleeve in a panic.

"Lord on high, deliver us," Gibbs mutters, crossing himself.

"I'll handle this, mate," Jack says, shaking off Cecilia's hold and pushing past her and Gibbs. "Oi, fish face!" He lifts the jar of dirt above his head, and though there's quite a distance between the two ships, Cecilia could swear that she sees Jones do a double-take. "Lose something? Eh? Scungilli—" Perhaps it's for the best that Jack loses his footing and falls down the steps before he can aggravate Jones with further fish puns. Cecilia leans over the railing to check if he's alright, starting in surprise when the jar of dirt pops up. "Got it!" Jack stands again, miraculously unaffected. "Come to negotiate, eh, have you, you slimy git? Look what I got." He starts to sing, and part of Cecilia expects to wake up any moment. "I got a jar of dirt, I got a jar of dirt, and guess what's inside it?"

Jones is clearly unimpressed, as the cannons on the Dutchman roll out, water spilling from the gunports.

Jack mutters something that Cecilia doesn't catch, and Elizabeth repeats it in a shout, sparking the crew into action. "Hard to starboard!"

"Brace up the foreyard!" Will yells.

Gibbs spins the helm quickly, turning the Pearl away from the Dutchman as the cannons start to fire. The ship jolts as one lands a hit, the sound of breaking glass leading Cecilia to suspect that the cabin was what fell victim. The cannonball goes straight through, splintering the doors and rolling to a stop on the deck. Cecilia glances over her shoulder, and immediately wishes she hadn't; the Dutchman is chasing them, and isn't far behind. Another shot shatters a lamp behind them, and Cecilia, Gibbs, and Cotton duck away from the glass. Cecilia straightens up, heading for the stairs to help on deck, but Jack comes running up and stops her.

"No, no, take this!" He thrusts the jar of dirt into her arms, then brushes past her to push Gibbs aside and take hold of the helm himself.

Cecilia, holding tightly to the jar, leans over the side of the Pearl to watch the Dutchman's progress. Elizabeth comes up beside her, doing the same. The sea sprays up in their faces from the impact of the shots that miss, the wind whipping their hair as the Pearl gains speed.

"She's falling behind!" Elizabeth says.

Gibbs comes to Cecilia's other side, also leaning over to look back. "Aye, we've got her!"

"We're the faster?" Will says, appearing next to Elizabeth.

"Against the wind the Dutchman beats us, that's how she takes her prey. But with the wind—"

"We have the advantage," Cecilia finishes, unable to keep from grinning.

The Dutchman falls further and further behind, until the cannons stop firing once the Pearl is out of range.

"They're giving up!" Marty calls, and cheers erupt from the crew on deck. Gibbs hugs both Cecilia and Elizabeth, all three of them grinning, though their happy expressions fade as Will approaches Jack, who has relinquished is hold on the helm to Cotton in favour of stepping forward to look over the crew.

"My father is on that ship," Will says. "If we can outrun her, we can take her. We should turn and fight."

Jack looks around for Cecilia, gesturing for her to come forward when he sees her, which she does. "Why fight when you can negotiate?" He holds out his hands, taking the jar of dirt back. "All one needs is the proper leverage." He sets it on the banister, tapping the lid. The ship jolts suddenly, and before she can even begin to wonder what might have caused it, the jar goes careening towards the deck, shattering on impact.

Jack and Cecilia look to one another—she's sure the panic in his eyes is reflected in her own—and run down to the deck, taking the steps two at a time. They both drop to their knees, raking their hands through the dirt... but that's all it is, dirt.

"Where is it? Where is the thump thump?" Jack claws desperately at the dirt, but it's fruitless. The heart isn't there.

"But how...?" Where could it have gone? Better question: who could have taken it?

"We must have hit a reef," someone says, looking down into the water.

"It's not a reef!" Will calls, rushing forward to pull Elizabeth away from the side of the ship. "Get away from the rail!"

"What is it?" She asks.

"The Kraken."

Jack's head snaps up. He meets Cecilia's eyes with an unbridled fear in his own.

"To arms!" Will shouts, spurring everyone into action.

Cecilia rises to her feet, dusting the dirt from her breeches, and heading for the cannons. She makes barely two steps before her wrist is encircled by strong fingers, and she's pulled towards the longboats instead.

"What are you doing?" She says, trying to shake out of Jack's grip.

"Come on," he says shortly, jerking his head forward.

"What—"

"Come on, love."

"Jack," she gasps, suddenly understanding what he means to do. He intends to escape. "We can't—"

Jack whirls around letting go of her wrist in favour of gripping her shoulders. No one spares them a second glance, too caught up in the chaos on deck. "Norrington must've taken the heart, and the Letters of Marque. There's no other way off the island, he has to still be there. Jones will assume I've gone down with the ship, that gives us more time." He looks pained as he glances around at the ship. "There's not another chance for the Pearl, but for us—"

Cecilia can't believe what she's hearing. "What about the others? Gibbs, Marty—"

"There's no time."

