A/N: I'm two days late updating, so sorry for that, but I have made up for it as this chapter is longer than normal and is very pivotal. I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to make your mark on the roster! (Pirate speak for leave a review!)

I wake with the sun. Today is a big day. Today, I return to port.

Beckett most always sleeps an hour or so longer than I, and I use this time to make my preparations. Today is the day we must say goodbye, and the fact weighs heavily on my heart. As I gather items from the kitchen, however, the door opens and Beckett steps out, fully dressed and wide awake.

"Morning, Beckett," I greet, though it is not with my usual fervor. "You're up early. How come?"

"Winnifred, we need to talk." I sigh, and knowing his words were inevitable doesn't help one bit.

"Aye, that we do. Sit down 'ere and we'll chat." I take a seat at the small scrubbed table and he reaches out with his walking stick, tapping around the floor until he finds the leg of the other chair. Then his hands reach out, grasp the arms of it, and he sits down heavily.

"I am coming with you," he says authoritatively, and I cannot deny him.

"Aye. I know it to be true, though… I had hoped…" I trail off, aware of how pathetic I sound. I am glad he doesn't reply. There is a silence as wide as the sea before I ask,

"Where will you go?"

Beckett had had a plan for going after the fountain for almost two years, but it had taken him six months to decide if he wanted to include Winnifred in it. It was only that morning as he lay awake in bed far past midnight that he had finalized the decision that had been floating around in his mind since his first day on the island. Now it was time to finally tell Winnifred.

"There is a water source that gives eternal life to whoever drinks it, healing all wounds and curing all maladies. It is this that I sought before my untimely demise, and the unfortunate circumstances that have ruined me have only spurred me to go to greater lengths to attain this goal. Winnifred, I would have liked to take this journey alone, as it is fraught with danger, but as I cannot see, I find I require a companion. I ask you to take on this dubious honor, as a helpmate and accomplice but also as a dear friend and companion. I would trust no other in this role but you."

I had accepted the existence of Davy Jones; I figured I could accept this too.

"What is this miracle water called?"

"The legendary Aqua de Vida. The Fountain of Youth."

Beckett wanted desperately to rake his eyes across her face, scrutinize it for any expression which would betray her decision, but his eyes were useless.

Beckett's face, as always, is an unreadable mask behind the cloth, and I look to his body language to betray his feelings. He is holding himself straight as a ramrod, and his hands fiddle with his stick. He is nervous, visibly so. I can see that much hinges on my decision, but I know that I must put my feelings and wants first to make an informed decision.

At first, I am shocked he has asked me to come with him, but I soon realize it is of course a necessity for a blind man to have a companion. Part of me wants nothing more than to return to the island and live out my days in familiar routine and solitude. But another part, a part of me that is new and that I do not entirely understand yet, yearns for the adventure he's offering. Beckett is still somewhat of an enigma to me, but having spent half a year in close contact with him I feel a strange kinship that I have never felt before, even with my father. And my whole being, encompassing both parts of me, is loathe to be parted from him.

My decision is made, and I take his hand to enforce my seriousness as I say,

"I will go with you, Beckett. I will do whatever it takes to help you find this fountain." His mouth curls into a wide, beaming smile. He seems almost beautiful then, though I know the scarred visage that lies beneath. Scars both physical and mental.

It does not bother me as I step with him into the skiff. Somehow, I know that though he is not wholly a different person, nor he is the man he once was. He is blemished, yes. But what defined him then is no longer what defines him now.

Realizing my whole plans, not only for the day but also for the immediate future have been altered, I call for Bull and carry him along. Brother James will need to tend to him if Beckett and I are to go off in search of mythical fountains.

I cast off from the dock. Halfway out of the bay I get this feeling, a tingling in my back, and I realize it is the presence of Beckett, sitting calmly with his cane propped up in front of him with both hands folded over it. It is, after all, a strange experience for me sailing with another person, as it is normally something I do alone. There is a tension in the air from this, and I must break it.

