Disclaimer: Rescind your claim, or it's the gallows for you, my dear.
A/N: Squirrel is mine, and, as of now, everything that happens is my fault. Later on, when the spoilers start creeping in, I shall be free of such responsibilities. Sort of.
Will sat in the boat, fingering a dagger, his eyes distant, as Pintel and Ragetti rowed the longboat back upstream. Bags of fruit lay around their feet. There'd been no further misadventures with leeches when the four of them had collected them. Some of the collected fruit had been sampled by the four of them, an impromptu breakfast for the journey back. Their hunger sated, they simply sat in silence. Squirrel sat beside Will, watching the glint of the dagger. She knew the cause for his distraction.
"We'll get your father back, Will."
Will looked at her. "What?"
"We'll get him back," Squirrel said, steadfast and sure. She looked to Will, her eyes holding his, no trace of doubt to be found. "We'll free your father."
Will just snorted, and looked down at his dagger. "My father saved my life," he murmured, his voice almost lost amid the birdcalls of the swamp and the sound of the oars. "He offered to take the punishment, but Davy Jones wouldn't let him. I swore I'd set my father free. I told him I wouldn't rest until this dagger pierced the heart of Davy Jones. I swore I wouldn't rest until he was free."
"You'll keep your promise," Squirrel said, frankly. "But you won't do it alone."
Will looked up at Squirrel, surprised. That same near-suspicious look from the fruit grove came into his eyes, but he said nothing.
"I'll help you, William." Squirrel's voice and eyes were steadfast. She reached out. Will's right hand was closed around the hilt of the dagger - Squirrel's hand closed over his, gripping it tight. "I swear it. I'll help you free your father, or die trying." She looked deep into Will's eyes, seeing the same mirror she'd seen before. "Come hell or high water, I swear I will do everything in my power to help you free him."
Will blinked, surprised at the seriousness of Squirrel's pledge. "Thankyou," he said, after a moment. Squirrel nodded, then withdrew her hand, turning her eyes away at only the last second. Her hand was strangely warm, and her fingers tingled.
"Count us in too," Pintel said, hauling on his oar.
"Yeah," Ragetti said, "Anyfin' for ol' Bill."
Will raised an eyebrow and gave a humourless snort of laughter. "I thought you called him a 'stupid blighter'."
"That's in the past," Pintel amended with an awkward cough. "We was different men back then."
"Yeah," Ragetti added. "We ain't cursed no mo'. An' 'e was a good man, aye?"
"Aye, that's right!"
"The weather changes so quickly," Squirrel murmured to herself, staring off into the trees. She gently stroked the bandages of her left hand, an absent motion born of distant thoughts. She'd managed to put her shirt back on, and the dampness from her vest and hair was gradually darkening the cloth. Not that it mattered. Squirrel's bare feet tapped the planking gently, a song she unconsciously held in her mind.
"Is your 'and any better?" Ragetti asked, is concern breaking the silence.
Squirrel looked to the pirate, and nodded. "I think so." She examined the bandaged limb. "It's hard to tell. Tia says it'll take a few weeks to heal."
"Oh." Ragetti pulled on the oar a moment, then added, "Well, at least it'll heal, right?"
Squirrel snorted, nodding. "Aye. Eventually."
"'Ere we are," Pintel said, stilling his oar. Ragetti did the same. Will stood and stepped out of the longboat, tying it to the dock, then reached out his hand for Squirrel. His hand steadied her, helped her maintain her balance, the same on land as in the sea.
"Thankyou." Squirrel whispered. Will nodded, saying nothing. But his courtesy did not end with Squirrel safely standing on the dock. He even reached back to collect Squirrel's shoes. Pintel and Ragetti stayed in the boat, setting the bags of fruit on the dock.
"Weel-com back." Tia stood on the small balcony, looking down at the small party. "You foun' deh orchard well enough?"
"You could have warned us about the leeches," Squirrel called up at the swamp woman.
Pursing her lips, Tia's eyes narrowed. "Ah. So dat's why you're all wet."
A quick glance passed between Squirrel and Will. Squirrel started to climb the ladder, her left arm cradled. Awkward as her ascension was, she wanted no help from anyone. Will waited behind her, Squirrel's shoes under one arm.
"Mistah Tur-nah," Tia's voice purred as soon as Squirrel had heaved herself upright, "Could I ask dat you and your frien's go back to deh orchard? We'll need much more for deh voyage we're teekin'." Squirrel - standing next to Tia at the balcony - looked down to Will, frowning. Will glanced at her, clearly wondering the same thing.
"What about Squirrel?" Will asked. "Is she coming with us?"
"She's going t' steey 'ere." Tia said, prompting Squirrel's frown to change its focus and deepen.
