Upon A Painted Ocean

"....I swear on... everything that I held dear so long ago... on their graves.... on *her* grave."

Vann kept silent for a few more seconds before shouted towards one of his men. "Fetch the priest!"

The ensuring silence afterward was nerve-wrecking and stretched out almost infinitely. No one said anything. Vann kept his hold on Jack with gleeful possessiveness, and Will kept his glaring unwavering.

After what felt like hours, the priest tumbled through the bushes toward them. Cane's presence seemed to agitate Will, who had redirected his glare toward the approaching priest. Cane saw Will and did a double take. Surprise smeared around that wrinkled face. Then the priest turned toward Cane and screeched with impatience.

"What do you want?!"

Vann didn't reply. Without sparing a single glance toward the priest, the pirate calmly drew out his pistol and shot Cane with uncanny precision.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

chapter 22
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was time like this, that she wished she had legs.

Tisha sighed softly against the steel chain which she had her left arm around, and stared into the horizon with dull eyes. Disappointment was swelling inside her chest. Will had gone to shore with that funny man who wore the black eyeliner, before she could steal more than a few glimpses.

The exhausting journey had taken a lot out of her. It wasn't easy chasing after a ship with both sails and oars. It was even harder tailing after the infamous Black Pearl. Tisha's favorite pastime was spying on passing vessels and she had heard about the ship's reputation of being the fastest in the Caribbean.

It wasn't all fabricated after all, she groaned internally.

Well, she mused in an attempt to lift her grumpy mood, at least that stupid demon, who shall remain unnamed, was gone as well. She didn't think that she could keep her temper in check if that ugly face smirked at her one more time. Just what crime did she commit in a previous life, to earn her the pleasure of such pestering and intolerable company.

Not a previous life, she reminded herself, it was probably what she did in this one. Mermaids didn't have souls, thus could not reincarnate. When they die, they were just... gone. Puff, without a trace.

Her kind were born from pearls; it would take them thousands of years to mature and emerge from the white shells, but their life spans were very short compared to other magical creatures. A few hundred years, never more than a thousand. It had always occurred to her how ironic it was, a fraction of the millennia of being bred inside the darkness. To wait that long, only to live for a little while and disappear as if one had never exited. Their ranking was growing thin with each progressive century. She hadn't met another mermaid since her mentor vanished in a string of bubbles.

The memory stirred up the uneasiness within her. Absently, Tisha caressed the shell that held part of her hair back. Her finger tip slide pass the smooth curve toward the sharp tip. She had carved the white shell and made it into a hair clip of sort. It was the only thing that she had gotten out of that whole infuriating ordeal in Tortuga.

They were going to die out, she had realized that a long time ago. Just like the fairies, and the nymphs, and the sirens, and all the others. People would soon forget them and brush their presence aside as nothing more than fair tales. There was a strange comfort in being forgotten. If one didn't exist, then gone was all the worries of mortality, or immortality, whatever suited the case.

It wouldn't have unsettled her if her mentor had never told her the story of another little mermaid, who had striven for more. A soul born from the love of a human heart, was what she had been told. She blamed her restlessness on the story, because now she didn't think that she could ever be satisfied with just fading away to nothing.

She believed in true love, or at least, she wanted to believe in true love. When she first saw Will, it was like a splash of warmth had been injected into her body. Will, who was so handsome, with brown eyes so warm and entrancing, that they bewitched her more effective than any siren's songs. The ocean could be very cold, and she had been alone for so long. She always figured that love was a spontaneous kind of thing, that both parties would just know and click as soon as their eyes met. In reality, it was a lot more work than she previously thought.

It just wasn't fair. Just what did that girl have that she didn't? Beside the obvious, of course. She thought that she was rather pretty, even by mermaid standard. She also had experience and wisdom, of some sort. She could sing beautifully and swim really fast. If there was a sea witch, she would also have gladly trade her voice for a pair of legs.

It really wasn't fair. But speaking of Elizabeth. That girl had been acting oddly ever since the Black Pearl dropped anchor. The ship was surprisingly deserted, the weird looking captain had taken most of the crew to the island, leaving just a few watchmehindhind. Not a smart decision, but then again, she reasoned that the pirate ship's notorious reputation should be able to keep all the other ships at bay.

She climbed via the iron chain of the anchor and propped herself up. The top of her head could barely reached the rails and she peeked through the gaps between the wooden bars. The top deck was completely empty, and all of the doors seemed to be shut tight.

There was some kind of pounding and shouting from belhe dhe deck, but she couldn't make out the muffled words. Elizabeth was standing by the other side and waving her hands around. That was when Tisha finally noticed the white sails approaching them. She gasped and her grips loosened.

//Damnit, I need to stop doing that.// She thought as she hit the water.

When her head broke through the surface again, the Black Pearl was already boarded with men in red uniforms. She pressed her ears against the side of the ship, noises vibrated and traveled through the wooden boards. Elizabeth was conversing with some man, there were also a few curses from the remaining pirates and the sound of metal hitting flesh.

She swallowed. This was not good. She had to warn Will, but there was no way that she could get far on the land. A couple of long boats were lowed into the water from the other ship, she ducked under the sea in a haste.