"So tell me. How, exactly, do ye plan to find this elusive fountain?" I ask.

"We will not be finding it. We shall merely be going along for the ride as we let someone else do all the work," he responds enthusiastically.

"And who be this fabulous tool of yours?"

"A man to whom I owe a debt of vengeance. A man named Jack Sparrow." He spits the last two words out as though they're something vile he's just eaten. "It has a certain poetic justice about it, don't you think? Forcing the man who betrayed me to lead me to my salvation?"

"Aye, that it does, but Beckett, I must ask… I thought you had put this behind you. Let the past be past, as it were."

"In a way, I have. Yet I do not only seek him out for his crimes against me. He also happens to be the man most likely to take on the challenge of finding the Fountain. I have had the opportunity to observe him for some time, and upon being rescued from Davy Jones's locker became obsessed with achieving immortality. I have no doubt that once I make my offer, he will not be able to resist." An evasive answer. I should have expected nothing more from Beckett.

Open water stretches ahead, and open water stretches behind. I work my way over the waves to the northwest, using nothing more than the sun to gauge my progress. It is high by the time we dock, and when Brother James comes to greet me as per usual, he stops short upon seeing me helping Beckett out of the skiff. Uh oh. This is going to require some explaining.

He takes me aside, leaving Beckett to wait on his own by the boat.

"Winnifred, is this the man you were telling me about? The one you rescued?"

"Aye, Brother."

"Seems you are finally ridding yourself of him. Good lass. Never thought it prudent in the first place, having a man in your house."

"Nay, that's not how it is at all. Brother, I am leaving the island. I don't know for how long or where yet I shall be going, but I am accompanying Beckett on his…" I pause, not wanting to tell James of the Fountain. He would for sure think me mad. "On his journey home," I finish plausibly.

"Can't the man do it himself? And why in the world does he wear that cloth over half his face?"

"Those questions answer themselves, Brother. He cannot do it 'imself 'cus e's blind. He wears the cloth to hide the burns that cover half his face." I have dropped my voice to a conspiratorial whisper, though I know not why. Brother James seems not to know how to respond to this, and I take his silence as a chance to push Bull upon him. I call the large dog over and say to James,

"I'll be needin' you to take care of Bull here fer me while I'm gone. He's a loyal dog, always done me good. I'll be sad to part with him, but it's not permanent- like, only till I return. Can ye do that for me?" Brother James nods and gives me a small smile.

"Yes I can. Good luck on your voyage, wherever it may take you."

"Thank ye, James." He clasps my had briefly before turning up the road that leads to the monastery, calling for Bull as he goes. The dog is reluctant to follow, and it takes my cajoling to entice him to follow. I backtrack over the dock, my boots echoing on the rotting planks, and take Beckett's arm.

"I've tied up the last of my business here. Now only one thing is left- to find Jack Sparrow."

"That is the easiest part," Beckett says. "Jack Sparrow will be in Tortuga, frequenting the loudest brothels and noisiest taverns he can find. All we must do is book passage on a ship bound in that direction, and that, I think, will be the hard part." My heart sinks as I realize exactly what will be hard about it.

"Beckett, I'm afraid I have some bad news. On the island I lived off the waters, but on land, I am penniless. There's no way to pay for us," I say despondently, stopping up just short of the main street of town.

"Lucky for you, though I be a dead man, I have ways of securing assets. All we must needs find is a bank or merchant of some sort." As he says this, he tilts his head just slightly, as though he is amused by something. It occurs to me for the second time today that he must have some sort of highly thought-out, master plan for finding the Fountain. It reassures me as we step onto the main street together.

The bustle, hustle, and general noise and mess of it all disgusts every sense I have. The love of solitude I have gained over the years explodes in my face with the gaggle of people, and the press and push and pull of bodies everywhere nearly threatens to overwhelm me. I look to Beckett for clarity, as he is always poised, or so it seems behind that cool linen mask of his. I walk forward purposefully into the fray, clearing the way for me and Beckett and paying careful heed to make sure he does not wander into anyone.

