I think it's only been a work, maybe a few days over, but it feels like forever since my last update. Sorry for the delay. I've been a rather easily distracted person lately.

Enjoy!

Chapter 21: Whose Side is Jack On?

Elizabeth

"Will!" I scream, furious at the thick fog obscuring my final glimpse of Will standing aboard the Flying Dutchman. He's looking down at me, a blankly dark expression eclipsing over his handsome face. "I won't leave you! Will!" my voice is growing hoarse as I yell. The ship is nothing more then a dark shadow, slowly shrinking in size. I can't see Will anymore. I scream his name again and again, tears flooding down my cheeks. No one makes any motion to console me. I can't believe this is happening to him, I won't believe it! How can any man be so cruel as to force a husband into murdering his wife?!

Slowly my excruciating cries die out, fading in volume. Jack, who held my arms painfully behind my back for fear I may leap from the boat and swim for the Dutchman at any moment, loosens his grip. My arms slip and fall to my side, accepting my surrender. No. I can't. I won't let myself surrender like this. I won't just give up on him. I'll save you Will! I promise! I promised I'd get the chest back before it's too late, and it's not, I won't allow it to be. I love you Will Turner, and I'll come back to you, and I won't leave until Ferrara is dead and you're free of his curse.

From the corner of my wet eye I spy a green cloth floating peacefully past our dinghy. I snatch it, recognizing it at once to be Will's bandana. The cloth is soggy and not as comforting as I hoped it would be as I warp it tight around my previously cut hand already wearing a piece of the bandana as a match shift bandage. I clutch it, crushing it in my fists, staring down at it only because I can no long see Will's ship through the fog.

There is a long, disturbing silence after my calls to Will cease completely, replaced by the occasional sniffle. I haven't stopped crying yet. I can feel the awkwardness expanding amongst the others though my back is turned to them. I can sense Jack's black eyes gazing guiltily and pitifully at me. I never want to lay my eyes upon him again.

Mr. Gibbs breaks the silence first, addressing Pintel and Ragetti, whose presence I hadn't questioned in my grief, "What the blazes were ya doin' on that ship?"

"'E picked us up," Pintell answers, beginning a conversation I have no desire join, "We's was floatin' in one o' them rowboats. Don' know 'ow long."

"First we's was lost in the afterlife, then the triangle, as Ferra put it," his partner Ragetti continues.

"Ya don't mean…" one of the boats we saw my deceased father in? Gibbs is asking the question without saying the words.

"Dat's right," Pintell says, "we's was picked up by da Captain after-" He pauses for a moment, regretting his mention of Will, "well you know." He means death.

"'E put us in a boat after a while," Ragetti doesn't seem to notice the caution his friend used when mentioning my husband, "Dare was an islan' in da distance. Said dat's where we was supposed ta go."

"We started paddlin' for it," Pintel picks up the story in his naturally gruff and hoarse voice, "but afta' the Dutchamn 'ad left we realized we already knew 'ow ta get back ta da livin' world."

"Sunrise sets flash o' green," Ragetti parrots, nearly giggling.

"Don' know 'ow long we's was wandering in the seas a da afterlife for,"

"It was hot, it was!"

"Or 'ow long we'd been floatin' 'round in dis place after we's finally managed ta get aselves back."

"Flip right over our boat did!" I can almost see the intense glare Pintel must be giving the one eyed man as he keeps interrupting his tale.

"Any 'ow Ferrara picked us up and now 'ere we are."

"Land ho! Land ho!" Mr. Cotton's parrot squawks from on top his shoulder; I can hear the fluttering of the birds wings as well. The wood of the boat creeks a little as everyone turns to see if it's true. Not even I can resist the temptation to turn around. No one is looking at me; they all look ahead at the mass of sand and palm trees through the thinning fog.

"S'it real?" Ragetti asks wryly, "S'it just a mirage?"

"Let's hope not," Andy says sitting in front of me. He turns; I face the back of the boat once more, not wanting to look at any of them just yet. They had all so willing gone. They left the Dutchman with no complaints, abandoning Will and the others.

It doesn't take us long to reach the small island, that in fact was not a mirage. Mr. Gibbs, Pintel and Ragetti became rather superstitious rather quickly, muttering things and doing a little sort of dance Mr. Gibbs said would keep them from vanishing on the spot. Andy offers me his hand after he climbed out of the boat, hoping to help me up. I don't take it. I don't want to get up or step foot on the sandy beach. Being on land means being an entire world away from Will, that and I can't help but think of the last time I became stranded on a deserted island with the infuriating Captain Jack Sparrow.

