Chapter 33

Barbossa walked back to the Dutchman, all that Tia had told him ringing in his head. He rubbed his, looking around the ship. He could not see Jones anywhere. Undoubtedly the captain was hidden away, sulking. It would not be new, to be certain. Ever since the idea of Tia Dalma had arisen, Jones had been less than an active participant in things.

Barbossa walked around the ship a bit more, looking around every corner. Jones wasn't in his cabin either. He was becoming impatient. A captain should not be this difficult to find. He spotted Maccus, grumpily yelling at the crew, his shoulders slumped, his eyes twitching. How Barbossa hated this things!

"Where be Jones?" he asked him gruffly.

"Dunno," Maccus snarled. "He was here a while ago."

Barbossa sighed impatientlyand snapped at Maccus to move along. He pondered for a minute. Bree would know. Bree always knew where Jones was. Now all he had to do was find Bree. He figured she'd be near the bowsprits as she always was and sure enough, there was Bree, the wind blowing in her hair, no peace in her eyes. She looked furious. But she wasn't alone. She was with someone, and they were speaking loud enough for Barbossa to hear, and he would have laughed, if the situation had permitted it.

"She comes on here an' then everythin' changes! It's like no one else exists! If she's such a witch as ye say she is, why do ye still care 'bout her?!" he heard Bree say angrily.

"Why does it matter so much to ye if I do ter begin with?!" he heard another voice say, Jones' voice.

What in God's name are they doin'? Barbossa wondered, leaning in closer. He could see Bree's face go pale, despite the fiery pink patches on her cheeks.

"I jus' think that this whole thing is bloody stupid," she growled, throwing a barnacle into the sea below, lowering her eyes.

"Oh, so ye'd rather have Caylie die?" Jones asked her sarcastically.

"No!" Bree cried. "O' course not! I jus' wish that she wasn't here."

Barbossa could tell Jones didn't fully understand why Bree cared to begin with, but he also knew he had to comfort her somehow.

"She'll be leavin' tomorrow," Jones said softly, but gruffly. "An' that'll be the end o' that."

Bree looked up at him. "Tomorrow seems like a very long time, Cap'n."

Jones looked out to the sea distantly and sighed. "Not fer me."

Barbossa knew he had seen and heard enough and decided to make his presence known. He cleared his throat and felt like laughing at how guilty both of them looked, matching flustered looks on their faces.



"Cap'n Barbossa," Jones nodded to Barbossa, clearing his throat, straightening to a ridiculous extent.

Barbossa gave Bree a small, barely noticeable wink and a knowing smile and looked back at Jones. "I've got news-about Caylie."

Jones' face became alert and he shot Bree a glance, who, in turn, ran up to the deck. Barbossa chuckled at her flustered face and then walked closer so he was facing Jones.

"I have good and bad news. The good news is Tia Dalma has managed to concoct a remedy fer Caylie. Bad news is that ye have ter still pay her," Barbossa said.

"What sort o' remedy?" Jones asked, rubbing his temple with his better hand.

"Well, it's herbs, from what I gathered…and it's supposedly very powerful," Barbossa mused, "And, as with anything pertaining to Tia Dalma, very dangerous. But, it's better than our other option."

Jones tentacles perked up and he looked at Barbossa. "Well what would this 'other option' BE, Captain?" This made no sense to him at all.

"Well…apparently it's milder than the other…but the effects are…most serious," Barbossa said carefully, wary as to how he formulated his answers. He would not have Davy Jones furious with him.

"Serious how, Captain Barbossa?" Barbossa could hear the impatience in Jones' voice, and realized very quickly he was walking on a thin line.

Barbossa leaned against the railing, folding his arms across his chest. "She would not tell me," he said slowly. "But she said it was horrible, for a woman."

"Many things are horrible fer women," Jones said coldly. "Ye must know that, Captain."

"I do," Barbossa nodded. "But she was especially…curt, let's say, with it. I did not press. There's no need. If she says it's bad, it's bad."

Jones was silent for a long while, and finally looked at Barbossa, frowning slightly. "What do ye think it is, Captain?"

Barbossa blinked. "Me, sir; I have little knowledge of what women qualify as suffering. Heartbreak, I suppose...Beauty, is another, but Caylie never valued beauty…there's being barren…but women don't all care about that…"

Jones sighed. "This seems ridiculous, ter me. But do what ye think is best, Captain. But if me niece suffers more than she ought to, I will hold ye responsible."

