There was nowhere to run. Margaret's mind was racing, trying to calculate if just the five of them still standing could take on Regis' armed men. If they weren't already surrounded, she could draw her gun and lead a fight, but with a circle of sharpened blades at their necks there was no move she could make that wouldn't end in her own bloodshed. Fortunately, Regis had yet to give any order. Instead, he approached Barbossa, who was kneeling in a line beside the other pirates.

"This is the renowned Captain Barbossa, is it?" He said, sliding the smooth end of his sword along Hector's jacket. "Ungag him."

The man standing closest ripped the cloth from his mouth with such force that Hector gasped in pain.

"Tell me," Regis said loudly, towering over Hector with a smirk. "To what do I owe this honor? A fine pirate like yourself surely has better folk to plunder than little old me."

"That's my stash yer keepin' from me, Regis, and ye bloody well know it!" Hector spat.

"What? That cavern I found didn't have your name on it. And besides," He beckoned one of his men forward, who appeared with a small chest. Regis placed it on a crate. "Finders' keepers. Isn't that our motto?"

Regis opened the chest. It was filled to the brim with odd knick-knacks. Tarnished silver and gold cups and pieces that hardly looked valuable. He ran his hands over the objects, making a clinking noise as he did.

"You came after me for a few measly trinkets, did you?" Regis looked almost delighted. "Tell me, was it worth your life?"

Hector said nothing. Margaret tried to meet his eye, feeling her fury rise. How could he have risked them all like this for next to nothing? She had been fighting for a fortune, not a couple of dented toys. Suddenly, Regis slammed the chest shut with a jarring laugh.

"I'm just teasing, Barbossa, old boy. I know what you're after. And don't worry, I've got it, alright. I've kept it safe all this time, unlike you who was clearly not very good at hiding his precious belongings. Would you like to see what I've been using it for? Here, a demonstration."

Again, Hector remained silent. Without warning, Regis plunged his sword towards him.

"No!" Margaret shrieked.

Instead of Hector, however, the blade sank deep into the abdomen of the man beside him. Hector watched, wide eyed, as Motley fell to the ground, punctured all the way through. Something odd began to happen. The wound was not normal. Instead of red seeping from the gash, pure black liquid trickled out. The first mate began twitching and writhing on the ground, low moans escaping from behind his gag.

"What the hell…" Rita breathed.

Hector tried desperately to free his hands, but with no avail. He cursed Regis with all his might, but Regis simply stood back and watched the transformation of the body at his feet. It was something he'd surely seen a hundred times before. Yet, he wasn't the only one who had witnessed a similar demise in the past. Margaret stood petrified, and as Motley's horrid gargling filled the room she saw the same fate as Captain Morgan's bestowed upon him. Only this time, she couldn't run. His skin turned ashen, peeling off as he turned into a gray, lifeless form that resembled a demon. The wound where he'd been pieced was now a dark crater in his body, the black blood dripping in a pool around him.

Regis pulled out a vial of a familiar black potion. There was much less of it now than when Margaret had ripped it off the shelf in Circe's workshop. Regis unscrewed the top and bent down. His gloves allowed him to scoop some of Motley's infected blood into the vial unharmed.

"My men and I have become known for our 'diseased blades'. When we stumbled upon it in your collection, Barbossa, we knew it was destiny that we should wield it. Discovering its power the first time, now that was fun. It's certainly come in handy. But I can only make more if I still have some of the original potion," He explained. "I realized that a little too late. It's almost gone now. But I've saved what's left in here, found out I can mix it with what comes out of my victims to make a diluted solution, and there you have it! An unlimited supply of bottled death. And you to thank for it, Captain."

Margaret looked at Hector, her heart pounding. He was still knelt over his first mate, murderous desire in his eyes. She herself was trembling in anger, but more at Regis for killing, or at Hector for keeping the potion in the first place, she could not decide.

"It's a shame you'll have to suffer the same fate. Ironic, almost," Regis said with a grin. The men moved closer around, swords at the ready.

