It took a while, but I think I know where the story's going now. *sigh*. It's about time they told me…

As always, many gracious thanks to the readers and reviewers…

Will stood staring at the circle of faces around the fallen pirate. "Deliver the gems first? Jack can't wait that long. We've got to get him help."

"No, Will." The younger Turner looked at his father in shock.

"But - he's your friend. How can you –"

"He is my friend. And I'll respect his wishes." Standing from where he knelt at Jack's side, Bootstrap moved closer to his son. "He was willing to risk everything to get the pardon for his crew. I've got to make sure it happens." Will frowned at him, wide-eyed, before his gaze drifted back down to the deck where Jack lay silent. Elizabeth saw the torment in his face, and frustration choked back her tears.

"There has to be something..."

Captain Turner looked around thoughtfully, then nodded slowly. "If we carry on around the coast, come down on the leeward side of Crab Island, then we'll pass within range of Palomino. One of those could take him ashore." His hand pointed off to one of the small ambush boats that had been left crewless after the attack. He looked back to Will. "I promised I'd deliver the goods." The question was left unspoken in the dark, but Will nodded instantly.

"I'll take him."

"I'm coming with you." Will nodded without looking over at his wife.

"Can you sail it?"

"We'll manage."

"Should I take the Pearl, Cap'n."

"No, Ana. I want you with me." Ana looked surprised, perhaps angry for a moment. He went on. "We're still the ship to attack if they find out they've been had. Mr. Gibbs." The older pirate, who had been standing, staring down at his old friend and captain, shook his head back to the present.

"Aye?"

"The Pearlis yours."

Joshamee Gibbs stared Bootstrap in the eye for a long moment. "No, she's not." He looked back down at Jack, who was pale and still. "But I'll hold 'er for him."

Dawn's light was beginning to paint streaks of red on the eastern horizon by the time the two ships drew close to Palomino Island. They halted, to put the three on one of the small, single sailed craft. Ana frowned in concentration as she went over the idiosyncrasies of the smaller ships with Will.

"There's an old ship's bell, they say, on the shoreline. Ring it when ye beach, and she should come." They looked at each other as Will nodded, and she shook her head. "I should be goin' with ye."

"No, Ana. You need to make sure everything goes smoothly with the delivery." Will wasn't sure why, but if his father and Jack both wanted Ana to stay on the Esperance, they must have their reasons. In his heart he wished she were coming with them. They could use her experience. "We'll be alright."

"Aye, if she's still there."

"She will be." Elizabeth broke in, as she looked fiercely off toward the island where the morning sun was flaring golden-white onto the canopy of the trees. "She has to be."

Ana nodded. "Cap'n says we'll wait three hours, just in case."

Palomino Island was a tiny point of land off the northeast end of Puerto Rico. Just over a hundred acres, it still managed to possess the tropical beauty of the larger islands, complete with dense forest, soft beaches, and even a few caves in its higher, volcanic southern coast. A spring fed stream ran off a grassy plateau like a thread of liquid moonlight, and one horse picked out a living there above the southern cliffs - the last survivor of a passing Spanish galleon that avoided one of the leeward isles only to raze its hull against the rocky southern coast. Too insignificant to be charted, too abrupt to be seen by their lookout in the murky blackness of a storm-tossed night. Other than the cliffs that rose in the south, the rest of the coastline was for the most part sandy beach that swept gently down to the sea.

Will was keeping the sail trim in the tiny boat they had acquired, and Elizabeth sat amidships cradling Jack's head in her lap. Cautiously she lifted a corner of the blood-soaked rag on his chest, and winced as she saw the torn and bloody skin, already a nasty color around the edges even though they had cleaned it as best they could. Thank God for the ship's store of rum, which was more alcohol than anything. She glanced up at Will. "Not much fresh bleeding."

"Not much blood left." He regretted saying it as soon as he saw her eyes fill again, but couldn't help feeling that this would-be brother had given up, and was slipping away even as he watched. The pirate lay perfectly still, his skin a pallid alabaster beneath straggling dark hair. Will shook his head. Damn it, Jack. You don't have to give up being a pirate if you don't want to. Don't leave us without a fight. His eyes drifted to Elizabeth, and the unsteadiness of those normally strong, brown eyes gave her stomach a little lurch.

"Do you really think…"

Elizabeth glanced away only for a moment, marshalling her strength for him. "Yes. Ana seemed to think so. She said that she'd heard that this healer had 'spit in death's face' more than once." She looked back to her husband with a forced smile. "Although she said it a bit more colorfully, I admit."

He grinned back at her gratefully, but quickly busied himself with adjusting their course as he brought them up to shore. "There's the bell."

Clearly they were not the first visitors to this island. A wooden barrel held a painter up a couple yards from shore, so that boats too large to drag up on the beach could be tied securely. Will grabbed the end and made the ship fast, hopping over the side to find the water was just above his waist. He pulled the ship a little farther in before leaning over the hull to lift Jack from Elizabeth, carrying him in strong arms carefully through the water and up to a small shelter. Elizabeth followed behind him and walked over to the right of the shelter, where a bamboo framework held an old ship's bell four feet over the sand. She glanced at Will, who nodded, and pulled the rope several times. They waited.

Half an hour later, they were losing hope. Elizabeth sighed. "Is there anything we can do for him, then?"

"Let's not give up quite yet."