If she couldn't warn Will, she would just have to make sure the other ship wouldn't be in the shape to do any pursuing or fighting, once Will came back. With that decision made, she dived deeper and began swim towards the other ship.

~~~*~~~

The almost deafening gunshot was followed by stark silence.

He thought that he had screamed, but what came out of his mouth was a strangled gasp. His chest was burning. His knees hit the ground, body folded, reeling from the agony that flooded over all his senses. A body crouched in front of him, hands pulled at him and a resounding voice boomed into his ears.

"Will!"

Jack's voice was the only beacon in the falling darkness, and he held on to it with teeth and nails. Icy coldness was spreading from where the fire was, sinking slowly into his toes like winter morning air.

"C, cold." He stuttered out.

Strong arms crossed over his waist, lifted him slightly until his cheek was pressing against warm skin. He breathed out against the curtain of black hair, and nuzzled into the junction connecting neck and shoulder. It was warm there. It was always warm there.

"Shhhhh....it's all right, Will."

The calming voice washed over him. His eyes fluttered open and met dark orbs. He never realized before, but Jack's eyes weren't all black. It was mixed with all shades of brown and gold, dark like the starless night sky, yet clear like a pool of spring water with shifting rocks at the bottom. A roughen thumb caressed his cheek softly, he shivered and almost purred against the sensation.

Too soon, the touch left him. Jack was staring at some point above. The pirate's gaze smoldered, the quite seething was threatening to become a blaze.

"What did you do?" Jack demanded in a harsh tone.

"I cured the boy, like I promised." Vann was unfazed.

Will shuddered, then turned his head slight and was instantly paralyzed by the sight before him. Vann was lying face up, eyes opened yet unseeing, mouth parted like some autumn leaves. The sand around the body was coated in blood, dark and rapidly drying.

"Cure? By killing the priest? How?!"

"He cast the spell. Most curses can be broken by killing the caster."

Jack's arms tightened around him. He could feel the tense of muscle beneath his fingertips and the thundering of heart beside his ears.

"What's happening to Will then?"

"The boy is mere feeling the... after shock."

His breathing had eased from the frenzied panting to a more moderate level. The burning was slowly subsiding, heralded the ending of the pain and confirmed the truthfulness of Vann's words. Was it over? The wilting agony stripped away the despair fenced around him and granted him new hope among the oppressing bleakness.

However, his relief was short lived, because in the next instant, Vann had ripped away Jack's grip on him and hurled the pirate upward. Jack hit the other man's chest with a muffled gasp, eyes shut by the impact, then opened into another glare.

He almost cried out at the lost of that warmth, the coldness crept through his spine once again. It was close to sundown, the sky was getting darker as the daylight was chased away by dusk. A strong wind blow almost brutally from the ocean, and carried with it the dampness and chilliness of a gathering storm. He shivered against the ever-changing weather; he didn't want to be cold again.

"Remember what you promised me."

The referral to their bargain earlier brought a pang of misery and guilty to his heart. Why was he always so useless? Why could he never do anything right? Why did he always need rescuing? It just wasn't fair. Was he not strong enough? Would he never be strong enough?

Vann's voice was no more than a whisper, but Will had caught each words as if they were shouted right at him. Jack stood aloof, not a measure of theate'ate's usual clownish self could be detected. The dreadful atmosphere was articulated by the stalling air, which felt hampered down even under the open sky, and intensified by the waiting silence.

"I'll keep my word."

That serious tone was unnerving. He ruminated over this situation. This wasn't like the encounters with Barbossa, with Jack bound, held at gunpoint and secretly in control the whole time. For whatever reason that Jack felt compelled to honour his words, Will knew that this time he couldn't expect the pirate to pull another rabbit out of his hat and miraculously save the day.

"Will."

Jack was looking at him now, pleading one last time for him to return to his senses. He met that discerning gaze head on, clenched his jaws shut and held his chin high. Suddenly Jack's head was turned forcibly by Vann, whose hand was clamping beneath the black locks, and evidently wanted to be the object of the pirate's undivided attention.

"I take it the boy will be coming as well?"

"Yes."

"You are pushing it, little one."

"He is going to come with me, whether ye allow it or not."

"I can still kill him." Vann smiled sardonically.

"True, and I will die with him."

Vann seemed to be considered that, and then deemed the declaration to be genuine. Long fingers skimmed passed the coastline of the tanned jaw, and skated down toward the dip between the end of the neck and shoulder with scarcely any force.

Almost tenderly, Vann whispered, "would I ever inspire such devotion from you?"

"Neither in this life time nor the next."

"Is that so... I will have to settle for what I can get then."

With that said, the man swoop down and covered Jack's mouth in a bruising kiss. Jack's arms were scissored behind his back, and immobilized by a large hand. The pirate's eyes were open, lips pressed tightly together, refusing entrance to that probing tongue. Vann glanced toward Will for a fraction of a second. Furious emerald eye peered at him under the screen of dark bangs, piercing and.... what?

Warning? Challenging? Paroling his ownership to the world? Will almost laughed out aloud. There was nothing, no kiss, no mark, and no insignia, which could brand Jack as the property of anyone. To Will, Jack would always be the epitome of freedom, the eagle which soared high above the sky. He didn't believe that he would have the strength to keep up, but perhaps, just perhaps that Jack would be willing to fold his wings, to rest, even just occasionally, against Will.

Jack had said that he loved Will after all. Their mutual admissions earlier was instantly inflaming and their intensity would be forever etched in his memory. Heat raised in his cheeks, yet he felt calmed somehow. The raging jealousy gnawing at his intestine was quenched by that sweet remembrance. Jack loved him. Him. If they were anywhere but here, he would probably be jumping up and down while giggling like a schoolgirl.

A hard shove from Jack finalloke oke that intimate contact. Jack, enraged, scrapped his mouth with the back of one sleeve furiously, while Vann licked his bottom lip, eyes half lidded as if savoring the taste. An angry, and almost primal growl was spurring from the back of his throat, at the superior look Vann cast him. He had never wanted to kill someone so much in his entire life.

Vann paid him no mind, instead shouted toward some of his men. "You lot, escort the rest of them back to their boats." A pause and a crack of head, like the man was listening to something in the wind. "Take the other route, we are expecting company."

The next sentence was directed toward Gibbs and Anamarie, who both gave the man extremely dirty looks, "Stay away from the island here fore, if you wish to live."

Then Vann began steering Jack away, and crooned softly. "Come. There is something I wanted to show you."

Will almost panicked, he wasn't going to let Jack out of his sight. A couple of Vann's men stooped over him, and motioned for him to get up. His legs stumbled a little, and he struggled to stand in order to follow Jack.

The cool length of steel, which pressed against the inside of his wrist, caught his attention as he braced both palms against the sandy ground. His eyes narrowed. That's right, he still had Zeke's dagger.

The ghost of a smirk flicked across his eyes, and he glared at that bulky form which shadowed Jack's every step. If those hands wouldn't remove themselves, he would just have to remove them himself.

~~~*~~~

The hideout for the most vicious pirate gang in the Caribbean wasn't as impressive as he'd thought. He was half expecting something like Isle de Muerta, with its skull shaped mountain, roaring of the volcanoes and the general foreboding sense that a pirate island should project. He suspected that Elizabeth's tendency to romanticize the pirates was beginning to rub off on him.

Isle de Aves, in all senses, appeared to be better suited as a vacation resort for the wealthy and the privileged. The island consisted of mostly white sands, the stone caves to the north and a small stretch of tropical forest, that inconveniently obscured the southern part of island from the view.

A muddy hill rose from the center of the greenish vegetarians, he could distinctly make out small trails of smoke. It didn't look intimidating at all, in fact, it looked more like a mound. For this, he was grateful. He adjusted the bandages around his neck with irritation, he didn't think that he was in the condition to hike up any kind of steep slope.