Will frowned curiously back at the swamp woman, but nodded. "Very well." He left Squirrel's shoes on the dock, then turned and got back into the boat. Pintel and Ragetti exchanged glances, shrugged, and then rowed off. Will looked back once - just once - and his gaze met Squirrel's over the water. The boat was gone quickly. Too quickly, it seemed, lost around the bend and through the trees. Tia turned and went back inside, and Squirrel followed her, scowling.
"Since when do you decide what I'm allowed to do?"
Tia looked back, amused. "You need to steey 'ere, Miss Greeh."
"I don't see why." Squirrel snapped, putting her right hand on her hip.
Tia sighed, smiling, and turned back to Squirrel, a bundle of rags in her hands. "Really?"
Squirrel gritted her teeth. "I fainted last night because I hadn't eaten, and I was out in the sun! Nothing food, water, and rest won't cure. And I got all of that last night and this morning." She held up her bandaged hand. "And this is healing. You said so yourself." She snorted. "I'm fine. I can do things with only one hand. I'm not crippled."
Tia considered Squirrel patiently, an infuriating smile playing about her lips. "Dere is a-nudder reason why you are 'ere, Miss Greeh." She passed Squirrel the bundle of cloths, then pointed to a small door. "Go. You'll see soon enough."
Squirrel stood perplexed a moment, then with a sigh decided to humour the woman. Behind the door was a lavatory. With a sinking gut, Squirrel realised what Tia had been implying. And - a moment later - what she'd been right about.
"Bloody hell!"
Tia looked up as Squirrel re-emerged from the small room, tactfully ignoring the indignantly embarrassed look on Squirrel's face. "Is not'in' to be asheemed of, Miss Greeh. Happens to all of us. Is deh mark of a woo-man."
"It's a curse it's what it is," Squirrel muttered, embarrassed. Surreptitiously, she adjusted the seat of her pants.
"Hrm," Tia looked away, hiding a smile. "Maybe."
Squirrel stood awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to say. "You knew, didn't you? You knew my…" She looked aside, embarrassed, "'Woman's curse'… was due. That's why you wanted me back by noon."
"An' why we're weetin' for t'ree dees a'fore we seel." Tia shrugged, but her cat-like smile remained in place. "After t'ree dees you'll be in a better 'umour, and not so much pain. Not to mention deh fact mos' of deh crew is men, and you will need all deh time to yerself dat you ken get." She smiled that smile once again. "Yeer welcome."
Squirrel stared, incredulous. "How did you know?"
Tia just smiled, baring her indigo-stained teeth knowingly. "Come," she said, heading for the door, "Dere's somethin' I want you t' see." Tia paused at the doorway, sweeping her arm back. "Apres vous." Squirrel looked at her warily before heading out first. Once again, she had to negotiate the ladder one-handed and gracelessly, but she did so without so much of a word of complaint.
Two solemn-faced young men stood waist-deep in the water, waiting. Their silent watchful faces - in addition to their presence - startled Squirrel, though she didn't show it.
Tia, an empress in a gown of rags and tatters, climbed down with all the grace that Squirrel lacked, and made her way to Will's coracle. The two silent men took the ropes of the small boat, and waited.
"Come, Miss Greeh," Tia said, adjusting the folds of her dress as she sat down. "Leave your shoes. You won't nee'dem." The swamp woman's own feet were bare, and decorated with anklets of beads and multi-coloured string. Feet which looked accustomed to traversing the mud and the mangroves; the feet of a swamp witch.
Gingerly, Squirrel crossed the dock and sat down with Tia, and the two men started pulling the coracle through the swamp. Tia looked out over the water, smiling benevolently at every tree and figure that watched silently, a queen of her domain; Squirrel stared at her bandaged hand, face closed and almost sullen. The two women remained silent, but their expressions spoke enough for the both of them.
"We're 'ere."
Squirrel lifted her eyes, and saw a man in black standing alone on a platform over the water. Barbossa stood with his back to the approaching craft, hands clasped behind him, staring into the mangroves. The two silent men who had been leading the coracle tied it to the platform's edge, then left. It was almost as if they had vanished into the shadows of the trees. Look as she might, Squirrel could not discern where they'd gone.
"Good dee, kep-ten," Tia said, stepping lightly out of the coracle and onto the wooden platform. Squirrel followed with less grace, her arm held close to her.
Barbossa turned, his expression genial. He made a small bow. "Good day, ladies." Squirrel made a half-bow back, feeling the thrill go down her spine once more just from being in the man's presence. Something about this man - his power, his charisma, or even his eyes, perhaps - called to her. Steadied her. Made her feel safe.
In the trees, the monkey screeched and leapt down to perch on Tia's shoulder. The swamp woman scratched the animal's head absently. "I brought Miss Greeh to see deh ship."
Squirrel lifted her eyes, her interest peaked. "The ship?"