She stares at him, aghast, then looks over her shoulder to where Elizabeth stands, holding a spear, and then to Will as he disappears below deck.

"You don't owe them anything," Jack says, sounding somewhat desperate now.

Will had left Cecilia and Jack to Barbossa's crew on the Isla de Muerta, but he had saved Jack's life when it mattered most. Will had gotten them marooned on that island, but Elizabeth had saved them. It was Elizabeth's word that had convinced Norrington to give the Black Pearl a head start out of Port Royal. Cecilia had repaid all of this by lying to both of them, by putting them both in danger, all for the selfish, selfish hope of saving Jack first.

She owes Jack everything, for giving her his love and the life of freedom that she always wanted... but that doesn't mean that she doesn't owe Elizabeth and Will, too.

"I can't leave them, Jack, not like this."

His eyes go wide, dark with sorrow, even as his mouth hardens into a determined line. "It'll kill you."

"And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I left them to die. I'm sorry."

As he stares at her, it feels like everything has stopped, despite the flurry of movement and sound around them. Jack surges forward to kiss her, a desperate, greedy thing, both of them taking all they can whilst they still have the chance. Cecilia clutches his face in her hands, keen to remember every part of him that she can, and an unbidden tear slips past her closed eyelids. When they pull back it's as if the world speeds up to catch up with the lost time, louder, brighter, faster. Jack's gaze is mournful when he opens his eyes.

Cecilia clears her throat, forces back her tears. She takes a careful step back. "Good luck."

Jack nods, short and sharp. "And you."

The moment he's out of earshot, Cecilia lets out the choked sob that she had been holding back, but only that. There's no time for tears, not now. She runs to Elizabeth, taking a spear when it's passed to her.

"What's happening?" She asks, hoping her voice sounds steadier than she feels.

"We're waiting for Will's signal," Elizabeth says, glancing at Cecilia and then pausing. "Are you alright?"

"No."

Elizabeth doesn't get the chance to ask further questions, as the tip of a tentacle appears over the edge of the ship. It's big, speaking to the size of the creature lurking below them, and rapidly followed by multiple other tentacles, which curl in the air over their heads.

"Will?" Elizabeth calls, backing away. "Will?"

Cecilia stares in horror at the tentacles overhead, her hands shaking around the spear. "Will!" She shouts alongside Elizabeth the third time, and that seems to do the trick.

"Fire!" Will yells from below deck.

The cannons go off with a loud bang, firing into the tentacles, which flop heavily against the deck. Cecilia stumbles from the impact, then rushes to the edge of the ship as the Kraken retreats back into the water. There are cheers from the crew, and Will runs up to join them, also looking out at the water.

"It'll be back," he says. "We have to get off the ship."

"There's no boats," Elizabeth says.

Cecilia turns to where the longboats should be. All of them have broken into pieces. The only one left functional is likely the one that Jack is in, but Cecilia doesn't dare look out at the water on the port side for fear that she's wrong about that, too.

"Pull the grates," Will calls to the crew. "Get all the gunpowder onto the net in the cargo hold!" He grabs a rifle, passing it to Elizabeth. "Whatever you do, don't miss."

"As soon as you're clear," she promises. As Will leaves, she turns to Cecilia. "Where's Jack?"

"I don't know." Cecilia's voice sounds faint to her own ears. "I should... help them load the gunpowder."

Elizabeth nods, touching a hand briefly to Cecilia's arm before she turns and strides across the deck, the rifle securely in her hands.

Cecilia darts below deck in time to witness the stunned silence that follows Will's order to load the rum alongside the gunpowder, and Gibbs' pained assenting order. She runs back onto deck and into the cabin to search for rum there. And yet, despite the urgency of the situation, she pauses on the threshold. Almost everything is the way that she and Jack left it when they rose on the morning that they arrived at Isla Cruces. When Cecilia had last laid on the bed, woken from a fitful sleep by a soft kiss, she hadn't known about Beckett, or how much trouble finding the heart would cause, or that today would be her last day with Jack. The only thing that has changed is the hole in the back wall from the Dutchman's cannons, leaving shattered glass and splinted wood on the floor, and Jack's precious charts crumpled and strewn about the room.

Drawing in another trembling breath, she rounds the desk, taking the bottles that Jack keeps in a drawer and tucking them under her arm. A half empty bottle is on the desk, another two in the bedroom, and there's a barrel in the corner that Cecilia kicks to roll out of the door ahead of her.