Thank you very much, Captain. Just what I needed. You on my back. Barbossa nodded. "Aye, Captain," he nodded his head and they both fell silent. Barbossa, on any other occasion, would have left right away, but there was something else that was bothering him.

"Cap'n…" Barbossa trailed off slowly.

Jones looked at him expectantly.



"What happened to yer sister, after ye left fer sea?" Barbossa asked, holding his breath in fear of what Jones would think of the random question. Surprisingly, Jones did not get angry. He just leaned back, his lips pursed tightly. Barbossa wondered if him yelling would be worst than his silence.

"I remember little, Barbossa. It was a very long time ago. I know I sent her away, ter London, ter keep 'er safe. She liked it well enough. I did not think to watch her more closely, she was a steady lass, fer her age," Jones said, looking at Barbossa. "I don't like your curiosity, Barbossa," he said bluntly. "My sister is dead. She's been dead fer so long. There's no purpose in acting as if she was not. There's no purpose bringing up what is lost."

"I know that," Barbossa said firmly. "Tia Dalma said something about her, is all. I'm not typically a curious man, Captain Jones."

Jones' eyes flashed slightly. "What did the witch say?"

Barbossa squirmed, wondering if he'd said a bit too much… "She just asked me if I knew her as anythin' other than Caylie's mother, is all…I think the woman's losing her mind, honestly."

Jones' eyes settled, and he shrugged his great shoulders, shaking his head. "Ye don't need ter worry 'bout what that woman says. Dawn was long before yer time. She died before ye were born I expect. Don't think too hard on it. Dawn had a capability o' makin' the most logical things seem out o' this world. Even her portrait seems ter have that effect."

Barbossa nodded, relieved. "Aye…I suppose…" He turned to walk away, all these thoughts swirling in his head. Dawn Jones. That name. The portrait. Those beautiful hypnotic blue eyes. The dress. Dawn's golden hair. It seemed so real in the painting. He wondered if it was at all natural to be bewitched by a woman almost two hundred years older than him…a woman long dead, whom he'd never met. Was it anywhere near normal…he could not see how.

Tia Dalma sat in Caylie's cabin, the quietness of the ship eerie to her. She paced around the room a few times, but she found no rest or peace. She looked at Caylie, the girl sleeping a bit more peacefully than before. She was pale, but Tia was sure with the remedies provided she would make a full recovery. She was tough, even if she was young. Tia opened the cabin door, deciding it best to take a walk. Walking out of the cabin she saw Barbossa leaning against the rail, his face furrowed in thought. Tia approached him, surveying him carefully.

"Worried about da girl are ya?" she asked him.

Barbossa did not look at her. "O' course I am. The girl's valuable, to all of us. Without her, I'm afraid of what Jones'll do. And the locker…she has important parts to play, we mustn't forget."

Tia nodded slowly. "Mmm…personally, I'd love ta see da girl dead, and Jones sufferin'. But dat's just me," she paused. "And da girl…she's just a pawn den? Dat's all?"

"In part," Barbossa said, not ready to relay how much Caylie meant to him, and all of them, really, to Tia Dalma. She was too jealous.



They fell silent, until finally Barbossa sighed. "Ye're a confusing woman, Tia Dalma. But a smart one. I need to ask you something."

She looked at him, but not expectantly. He knew she already knew what he would ask.

"Dawn Jones…" he said slowly. "The painting of her. There's something…abnormal in it, isn't there?"

"Depends wot abnormal means, Barbossa," she said smugly, looking out at the sea. "It's a wonderful likeness, ta be sure…"

"It's like I know her," he frowned. "But she died ages ago…"

"In a way ya do."

Barbossa laughed, shaking his head. "Ye're such a devil, Tia Dalma. I ought to stop asking ye things! Ye confused me more than ever."

Tia shrugged, taking a step back. "Dere are some things, Barbossa, dat are better left alone," she walked away from him, shaking her head.

Barbossa took off his large hat just as Jack the monkey ran over to him, grabbing it. "I don't get it, Jack."