They had followed the same track from the beach all the way to this cave. Elizabeth was half running most of the time, while he tagged behind her pensively along with the rest of the soldiers he'd brought. The footprints were muddled and distorted all around and some way inside the caves. There must had been some kind of commotion.

He watched her lithe form search the caves frenetically, locks of dark blond hair swing wildly around her with each twisted of her head. They had both been shocked when they found the body of Cane, for the man was well known through out both Britain and her colonies. Elizabeth, usually being the first one to recover and spring back from peril, was now foamed with worry. He shook his head tiredly, his mood was subdued and his posture docile.

This was the most exercise he has had in the last couple of days. The doctor had strictly ordered him to be confined to the bed, and had enlisted the help of his first officer to enforce the order. But being the highest-ranking officer on the ship did have its advantages, he'd simply given Gillette a stern glare, which had effectively silenced any protest from the lieutenant's mouth.

Frankly, he did not understand what had made him agreed to help her. He really didn't give a damn about the blacksmith, other than the occasional pinch in his chest, which reminded him of the grudge between them. He had more or less accepted the fact that Elizabeth would never be his. His actions in Tortuga were a last attempt at convincing himself otherwise, and Elizabeth's reaction had diminished his hope wholly. If young Mr. Turner was what she wanted, then he would just have to respect her decision.

Yet he still found himself yielding to her whim. He was accustomed to spoiling her and old habits died hard. Although it was still inexcusable to put his career, and not to mention the lives of his men in jeopardy for his own personal cause.

He was disturbed further by the fact that all his uncertainty and dread were suffered over his archenemy, or someone resembled his archenemy. The Black Pearl was the last true pirate ship in the Caribbean, the rest he had send down to the bottom of the sea without much trouble. The brotherhood of then hawks paled in comparison, they were nothing more than contract killers. Norrington would be more than happy to see all of them hanged and would jump at the first opportunity to bring them to justice, even though this time his motivation had been anything but pure and just.

As for Jack Sparrow, most of the times, he didn't know what to make of the rogue pirate. He had secretly admired the man's clever strategy when the pirate had commandeered the Interceptor, although the admiration came with no small amount of fury towards both the pirate and himself. Nevertheless, he wholeheartedly wished that whatever trouble the infamous Jack Sparrow had got himself into this time, it would finally finish the pirate off, or at the very least incapacitate the man from any more criminal activities. And if both parties of pirates ended up killing each other, well, he wasn't going to complain.

"There is someone in there!"

His attention was drawn back by Elizabeth's excited exclaim. She tilted her head and waved him toward her.

He obliged and took a few step forward until a most horrid sound reached him. He hastily covered his ears, but the wailing like clattering slipped between his fingers and drummed painfully into his mind. It was like the cry of a Banshee, or what he would image a Banshee would sounded like. The racket was getting louder and vibrated through more violently, the closer he was to her.

It was a warning, he realized dimly. He didn't know how he knew. It was a deep down intuition inside his guts, some kind of instinct, unquestionable and came naturally to him like breathing. He raised his face toward her.

"Elizabeth! Get away from there!"

She hesitated, unsure by his distress. The air behind her flowed in a circular spiral and reformed into some kind of silvery solid substances. A silver spike thrust from behind her, and missed her left cheek by no more than a inch. She turned and gasped. Her confused expression melted away to be replaced by fear.

She dodged swiftly, but not in time to avoid the silvery tendrils that rushed at her. She hissed in pain, while blood dripped down from the vertical slash on her left shoulder. He rushed to her side and pulled her behind him. The soldiers around them yelled in panic.

"What? What was that?"

She was shaking. He inspected the wound carefully. It looked worse than it actually was. The cut was very shallow, and managed to avoid any main veins. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her.

"It's all right, Elizabeth."

"What was that?"

"I don't think I want to know."

He really didn't want to know, but his curiosity was peeked regardless. When he was dragging her out of harm's way, the spikes had touched him also. Instead of delivered pain, they had simply brushed off his clothes with a feathprespressure.

He looked around, his soldiers were scurrying around like mindless rats. He sighed. The qualities of men nowadays were simply not as upstanding as they used to be.

"Calm Down!" He commanded.

His voice was quiet, but it carried a unbreakable authority that instantly simmered down the chaos around him. The soldiers quickly composed themselves and rearranged into a linear group in front of him. At least they were good at following orders, he thought solemnly.

"Stay here, Elizabeth."

He drew out his sword and held it in front of him. Whatever had attacked Elizabeth had disappeared and the small cave looked as normal as any other. He paused a short distance before the ence,nce, and extended his sword arm. The steel blade encountered no resistance whatsoever. He took a small step forward and tested the empty space with a wave of his sword. Still nothing. He went closer. Then the sound returned. However, instead of the random chirping he had heard, it was softer this time around.

"Did you hear that?" He glanced back.

Blank faces answered him. Was he the only one who could hear it, he wondered.

It was almost like... a song, some long forgotten melody. Something stirred inside of him, a hidden feeling or perhaps a flash of memory, wafted up from the deepest corner of his soul. The soft humming was like an ancient ballad, whispered the secrets between grains of sands inside the hourglass.

A little girl's voice, laughing, crying, calling out.

*** I wanted to be forgotten.***

His poise faltered, but he caught himself at the last moment and stood straighter. He blinked and narrowed his eyes against the bright interior of the cave. He had walked inside without any conscious knowledge.

"Commodore! Commodore!"

Elizabeth was standing on tiptoes, and a safe distance from the entrance. He looked down on the limp body before him, and back toward her. He could still see tiny straits of silver, lurking around the edges of the rock walls.

He shouted back at her, "stay there!"

He jabbed the redhead with the tip of his boot. No reaction. He tried again, this time with the hilt of his sword, and harder. Still nothing.

He kneeled down and turned the boy slightly toward the light. Then he touched the pale neck with two fingers. There was a pulse, faint and unnaturally slow. The boy's face was smooth and cool like marble. It was the same pirate from Tortuga, the one who had impersonated Jack Sparrow, the one who tricked him into defeat, and the one who mocked him mercilessly.

The one who gave him those wounds, that were refusing to heal.

"Zeke!"

Elizabeth yelled. She had caught the boy's face when he turned those bony shoulders.

"Zeke? Yes, this is the one I met in Tortuga."