She's halfway out of the door when the ship jolts again. There's a lull, perhaps a few seconds, followed by the loud crack of splintering wood. Abandoning the barrel, Cecilia rushes to the side of the ship to see the tentacles embedded in the wood, and the screams from below deck suggest that it is the same on the other side. She ducks away from the edge quickly as tentacles rise up again, with a new vigour this time.

The net of the cargo hold is being lifted from below deck, and Cecilia runs to it, uncorking bottles and soaking the net and the barrels within in rum. She ducks again when a tentacle flails overhead, grimacing as a man is lifted into the air. She pulls her pistol from her belt and fires, but to no avail. Another tentacle wraps around the mast, tightening with ferocity and splintering the wheel that lifts the net. It drops slightly, and it's only then as Cecilia squints up at it that she notices Will tangled in the ropes.

"Shoot!" He yells. "Elizabeth, shoot!"

Cecilia turns and spots Elizabeth in front of what was once the cabin, the rifle raised. She runs across the deck to the younger woman, careful to stay out of the way of the gun and to avoid being grasped by the Kraken. Elizabeth, considering her relative cover beneath the stairs, is less lucky. A tentacle catches her by the ankle, dragging her backwards.

"Elizabeth!" Cecilia calls, horrified, rushing forward as if there's any chance she'll get there in time.

She doesn't need to. Ragetti swings an axe down, chopping off the tip of the tentacle, and Elizabeth staggers to her feet.

The rifle is lying on the deck, and someone else grabs it before Cecilia or Elizabeth can, aiming for the net across the deck. He's grabbed before he can shoot, however, and flung into the air, the rifle clattering onto the deck at the top of the steps. Cecilia, the closer of the two, rushes for it, stumbling as the ship is shaken again and resorting to crawling up the stairs for the sake of speed. Someone steps on the gun as she reaches for it, and Cecilia curses, trying to push their foot away, until she recognises the boot. Disbelieving, she glances up, because she can't be right... but she is.

Jack is standing on the deck, silhouetted by the sun. Cecilia chokes out a laugh, and he looks down at her, then at the gun. She moves her hand away, scrabbling up the last few steps to be close to him, to check he's real. Jack takes aim, and the moment that Will falls away from the netting, he fires.

The barrels explode, burning the Kraken's flailing limbs and sending fiery shrapnel scattering to the deck. Once more, the Kraken retreats into the water, subdued and faintly smoking.

Jack lowers the gun, tossing it aside, and offers Cecilia a hand. With another breathless laugh, she takes it, her legs unsteady as she rises to her feet. For a moment they simply stare at each other, each drinking in the sight of the person they thought they would never see again. Stunned silence gives way to a feverish kiss, Jack's hands on her waist and at the back of her neck, and Cecilia's own cupping his face in a parody of what they thought would have been their last.

"You came back," she breaths, resting her forehead against his as they pull apart.

"'S not worth it without you, darlin', none of it is." From his belt he pulls the compass, and when he opens it, the needle is pointing steadfastly at her.

Overwhelmed, Cecilia kisses him again, shorter this time. They haven't beaten the Kraken yet, only bought more time, and they need a plan.

"Captain, orders!" Gibbs calls, and Jack and Cecilia descend the stairs to the deck, where everyone is waiting.

And everyone is... not a lot. Down from fifty or so crew members, there are nine of them left, ten counting the parrot. Elizabeth, Will, Gibbs, Marty, Cotton, Ragetti, Pintel, Jack, and Cecilia.

"Abandon ship, into the longboat," Jack orders, passing the reclaimed pistol to Gibbs and marching past him in the direction of the boat.

"Jack, the Pearl," Gibbs protests.

Jack stills. Cecilia stops at his shoulder, Gibbs on the other side, and studies his profile carefully. His furrowed brow, the downward tilt of his mouth, and the slump of his posture all speak to how much his next words pain him to say. "She's only a ship, mate."

"He's right, we have to head for land," Elizabeth says.

"It's a lot of open water," says Pintel.

"It's a lot of water," Ragetti echoes.

"We have to try," Will says. "We can get away as it takes down the Pearl."

Gibbs nods, sighing heavily. "Abandon ship. Abandon ship or abandon hope."

Cotton leads the way into the boat, followed by Marty.

Cecilia moves around Jack, stopping in front of him. "I'm sorry. I know what she means to you."

"To us, love," Jack says, his smile hopelessly sad. "Brought us back together, didn't she, in a way?"

"She did. I'll always be thankful to her for that." Cecilia looks around at the ship, at their home, with her own wistful smile. "I'll... I'll let you say goodbye." She leans in to press her lips to his cheek, but Jack turns his head, catching her lips in a tender kiss instead. When they part they just look at each other for a moment, before Cecilia nods and takes a step back. "See you in the boat."

