A/N: ACK I forgot to post this on Friday! Here, I can make up for it with two chapters for today!

Maria ended up sleeping for most of the day, and woke in the comfort of her hammock, in her cabin, on her ship. For a few long moments she thought everything that had happened - the Silent Mary, Barbossa, all of it - had been a horribly detailed dream. Only the soreness of her limbs from her swim from the Mary to the Falcon, plus the weight of Salazar's spyglass in her pocket, confirmed to Maria it was no dream. Nevertheless she swung out of her hammock onto her feet and approached her desk. The map of the Caribbean was still there, the Triangle still circled with the dated routes passing by. Maria took the time to update the map, this time with her stay on the Mary noted and a few rough attempts at tracing her course.

Only after about an hour working on that did Maria fish out the spyglass from her pocket. Although stained by a long time without polishing and being held by a crew of ghosts, Maria sensed nothing of the Mary's curse on it. Turning it over in her hands revealed the mark on it that Maria had spotted in the vision of the Mary's final sail, and Maria slowly passed her thumb over it.

A soft click sounded just inside the plating as her thumb slid back part of the seal.

Maria froze, eyes widening as she gently slid open a compartment on the case. The interior was of waterproofed leather, normally to protect the lenses from being waterlogged, but whoever had crafted this spyglass had ensured that space could be used. A folded piece of paper was tucked inside, and Maria sat down on a chair to gently pry it free. Only one edge of the paper was damaged, as if burned so slightly from flames. Maria set aside the open spyglass and gently smoothed the paper; there was writing on the interior in a quick hand she could only guess was her father's. Maria had to compose herself before opening the paper, smoothing it again before she began to read.

Dearest Rebeca, it began in Spanish:

On the morrow I face one final challenge: the last ten pirate ships known to be active on the sea. The others have all gone to ground in fear; as much as I would desire to burn them out of their bolt-holes like the infestation they are, I can leave it to lesser men. So close to the end of this campaign and all I can think of is returning to you.

I know I am not an easy man to love; many a lady has tried but none reached into my soul as you did. It is as if I am two men in one body since I left your side. For you, when this is done, I will no longer be 'the butcher of the sea'. For you, I will face the scorn of my peers and free you, and wed you - if that is your desire as it is mine.

Tomorrow, I face one last battle. The day after it, I am yours.

Your beloved,

Armando

Maria felt her throat close as she read the letter, over and over. As she found a weight to hold down the top of the letter, she saw that the burned part only covered the bottom edge of the letter. Maria shifted her hands to find roughly-scrawled words in English, only barely similar to the fine masculine hand above.

FORGIVE ME MARIA.

"…papa," she breathed as she stared at the plea.

A knock on her cabin door jerked Maria from the sudden crash of emotion inside her heart, and she just managed to swallow back the lump before going to the door. Rafael was there as she opened it, and he dipped his head briefly in greeting.

"…may I come in?" he asked. "I - I'll understand if you don't want to see anyone, of course -"

"Right now, the sight of the living is far more welcoming than being alone," Maria answered before Rafael could finish. She stepped out of the doorway so he could limp inside, and Maria made sure a chair was ready for him so he could sit. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Just…a lot's happened," Rafael began once he sat, stretching out his bad leg and rubbing out his knee. "And I wanted to say…say that you can count on me. All of the crew, that is, whatever you decide to do. We're with you."

"You're with me, Rafael," Maria replied, smiling faintly as she leaned against her table near him. "That matters just as much. What would I be without the best helmsman in the Caribbean, hm? Just because I give the order does not mean this bird just goes."

"That - that's not what I - I mean, just…"

"Just?"

Rafael grumbled, looking away and rolling his crutch between his hands slowly in thought. Maria waited for him, unsure what he was trying to say.

"You have…made me who I am, Maria," Rafael murmured eventually. "If you hadn't come on that ship, freed me, I - I would be dead now. I know this."

"Is this about your letter?" Maria asked. "About the witch Barbossa dragged you to see?"

Rafael visibly shuddered at the thought of her.

"…I don't want to lose you, Maria," he breathed. "If it means you might die, I could not live with that. I can't."

Maria straightened before crouching in front of Rafael, meeting his frightened black eyes before resting her hands over his, around his crutch.