The monkey hissed and squealed, running off to Caylie's cabin, one of his few refuges. Barbossa thought for a minute, closing his eyes, and trying to remember. He knew if he tried hard enough he would. Jack the monkey soon returned with something in hand. Barbossa, annoyed that he broke his concentration, looked at the monkey in scorn.

"I thought ye were gone ter see Caylie," he said.

The monkey looked up at him with a "please forgive me" face and handed Barbossa the object. Barbossa shook his head as he looked upon the beautiful face of Dawn Jones. "Ye're a devil too."

Jack clapped his hands, obviously pleased with himself.

"Ye like her too?" Barbossa mocked, showing the monkey the portrait.

Jack clapped some more, his squealing louder. He tapped on the portrait a few times, jumping up and down.

"Apparently so," Barbossa nodded, looking at the portrait again. He ran his hand down the portrait, tracing out Dawn's face and her magnificent eyes. He ran his hand down her hair, closing his eyes again. He could almost feel her hair…it was…softer than he thought, but also coarser, more lively.

"Don't go…" he heard in his head, the voice a melodious thing.

He kept his mind on the soft and satiny feeling on his fingers, as his hand touched the hair on the portrait. Barbossa tried to focus some more, trying to understand what tricks his mind was playing.



"How do I make someone stay alive forever?" he heard himself this time, his voice urgent. Well, he thought it was himself. It sounded like himself, only…not like himself. Was it even him? He didn't even know anymore. It was a man, for certain, perhaps younger than he was, but coated with the same heavy accent he held…was it him?

Then he saw something else. Though it was not really seeing, since he did not really see anything. He just heard, and saw blurry small snips and felt.

He saw a smile, a beautiful, shy smile and again he felt the soft thing in his fingers, its texture so smooth it slipped from his hands. He wanted it back. It was warm and comforting. He felt a sweet smell tickle his nose; a smell he could not describe.

"I'm so sorry…Please…I love you, don't go," her voice…that voice…it was full of tears. He felt them on his thumb and then he opened his eyes, back on the Dawning, his head spinning. He looked down at the portrait in his hand and swallowed hard. He flipped it over and undid the pins that held it to the frame. He went to slip the canvas from the frame, but stopped himself. No It wasn't his. It was Caylie's. He couldn't take it from her. He redid the pins and shook his head. His curiosity had died. He had killed it. And he would not bring it back. No way in hellfire. He was about to hand the frame to Jack when he noticed another paper tucked deep into the frame, a small yellowed corner sticking out. He wanted to pull that out too, but he had to force himself not to. He didn't know Dawn Jones. Her affairs were not his business. He handed it forcefully to the poor little monkey, who seemed more confused than anything by his captain's behavior.

"Take it back to Caylie. She's going to want it more than us, when she wakes."

The monkey looked at the picture and then at Barbossa, with a look that clearly read, IF she wakes up…

Barbossa, against his own will, kicked the animal, glaring hard at him. "Don't lookit me that way! Off with ye!"

Jack squealed, and ran off to the cabin, wimpering. Barbossa knew he'd regret it later, but he was too frustrated to bother with regrets. Jones was right. There is no point in fretting over what is lost.

Tia walked over to the Dutchman, a place she had barely been since arriving. Now that she had left Barbossa with something to think on at night, she needed something to do. The ship was so boring. There was nothing to do. She was going to the girl's cabin, when she saw two of the men (could they be considered that?) talking together quietly, one of them looking very upset. Tia wasn't the type of person who eavesdropped, not really, but in this case, she had nothing else to do, and they were part of Jones' crew. It's not like they were worth much.

"Clanker for the millionth time, he does not love her," the other man said, pulling hard on the rope. "They're just friends."

"How d'ye know that? Ye didn't see how he is around her Bootstrap," Clanker said, yanking on the ropes hard, "I tell ye...she's…I just don't like it."

The other man, Bootstrap, chuckled. "No she ain't. Caylie's jus' bein' Caylie."

"Exactly," Clanker said.



Bootstrap shook his head.

"An' he hates me too, ever wonder why?" Clanker said.

"Because ye got into rows with Caylie?" Bootstrap asked softly. "Because she's a little girl, and ye're much older than her, and it looks bad to anyone who don't know Caylie like we do?"

Clanker looked at him sourly. "Who's side are ye on anyways?"