"Sir!" Charlie called out suddenly. All eyes turned to him "Please…spare my sister."

"Charlie, dear boy, doing business with family is never easy," He said, feigning sympathy. "But we do what we must."

"Just let her go, nothing was taken."

"It's the principle of the thing, lad."

While they were negotiating for Margaret's life, something outside the window between the boarded cracks caught Rita's eye. It was Oscar, who had been watching the situation unfold. Rita blessed his habit of not following orders and signified that she saw him with a twitch of her head.

"On three," he mouthed to her, holding up three fingers. "Get down."

Rita nudged Margaret ever so slightly. It was enough to get her attention. She saw Oscar and gave a curt nod. The pirates were already on the floor, they would be okay. Isabelle, Iggy, and Clyde, however, had not noticed Oscar's warning. She would have to improvise.

"We can take her as a prisoner," Charlie was suggesting. Margaret had a moment to shoot him a look of apology before she dove to the ground, pulling Isabelle and Iggy with her. Rita did the same with Clyde, and in the nick of time.

Every window exploded inwards, with a blast that knocked all men at standing level to the ground. That was their chance. Safe on the floor, but with a deafening ringing in her ears, Margaret grabbed as many hands as she could and kicked down the broken door. There was no time to unbind the pirates, but they all manage to leap to their feet and follow suit, bursting out of the shack. The explosion was small enough not to destroy the place, which unfortunately meant that Regis could very well be left alive, albeit disoriented. They all made it outside and began to run for the ship, Oscar joining up with them.

"Nice one!" Rita yelled with a grin.

"Wait!" Hector shouted, coming to a halt. "The potion!"

Margaret grunted and rushed back inside. She saw Regis, lying unconscious on the floor, the vial in his sprawled hand. Trying not to look at Motley's deformed husk, she reached for the potion. Suddenly, Regis' hand came to life and grabbed her wrist. With a firm kick to the face, he collapsed once more. She attended to Charlie next, who had been hit on the head with falling debris. She dragged him out into the cool night, leaving him lying on the side of the road, where at least he would be breathing fresh air.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," She whispered, kissing him brusquely on the cheek.

"Back to the ship!" Hector called. "No time for mercy."

"He's my brother," Margaret said coldly as they ran. "And believe me, you're in no position to talk about mercy."

Hector looked away, shame in his eyes.

"Ye got it, then?"

Margaret held up the vial. Hector reached for it, but she tucked it into her pocket.

"I'll be holding onto it, if you don't mind."

"Fair enough," Hector conceded.

When they reached the Pearl, the anchor was already being hoisted. Everyone hurried aboard, the crew who'd stayed behind already bustling about in preparation for a hasty departure. Hector stalked up to the helm, Margaret at his heels.

"Set a course for Singapore," He bellowed at his men "Quickly, now, ye lazy dogs! We don't know how long until Regis comes to."

"Singapore?" Margaret repeated. "No, next you take me and my crew home. That was the deal."

"That was before the deal went to shit, wasn't it?" Hector turned on her with a grim stare. "If ye want to stay behind and wait for Regis to kill ye, be my guest. He never takes prisoners, and he knows ye live on St Kitts. We head there, he'd find us in a heartbeat. The plan is to stay on the move as long as possible, and ye ought to be grateful we're hauling yer crew along with us."

"Grateful?" She said furiously. "You forget it was my man who saved us. It's you who should be grateful you're even alive! You got us into this mess, you got one of your own murdered, and you have the nerve to—"

"Enough!" Hector had been pushed to the edge, and was fuming. He stormed up to Margaret, standing within inches of her face. "Another word, Smyth, and I won't hesitate throwing you in the brig for insubordination."

Margaret was shaking with anger. She didn't want to look at him, a man she thought at least cared about her enough to protect her. All this time, he had betrayed her. He knew what the potion could do, and willingly brought it to the outside world. Now it was causing all the destruction it was capable of, and Margaret knew the reason he was so angry was because he was aware of how much wrong he did. She stared down at the floor, obeying his command for silence.