"See you in the boat, love."

She turns and heads in the direction of the longboat. As she walks, she runs her hand against the damaged railing of the Pearl, a silent thank you and a silent goodbye.

Will gestures for Cecilia to climb down to the boat first, so she does, settling at the back near the tiller. He hesitates to follow her, stopping halfway down and staring at something on deck.

"Prepare to cast off, there's no time to lose!" Gibbs says, gesturing for Will to hurry up. "Come on, Will, step to!"

Cecilia pulls Will down into the boat. He sits in front of her, hunched over with a stormy expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" She asks, only to be ignored. She glances at Gibbs as he sits down beside her, but he only shrugs.

Elizabeth is the next to come down. She stares forward, her back Cecilia.

"Where's Jack?" Will asks, with a surprising amount of vitriol.

"He elected to stay behind to give us a chance."

Cecilia goes still, almost certain that she heard wrong. "What?" She looks up at the Pearl, but there's no way for her to see the deck from where she is. "Are you sure that's what—"

"Go!" Elizabeth says, ignoring her.

Ragetti pushes away from the Pearl with an oar.

"No, Gibbs—" Cecilia protests, looking to the first mate.

He meets her eyes, helplessness written all over his face. No help to her, then. No one is, in fact. They're all refusing to look at her, looking at the Pearl, at the land behind them, at the open ocean to either side, but not at Cecilia.

She moves to stand, to jump, to swim the short distance back to the Pearl and shake some sense back into Jack, but Gibbs catches her by the arm before she can do so, holding her in place.

"It's no use, Miss Cecilia." His voice is smaller than she's ever heard it, and it's that more than anything else that settles the realisation upon Cecilia that this is it. She won't ever see Jack again, won't get to hear his voice, feel his touch. She didn't get to say goodbye, but that's not what hurts most of all.

It's not worth it without you, Jack had said. Did it really never occur to him that the same was true for Cecilia too? That by staying behind, he was taking away her very reason for being? That she couldn't bear to lose him again, not after the first time? He had been the one to suggest immortality together, that they should be together forever, that he wouldn't let them be separated again. Cecilia almost hates Jack in that moment, as she sits in the longboat with tears streaming down her face, for being so cruel as to snatch away their chance of happiness mere moments after bringing it back, after getting her hopes up once again. Was that why he had kissed her, before the empty promise to see her in the longboat? Because he knew it would be the last time?

But as the Pearl sinks below the water, enveloped in tentacles and splintering under the strain, Cecilia knows that she loves him. And it's almost like she has travelled back thirteen years, because she loves him, but Jack is gone.

No one in the longboat speaks for a very long time, not even once the Black Pearl has completely disappeared beneath the water. Cecilia has long since run out of tears to cry, staring blankly at the water where the ship had been. Where Jack had been. Gibbs' hand is in hers, comfortingly warm, grounding enough to remind her that this is real, not just a bad dream.

"What do we do now?" Ragetti asks, his voice hollow.

"We need to find a ship—" Will begins, but Cecilia cuts him off.

"No." Her voice is thick with tears. She clears her throat. "We need to go back to Isla Cruces, search for the heart. If it's not there... Tia Dalma."

"Why her?" Will asks.

"Because nowhere on the sea will be safe if Cutler Beckett gets his hands on the heart."

"But how—?"

"Norrington took the chest, remember?" She doesn't bother explaining that the heart had been briefly transferred to the jar of dirt, it doesn't matter anymore. "And he took the Letters of Marque from..." Cecilia swallows, trying to get past the name that sticks in her throat, fixed with grief. Gibbs squeezes her hand. "From Jack's coat. If he's managed to get off the island, I expect he'll be scurrying back to Port Royal to present Beckett with his prize."

"And whoever possesses the chest..." Gibbs mutters.

"Possesses a powerful leverage over Jones and the Dutchman," Cecilia finishes. She wipes her eyes roughly on the back of her sleeve, clearing her throat again. "We need to go. We've... wasted enough time already."

Will and Ragetti take up the oars, beginning to row towards the land on the horizon. Cecilia stares ahead at Isla Cruces, but she isn't thinking about Norrington, or the heart, or Davy Jones. She's thinking about Jack, and about what Tia Dalma had said.

Death is not always the end. There are times when destiny demands intervention before judgement can take place.

Jack had been sure that Tia Dalma wouldn't bring him back if it came to it. But perhaps for the right price... Cecilia has no idea what that price may be, but she does know that she's willing to do whatever it takes if it means there's a chance that she might see Jack Sparrow again.