Bootstrap rolled his eyes. "Ye know I can't take the side o' the man who strapped me to a cannon and threw me ter the depths. I'm jus' tellin' the truth."

"I know," Clanker sighed, "an' what's stupid is how the truth ain't even the truth. Aye, I got into rows with Caylie an' hurt her but it was only 'cause I wanted ter protect her!" but he did not have anything to say about their age difference. Clanker was much older than Caylie, but she'd been trapped as an adolescent for much longer than he'd been alive for. And yet...it seemed sometimes that she'd not grown in that time at all. And so…yes, perhaps Barbossa was right for holding that against him.

Bootstrap let go of the ropes and patted Clanker on the back. "Caylie'll forgive ye. She misses yer friendship as much as ye do. Maybe even more. If we're lucky, she'll have not inherited her uncle's bitterness..."

Clanker tied the ropes and sat on one of the crates. "Impossible on both counts. Caylie's just like 'im."

Bootstrap sat next to him. "Who was it that defended Caylie against Maccus and Jimmylegs? An' who was it that offered to include her in Liar's Dice? And who was it that fought off Beckett fer her? Caylie doesn't forget, Clanker."

"Aye, but who was it that broke her seashells? Who was it that whipped her fifty times an' called her a whelp at every turn? Who was it that…that broke her, and refused her, more than once…more than thrice…all me, Bootstrap," Clanker said miserably. "Ye're right, Clanker don't forget. That's what worries me most."

Tia was very interested in this conversation. She could not believe all that this one and Caylie had apparently gone through. It seemed like they had gone through quite a ride of emotions only to get where they were now. Not unlike her mother…

Bootstrap knew Clanker was not near seeing sense. He was convince in Caylie's hate for him. Clanker sighed, standing up. "I've got work ter do…"

Bootstrap sighed in defeat, looking up at Clanker. "Why don't ye go see her? It might do ye some good."

Clanker shook his head. "I can't…"

"Aye, ye can. Tia Dalma's not there. I saw her leave earlier," Bootstrap urged.

"No," Clanker sighed, "I can't; it ain't right."



Bootstrap shook his head. "Ye're too stubborn, Clanker. That's why ye row with Caylie. You're both so damn stubborn."

Clanker would have smiled, but he didn't have the heart to. He went to work, because someone and he forgot who it was, some French writer, probably, once said that work keeps away wants, qualms and needs. He didn't know if that was right, but it was certainly encouraging.

Tia continued her little trip along the Dutchman until she was facing Jones' cabin door. It was closed, but she heard voices inside. Why was this ship so busy, when the Dawning was so empty? She wouldn't have gone anywhere near Jones, if she hadn't heard the woman. She pressed her ear to the door. Certainly he did not replace ME. He wouldn't…

"Cap'n…" Tia heard the deep female voice say and trail off. Tia frowned.

"Bree please, I need yer help with this," Tia heard Jones say, his voice softer than she remembered it had even been when he had been talking to her.

The girl sighed. "Fine. What is it?"

"Tia Dalma-" Jones began but was cut off by the girl, Bree.

"THAT woman again?!" she cried in anger.

"Shush Bree an' jus' listen to me…for once," Jones said in irritation, which seemed to shut the girl. "Look, I don't want ter get into this with ye again. We went through this earlier. She's here fer Caylie."

"So is Clanker!"

Jones scoffed. "Clanker's here fer his own merit; if he has any business with Caylie, it's fer him, not her!"

"That's a lie! How can ye say that?! Caylie would be bouncin' off the walls if she heard ye!" the woman's voice went up in volume, and Tia was amazed that Jones let her yell at him that way.

"Well she can't hear me, and ye know why? Because Clanker couldn't do his job," Jones said coldly.

"Oh yes, very nice, blame it all on Clanker now. Feels good, don't it? To blame it all on someone else?" Tia was certain Jones would have killed the girl by that point.

"No. It don't. But I'm not letting him near my niece again."

"Ye can't do that-"

"Don't ye tell me what I can and cannot do, Bree!" Tia heard a loud smack, and felt a tremor of delight surge through her. The prospect of Davy Jones hitting another woman was the most pleasurable thing.

There was a long silence, and then,

"I ain't tryin' to. But it's not fair. Not to Caylie, and not to Clanker."