Barbossa smiled proudly. "Aye." He turned back and stared into the trees. "She's a beauty, in't she?"
Squirrel peered through the foliage. "There's a ship somewhere in there?" She frowned. "Where?"
"Right here." Barbossa reached out his hand, and pushed at a tree-trunk covered in vines. The entire tree rocked under Barbossa's hand - a whole section of the trees swayed, dislodging dead leaves and branches. "It's only a clipper," the pirate captain said offhandedly, "But it'll more'n serve our purpose."
Squirrel stared, disbelieving. The small ship was nearly completely hidden by the mangrove forest. It was as though the trees themselves had grown around the craft to hide it. Curious and awed, Squirrel moved closer, her bare feet making no sound on the wooden platform. Now that she looked, she could see it. The planking of the craft was covered in moss and plant life, and shrouded by drooping branches and vines, but there was no denying the fact that the ship was there. She reached out and touched the cold slime-covered hull.
"May take a few days to clean up and make ready for a voyage, though," Barbossa mused aloud for Squirrel's benefit.
"How long?" Squirrel asked, turning back to Tia and Barbossa. "How long 'til it's ready?"
Barbossa frowned, thoughtful, though the smile never left his eyes. "Three days might do it," he said.
Squirrel looked to Tia sharply. "Three days?"
Tia smiled benignly back at her. "Don' look for coincidences where dey don' exist, Miss Greeh." Squirrel's eyes darkened. The monkey on Tia's shoulder leapt back to Barbossa, and the captain looked curiously between the two women.
"Somethin' the matter?" He asked, a perceptive look in his ice-blue eyes.
Squirrel shook her head. "No," she said, forcing a half-smile. "Three days is fine."
"Ah," Barbossa tilted his head and grinned. "You want to be on the way all the sooner, aye?"
Squirrel hid her clenched fist behind her back. "Why not?" Her words were flippant and light, but inside she was screaming. Three days was too long, and not enough. The monkey on Barbossa's shoulder chattered, bobbing in place. Barbossa soothed it absently, not taking his eyes from Squirrel's. Under such a scrutiny, it was hard for Squirrel not to squirm. Did he know what she was hiding?
"Deh odders will be 'ere shortly," Tia said, craning her head back and staring into the trees. "Dey'll help yeh get her free, kep-ten."
The captain in black nodded, and turned back to the hidden clipper. "Once the Artemis is cleaned up and ready to sail, she'll be a sight to see."
Squirrel looked to Barbossa, curious. "The Artemis?"
Barbossa grinned, and pointed. Squirrel's eyes followed his gesture, and found the lettering along the hull. Though nearly obscured by moss and slime, the ship's name was unmistakable. The buxom figurehead - a third life size - stared stubbornly with sightless wooden eyes out at the horizon. She clutched a bow tightly in one hand, readying an arrow to fire. She did not seem to be happy about her imprisonment, and seemed impatient to be freed. The Artemis didn't care about the coating of green moss, because she knew it would peel off in the salt water. She just wanted to go, already. Somewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere but here.
Squirrel found herself almost smiling. She liked this ship already.
"Come, Miss Greeh," Tia said, heading back to the coracle. "We need t' cheenge your bandages."
Squirrel turned to Barbossa, bowing slightly. "Good day, captain."
Barbossa smiled back, and nodded in return. "Good day, Miss." He looked back to the trees, where the Artemis lay hidden, and smiled thoughtfully to himself.
Squirrel stepped into the coracle, sitting down opposite Tia. The two dark men emerged from the trees silently, and started to lead the coracle back through the swamp to Tia's hut.
"Where did you find the clipper?"
Tia smiled beatifically at Squirrel. "Deh tide brings many t'ings to my door, Miss Greeh, ships and sailors not being deh least of dem." The sibyl fingered the golden heart-shaped amulet at her throat absently as she looked out at the trees.
Squirrel reached up to touch her own amulet out of habit, but was reminded of its absence as her fingers found its replacement. The diamonds of bone - or fossilised wood, or stone, whatever they were - had warmed to her skin, clinging to her, like guilt or doubt. Squirrel lifted the amulet from her skin, dropped it, picked it up again and dropped it again. The weight of the necklace thudded against her skin like a heartbeat. Like the heartbeat she could no longer feel. Slipping the necklace back under the neck of her shirt, Squirrel looked back to the swamp witch. "Did you and Barbossa agree to wait three days?"
Tia laughed softly. "I said not t' look fer coincidences," the swamp woman smiled. "No. We did not. Deh kep-ten's decision was made indehpendent to mine." Tia looked at Squirrel, as though reading what Squirrel was thinking. Squirrel looked away before the black diamonds of Tia's eyes could delve too deeply. "You will 'ave deh chance t' talk t' deh captain soon, to ask him all dose questions which be bodderin' you."
Squirrel looked out over the water. "Questions aren't bothering me."