I hop out of the boat anyway, but only to avoid the mildly confused and devoid of speech Andy, who did not move from his spot in the sand. I walk along the beach, allowing the warm water to wash over my feet and ankles and the strong breeze to toy with my hair and clothes. I do not look up or meet the gaze of any of my companions. Everything they did was steadily beginning to angry me; from Mr. Cotton's squawking parrot, to hushed plans of escape or retreat or the fact that Jack Sparrow is also fleeing the group in his usual lopsided strut.

I pick up the first broken piece of shell I find and throw it at him, only (to the fright of superstitious others) to watch it disappear in thin air before it even reaches him. I continue to chuck shells, pebbles and clumps of wet sand in his direction. I watch them all either miss, or those on target vanish before they hit him.

"Jack Sparrow you coward!" my voice is hoarse, it's the first time I've spoken in what feels like a century, "I hate you! Why won't you go back and help him!"

"Why should I?" Jack retorts from a safe distance, "So you can stick to your little plan 'bout havin' me lead ya to the Pearl, to my ship, my freedom so you can take it out from under me to save the already dead life o' the whelp?!"

He knew of our plan. Truthfully I'm not surprised. I can feel his anger rising to match my own, but I don't care anymore. I want him, need him to do something spectacular and courageous at the last second, saving us all. Then the truth strikes me like a bullet.

"Because you're the one who keeps Will and I together!" a fresh wave of tears string in my eyes, "You always have! You're the reason we met Jack. You told Barbossa about the Illa de Muerta. It was because of the mutiny against you Bootstrap that sent the medallion to Will. The Black Pearl destroyed Will's ship and mine saved him. We met because you sought cursed Aztec gold."

Jack contemplates this information; I keep talking, taking a step closer to him with every sentence. My voice is sincere, what I'm telling him is true. He's seemed to have let his guard down now, no longer fearing nor feeling guilty about my angry wrath.

"You helped Will rescue me from Barbossa," my voice grows softer as I approach "Granted you only wanted the Pearl back for yourself when it all started but you still saved us. You could have let Barbossa kill us and take the Pearl but you didn't."

He smiles a bit smugly at my compliment.

"You're the one who gave me the compass, showed me how to rescue Will by finding the heart of Davy Jones. Granted again you were only in it to save yourself at first but again still. You're also the one who gave up your first, no wait second, chance at immortality to save Will's life after Davy Jones stabbed him. "

"Well, you might as well just give me a metal then," he's feeling quite proud of himself now.

"You're even the reason that brought Will and I back together in this lifetime as well because…because" I'm beginning to remember my feelings toward him back on the Dutchman, "Because Ferrara hates you."

"Beg pardon?" he was expecting a congratulations.

My tone changes to one of fury, "You stole Ferrara's ship! Don't lie to me Jack I saw it in a dream! You gave Ferrara the compass!"

"Technically he stole-"

"You told Ferrara that Will was the Pirate King!" I push hard on this chest; he wobbles but doesn't fall, "You gave him the key! Ferrara is controlling Will right now because of you! This is all your fault Jack Sparrow, you bastard! You got us into this mess and now you're just running away like the coward you are, not bothering to stick around and fix it!"

"Wait a minute, when did I stop bein' the hero o' this story?" I push him again and immediately after move in for a third shove but he flails his arms out to block me.

"You were never a hero Jack! You're nothing but a coward, always running away!" I kick sand at him as I stumble back, over loaded with anger. It's at this point Jack's temper seems to snap as well, lashing out at me like he did the last time we were left to rot on a tiny island. Just like the last time when the truth came spilling out of him.

"For your information Missy I had no intentions of allowing your husband to killed and or controlled by Cap'n Ferrara, savvy? I was 'oping that one of you two geniuses would 'ave the sense ta take the key from Ferrara's 'and, as he so grandly presented it ta you. My idea by the way, otherwise 'e would o' just killed dear William while neither of you were lookin', but no. You two lovebirds had ta argue over who gave who the key and stupidly reveal yerselves ta be the number one people on bleedin' Ferrara's 'it list! I took the key, simply 'cause I needed it ta trade 'im fo' this!"

He pulls the black domed compass from one of his coat pockets and waves it across my face.