Norrington replied flatly. His right hand hovered above the youth lying on the ground, clenched and unclenched almost reflexively, as if fighting for some invisible control. He didn't know whether he was going to pick the boy up or just strangle him on the spot. He didn't even knew why he was having this internal debate with himself. The boy was a pirate, an occupation that guaranteed a death sentence under any flags.

He poked the boy hard on the shoulder. The prone form did not even twitch. He looked around the small cave distractedly. There were some sorts of reddish glimmerings scattered around on the ground.

He bend down and picked up a small piece of ruby beside him. The glowing faded as soon as his skin made contact with its smooth surface, but the gem was warm to his touch.

This was definitely not natural and getting increasingly weird. Hopefully it wouldn't turned out like the last time, when Jack Sparrow and several other supernatural occurrences were also involved. He could detect a headache in the making. Absent-mindedly he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Almost in a childish whine, he wished that all this strangeness would just disappear so that he could lay down and rest a little.

As if on cue, the rubies flashed brightly one last time and dimmed in the next instant.

He blinked owlishly. The cave had darkened when the luminous glow left it. Now it loomed over him like some monstrous jaws with its teeth like stone pillars hanged above, threatened to fall at any moment.

The air was clearer, like a mist had been lift. There was some kind of strange force radiating from the motionless boy beside him. It felt light weighted and heavily dark at the same time, and he could almost hear the steady pulsing of the other's heart like it was his own. It reminded him of their first encounter inside that dirty bar, when the youth had smirked down on him. It was the same sense of familiarity, the same sense of.... finality, like a long wait had came to an end.

"Commodore!"

Elizabeth's high-pitched squeak brought him out of his trance. He swirled around to meet her gaze, afraid that she was in danger.

"The barrier is gone!"

Indeed it was. The silver substance enclosed the entrance had somehow evaporated without a trace. Elizabeth bounced toward him with large strides, while his soldiers lingered behind with caution and tentativeness.

"Commodore?"

She kneeled down in front of him. He stared at her vacuously before realized that his hand was stoking something silky. He looked down, where his fingers had ended up between waves of soft red mane. He blinked and retracted back the hand as if he was burnt.

The boy stirred from his sudden movement, but did not awake. Elizabeth placed one palm gently on the boy's bac
"Z
"Zeke?"

There was no response.

"Zeke?"

"He's alive, just unconscious."

He signaled two soldiers forward, who then supported the boy from both sides.

"Elizabeth, you will go back to the Dauntless, along with the prisoner. Your wounded needed to be treated properly."

"But..."

"You will go back, and don't try to sneak out."

"I must defer, it is my fiancé that's..."

"I will find your fiancé.... along with his pirate friends, IF they are still alive."

"But, I want to..."

"That's enough, Elizabeth. You are hurt, and your presence here would only be a nuisance."

He knew it was harsh and unfair of him to dismiss her like that, she could more than hold her own. But the circumstances were pressing and they could not afford any diversions. He didn't want to admit it, but in his current condition, he was not sure whether he could fully protect her.

".... Fine." She nodded meekly.

He assigned a small group of soldiers to go with her. He wanted to utter a few words of consolation, but she had turned away from him. He sighed, but bid her a safe journey back nonetheless.

He watched the small group moved further and further away, then looked down on his left hand. The bandages were secured firmly around his wrist, white and clean. He bit down on his bottom lip against the undulating burning.

The crisp rustle of leaves displaced the silence brought on by the absence of Elizabeth's energetic presence. Nightfall was almost upon them and his men were still waiting obediently for his next instruction.