"Go and tell your crew to get comfortable. We've got a long journey ahead," Hector said in a more level voice as he returned to the helm.

They made it out to the open ocean with no sign of a following ship. They were in the clear, for now. Everyone, even the pirates, applauded Oscar on his fine explosive execution.

"It was Ozzie's idea, really," he said modestly. "We thought if things didn't go well with the plan, a contingency was in order."

"It was in the nick of time, too," said one of the pirates who'd been on the mission. "Otherwise we all woulda ended like Motley."

No one could fully capture the horror they'd seen as they told the tale of what happened to the men who'd stayed aboard. It was safe to say, however, that the events had broken the barriers that heavily divided the teams. It was good thing, too, since it was looking like they'd be together for longer than expected. Everyone soon went off to bed, shaken, but too exhausted not to sleep. Rita had tried to get Margaret to talk, but received only one word responses to her questions of how she was feeling. Eventually she gave up, and retired with the rest of the crew. Margaret, however, wandered the empty desks alone, staring out at the dark waters that reminded her, with a chill, of the black liquid in her vial. She pulled it out of her pocket and held it up to examine it, hands quaking. It was hard to believe a thin piece of glass was all the stood between her and unimaginable hell.

"Ye ought not to drive yourself mad, staring at that cursed thing," came the voice of Hector from behind.

He approached her cautiously, like a child seeking forgiveness but not quite knowing how to ask. They stood side by side against the railing. It felt all too familiar.

"I owe ye an apology, I suppose," Hector continued.

"You owe me a lot more than that," Margaret said snidely.

"I'm sure," He replied. "But for now, I am sorry. I didn't expect it to go this way."

"That's why you hired me, wasn't it? Because we were after the potion. You should have told me."

"Ye might not have come."

"True."

There was silence. The ashen, demonic face of Motley was still stuck in her mind, and Margaret knew she wouldn't be able to shake it.

"How could you do this to me, Hector?" Margaret asked, her voice cracking. She was holding onto the vial so tightly it looked like it might burst. Gently, Hector cupped her shaking hand between both of his to steady it.

"As we were escapin' the workshop, all those years ago, there were only two things I took for meself," He said quietly. "A star chart, and that potion. Of course I couldn't tell ye, but I knew it was too dangerous to be left alone. Someone might again find it, and use it for treachery."

"Liar," Margaret snorted, ripping her hand from his grasp.

"Alright," he took a breath. "I wanted it, I admit. I needed it."

Margaret waited as he wrestled with how to tell the truth.

"I told myself that after I explored the full extent of what it could do, I would ensure its destruction. That was my justification. I was foolish, thinking that in my hands, it could do no harm to the world. But…I was curious. It was power like I'd never seen. And I was bloodthirsty," A hardened smile spread across his lips. "When ye killed Morgan, I could picture myself delivering the same torture to those who'd wronged me."

"You're a wicked man," Margaret accused. "It haunts me to this day, what I did, yet you would keenly wish that doom on others at your hand."

"Not wicked," Hector argued. "Just ambitious. After we left ye at the cove, I began to regret holding onto it. Not only did it remind me of ye, but it made me…nervous. When I marooned Jack on that island, I had half a mind to use it on him then. That didn't sit right with me, though. I knew if I kept it on me person, there was a chance I'd use it for the wrong reasons. So, when I became captain, I hid it along with a small treasure I'd acquired in an abandoned cavern. There, it remained, until Regis happened upon it. That's the full of it, I swear."

Margaret sighed, opening her palm once more to glare at the vial.

"Any hands this potion falls in are the wrong hands," She murmured. "I'd toss it into the ocean now if I didn't fear what it might do to our fish supply."

"With Regis' blades soaked in the stuff, he's near invincible. And rest assured he'll be hunting us 'til he gets that vial back," Hector said.

"So, what do we do?"