"I 'ad planned ta use ta find the Pearl, and kill that filthy bastard before 'e kills us! Which, I might add, would 'ave worked if you 'ad only noticed that bleedin' key! Though now it seems I 'ave a change in me plans, that you seem ta believe is me bein' a coward and runnin' away. In actuality I 'ad planned ta still use me compass ta find the Pearl before 'e does, though now I'm sure it'll take less time for 'im to find is away 'round this place with the Dutchman by 'is side, would o' been lost fo' days without it or the compass. I also plan ta rescue dear William from the clutches of Ferrara's evil grasp, some 'ow, and let you two 'ave yer 'appily ever after endin', Savvy? Don't forget who took your side during the war, your Majesty."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. Is this the truth, or just more lies? "Just whose side are you on Jack Sparrow?" I can hear tears in my voice. I wasn't aware I was crying.

"I ain't on nobody's side but me own Love, s'everybody else who chooses," With that he turns on the spot and ventures off to his own semi-remote piece on island. He plops down in the sand, leans his back against a palm tree truck and pulls his hat over his eyes to think. I'm still frozen in place, unsure how much of Jack's story I should believe but also wanting every word of it to be true. Even if it is the truth it still doesn't change anything now. We're stranded on an island in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle with not one, but two pirate ships after us. We don't even have any rum.

"Hey," Andy places a hand on my shoulder, "you gonna be alright?" I shouldn't be so angry with him or the others. He cares about me; in his eyes my safety comes first, just like Will.

I give a small nod in response. He guides to the spot on the island where the others attempt at building a fire. The sun, where ever in the surrounding fog it may be, will be setting soon.

Thump-thump…

Will holds me safely in his arms, stroking my hair as I nestle my head against his chest. The steady rise and fall of his chest while he breathes soothes me. I take a deep lung full of air as well, drinking in his permanent scent of sea air. I remember when he used to smell of smoke and metal back at Port Royal. I keep my eyes closed, ready to fall asleep at any moment.

A romantic, music box melody I can just barely recognize dances circles in my ears. It started off faint, but the tighter Will squeezes me the louder and more distinct it becomes.

"I'm so sorry Elizabeth," Will whispers softly, happily, "I should have never of told you to go. Everything is alright. You're safe here." His body is so warm, so inviting. I lift my head from his shirt to move in for a much craved for kiss. I can feel Will's lips hovering mere inches away from mine, his breath cascades over me. the only thing ruining this moment is that ridiculous melody, taunting me in my dreams.

"I love you Will," I say. He doesn't respond. He doesn't even move forward to kiss me. Something's wrong. "Will?"

I choke on my own breath when the cold metal pierces my chest. My eyes flash open. Will is standing before me, but his eyes are not the same deep brown I know them to be. They're darker, black and soulless and possessed by an evil I hadn't thought possible. A warm liquid trickles over my lips, spewing from the corners of my mouth. The thick metallic taste on my tongue tells me that it's blood. I can feel it pouring out of my body from the wound over my heart, squeezing its way around the sharp blade that's broken my skin. Will stares coldly into my eyes as he watches me die, holding me at his level by the sword running through my chest and out my back. My blood drips off the point of his blade, the sound of it swirls amidst the taunting music.

Thump-thump.

For the first time I wonder if it hadn't been Will's heart I was hearing beat and fade, but my own throbbing in my ears as it slowly dies, murdered by the one it loves most.

The images in my mind are suddenly that of a kaleidoscope, swirling and changing rapidly to create knew ones. The pain of death leaves me, replaced by absolute nothingness. The image of my new surroundings takes shape and I recognize it to be the meeting room of the Brethren Court at Ship Wreck Cove.

The room is full, stuffed with as many shabby looking pirates as possible. Every face of the eager pirates portrays their anxiousness for what's about to come. Eight out of nine seats of the oval table are occupied with stranger's faces, though each holds peculiarly familiar objects in their hands. One holds a stiff, white playing card between his fingers; another is a pair of spectacles. The most peculiar object I notice is a small wooden ball that its owner rolls lazily back and forth between his hands. At least to anyone watching the patched pirate it appears to be simply a ball, though I know it to be the crude wooden eye of Ragetti, rolling between its first owner's fingers. These items are the nine pieces of eight. I'm witnessing the first Brethren Court.

A deeply tanned man with thick black hair stands in the ninth spot at the head of the table. His Spanish accent is heavy in his speech. Captain Ferrara.

"No longer will I have a woman control my seas!" he shouts, his face bares the angered expression I'm becoming accustomed to, "The ocean is for us men, the pirates to command!"

His fellow pirates chant and cheer. None of them are women.