"Let's go." He ordered and led the way.

~~~*~~~

The last ray of twilight had sank into the horizon. The sky was dark, covered with rain clouds, gray and bleak. The seagulls shrieked loudly against the howling of the wind, as they glided together within small groups and prepared to return to their nests.

The sand and stones creaked noisily beneath her feet, the sound added to the already accelerated turmoil within her troubled mind. Guilt, doubt and regret were embedded deeper into her chest with each step.

The events within the last couple of hours fluttered across her vision, clear and accusing even when she shut her eyes. Elizabeth didn't knew what had possessed her to act so rashly. Tricked the watchmen and locked them into the lower deck. Sold out the Black Pearl to the navy and ranted out everything that she should have kept secret. All those irrational actions just in a pathetic attempt to get Jack away from Will.

She searched hard and deep for some plausible excuse to justified her actions. It was for love, she argued. She just wanted Will back, and everything returned to the way they were. She was the one who was wronged. She was the one whose finance had been snatched away by a pirate. No one should have expected her to just stand by and played the helpless victim.

She was simply... countering piracy with piracy. If Jack had stolen her beloved, then she would just have to repay the man by stealing what was most precious to him. Even if it was a crime, it was a crime of passion, thus should be pardoned.

But be pardoned by whom? Herself? Will? Jack? Or the pirates from the Black Pearl who were currently in the custody of the navy? It was useless, she realized. Her conscious would not allowed the matter to drop and the guilt to fade.

And what about what Will wanted? Didn't Will love her and want her? Hadn't they exchanged promises to stay faithful to one another? The sapphire ring on her middle finger was soon covered by a shaking palm. They were engaged! Engaged! Didn't that at least mean anything? At all?

It was true that after their adventure with Jack Sparrow, their passion for one another had cooled down somewhat. Other than a few stolen kisses and a few quick gropes within the dark, they had interacted more like friends. But Elizabeth had thought that it was because they had all matured, and their affection for each other had grown past the stage of childish infatuation, and settled into a more stable and everlasting state.

Was true love not often bred from friendship? Or had she been mistaken? She had always felt safe with Will around, safe and at home. With Will, she did not have to put up the guise of the perfect lady, and she could always just be free, to act however she liked, and be who she truly was. Will accepted her, all of her, the good alongside with all her flaws.

Will was such a treasure, noble, gentle and kind. And Will wanted Jack. She wasn't blind. She knew, perhaps had known all along. But it was never anything serious, and she had always just filed it away as a case of severe hero worshipping. After all, who wouldn't want Jack Sparrow? She herself was not immune to those deviously charming eyes. Jack was, however, never interested in her, those clumsy attempts when they were marooned together were clearly pretentious.

Jack hadn't been lying then, when the pirate told Norrington that he had been rooting for the commodore. The hero, or anti-hero in this case, didn't want the girl as a reward, but the girl's boyfriend. Well, wasn't that just peachy!

Even though it wasn't unheard of. Two men together. She had been very well read in all kind of pirate literature after all.

What did that leave her then? Abandoned? Discarded without a backward glance? She was never one to just idly accept her fate, so she had taken matters into her own hands, which led back to her currently conflicts. Was it too late? Had she already thrown everything away? Had her worst nightmare come true and become irreversible?

//You will be lucky if either of them ever talk to you again, much less trust you.//

They had cleared through the forest, and the beach spread in front of them like a blanket of sand. Elizabeth sighed, wasn't exactly looking forward to return to the Dauntless. But her shoulder ached and fatigue was gaining on her body.

A just punishment, she contemplated humorlessly. She watched as one of the soldiers shoved Zeke unceremoniously to the end of one of the boat, and felt guilt reared its ugly head once again.

She was lost, and no longer knew what to do or think.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


chapter 23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was marching between two pirates, both carried torches and walked at a much faster pace than Will would have liked. The flames danced rhythmically to the wind and illuminated the path before them with its sullenly glow. The sounds of birds and insects echoed through out the silhouettes of the fading trees.

Jack and Vann were walking ahead of them, with the taller man's hand still obsessively positioned at Jack's back. The rest of the pirates had disappeared somewhere along the way. Will had a fleeing suspicion that they were ordered to deal with the 'company', which Vann had mentioned earlier. He hoped that Gibbs and the others were all right, and were having better luck than he was.

He pulled at the ropes around his wrists, twisted them until they were two thirds of the way up his forearms. The rough material bit into his skin and cut off his circulation, he gritted his teeth quickly to muffle the hiss of pain.

With the way his hands were bound, he could not reach into the hidden hoist inside his sleeve and draw the dagger completely out. However, after some more discrete fumbling with the ropes and the positions of his hands, he managed to pry open the triangular pad that covered the leather hoist, and nudge the end of the dagger partially out of its constraints.

Keeping his hands in front of him and his arms absolutely still, he began to saw through the binds. Neither pirates detected his heedful attempts at freeing himself, since one's back was to him, and the other couldn't observe anything that was happening in front of him.

After another ten minutes or so, they arrived at the flat plane at the top of the slop. Between the green bushes, there stood an ordinary looking house. It was obviously newly constructed, he concluded from the cleanness of its exterior and the freshly sowed soil of its garden.

He watched as Jack's eyes widened with recognition and hope, then darkened with confusion shortly joined by grief and despair. Vann loomed over the pirate from behind and whispered something. Jack appeared unresponsive before he started to shake like a leaf in the storm. The normally lush and alluring lips had paled to almost bloodless white, and were trembling when Jack murmured something.

Jack was rocking slightly on the back of his heels, looked for all the worlds like a lost little boy, who had been cheated and lied to for too many times, until the ability to trust had deserted the weather worn heart. Like someone who didn't know whether to run toward or back away when shelter was finally delivered. His feet moved by their accord until a sharp tug from his guards reeled his concentration back.

Anger, sadness, confusion and so many other emotions were radiating from Jack in enormous waves. Each sentiment emulated against one another, until finally sorrow won over all. The bitter melancholy was clinging around Jack like a rain-soaked cloak. Its tenacious claws reached over the space separated them, enclosed around his throat, suffocating him and tearing his heart asunder. He couldn't stop the concern manifesting from not just Jack's despondent posture, but also his own lack of control of the situation. He hadn't felt this helpless since he watched Elizabeth and Jack walked the plank during that whole fiasco with Barbossa.

He couldn't care less about the personal vendettas and wagers between Jack and Vann. The only thing that mattered right now was having Jack restored back to his eccentric self and Vann removed from the picture, preferably shot, stabbed or whatever. He wasn't going to be picky about the method. He wanted to shout, to lash out and just do something as long as he could wash away this stench of powerlessness.

A sharp bolt of pain jolted him out of his depressed rumination, and he cursed before he could stop himself. Apparently he had misjudged the required force, as a particular hard shove of the dagger not only had cut through the ropes, but also buried its tip under his skin. The cut was small, but deep and slipped right along side his bones. Although the blade had missed the main veins, blood was still streaming freely from the open wound and trickling onto the ground. He looked down on his injured wrist, his gaze followed each droplets as they splashed onto the sandy ground like crimson flowers in full bloom.

The noise finally gained him the attention of one of the guards, who had stepped closer. He kept his head low, reached into his sleeve with the injured wrist and drew out the dagger.

"What th' hell's-"

He didn't let the pirate finished the question. With a quick upward thrust, he slashed the dagger toward the man's throat. He kept the horizontal motion going and steady against the resistance of the skin and flesh, until the silvery metal broke free and emerged from the other side of the neck.
The cutlass slid from the man's hand, and hit the ground with a dull sound. The man's mouth was opened in silence yelping, the slash on his neck was a gaping mess of tissues and blood. He jumped back just in time as the man fell forward and landed on the ground, twitched a couple of times and finally laid still.

There wasn't much time to plan his next course of action because the other guard had taken out his pistol and aimed toward him. He spun around and hacked the dagger down hard against the barrel of the pistol. It flew out of the man's hand without being fired. With his free hand, Will punched the other man in the stomach. The man doubled over in pain, and he seized the opportunity to sneak his other arm around the man's lowered neck, clamp down firmly and twist. With a barely audible crack, the man fell down to join his fellow on the ground.

Will paused slightly at the bodies on the ground and then inspected his ragged shirt ruined by blood. He was unfazed, which in itself unnerved him. He thought that he should at least felt some kind of remorse for killing those two men, but the adrenaline rush was still pumping fire into his veins. And after all that he had been through on this god forsaken island, he reckoned that it was safe to say that mercy was in very short supply.

Before his mind could reprimand himself for leaning toward cold blooded murder, his attention had already drifted back to the two people stood a short distance before him. Vann was still standing behind Jack, both seemed to be immersed in their own little world and didn't notice the riot that took place behind them. He could see that Jack was visibly flinching from the unwelcome touches.

With a barely suppressed cry, he threw himself at them.

~~~*~~~

He felt sick. The scenery had instantly captured him the moment he set his eyes on it, but it could not distract him from the unpleasant knot twisted within his stomach. It was only until Vann grabbed both his forearms from behind, did he realize that he was shaking.

"I've taken great pain to ensure that everything is exactly the same." Vann drawled beside his ear "everything, down to the very last detail."

Under the light of the torches, the house appeared to be the exact replicate as the one from his childhood. Its sturdy walls made of stacked whole logs and the waist-high fences consisted mainly of semi-fractured lumbers, were both painted white. The roof was covered with various type of materials, from palm tree leaves to pieces of pottery.