Chapter Text

They search Isla Cruces until nightfall, but Norrington is nowhere to be found, nor is the heart. So, as Cecilia suggested, they go to Tia Dalma's. It takes far longer in the longboat than it would have on the Pearl, but with a stop in a small port for something to drink and by taking turns rowing, they make it within a few days. It's dark when they reach the Pantano River, but as they near Tia Dalma's hut, the river lights up with the faint glow of candles, held by people amongst the trees, who watch them drift past with expressions of unmistakable sorrow, as if they know. Once the hut becomes visible, the people start moving into the water, not touching the longboat but coming close to it, preventing them from turning back. And yet, instead of eerie, Cecilia finds it oddly comforting.

Tia Dalma welcomes them in, but Cecilia stays outside, watching the flickering lights. Gibbs stays beside her; he hasn't strayed far from her side since the Black Pearl went down, and she's grateful for his reassuring presence beside her. Together in their grief, as the two people who knew Jack best.

Will had spoken quietly to her on Isla Cruces, offering his condolences and a comforting embrace. Considering he hadn't really liked Jack, Cecilia appreciated the gesture. He's since been keeping a watchful eye on Elizabeth, however, who seems deeply affected by the whole thing. Cecilia hadn't thought that she had liked Jack all that much either, but it seems that the trauma of the past few days has taken its toll. Elizabeth and Will aren't speaking much, Cecilia has noticed, avoiding each other's eyes and exchanging as few words as possible only when necessary.

"Against the cold, and a sorrow," Cecilia hears Tia Dalma say inside the hut. She glances over her shoulder to watch the other woman offer Elizabeth a drink. Tia Dalma then moves over to Will. "It's a shame. I know you're thinking that with the Pearl you could have captured the devil and set free your father's soul."

"It doesn't matter now," Will says. "The Pearl's gone... along with its captain."

"Aye. And already the world seems a bit less bright." Gibbs steps away from Cecilia, into the hut. Unwilling to be alone, she follows him slowly. "He fooled us all, right to the end, but I guess that honest streak finally won out." He takes a cup from Tia Dalma, and raises it. "To Jack Sparrow."

"Never another like Captain Jack," Ragetti says, lifting his own cup.

Pintel does the same. "He was a gentleman of fortune, he was."

"He was a good man," Elizabeth says, taking a drink with trembling hands.

"He was," Cecilia says softly, taking a cup and raising it, before sipping the liquid inside. It's hot, faintly spicy, and pleasant enough to mask the chill in her bones that seemed to take root that day.

Will stares at Elizabeth, whose head is bowed, staring into her cup. He glances to Cecilia, then back to Elizabeth. "If there was anything could be done to bring him back..." He stands, moving towards her, murmuring her name, but Tia Dalma steps in front of him.

"Would you do it? Hm? What would you... hm? What would any of you be willing to do, hm? Would you sail to the ends of the Earth and beyond to fetch back witty Jack and him precious Pearl?"

"Yes," Cecilia says, voice hoarse from disuse.

"Aye," says Gibbs.

Pintel, Ragetti, and Cotton give their assent.

Elizabeth nods. "Yes."

"Aye," Will says.

"All right," Tia Dalma says, smiling. "But if you go and brave the weird and haunted shores at world's end, then... you will need a captain who knows those waters."

There are footfalls on the stairs, which creak loudly. The boots come into view first, boots that Cecilia recognises as those belonging to the body under the sheet. Then the owner comes into view, and her mouth drops open in shock.

"So, tell me," Hector Barbossa says, "what's become of my ship?" The monkey jumps up onto his shoulder, chattering as he bites into a green apple and laughs at the varying expressions of shock and surprise facing him, the juice running down his chin.

Death is not always the end. There are times when destiny demands intervention before judgement can take place.

Despite all the questions spiralling in her mind, Cecilia can't help but laugh breathlessly. There's a chance.

It takes a long time to even come close to establishing what the plan is. There's a clear distrust of Barbossa amongst those assembled, particularly Elizabeth and Will. Cecilia hardly trusts him either, but she's willing to give him a chance, seeing as he seems to be her only hope of ever seeing Jack again.

"Can I ask you something?" Cecilia says, cutting across Will's tirade of questions to Tia Dalma about how exactly Barbossa was here, when they had left him for dead on the Isla de Muerta.

Barbossa raises his eyebrows, nodding once.

"Why would you help us to bring Jack back? He killed you."

"Aye, that he did." Barbossa shoots a sharp glance at Will, who looks like he's about to intervene. "But in order to free the seas from the clutches of Cutler Beckett, Jack must regrettably be present."

Cecilia narrows her eyes. "Why?"

"I don't suppose he ever talked to ye about the Brethren Court?"

She shakes her head.

"I figured not. It's one of his better kept secrets." Barbossa smirks, something decidedly unpleasant about it, clearly enjoying the fact that he knows something that the rest of them—or at least Cecilia, Elizabeth, and Will—don't. "Master Gibbs?"