"I know what I'm doin', Bree. I do," he said quietly. "That's all ye need ter know. Now go, before someone sees ye're gone."

The girl walked towards the door, and then, Tia supposed, turned and said, in a voice much quieter, and much hoarser than his, "I-I'm sorry ye're goin' through this cap'n."

"So am I," Jones said.

Tia did not hear anything for a while and she peered through the window, trying to see why no one was talking. It was because they were hugging. Tia made a face. Then Jones did something highly unexpected and kissed Bree's cheek. Bree smiled at him awkwardly and then squeezed his hand, getting up and she turned the door handle to leave. Tia leaned against the wall, trying to mask the anger she suddenly felt towards this impudent girl. Bree looked at Tia and poked her head into Jones' cabin again.

"Cap'n, there's someone to see ye!" she called. "An' ye better have yer sword ready."

Jones got up at Bree saying this and walked over to the door, surprised to see Tia. Bree looked from Tia to Jones rapidly, giving them both nervous glances. Jones felt his mind spinning, his ears ringing. He didn't want to look at her. He barely did.

"What do ye want?" Jones asked Tia, his throat hoarse. His eyes were narrowed, flashing at her.

"I did what ya asked o' me, now I want ma paymen'," Tia snapped, looking at Bree.

"Well, name yer price," Jones said simply, also looking at Bree.

Tia pondered for a minute and then her face lit up maliciously. "Can I have her?" she motioned to Bree.

Bree looked at her in shock and disgust. "That's a terrible price!" She looked at Jones and he gave her a calming look.

"No," Jones said. "That's not something I can give ye. Bree's got a debt to settle, with me. If I did let her go, ye'd have ter take her place. And neither o' us wants ye to be here any longer."

Tia looked crestfallen for a moment but soon recovered, thinking some more. "Fine den, give me yar control o'er de Locker."

Jones bit his lip and nodded curtly. "Agreed. Ye have me power o'er the Locker."

Bree looked at him in shock, wanting to say something but no words would come out. "Cap'n…"

"Caylie's me priority Bree, not the Locker. That ship has sailed. Fer once I have ter care fer me family," Jones said, a bit regretfully. "Besides, ye did give me the power in the first place. So ye can have it back."

Tia nodded triumphantly and stalked off to the Dawning, pleased with herself. Bree looked at Jones angrily.



"It'll be even WORSE with her controllin' the Locker!" she cried, stomping off to do work.

Jones sighed and walked back into his cabin, but before he did he caught sight of a figure walking towards Caylie's cabin. Focusing his vision he saw who it was: Clanker. Of course it was Clanker. Jones rolled his eyes and closed the door. What would Clanker do? Watch her sleep? He was definitely desperate. Jones would pity his soul, but he didn't have any pity anymore. Not for love.

Caylie had not experience any illusions since the one of her marriage. She had remained in darkness and flame, the pain from her chest the only thing keeping her on Earth. So many times she had wanted to let go and ignore everyone, following the bright and warm light that said her pain would end, but she couldn't do it without thinking of Bree, Jones, Barbossa and Clanker and all they had done to help her. She had to fight, even if it hurt.

Clanker stood in front of Caylie's cabin door for a minute, looking at it as though it were the most fascinating thing on earth. He was trying to decided whether to take Bootstrap's advice and go in or just stay out there, in the cold, with the knowledge that Caylie was through that door, fighting for her life. Clanker saw Barbossa not far away, looking at something with great interest. Clanker was tempted to go see what it was, but he knew if he did not want Barbossa going through his business, he could not go through Barbossa's business. Sighing, Clanker turned the door handle and opened the door, walking into Caylie's cabin. Caylie was sleeping again, no big surprise. Clanker smiled softly as he watched her, pulling up a chair so he could sit next to her. He took her hand apprehensively and stroked it.

"When are ye comin' back, Caylie?" he sighed. "We need ye here. I don't know how much longer I can go without going insane. My ears have forgotten how your voice sounds, they've missed yer laugh, ringing through them. My eyes have almost forgotten how yer eyes look, it's been so long since I've looked in them. How much longer will ye put me through this?" He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to it, rubbing it with his other hand.