I head straight for Boris & Co., the local banker. He's no big shot, and I hope Beckett can get what he needs from him. As we enter the shop, the brightness of the daylight dims with the fog of the interior of the bank. A small bell chimes and at its sound a portly man appears from a door behind the long counter we now stand facing.

"How may I help you today?" He asks cordially, his eyes taking in Beckett's visage and lingering there. Beckett moves forward towards the sound of his voice and I guide him up to the counter.

"I am here to take out a loan." The man starts visibly when Beckett speaks, as if he were expecting him to be mute as well as blind. He is staring openly with his mouth agape and does not respond. "Winnifred," Beckett asks, "Why does the man make no sound?" I smile, seeing a perfect chance to make a fool of the man for his extremely rude actions.

"He is too busy gaping at you to reply. If he does not close his mouth, I fear flies will make it their home. Perhaps we ought go someplace else for our business, as he obviously does not have the common courtesy to refrain from staring at those who have unusual features." That shuts his mouth well and good, and when I see the small smile of satisfaction on Beckett's lips from my words, I smile too.

Beckett reflected on Winnifred's defense of him. He admitted ruefully that she had an acid tongue. He also admitted, equally ruefully, that he was somewhat… flattered by her quickness in coming to his aid. He liked here more and more by the hour.

"Of course, miss. Of course, sir. My apologies, I did not mean to offend-"

"Let us skip the groveling, shall we?" Beckett cuts in. "I come to you with a difficult problem. I have recently made the crossing from England, and as such, all my monetary assets and valuables lie across the ocean in my manor, out of reach for the foreseeable future. Yet I have decided to enter into a business venture with a good friend of mine which requires a good deal of money as a start up fee, and seeing as I brought no more gold with me than was necessary to carry out my trip in modest luxury, I am at a disadvantage. If I were to wait for the next ship, sail it home and back, the deal would have slipped from my grasp. Time is of the essence, and so I humbly ask you for a loan sufficient enough to cover the expenses of the deal," Beckett eloquently narrated, the lie slipping off his tongue like water down the throat.

The banker appears to me a simpleton and is awed by Beckett. He quickly scrambles for a quill and parchment, mumbling about being "very happy to oblige" and "if you will just sign here."

And here a problem presents itself. The man sets the quill and parchment in front of Beckett, but he makes no move to take them. Of course not- he cannot see!

"He be blind! Can ye not see that? How can he possibly sign that? Or are you blind as well as rude?"

That's my girl, Beckett thought to himself. He was beginning to thoroughly enjoy having her along for this journey.

"Oh so sorry, my lady, miss- uh, I will, um…" he picks up the quill, not quite knowing what to do with it. I snatch it from his hand and make my mark upon the parchment myself, a simple "Winnifred Dayne" in my sloppy cursive. I may have been raised in isolation, but I am by no means illiterate.

"There. You have your signature. Where is our money?" He hurries into the door he first entered through and emerged soon after with a box of gold coins. He opens it and places it across from us on the counter. I look into it with great interest, having never seen something so shiny in my life. Beckett's hand searchingly feels up the side of the box and inside, counting the coins with his fingers.

"How much will we need?" I ask him in an aside.

"All of it," he replies to me quietly. My eyebrows raise just a fraction, but besides that, I flinch not once as I tell the bank teller we require all of it. He, however, flinches noticeably. Words are on the tip of his tongue but he snatches them back as Beckett firmly snaps shut the lid.

"Of course. I shall expect reimbursement for the loan at my customary rate of thirteen percent, and within two years, else it doubles."

"I expect you shall be repaid in full well before that time. Thank you for doing business with us." Beckett nods to me, and I know it is time to leave. As I heft the chest, though it be half the size of my torso, I am bowed down by its weight.

"Beckett, could ye take one side of this?" I ask. He nods and I place the handle in his hand and together we walk out of the bank, the gold swinging between us.

Less than an hour later, we are on a boat, headed for Tortuga. Our adventure has begun.