Gibbs startles slightly, clearly surprised to be acknowledged. "The Brethren Court is the governing body of pirates, so to speak."

Governing body of pirates. Well, that's a sentence Cecilia never thought she would hear.

Gibbs continues, "It's made up of the nine Pirate Lords—"

"Of which Jack is one, and I be another," Barbossa interjects.

Cecilia turns sharply to him, surprised. Jack had neglected to mention that. Gibbs doesn't look surprised, so he must have already known. She wonders vaguely how the Pirate Lords are elected; Barbossa has been dead for a year, but seemingly still holds the position, and Jack had been without his ship for ten years but was bestowed what seems to be an honour nevertheless. Not to mention there are few similarities between the two men, particularly their opinions of democracy, as far as she can tell.

"—who each hold one of the nine Pieces of Eight," Gibbs finishes.

Well, that must be why, but she doesn't recall ever seeing any Spanish coins around the cabin.

"And Jack was still holding his Piece of Eight when he died, unless he passed it on?" Barbossa looks to Cecilia, the question clear.

She shakes her head. "There wasn't a chance to." There was a chance to, when they spoke on the deck and he had apparently already decided that he was going to stay behind, but there was likely far more on Jack's mind than the Brethren Court.

Barbossa nods, but doesn't elaborate further on why this makes it so imperative that they get Jack back. Instead, he details what their course of action is to be: Sao Feng, the Pirate Lord of the South China Sea, holds the charts that show the way to World's End, but is unlikely to give them up, so they will have to steal them instead, whilst under the guise of visiting Singapore to inform Sao Feng of the Brethren Court being called. A decent ship and a crew will also be necessary to make the journey to World's End, also to be acquired in Singapore. Barbossa estimates that the journey could take merely a few months, if the winds are right.

A few months sounds both irritatingly vague and unbearably long to Cecilia, but she doesn't protest. After all, she managed twelve years thinking Jack was dead, and then she had no notion that she would ever be able to get him back. She can handle a few months.

The journey to Singapore isn't a hugely pleasant one, to say the least. Though there's have a common goal amongst the ten of them, albeit for different reasons, tensions persist, and a heavy air of restlessness hangs over the rickety ship that Tia Dalma had supplied for them. (Which is to say, she had directed them to a nearby beach, where the ship had washed up however long ago, and was almost entirely obscured by sand and shrubbery. They had dug it out, checked it over for any major damage, and eased it into the water when the tide came in. Cecilia had been hesitant to set foot on the deck, uncertain that the vessel was in any way seaworthy, but what other choice did they have? She wasn't the only one hesitant, Gibbs had called the ship "unsuited" and—seeing as it had no other obvious title—the name had stuck.) In particular, Will and Elizabeth still aren't speaking, for reasons unknown to Cecilia. She's tried asking, but has gotten no answer; Will is tight-lipped and generally in a bad mood, and Elizabeth seems to be avoiding Cecilia too, inexplicably. Everyone else—with the exception, perhaps, of Barbossa and Tia Dalma—is uneasy, the constant threat of being caught by the East India Company looming overhead. The sea had once symbolised freedom, but is now merely a marker of Beckett's control. The few times they make port, whispered tales of hangings for those even affiliated with pirates float back to them, making dread pool in the pit of Cecilia's stomach each time.

Most of all, she misses Jack. She misses having him as a captain: hearing his voices call orders across the deck, his trustworthy presence at the helm, his distinctive gait across the deck. She misses him even more as a lover: his hand at her waist as they stood side-by-side, his smile, his laugh, the glint of his gold teeth in candlelight, the comforting warmth of him beside her when she lay down to sleep...

Night is the worst time, when in the dark everything that Cecilia should have done and said differently comes back to haunt her. She doesn't sleep well anymore, takes night watches as well as working in the day when she can get away with it, anything to avoid being left alone with her thoughts.

Tonight is one such night. Cotton, Pintel, Ragetti, and Cecilia are the only ones on deck, everyone else asleep below. Cotton is at the helm, parrot perched on his shoulder, whilst Pintel and Ragetti argue about something or other near the bow of the ship. Cecilia is repairing the damaged woodwork of the mainmast, wrapping the damaged area in rope that she had soaked in tar and nailing it in place. All day she's been working to repair the three masts, which after a month at sea were becoming increasingly hazardous in certain winds. Satisfied with her work, she wipes the sweat from her forehead and the tar from her hands, and steps back.

A noise in the rigging overhead makes her look up. It's the monkey, chattering loudly. And wherever the monkey goes... She looks over her shoulder, and sure enough, Barbossa has left the cabin and is approaching her. She sighs, resigning herself to some sort of conversation.