He remembered when he was young, the roof would often leak. He and the others had attempted to remedy the problem by using mud to fill the cracks. At that time, Jack had thought their solution to be rather ingenious, that was up until it rained. The problem with mud was that it tended to melt away, especially under storm, a tropical weather condition which the Caribbean liked to dish out more than frequently.

The yard enclosed by the fences was empty. It wasn't always so bare, Lan had planted roses there before. White roses, pale and pliant like her skin. She would take such great care of them, watering, trimming, sowing until they unfurled into the perfect blooms. He had been jealous once, that she had focused so much of her time on the thorny bushes. The air around the house was always tainted with the sweet fragrance of the roses, mixed with the saltiness of the sea.

He could still smell it. After all these years, as evident as if the flowers were still presented today. This couldn't be real. Deja vu. The deja vu of all deja vus. No. It was worse. A dream, an endless nightmare he could not awake from.

A palm was running uninvitingly up and down his side. He was still shaking so hard that his jaws were visibly trembling. He opened his mouth to speak. The sound that came out couldn't have been his, for it was so coarse and filled with a most uncharacteristic vulnerability.

"Why are ye doing this?"

Why was he being reminded of his failures, of everything that he had lost? Was this some new method to torture him, to break him, to shake him until his very foundation collapsed in shambles? Did he not have enough guilt and regret bottled inside him to last into the next life?

The grips on his arms tightened, and Vann's voice sounded surprised and almost hesitated. "I wanted to give you back what you have lost. You don't like it?"

He wanted to laugh, would have laughed if his throat wasn't so dry. What a joke this was! Give back what he had lost? When the very person who offered it was the one who took it from him in the first place. And people called him crazy.

"I should have listened to her and let ye drown."

"...but you didn't. You pulled me back when I sought death."

*** You have taken the choice from him, and in return you must give him a new purpose.***

Lan had told him to the the stranger go, to let the draft sink. She could tell when a man had lost all hope with nothing but feverish obsession to tie him to the world. She could always tell, and she was usually right. Your kindness was your greatest strength and your greatest weakness, she had looked sadly at him, and it would be the downfall of us all.

"Ye repaid me by killing every one that I cared about."

"I repaid you by severed all the chains which imprisoned you and set you free! You were capable of so much more. So much more than this island, than all of them could ever offer you!"

The world was spinning and he felt delirious. He opened his mouth and sucked in air like a starving man. Instead of soothing him and easing down the bile rising in his chest, each molecule seemed to be expanding, until they solidified and reached the size of fist, blocking the passage to his lung.

"Why couldn't you have come with me?! I would have taught you everything that you ever needed to know."

***Come with me.***

That single statement snapped him out of his trance. The man had asked him the same question once, that night when the roses were dipped in blood and the house before him burnt to ashes.

The house! He shuddered, the house was destroyed and nothing could ever replace it. The cottage in front of him was nothing but an poor imitation. The paints were fresh, its color undiluted, and its surface smooth without a single scratch. The nails mended the wooden boards together were silver in color, no trace of rust could be found. Everything was... new. That realization finally spoiled the haunting image for him.

"I wanted you to remember me. If you would not feel the same, then I would bore my place into your heart. Whether it was by pain or pleasure, I do not care!" Vann's voice had leveled to a whisper. "I will have you think of me, every second of your life."

"I hate you." He choked out.

That, at least was something he could hold on to. It was the anchor that grounded him, the hatred and resentment, which had taken roots in him for so long, and... Will. Just Will's presence calmed him somehow.

The blacksmith was near; he could touched the boy if he just reached out a little. He wanted to reach out, to clasp Will's hands in his own. But he couldn't, he couldn't afford to draw any more unwanted attention to the boy. He couldn't lose the only good thing in his life to another moment of weakness.

There was some kind of noises beside them, which garnered his attention for a split second. It sounded like voices. First Will's voice, then the loud clanking of metals. What was the boy doing?

Something rammed into them from behind, Vann's grips loosened by the impact and he wriggled out of the embrace instinctively. Someone was pulling at his arm and shouting urgently into his face. Will's brown eyes swam into view.

"Jack!"

Will was pressing something hard and sticky into his palm. Distinctly, he could register the shape of a knife, small, thin and slender.

Will's head suddenly swung up. The boy cursed and dived for the sword laying on the ground. There was movement behind him, his fingers grasped around the weapon before his brain could comprehend the action. The presence drew closer, and he remembered the soft giggling voice from his dreams.

*** Kill him and all your nightmares will end.***

In less than a heartbeat, he had swirled around and drove the dagger hard into Vann's chest.

~~~*~~~

Gibbs kicked the body on the ground a couple more times just for good measure. The peacefulness of the forest was spoiled by the heavy panting of the wounded and the heaving gasping of the dying. His still-shaking hands fumbled with the whisky bottle at his side, only to found it empty. A long string of curses ensured.

They had taken the brotherhood pirates by surprise and after a rather bloody battle, had neutralized the problem. All thanks to a couple of well-hidden weapons.

Interesting because pirates were known as brutes, and generally didn't rate very high in the strategy or the plan-ahead department. It must had been something like the latest fashion trend to have some kind of sharp object tucked away on one's person. Or the crews could just be taking after the cook, seeing as how Zeke always managed to whip out a dagger out of seemingly nowhere. Young people now days really didn't care much about honor, and he completely approved, at least when the end served the means.

"Are we going after th' captain." Anamarie asked while whipping her cutlass on several bodies to get rid of the blood stain.

"Course not. Ye heard what he said."

She stopped the cleaning job and took a menacing step forward. He jumped back immediately. Several of the others snickered. Heed ted them with a stern glare. He was a pirate, he argued internally, survival came first and the girl was known to pack a very mean slap.

"Coward." She spat out indignantly.

He agreed wholeheartedly. Why? See the part about the pirate and how survival came first.

"Remember th' code." He coaxed gently.

"Screw th' code," she replied, "Th' rest of you lot can all rot, but I am going! He's our captain an' I ain't leaving him behind again!"

With that said, she turned and stomped toward the way they came. The others looked at each other then back at him. He shrugged uncomfortably.

How came he always ended up as the acting captain. He thought that he had mentioned several time to Jack that he hated responsibility. It was really very frustrating being the only one with some common sense on the ship. When this was all over, he was going to ask Jack to get a new first mate. He hoped that Will would stay and take up the job. The only time that Jack seemed relatively sane was when the lad was around. Then he could finally get a life and retire to some nice little port.

The others were moving now, predictably, after Anamarie. He sighed and followed.