Caylie felt a wave of relief come over her. She felt like she did when she had removed her corset; free. She could see the light so clearly now. She was almost there. She had to get there, it was so beautiful. She looked down at herself and saw she was wearing the most beautiful and feather-light dress she had ever seen. She wanted to run to the light but suddenly something stopped her. A pulling at her hand. A soft pulling. One that made her feel so relaxed and calmed her urge to run. She turned around and a gust of wind blew her hair all over her face. Caylie pulled the hair away and frowned. What was happening? She saw something, or someone, more like. They were blurry.

"Who is it?" she called.

The person came into focus and reached out to Caylie. "Caylie, my darling Caylie it's me. It's mum."

Caylie's eyes widened and she focused her eyes. "Mum? But…how…?"

Dawn did not look a day older than she did in the portrait Caylie had. She was still beautiful and youthful, all clad in white. "It doesn't matter, Caylie. All that matters it that you don't let go. Do you understand me? You can't let go."

"But it hurts!" Caylie cried.



"But think of Davy…he loves you so much Caylie. Don't come yet," Dawn said softly. "An' Bree…an'-an' Barbossa…an' Clanker. He's with you right now Caylie. Please my love, they need you and you need them. Don't give in like I did."

Caylie felt tears spring to her eyes. "I want to stay here with ye."

"You can't," Dawn said, almost sternly. "I won't let you. You won't like it."

"How do ye know?" Caylie asked defiantly.

"I jus' do. Mothers know best, even in death. Now please…hold on. When I tell you to, let go. Do you understand?" Dawn said urgently.

"Let go o' what?" Caylie asked.

"Everythin'," Dawn said, "and tell Davy I am so proud of him. I love him so much…" she drifted off. "And Barbossa...the poor man…tell him…" she shook her head.

Caylie looked at her translucent mother in confusion. "Tell Barbossa what?"

"It doesn't matter," Dawn said sadly, fading away, "I love you Caylie."

She disappeared but Caylie still heard her voice.

"Now, Caylie! Let go now!" Dawn whispered loudly and Caylie obeyed, letting go of all she had control of and she was falling and there was no one to catch her.

Clanker had been with Caylie over an hour now. He hadn't found the heart to leave her yet. He still held her hand, never letting go of it. He hadn't moved really. He had just sat with her, finding no peace except there, holding her hand. It was warm, letting him know she was still alive, even if only just.

"I really do wonder Caylie if ye ever will wear that dress again. It was so beautiful on ye. I'd love to see ye wear it once more but I know ye won't. It was a burden for ye to wear. I wouldn't want ye to be burdened by it again, especially not on me account," he was babbling, but it didn't matter. He was alone, and she couldn't hear him.

Caylie stirred a bit, turning her head around. She was so dizzy. Clanker was afraid she would have another fit, so he made well and sure the necklace was out of sight and out of her reach.

"It's alright Caylie. It's alright. Ye're goin' to better soon."

He made to get up when he heard a moan escape her lips. He looked back at her and saw color return to her face. He touched her face slowly. Caylie moaned again and then her eyes flew wide open. She was gasping for breath, as though coming out of water after being drowned. Clanker swallowed hard, too petrified to move.

"Clanker?" she asked in a hushed voice, afraid she was still asleep and in a dream-realm.

Clanker felt tears sting his eyes. "Caylie? Ye-ye're awake?"



Caylie was already crying, looking around the room, the whole scene a blur to her. She reached a hand out to him and smiled softly. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Long enough fer us to go insane!" Clanker exclaimed happily, taking her hand.

Caylie looked up at him. "It still hurts."

"An' expect it to fer some more. Ye're not out o' this yet," Clanker said softly, but with a pained hope. "But ye will be! Thank the gods ye're awake…"

Caylie looked down for a minute and then back at him. She did not know what to say, so many things rushing through her head. For someone who claimed to have never cared for her, he seemed to care very much. She was going to say something when Clanker reluctantly let go of her hand and got up. "I better go tell Jones the good news. He-he'll want ter know."

Caylie nodded slowly. "Aye, he will. I want to see him."

Clanker nodded, walking to the door.

"And Clanker?" Caylie said in a small voice.

Clanker turned back around.

"Don't go far," Caylie said in a tone that suggested, as Bootstrap had predicted, Caylie did not forget anything. He was not going to escape talking to her about what had happened between them before all this ordeal. And he was not so afraid anymore.