"I'm not giving up. I'm just –" She dropped her head back and looked up at the bright morning sky. "I feel so helpless."

"I know."

They rang the bell again, as they had been doing every ten minutes since they landed. "Ana said that it might take a while-" she lifted her head to look at Will, and gasped abruptly.

A woman was standing several feet behind him where the jungle forest thinned to the beach, regarding them with reserved interest. Her skin was the honey rose shade of a native of the Americas, and her long braided hair was dark, as were her eyes. She wore a worn cotton shirt similar to what Will had on, but it seemed curiously out of place on her, and was a soft greenish brown color, belted with a long, dark burgundy sash. The leggings she wore were reddish brown, and her feet were bare.

Will turned at Elizabeth's expression, and quickly stood to face the woman. "Hello."

She looked at him carefully, then Elizabeth, then stepped over to where Jack lay, dropping gracefully to her knees. Her hands moved over his chest gently, lifting the cloth and probing the wound. Jack groaned, and she laid a hand over his heart for a moment until he quieted. Looking up at Will, she called him over with a gesture to help her roll Jack to his side. When they did, she examined his back as well, carefully, quietly. Will and Elizabeth looked at each other. She had not yet spoken a word. Will shrugged at his wife as the woman laid Jack back down. "My name is Will Turner. This is Elizabeth."

The smallest smile curved her lips as she continued to look at Jack. "You give your names very quickly." Standing, she looked at them both, her hand gesturing gracefully at the pirate behind her. "His is all I will need."

Will's eyes narrowed. "Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow."

She moved closer to them. "You have the weapon that did this?"

"Yes." He looked back toward the boat. "Shall I get it?"

She nodded without speaking.

As the woman stood waiting, Elizabeth frowned a little. It appeared she was ready to help them, but there was something unnerving about her. Perhaps it was the hawk-like observant stare, or her sparse but clearly educated speech. Trying to gauge, Elizabeth guessed the woman might be ten years her senior, but it was difficult to tell. Finally she cleared her throat. "Please. Will you be able to help him?"

The woman looked back at her with an almost lazy intensity, like a hunting jungle cat. "I will do what I can."

At that moment Will returned from the boat, carrying the offending sword. "I didn't clean it off yet."

"Good." She took it and pulled the cloth it had been wrapped in away, letting the fabric drop to the sand. Running her fingers over the blade and hilt, her eyes seemed to lose focus, and then close. She nodded. "Bring him. Then you can leave."

"Leave?" Will and Elizabeth spoke in surprise at the same time. Will went on. "We're not leaving our friend."

"You will." The woman began walking into the jungle, and Will scooped up Jack to follow her. "I cannot help him with your fear so close. I will do what I can, but you must return to your ship." She walked with easy grace through the trees, occasionally resting a hand on the trunk of a palm as they passed, almost in greeting. In ten minutes they reached a hut in the midst of the jungle, framed with bamboo and roofed with palm thatch. The woman stopped at the door, turned to look at the trees and to make sure the couple were still following. Pulling back the cloth that hung in lieu of a door, she gestured with the sword and nodded for Will to take Jack inside. He did so, resting him carefully on the bed.

Inside, the small house was simply furnished. It seemed the home of someone who wasn't there too often, but might need the shelter in case of weather. An eclectic collection of artifacts also spoke of someone who had traveled much, or had visitors who did. Woven cotton blankets draped the bed in bright tribal colors and oddly shaped bottles sat in a row on a short set of drawers, next to a ship's lantern. Small carvings and trinkets coexisted in unlikely juxtapositions, but somehow didn't feel cluttered. All was in balance. Shuttered windows were currently open, letting the soft breeze in. Moving to a mismatched collection of pans, the woman filled one with water from a jug, picking up a soft cloth as well.

Elizabeth, looking around, couldn't contain her curiosity. "Where are all these things from?"

The woman glanced up as if she had forgotten they were still here. "You are not the first to seek the aid of the witch of Palomino Island."

"Oh..."

The couple stood, feeling helpless as she placed the pan over a small firepit, adding some brown leaves that released a fragrant smoke to the fire before moving toward the door. She looked back at them. "Now that I know what I need, I must find it. If he will be well, it will be at least two weeks."

She stepped out the door cloth, pausing in mid-stride as Will called to her. "But – we don't even know your name. What shall we call you? Surely not 'the witch of the island'?" His frustration broke through in an almost sarcastic tone.

Looking back with a wry smile, she paused before responding. "What you will."

They looked at each other again, and something in her expression reached straight to Will's soul. In a moment, without quite knowing why, he felt he trusted her. "Do you need anything else from us, Milady?"

She stared back at him, her eyes darkly luminous. "Yes. You must leave." With a deep breath she added, "and trust." Then she was gone.

Will and Elizabeth stood for a long moment in the hut, staring at the door, then each other. Their eyes finally moved to where Jack was stretched limply on the bed.

"What do we do?"

Will looked at the pirate who was breathing shallowly, and back to Elizabeth. "We leave." He walked over to the bed and put his hand on Jack's. "We'll be back for you, Jack." His head bowed for a second before he turned to leave. Elizabeth ran a hand softly over his arm and stepped past her husband to the bed. Leaning over, she kissed Jack gently on the forehead.

"Don't go anywhere, Captain."

With that they turned and left the hut, walked as if in a dream back to the smaller boat, and caught an unusual, fortunate breeze that sped them from the island back to their ship.