"Shouldn't you be abed, Miss Guillemot?" Though he's technically addressing her with respect, Cecilia picks up on the slightly scathing undertone.

"Couldn't sleep."

"That assumes you've tried," he says, looking at her shrewdly.

She scoffs, looking out at the dark water with a wry smile. "Don't pretend to care."

"I don't, but Turner's been looking for a reason to run me through since we set off. I reckon you dropping dead under me watch would be sufficient."

"Are you scared of Will, Captain?" The title tastes bitter on her tongue as she spits it out.

He scoffs. "Hardly."

They fall silent then, standing side by side in the flickering light from the lantern. Only the lapping of the sea at the hull, Pintel and Ragetti's continuing argument in the distance, and the monkey overhead break the silence. Cecilia glances at Barbossa out of the corner of her eye, uncertain as to why he has come over, if just to stand there looking out at the water. When too long passes without conversation, she clears her throat.

"Why are you helping us?"

"As I've told ye—"

"Jack's Piece of Eight, yes. But surely it isn't necessary that you come along, risk your life so soon after getting it back, now that you've told us where to find the charts."

"Ye think I trust you deck apes to get to World's End and back on yer own without gettin' yerselves killed?" He says, somewhat incredulously. "Besides, Sao Feng is far more likely to hand over a ship and a crew to meself."

"And...?" Cecilia says, for though his answer is entirely practical and likely correct, there's an unspoken something hanging off the end of it.

Barbossa glances up the deck, his gaze back on the sea again so quickly that the motion seems to have been unbidden. Cecilia also looks up the deck, and notices for the first time Tia Dalma, hidden in shadow, watching the two of them.

"Ah. You owe her," she realises, watching Barbossa's reaction to this closely.

He doesn't answer, which is an answer in and of itself, a yes barred by pride.

They fall silent again, though Cecilia's mind is working for a different reason this time; she wants to ask more about how he knows Tia Dalma, about how she brought him back, but she suspects that Barbossa won't be particularly receptive to either of those questions. Instead, she asks, "What was it like, dying?"

"Cold."

He had said that, at the time, she remembers.

"Everything goes very still," he continues, unprompted. "All ye can hear is yer fading heartbeat, all ye can see is the shadows closing in. It all just... slips away. Whether or not you want to go—"

Cecilia hears the unspoken, and I didn't want to go.

"—it's peaceful in the end."

A more poetic answer than she expected, coming from Barbossa, but not an entirely unexpected one.

"But," Barbossa continues, something wry and knowing in his expression. She hasn't mentioned Jack, but apparently it was clear she was thinking about him regardless. "There's no guarantee it will have been the same for Jack. His soul was headed for the Locker, not just death."

That's true. Cecilia hadn't properly considered the different destinations that death could take you, instead so focused on the fact that it's the end of life. However Jack experienced death, she hopes it was quick. Gibbs had said once that the last thing that those who died at the hands—tentacles—of the Kraken knew was its roar, and the reek of a thousand rotting corpses. Combine that with the indubitable pain of being eaten by a creature as huge as the Kraken is... the less of that nightmare that Jack had to endure, the better. Though, if he's in a purgatory of sorts now, however much pain he felt in a comparatively brief moment matters far less.

"What about coming back to life?" She asks, hesitantly. "What's that like?"

"Painful," Barbossa says, bluntly. "If ye've not done something for a year, and someone forces ye to do it again without warning, it takes some gettin' used to." Presumably, he would have still had the bullet wound, too, Cecilia muses. "Again, it may well be different for Jack," he continues. "I'd recommend neither, admittedly."

Once more, they fall into thoughtful silence.

"Jack killed you," Cecilia begins after a while, again hesitant.

"Aye."

"Are you... angry with him for it?"

Barbossa considers this with his head tilted slightly. The monkey jumps down to his shoulder, and he pets it absentmindedly. "Pirates always have enemies, I imagine it would have happened eventually, but at Sparrow's hand..." He scowls. "If he wasn't so necessary to the Brethren Court, I'd be content to leave him to his well-deserved fate."

Though Cecilia disagrees profoundly with well-deserved, she doesn't protest, only frowns slightly. From Barbossa's point of view, what happened to Jack must certainly seem that way—an eye for an eye, almost. But then again...

"You wronged him first," she points out. Barbossa's expression hardens, his scowl deepening. "The mutiny." She pauses, watching with some satisfaction as a muscle in his jaw ticks in irritation. "Respect for the captain is essential in a first mate, you must have respected Jack once?"

"I did."

"What changed?"

Barbossa shrugs. "He was too... lenient. Lot of the men, meself included, found it distasteful at the best of times, detestable at the worst. He's stubborn, ye know this. T'was easier to get rid of him than try to change his ways."

