Will Turner was far from amused. What was she thinking, trying to pretend like nothing happened? He drug her into the blacksmith shop and locked the door.
"Will, I don't know what you're so upset about. It is making me nervous-"
"Nervous?" Will asked throwing her arm down at her side. "That's it? Well, I am well beyond just nervous. Something happened to you and I want to know what."
"Well, I would like to know too, because I don't know what you're talking about." She sighed, and suddenly winced in pain.
Will jumped towards her, gripping her shoulders with both hands in case she was going to fall again. She gripped the back of her head with the palm of her hand.
"You must have bruised your head when you fell," Will told her, smoothing her hair down gently.
"I'm fine," she said slightly out of breath. "I just need to sit down is all."
Will led her to the only chair, and waited until she was seated before letting her go. "How hard did I fall?" She asked, trying to massage her skull.
"Hard enough to drag me down with you," Will said quite seriously. Elizabeth smirked.
"We're probably worried about nothing, just the excitement of the last few weeks catching up to me is all."
Will reluctantly nodded. Perhaps that was all. Throughout the whole ordeal she never broke. It was the stress.
He forced himself to believe he wasn't trying to convince himself.
*At Tortuga*
Anamaria couldn't remember why she hadn't left the rock of Tortuga earlier than she had. Oh wait, yes she did. The damned Captain Jack stole her boat. It had taken her years to wrestle up enough money playing cards and such to buy that boat. She guessed it was ironic that again, her leaving depended on him.
She could steal the Pearl. But the crew…how loyal would they be? The lot of them trusted Jack and liked him more than not. She had to admit, it was hard to hate the scalawag.
She snapped back to the table. She had nothing at all in the means of a poker hand. Though the Queen of Spades had been her saving grace in previous years, being the highest card in this particular hand wasn't the most encouraging of aspects. She threw her two of hearts and five of clubs face down on the table.
The other four grit-faced mucks were watching their own hands, scheming away. She had played with two before, and they had no doubt remembered her as soon as she arrived. The two and their other friends had flanked her immediately and wanted a reimbursement for the money she had "stolen." Rather than being beaten to a bloody pulp, she agreed to their little game.
The dealer, the fat man with multiple mud crusted chins, gave her two other cards.
Damn. Another two and five, diamonds and spades this time. Anamaria glanced up at her competition. The one directly to her left had nothing at all, his face gave it all away. The one left of that had something small; a pair, three of a kind tops. The others she hadn't played with before, and had no way of reading their odd expressions, though the fact that one folded helped her odds. She kept her eyes blank and her face slack.
A two, a five, an eight, nine and queen. Worthless luck. She threw two shillings in. The direct left folded immediately, the next met and rose the pot two additional shillings. The last pig met the raise. Anamaria rose three more. The one to her right folded.
A one on one, now. The left man (was his name Duke?) met her three and rose three more.
It would be foolish to glance at her hand again. He would know that she didn't have a thing if she looked. She threw in eight more shillings, watching him blankly the entire time.
They just stared for a minute and a half. She could see his mind working. The pot was high now. A good thirty shillings or more, Anamaria really wasn't counting. Another minute.
Finally, Duke huffed and scowled, throwing down his hand. Anamaria smirked and gently laid her god forsaken winning hand face down on the table. She reached for the shillings.
"Not so fast, gypsy," one of the newcomers told her, his hand suddenly around her wrist. "Your voodo witch craft may work in other ports but not here." He flipped her five cards over and glared.
"Devils work…" One man muttered. Another drew a sword.
Behind the pig faced dealer, Anamaria saw a familiar figure…or what she thought to be a familiar figure. The man looked like Jack. There was only one pirate who dressed like that, but instead of usual Jack fashion the figure walked stiffly and upright. Stalking and yet floating to the front door. What the devil…
"Witch!" The yells were increasing by the second.
"You think that only a man can bluff a hand such as that. Believe me I have won with worse hands. I can assure you of that." She drew her own weapon; a small dagger to be sure, but it was enough to draw attention. The hand that was still locked hovering over the pot was ignored, slowly scooping up coins, letting them slip down Anamaria's sleeve. Five…
"You want to dispute my win, or are you all just bluffing?" She asked them. Ten…
"You're not walking away with our money."
Fifteen.
"Fine…" Eighteen…nineteen, no that was two, twenty. Happy that she was walking away with what she came with, Anamaria pulled her hand away from the still heaping pot. "Consider this a gift," she told them and turned away. They remained scowling but let her leave without incident. Once she was within the safety of the darkened streets she hustled in what seemed to be the direction Jack was heading, slipping her shillings back into her money pouch.
Just when she was about to give up her chase, she found him. He had gone back to the docks, but instead of boarding the Pearl he passed the ship, following the docks west until it seemed as if he was willing to walk right into the sea.
"Jack!" She hollered at him. He didn't turn around. Blasted Drunk. "Jack!" Holding her sleeve closed, she began to jog towards him. He didn't stop walking. What was wrong with him? "Ay, Sparrow!"
Splash.
She jumped into a sprint, running until she had reached him. He was struggling to tread water. He finally grasped the dock.
"That will teach ya, eh Sparrow?" She said laughing, Pulling out the rest of her shillings and stuffing them into her pouch.
"What the bloody hell happened?" He asked once her had drug himself back up.
"You let your drunk mind wander too far off and decided you were god enough to walk on water."
"No, no, no." He told her. His mouth hung open and he blinked his eyes against the sting of the salty water. "I wasn't past my first pint of rum…nest thing I know…I'm drowning."
Shaking her head at him, Anamaria shoved him in the direction of the Pearl. Idiot. She started after him. A bit of cold metal brushed up against her arm. Stopping in her tracks, she fished around in her sleeve. She didn't think she had missed one…
When she felt it's uneven edge…its unusual size…she scooped it up and brought it out. Even in the dark of night she knew what it was. A chain hung from a hole drilled into the gold coin. Her jaw dropped and her blood chilled. No…
She tightened her grip around it. No one will ever know, she thought when she hurled it into the water. She forced her breathing back to normal, and turned back around.
The shock wave that followed made her heart skip a beat but she didn't let herself stop walking away. She rushed to the ship and stayed below deck, until it was time to leave. She refused to believe the curse of the Aztec gold had rose again…and she would be damned if she let herself be stuck in the middle of a war again. But then again, she would be damned either way.