Tia's eyes were deep and fathomless. "No? Well, den… It must be your t'oughts, your memories, which are plaguin' you so." The coracle reached the dock, and Tia stepped out, leaving Squirrel to sit and stare. "Am I wrong? No, I'm not. I ken see it in your eyes." Tia looked over her shoulder as she picked up Squirrel's shoes. "You're not t'inkin', Miss Greeh. You're just… livin'. You're just bein'."
"There are some things," Squirrel said evenly, as she climbed out of the coracle, "That I'd rather not think about." The two men lead the coracle away, vanishing into the shadows of the trees.
Tia nodded at Squirrel, her eyes empathetic, her gaze perceptive. "So you t'ink on not'ing, or force your t'oughts away from deh pain."
For the first time since the Kraken sunk the Pearl, Squirrel felt a stab of something. Whatever it was, it was an ache she quickly quashed. "You don't know me. Don't pretend that you do."
Tia sighed, then started climbing the ladder. "Not t'inkin' about what 'appened en't goin' to change deh fact dat it's 'appened, Miss Greeh."
For a moment, Squirrel felt cold. Tia knew so much about everything else - did she know about… about that pirate's… final betrayal? Did Tia know about why Squirrel had chosen to come on this foolish quest? Surely not. No-one knew that. Slowly, warily, Squirrel climbed up the ladder. Tia was waiting for her at the top.
"Miss Greeh, I don' want t' tell you 'ow you should live your life," she stretched out a hand to Squirrel, her eyes burdened, "But you can't live like dis. Shoulderin' deh pain won't mek you stronger. It will only 'urt you deh more."
Squirrel ignored Tia's hand, electing to pull herself up. "I'm fine."
"No, yer not." Tia looked deep into Squirrel's eyes. "An' sayin' dat you are is not'in' but a lie."
Squirrel looked flatly at Tia. "I thought you said you wanted to change the bandages on my hand."
Tia sighed wearily. "Dat's not deh only healin' you need, Miss Greeh," she said, handing Squirrel back her shoes.
"You're right. Do you have any of that ragout left? I'm hungry."
Tia sighed again, this time with less patience in her eyes. "You'll 'ave to acknowledge it somedee, Miss Greeh. You can't pretend not'ing's wrong forever." She turned and went inside.
Squirrel remained out on the balcony, staring out over the water. Tia's insights were not incorrect. Squirrel wasn't fine. She'd been forcing herself to think about other things. In the orchard, when she'd spoken with Will… that had been the only time she'd acknowledged what had happened. The only time she'd been honest with herself. She'd been betrayed, her heart had broken, and now she didn't want to think about it because thinking about it just made her remember the hurt she'd felt. But Tia had been wrong about one thing.
Squirrel wasn't in pain. Not anymore.
"When the Pearl sank," Squirrel said, loud enough for Tia to hear, "I lost everything. It was my home." Squirrel stared out over the water; Tia waited behind the closed door, just inside her home, listening. Squirrel continued, being honest about this much, at least. "I lost my clothes, my notes, my ink and quill, my candles, my mirror, my bottle of lavender oil…" A wry smile kicked at the comer of her mouth, "My best stockings…" Squirrel turned and looked Tia dead in the eye through the gauze screen. "Is it foolish of me to be thinking about the things I've lost? About those small, unimportant items… rather than what really happened?"
Tia pushed and held the door wide. "Is your way of dealin' wid deh grief," she murmured, looking sympathetically at Squirrel. "Dis en't easy for you, Miss Greeh."
"No. It's not,' Squirrel said, truthfully, even though it felt like she was lying. "The Pearl was my first real home… since Tortuga, before my parents died." Squirrel sighed and looked down at her bandaged hand. "And now it's gone. Along with everything that made it home." She forced a smile, the lump in her throat appearing of its own accord. "Everything but the crew. My friends; my family." She smiled faintly. "At least I still have them."
It was strange how each truth was placed so calculatingly. Squirrel's conscience cried out to be heard - what good was there in being honest if it was simply a means to an end? But Squirrel was done being honest; honesty had done nothing for her except give her a broken heart. What good was a moral compass if it didn't lead you to what you wanted?
Squirrel didn't trust Tia. So why be honest with her?
The rules had changed. Squirrel had to adapt. She needed to know she could control this game. So she laid her cards on the table, practically and deliberately, all the while building a mask, a disguise, that would cloak her true purpose. Squirrel kept the whole truth hidden, and showed only what she wanted Tia to see.
And for the time being, Tia accepted the truths that Squirrel had given. "Come inside an' 'ave some tea," the swamp woman said gently. "An' I'll see t' your hand."
The candlelight and sunlight in Tia's home illuminated everything, but did not reveal all that was concealed.
A/N: Reviews are like Illinois sugar cookies to my soul.