"…you will not lose me, Rafael," Maria whispered. "My place is with the living. Not the dead. And if I am given that choice, I will always choose to live."

The worried light in his eyes faded as Rafael managed to smile at her, and Maria returned it with a grin of her own. As much as Maria might have wanted to save her father, if she had to choose between him and her crew, the choice was clear. Her crew came first. Her father was an important link to what she was, and what she could have been, but what ifs and might-have-beens didn't negate that he had died - and that everything that could have been had he not was an impossibility. A chance to free him of his curse, however…. That would be difficult. But there was no gracious hint or obvious ability for it to be done - except the Trident.

Later. I will think of that later. For now, my crew. That matters.

"What will we do now?" Rafael asked after a few moments of silence. "You're back, but the Silent Mary…that's not something I'm looking forward to."

"Barbossa holds no oath from me," Maria replied, gently releasing his hands and standing straight. "If Sparrow is his goal, and then the Trident after that, he will want a ship."

"Could he take the Falcon?"

"Not unless he can walk on water or somehow has powder that fires even when wet. He will nottake my hunting bird from me. From any of us."

"He might just; there's no ships other than us and the Mary near the island," Rafael pointed out. "Unless there's a ship hiding on the other side Barbossa knows about. Wouldn't surprise me at this point."

"Then we'd better get back out there, mm?" Maria suggested, extending her hand to Rafael. "Wouldn't do for us to miss anything at this juncture, no?"

Rafael chuckled as he took her hand, and Maria held Rafael steady as he rose to his feet and settled his crutch under his arm. Unlike the rest of her crew, Rafael's grip wasn't calloused from months with ropes and wood splinters, though the skin of his palm was tough from his years working sugarcane plantations before his liberation. Maria squeezed his fingers gently, and Rafael returned it in reassurance before he slipped his hand from hers. He left first, allowing Maria a chance to pick up her father's spyglass and close it before she followed up to the quarterdeck.

"Captaine, looks like a couple masts comin' up near the starboard ahead," Luciano reported as he handed the wheel over to Rafael. "Weren't there 'bout a quarter-hour back."

"That can't mean anything good," Maria muttered as she looked out that way. A topsail was clearly visible over the trees separating the Falcon from the other ship - a black topsail. "Barbossa?"

"Him or Sparrow - or both!" Luciano suggested.

"Raise colors, just in case," Maria ordered. "If it is them, they should know we stand with them. No signs of the Silent Mary?"

"None yet," Luciano answered before shouting for the colors to be run up. Maria sighed; all they could do was hope this new ship wasn't a fresh enemy.

As the Falcon's colors went up and she came around the base of the island, Maria couldn't help her jaw going slack. Bobbing on the water, blackened hull and black sails just as they had been when Maria saw her dueling the Flying Dutchman, was the Black Pearl. The Falcon was just close enough that Maria could hear shouts of greeting from the Pearl's deck before her own colors went up in answer: a black field featuring a white skull and two crossed sabers. Barbossa was in command, then; if Sparrow was around, he was likely in the brig.

"Bring in sail, let's wait for her!" Maria shouted. "I'm sure Captain Barbossa will want to see how we've fared."

A chorus of ayes sounded as the sails were brought in, and Maria watched as the Pearl came into the wind and sailed towards them. Maria could just make out someone tied to the foremast with a familiar red bandanna around his head as Pearl and Falcon drew alongside, and Maria found Barbossa smirking at her as the Pearl's sails were hauled in for the time being.

"I see ye took a chance'f your own, Miss Salazar!" Barbossa called to her from the Pearl's quarterdeck. "Will ye be sharin' our course, then?"

"Aye, capitan, that is my thinking," Maria shouted back. "Safer to sail together than separately for the time being, I think."

"Can your bird keep apace?"

"We shall find out, won't we?"

Maria heard Barbossa laugh, loud and booming, and couldn't help a fierce grin of her own.

"Drop sail, follow the Pearl!" she roared to her crew. "¡Vamanos! Before the dead track us down again!"

Similar orders were called aboard the Pearl, and it wasn't long before the two ships ventured out into the open sea, the Falcon staying within shouting range of the Black Pearl as the sun dipped beneath the horizon.