Margaret looked at Hector, not in anger now, but with expectation. If anyone knew how to handle undefeatable pirates, it was him.

"We destroy the damned thing," He said simply. "There's a witch in Singapore who specializes in brews such as this. We get rid of it, outrun Regis for as long as we can, and eventually get back to our lives."

"If there's a life to get back to, after this," Margaret said skeptically. There weren't many places they could hide from a man who memorized sailing routes and had connections all across the Atlantic. No, if they were to fight Regis—when they did—it would be to the death. Margaret knew he wouldn't stop until he had his precious power, and she wouldn't stop until she rid the seas of his blight.

"That's the funny thing 'bout life," Hector said, sliding his arm around Margaret's waist. She allowed him to do so, deciding it was better to be held than to be angry. "It keeps going on."

"I'm sorry," Margaret said suddenly. "For your first mate."

"He was a good man. Good pirate. I'll have him to avenge if I come face to face with Regis once more."

"We can't evade him forever. Even if we manage to eliminate this magic, he'll still have a set of infected weapons. "

"With any luck, we'll be more ready when he finds us," Hector sighed. "I am sorry ye got tangled up in this. But for a time, at least, I'll be glad to have ye on my crew."

Margaret smiled involuntarily. Yes, she was worried for her friends, who had no business being on the hit list of a pirate. Yes, she was terrified of what fates awaited the world if they could not destroy the potion. Still, she felt more alive than she had in a while. She opened her mouth to say so, but a sharp pain shot through her head. Margaret winced, pressing her free palm to her forehead. Hector turned her to face him.

"Ye alright there, lass?"

"Fine," Margaret muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Just…not feeling very well."

Hector brushed his cool hands against her cheeks, taming the heat that was suddenly emanating from her body.

"Get some rest," He said quietly. "Can't have ye dyin' of a plague aboard me ship."

Margaret laughed weakly. The pain subsided somewhat, replaced by a light wave of nausea. She realized at once how tired she was. She hesitated, eyes turning again to the vial in her clutch. Hector held out his hand.

"I'll look after it for ye. I promise," He said. Margaret looked unsure. "Can ye trust me?"

"No," She admitted, but she placed the potion in his grasp.

"Smart girl," He said with a grin. They bade each other goodnight. Sometimes, he would invite her to spend the night in the captain's quarters, but tonight he could tell she had not quite forgiven him.

The route to Singapore would be long and arduous, as Captain Barbossa planned to take them a back route to lessen their chances of Regis catching up before they reached the witch.

Two weeks went by with no sign of other sails, but still the members of the Black Pearl were antsy. The pirates couldn't risk any looting, and staying off the charts was not a very profitable venture. They were loyal to Hector, who had yet to let them down, but even they couldn't help but complain of the grueling days at sea with little incentive. Margaret's crew was feeling similarly, and she and Rita could sense their rising irritation. Margaret had been wrestling with how best to lead them through this mess, but every attempt to boost morale through speeches and planning ended with a lackluster response. She could plainly see that they did not belong caught up in the affairs of pirates. It wasn't fair. It was with this in mind that she gathered them all one morning in the empty sleeping cabin.

"Listen," Margaret started. "Once we get to Singapore, your ties to this quest, and me, will end. You'll seek new jobs there, or even a way back home. Take the mead with you, and see if you can't get a fair price."

Everyone stared at her blankly.

"What the bloody hell, Mags?" Iggy said, astounded. He had taken to using her brother's nickname for her. It was a form of teasing that stuck. "You're just going to dump us like that?"

"It's me Regis is after, not you lot. I can't ask any of you to risk your lives for my mistake," Margaret explained, looking around at each of them. "It's my fault we're in this mess. I never should have accepted Barbossa's deal."

"Well, that is your job, isn't it?" Oscar said. "To accept deals? To lead us?"

"Sure, but I've almost lead you straight to your deaths. You don't deserve that," Margaret said earnestly.

"Deserve or not, the choice to follow you is ours," Isabelle said. "We all saw what that man can do. We are in this together now, no?"