~~~*~~~

Will swung his cutlass forward and missed. Vann stumbled back, both hands covered his chest as the fabric underneath began to soaked with blood.

Jack stared down on his blood stained hands with something akin to fascination. The sensation of having the slicking substance coated his fingers was almost like a soft caress. Feathery light, yet cold and smooth like the skin of a snake, with a mind of its own as it dripped down onto and twisted around his forearms. The blood looked almost black under the torch light, while emitting an layer of yellowish shine, grotesque and beautiful at the same time.

The dagger was still clenched tightly in his fist. The thin piece of metal was vibrating, singing, crying out. No. Wait. Weapons didn't move by themselves. So it must be him then. He was the one who was shaking and thirsting for more.

But more of what? More blood? To sink the hard metal into flesh again, drove deep into the muscles until its edge encountered the bones that would blocked its path, and even then he would hack the obstacles into pieces? To watch the green eyes clouded by pain and the ageless face bathed in agony? To gloat in triumph and laugh hysterically until his vocal cord failed under the strain?

No.

He wanted none of it. What he wanted was to curl up in some dark corner and just.... not think about anything. Or Will. Yes, he wanted to curl up in some dark corner with Will against his chest, bury himself in the welcoming warmth until the world around them blanked out.

He looked up before his senses could be overwhelmed by the ominous clashing of feelings. Vann was laughing.... or was he choking? He couldn't really tell, with all the blood flowing from the man's mouth, stifling and altering every sound into the same monogamous gasp.

"Well done!" Vann snarled between groans of pain, "You still managed to surprise me after all this time."

Tiny rivulets of fear and excitement trailed down his spine. Beside him, Will threw one of the torches at Vann. It hit the man square in the chest, pushed him back further and brought Vann crashing into the wooden house.

Nothing moved for one instant. He shivered and time resumed its natural flow. Then fire erupted through the roof and dispersed onto everything else. Like forked tongues, the flame licked pass the walls, twirling around the fences until it crawled onto the bushes around.

He was rooted to the ground. This all looked so familiar. Every noises and every snapshots. The house was burning... again. The wooden beams crumbled under the stress and the nails yielded under the heat. Everything was shrieking, the house, the wind, the dirty beneath his feet....and Will. ....Will?!

"Jack!" Will yanked hard at his arms. "Come on. We have to get out of here!"

That's right. They had to get out before any more of Vann's lackeys come back, or before Vann could flip away the two tons of burning logs on him. But he wanted to stay, to stay and make sure the man was really dead. He was sure that he had stabbed Vann through the heart. Or had he? His mind was all clogged up, and the blade was kind of short. So maybe he should stay and wait until the fire died down, then he could dig through the rubble and....

"JACK!"

Will's shouting was quickly growing in volume. He didn't like the desperation in that voice; it was disheartened and he never wanted to hear it again. He shook his head to dislodge the bleary images and schooled his features into his usual languish expression as best as he could. He still wasn't in his normal frame of mind, but he could adapt until the shock finally left his system.

He stole one last glimpse at the house, prayed silently that it would kept on burning until there was nothing left. Nothing to remind him and allow him to finally lay rest the ghost of his past.

He took a hold of Will's hand and squeezed gently. "Let's get out of here."

~~~*~~~

He was paralyzed, the numbness had spread from his heart to his limbs. There was a loud rattling around him and the smoke was getting thicker by the minutes. Only one thought was reciting in his mind over and over. Jack had stabbed him... mostly likely with something magical, just because of the fact that he could actually feel the pain. He laughed, the notion quickly turned into another coughing fit.

It was getting colder, even though the fire was beginning to singe the tip of his boots. He reckoned that he must be dying. That realization was strangely comforting, it had been long overdue. Amidst all the chaos, he had found some small amount of peace with himself. He was, most definitely, going to hell. It was always assuring to know where one stands after all.

*** Love can not be forced. If it didn't belong to you, no matter what you do, it will never be yours.***

Funny how he was thinking about her now. He never even found out her name, people had became faceless to him for so long and their blood had all looked the same. He wanted to mellow alone, close his eyes and let his mind descend to the black abyss.

"Careless. I warned you about Ezekiel's dagger, did I not?"

Apparently being alone was too much to ask for. It wasn't an accusation more than an cynical statement of fact. He rationalized that he must had come cross as rather pathetic to warrant the use of such allusion like innuendo.

He craned his head a little toward the direction where the voice came from. The impetuous action brought a host of different sensations, ranging from plain devastating pain to the annoying pricking of burnt skin in contact with air.

She was floating in mid air and among the dancing flame, body inclined slightly forward and legs crossed seductively. The same lazy smirk hanged around the corner of her blood red lips. He moved his face back toward the ceiling; he didn't wanted her face to be the last thing he saw.

"It would appear that your prey had ran away again. Disappointing, really. All this time, I had such high hopes for you."

If she was trying to extract the last bit of rage from him, it wasn't working very well. He was far too gone to care now. He really wished that she would just shut up. It wasn't a outrageous request, was it, especially from a dying man. Then again God had never listened to him before, so he really shouldn't expect otherwise.

"Why are you still here?" He groaned out.

"To watch you suffer. You killed my pet, which means you own me some good entertainment."

Of course. That made sense.

"And where is your charge? .....all this time you was so absorbed in my affair...."

"Ezekiel is safely tucked away. No one here is powerful enough to destroy the barrier."

"....my little sparrow is very resourceful."

He would always refer to Jack as his, because as long as Jack held on to the past, the pirate would never break away from his influence. He would haunt the man, and his ghost would stalk Jack into the sleepless nights. The pirate would belong to him, even just in the forms of hollow echoes of memory and the white etchings of old scars.

"If Ezekiel had awakened, I will know. He will be cross, and there will be fireworks because things will get blow up."

If she was uncertain, her voice didn't show it. This would be one last game between them, and he would have the demon played by his rules.

"Are you sure now? My men had informed me of another ship..."

She was interested now, as she swooped down and hovered just above him. The fire brushed across her fair skin like feathers and only complimented her radiance. She was clearly expecting an answer, and he stared stoically ahead.

After an eerie and portentous stillness, she giggled. Then with great leisure, she inserted one well manicured finger into the wound on his chest, scratched all the way down and pulled it out before licked off the bloody tissues. He gritted his teeth, but did not allow the moan to escape his throat. Her manner was patient, but her action betrayed the underlined urgency

"Another ship?"

"Oh, yes. The British navy."

"The navy?!"

One clawed hand was grasping his throat, and squeezed with almost savage force. He really wanted to laugh, but his windpipe was cut off, and he could managed nothing more than the next slurred out word.

"Dauntless."

The violet eyes widened as her mind sorted out the implication of that name. Doubt and suspicion flashed across her face and he felt the wave of almost childish accomplishment washed over him with vehemence. That one moment of fulfilling bliss blinded his senses and he didn't notice the sudden increase of force around his neck.

A snap.

Then there was nothing more.