"We are the ones who sail in these waters!" he continues feverishly, "We are the men who have made these seas our homes, our territories, our kingdoms! How dare this witch, this self proclaimed Goddess forbid our ships to sail! For too long she has tossed our vessels about like nothing more then leaves in the wind, on what she calls her ocean. I lost my ship, the Pearl, to this witch and I will not allow it to happen again! That is why I stand here before you gentlemen, my fellow Lords, as the first elected King by the code of the newly established Brethren Court!" More cheering, "I suggested that we must bind Calypso, forever in her human form so she is not to bother us again, and with the help of our dear friend Captain Jones we have succeeded in doing just that!"

Captain Ferrara makes a show of retrieving an item from one of his pockets. He twirls it in his fingers before revealing it to the rest of the Court; a small, thin almost flat, round, gold bead with curved edges. I know in the future that this bead will come to be worn with an assortment of others by none other then Captain Jack Sparrow. I wonder if Ferrara knows Jack had it, the first Brethren Court happened to long ago for him to pass it to Jack directly. If he does know, then that's probably another reason why Ferrara hates him.

"And now gentlemen I present to you the Sea Goddess witch Calypso, powerless!" Ferrara snaps his fingers and two more pirates enter the scene. They force with them a women tied in thick ropes. Her contempt for the pirates is in no way subtle as she glares at them, especially Ferrara. Calypso is exactly the same woman I met two hundred years ago with her long dread locks and blackened teeth. She is a sight I find strangely comforting.

Ferrara wastes no time in showing Calypso whose boss. He slaps her hard across the face and the other pirates in the room snicker. Is he aware of the fatal mistakes he keeps making?

"Look at me wench!" he roars to Calypso, whose face is obscured by her hair, "Behold the sea's new master!"

As she lifts her head she cats him a sly, all knowing smile, "You will die a tragic fate Captain, an' one more deserving ta be King shall take your place." She warns.

"None is a better King then me," he laughs at her. She smiles again, that same sly smile. Then her eyes move, and I'm sure she's looking straight at me.

"We shall see abou' dat," she snickers.

My body is jolted awake the moment my dream ends, or at least at the moment I assume it ends. I'm lying on my back, drenched in sweat and sand sticks too me because of it. Though my breathing is quick and my pulse races I don't get up, but simply lay there in the sand as I regain complete consciousness. I'm lying flat on my back actually, and I could have sworn I was leaning against a palm tree when I drifted to sleep last night. I turn my head slightly in the sand. From the looks of thing I'm the only one awake. Anamaria, who last night fell asleep next to me, now lays several yards away. I somehow doubt she's a sleepwalker.

I lift my upper body from the sand slowly, watching the tiny grains fall as I stretch from the uncomfortable sleep. The ocean draws my attention, crawling up and down the beach in noisy waves. My heart goes to Will. I miss him. My mind wonders back to my nightmare, featuring just the two of us. I'm scared for him. I'm scared for us all.

"It's always belonged to you, will you keep it safe?"

I should have, but I didn't.

I need to find him. I need to save him. I'll get in the longboat and go now, before every wakes so they can't stop me. I spring to my feet, my early morning fatigue replaced by seemingly boundless energy. There's still hope Will, don't give up just yet, don't give in! I'm coming for you! It's up to me now. I won't let you down Will, not this time.

It would all just be so much easier if I could find the longboat. It too seems to have disappeared during the night. I scan the beach for any sign of it, praying it's merely relocated to a different spot on the island. I lift my hand to shield my eyes from the glaring sun, the fog from yesterday having entirely lifted. There it is! I've spotted the longboat, bobbing between the waves as it drifts away from our little island. I could jump in and swim for it, it's not too far. But…there's something else floating along with it. When I squint, I can tell it's more of a someone else sitting inside of it, fleeing.

"Jack Sparrow you lying bastard!"

Jack

"Jack Sparrow you lying bastard!" Elizabeth has quite the set o' vocal cords on 'er, bein' able to scream that loud from that far away. She begins screamin' even more insults and curses at me, throwing what looks like handfuls of sand and broken shells a pathetically short distance. She's goin' ta walk everybody up if she keeps goin' on like that. 'Er tantrum on the beach grows smaller and smaller as I row away from 'em. She screams an' cries an' yells, but I keep on rowin' out to sea. If she didn't 'ate me before, small chance of that, she certainly well 'ates me now.

"Sorry Love, shoulda told ya I plan on keepin' me word ta William too," I take a quick peek at me compass. Good, I'm headin' in the right direction.