"I'd argue empathy is a positive trait," Cecilia says, frowning.

"Oh, really?" He raises his eyebrows, turning to her. Uncannily, the monkey does the same beside him. "Yer little display the other day says otherwise."

She glances away, looking out at the water again. Several days prior, there had been an attack on their ship by a lone Navy vessel. Under the cover of darkness, the ship had managed to sneak up on the Unsuited, ambushing them when close enough. The Unsuited lacks the speed capabilities that the Black Pearl had, making escape impossible. They turned to fight, unwilling to be caught and hanged, not when so much was at stake. Cecilia had been... ruthless, in retrospect. She tries to avoid killing, as a general rule, much like Jack, but that day more than a few EIC soldiers lost their lives to Cecilia's sword. She didn't feel guilty about it, and she still doesn't, not really. Ashamed, perhaps, by her loss of control, fuelled as she was by her anger at Beckett and Norrington and Davy Jones and by her persistent grief, but not guilty. She paid for the harm she caused though, in a way, as one man had succeeded in catching her in the side with his blade before she ran him through. Gibbs had patched her up; it hurts only sporadically now, and when it does the pain is a welcome distraction from everything else.

"How is it?" Barbossa asks flatly, nodding to Cecilia's side.

"Fine."

"It'd better be. If somethin' were to happen to ye in the time it takes to get Jack back, I've no doubt he'd follow ye straight back into death, Brethren Court be damned."

Cecilia almost laughs, shaking her head. Jack is—was—a survivor. "He carried on before, thinking I was dead. He could do it again."

"Who's to say the second time wouldn't send 'im over the edge?" Again, there's something shrewd in Barbossa's gaze. Cecilia wonders what exactly Jack told him about their separation, at the time.

"If that were the case," Cecilia says slowly, unnerved by Barbossa's apparent certainty that Jack would throw himself back into the death that he had just escaped from if it meant he didn't have to live without her, "then he would hand over his Piece of Eight beforehand. He's a good man," she protests in response to Barbossa's raised eyebrow.

"And he paid a price for it. Paid the price for it time and time again."

"You said it yourself, he's stubborn."

"Ye keep talking about him as if he's still here."

"So did you," she points out. When Barbossa doesn't say anything, she continues, "We're going to get him back. There's no point in getting used to the past tense."

"Ye trust I know what I'm doing, then?" He's referring, no doubt, to the incessant questioning he had received, not juts from Cecilia, about their plan to get Jack back in Tia Dalma's hut.

"Yes. I trust that you'll get us to World's End, and that we'll get Jack back. I don't trust you, though."

He laughs, the short sound sharp in the night air. "That's wise. I don't trust you either."

"Why not?"

"I watched ye run a man through the other day. Though I'm undoubtedly the better swordsman—"

Cecilia rolls her eyes.

"I don't doubt ye could hold yer own if we were to fight." Is that respect that she can hear in Barbossa's tone, buried deep beneath bravado?

"Well, you're safe for now. Getting Jack back is my priority, and, like you say, we need you for that."

He nods.

"And..." she continues, "I do respect you somewhat, I can admit that. I know there aren't many men who would go to the ends of the Earth and beyond for Jack Sparrow, no matter your motives."

Barbossa looks faintly surprised, turning to look at her fully for the first time since he came over. After a moment he nods, turning back to the sea. Cecilia also looks out over the dark water. The beginnings of dawn are turning the horizon lighter by the minute. She feels exhausted, suddenly.

A crunch from beside her makes Cecilia jump, and she turns to see a shiny green apple in Barbossa's hand, the flesh inside starkly white in the fading moonlight. He notices her looking, and after a moment's consideration, offers the apple to her.

Surprised, Cecilia takes it. "Thank you." The words mean more than just the apple, and she hopes he knows it. The fruit is crisp when she bites into it, tart and yet refreshing. She hands it back to Barbossa, who takes it and continues eating as if nothing were out of the ordinary about that interaction.

After a little while longer Barbossa discards the apple core over the side of the ship, and without a backward glance at Cecilia, walks away in the direction of the helm, the monkey chattering on his shoulder.

Cecilia shakes her head with a bemused smile, watching the apple core bob up and down in the waves. Strange though Barbossa may be, their conversation succeeded in making her feel less hopeless. Not only about finding Jack, though his certainty that they will definitely helps, but about the state of the crew, too. If Cecilia can strike up an understanding of sorts with Barbossa—who, based on Elizabeth's tales of him, had seemed the very antithesis to everything Cecilia values—then surely it's only a matter of time before the other strained relationships on the ship ease up a little, regardless of the odyssey that she suspects lies ahead of them.

After all, they have a chance.