~~~*~~~

Jack had always questioned fate's highly unhinged sense of humor, and he had been proven right time and time again.

Will and he had marveled as they managed to avoid bumping into anymore Vann's men. They were almost at the bottom of the hill when they met up with Gibbs and the others. Things were looking very well, that was until the navy crushed the party uninvited.

The standoff had lasted a good five minutes now, either parties was willing to waiver first. He admitted that their relationship couldn't exactly be labeled amicable, but did the commodore really had to chose today of all days to exercise his animosity towards pirates.

"You are all under arrest, pirates."

Norrington looked to be on the verge of swooning, face white, eminently against the deep indigo of his uniform collar. The man's affliction must had not been as severe as Jack predicted, judging by the heated glares and the angry demands both directed in his way. If the commodore had energy to shout, the man probably wasn't that bad off.

"I think not."

"I don't care what you think! Surrender, you have nowhere else to go."

"We are in mutual enemy territory here, commodore."

"Yes, but I have your ship, Sparrow, and a good number of your crew."

"Captain! Captain Sparrow, and ye can't expect me to believe that."

"Believe what you will, *Sparrow*, but Miss. Swann was most helpful and I suggest you do the same."

That was not funny, he contemplated darkly. However since the commodore wasn't known to be joking about anything, it was probably true. Damn. The lass knew then. Hell really paled in comparison to a woman's wrath. It was nothing personal, but right now he really wished that Zeke had finished Norrington off in Tortuga.

Will fidget nervously beside him. Anamarie scowled, and several red coats scowled back. He was pondering whether to make a break for it before the ground between them exploded.

Chaos followed.

He ducked as a ball of fire scudded pass his head; he rolled a few feet and into a nearby bush. Will was gaping at the sky, as were many others. He cursed, yelled for the others to take cover and yanked the youth down and dragged him into the bushes.

After he finally managed to catch a breath, he started scanning for the source of the danger. And there was Ursella, stood on the blackened earth where the fire had burned away a deep hole. Flame kindled, entwined with traces of silver lightening and twisted around her left arm like a snake. Each trail of fire and sparks crowned by the next, layer upon layer, until another orb was configured. She released the sphere; people screamed, dodged and dived in different directions. Her eyes were glowing dangerously, and she chastised them in a mildly annoyed tone.

"You are not getting away. Come out, come out."

Pistol were fired and swords were hailed her way, but none could so much so as graze the tip of her hair. As soon as the weapons came within close proximity of her, bullets would just glide away in an arc and the blades would be deflected off by an invisible wall. It was like there was some kind of impalpable sphere protecting her.

"I know you are here. Come out! .....fine, I'll just kill every last one of you."

She was growing profoundly angrier and her targets seemed to be sorely focused on the navy personal. The incandescent flare she wielded was picking them off one by one.

Another explosion and the commodore joined them in the bushes with an ungraceful sprawl. Norrington coughed, shoulders heaved and supported himself with his sword.

"What in the name of the God is going on here?!"

Jack observed unhelpful and somewhat malevolently, "I think ye might be the one she's looking for. Ex-girlfriend?"

"Don't be absurd! I've never seen her before in my life."

From somewhere, Anamarie gasped in pain then swore loudly. Will tensed and made as if to sprinted out. He hooked one leg beneath the boy's feet. Will tripped and slumped back down against the ground.

"You stay HERE." Then he turned toward Norrington, "temporary truce, commodore?"

A pause, then "all right.... but you are still under arrest."

"Sure, sure. Now, you distract her, and I'll sneak up on her from behind."

Norrington groaned out an affirmative, clearly not liking the ideas of either cooperating with the pirates or being the bait. A fire ball skimmed just pass their hiding place, her laughter reverberated in the air, and discombobulated the screaming masses even more.

"Now." Jack whispered harshly.

Norrington leaped up, and ran in the opposite direction as soon as he landed on his feet. The sudden movement caught Ursella's rampaging attention; her gaze chased the commodore, along with an array of explosions.

Jack grabbed the first sharp object in sight, which happened to be the dagger Will gave him, and hurled the knife at her vulnerable back. She swirled around with inhuman speed just in time to caught the blade between two fingers.

With a rueful smirk, she tossed the dagger aside and raised her hand. A strong gust of wind, and the ground split right in front of him. Steam spurted from the crack and he hastily flipped back. He landed in a crouch just as her hand raised to wave again.

Then she stopped. Gasped and looked down, the tip of a sword was thrust from her chest. Her step staggered and Norrington pulled out the sword from her back. She turned around slowly and glared.

"YOU! Of course, it's you, no one else could do this!"

Both of her hands were covering the hole on her chest. Something resembled black oil was seeping from between her fingers, and small trail of it was dripping from her mouth and down her chin. Jack fathomed that it must be her blood. She took a swing with one clawed hand and Norrington reeled back immediately, sword still held high.

"You are not taking him away again. This isn't over! He will send others!"

The ground shook and caved in beneath her feet. She fell but hanged onto the edge of the hollow void at the last second. Crevices and fissures of various sizes decorated the area around the cavity. Arms like tendrils burst out and encircled her, wrenching at her tight grips and towing her down.

"NO!" She struggled harder, "No! I will not go back!"

In response, a hideous roar resounded deep from the hole and a shadowy cape enveloped her entire body. In the next second, the orifice opened wider and swallowed her. The rifts retracted back like tentacles, and the ground returned to its previous flattened state.

Jack blinked, stared down in awe. All was quite now, other than a few hitching and the sound of steel dragged against the sand. Will rushed toward him and engulfed him in a bear hug. He breathed deep in the boy's sweet scent and bathed in the silent companionship before disentangled himself and raising his face. Only to found a sword, smeared with demon blood, pointed just below his chin.

Norrington said tiredly, "Like I said, pirate. You are still under arrest."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~