"She's right, do you really think we'd just up and leave you when the going got tough?" Clyde said.

Margaret looked at Rita for help, who shrugged.

"You hired a load of fighters, Margaret," She said. "Not cowards."

"Cowards or not," Margaret said, exasperated. "You don't owe me anything. There'd be no shame in taking your cut and moving on."

"There'd be shame in leaving the woman who hasn't steered us wrong yet," Oswald contended. "Besides, if it comes to a fight with this Regis fellow, it'd be less competition for us. Might even score some of his bounty."

"That's if we stood a chance against him," Margaret protested, but she was beginning to see that her crew was just as stubborn as her.

"That settles it, then," Clyde said, standing up from his hammock. "We see this thing through to the end."

Rita couldn't help but laugh.

"We lucked out with you lot," She grinned. "You could have been nasty pirates who turned on us at the first sign of trouble."

Everyone turned to Margaret, who was wearing an odd expression.

"Well, then," She said quietly, looking pale. "As you were."

Without another word she turned on her heel and raced out. The others exchanged confused glances.

"Think she's just overcome with emotion?" Oscar joked.

"I don't think so," Rita muttered, getting to her feet. "I'll see to her. You all ought to go above deck, get some sword practice in before the sun's too high."

Rita found Margaret in alone in the tiny kitchen, her head thrust out an open window. Rita knew at once why her friend had rushed off when she heard the unmistakable sounds of vomiting coming from outside. Thankfully, the cook was nowhere in sight. Rita stepped in quietly, shutting the door behind her, and waited for Margaret's violent heaving to cease.

"Seasick, are we?" Rita startled Margaret, who lurched upright so suddenly she almost bumped her head.

The women glared at each other, Margaret taking time to slow her breathing down to normal.

"I s'ppose," She said, picking up a dirty rag from the counter to wipe her mouth.

"You've never been seasick a day in your life," Rita said. Her voice was accusatory, though she wasn't sure where her anger was coming from. She had seen this sickness in women she had lived with on the Cove, and knew it could only mean one thing. "How long have you known?"

"Known what?" Margaret asked, looking away.

"Don't you dare play stupid, here, Margaret! This is serious," Rita restrained herself from yelling. "You…I mean, you can't be…"

"What? Go ahead, say it!" Margaret said. Rita could see tears forming in her eyes, though very seldom was Margaret weepy. "I can't be pregnant. Is that it?"

Rita bit her lip. She couldn't even picture Margaret with a baby, let alone one of her own. Now, in the midst of being chased by a madman, she had gotten herself knocked up.

"You really are?" Rita asked. "You're sure?"

"I…suspected, for a bit," Margaret admitted. "But I didn't want to believe it."

Rita shared the lack of enthusiasm. She had seen it happen with other women. A child meant their perilous careers came to an end. A child meant they would be domesticated. It was a life that Margaret was ill-suited for, a life she never wanted, and it was because of this that Rita was more contentious than comforting.

"Does he know?" She jerked her head in the direction of the captain's quarters.

"Of course not. He'd never let me stay aboard. No one can know."

"It won't be long before you won't be able to hide it."

"It'll be enough time for me to figure something out."

"He did this to you," Rita muttered, rage firing up once more. "I told you to be careful with him! I warned you!"

Margaret rounded on Rita, throwing the rag at her feet.

"For Gods' sake, would you please stop acting like I've been cursed? It's a child, not a malady." She sank against the counter, folding her arms tightly in front of her stomach.

Rita's expression softened. She walked over and pulled Margaret into a firm embrace. She was reminded of the old days, when it was just the two of them. Rita had always been her faithful adviser, trying to keep her out of too much trouble. This, however, was trouble that she couldn't have foreseen. Everything would change, now, and though Rita was afraid, she knew Margaret was even more so.

"What am I going to do?" Margaret whispered into her friend.

"I don't know," Rita said honestly. "But I'll take care of you. Both of you. I promise."