Hey again.

Well, there seems to be some confusion amongst my... one reviewer hint hint. This is not a one shot, see it has a second chapter, see, see? I actually posted a story instead of one shots. Rare, I know. So yeah... more to come hopefully.

Also, apologies for Tia Dalma's written accent - try as I might this was the best it ever got.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Sadly.

It was still dark when Elizabeth screamed in shock and nearly fell into the water.

Tia Dalma caught her arm and clamped a hand over her mouth. Elizabeth struggled until she saw who it was. Then she lashed out. The mystic laughed quietly and released her.

"You do not like you bed, liddle spider?"

Elizabeth stared at her. Tia smiled a secretive smile.

"No, its fine. I just… can't sleep."

"Guilt affects us all, who chooses to carry et."

The sharp intake of breath made Tia smile even more. She was not a trained killer, then. But Tia Dalma did not need tricks to see that. The girl was like the sea; in small amounts as transparent as air, but after a long time, or when she was powerful, as hard to read as storm tossed waves. Now she was weak and open to even the most incapable mind reader.

"What do you want?"

Now she was defensive. She liked being the only one privy to her thoughts, and resented being peered at.

"Nothing. Ai only come here to offer some advice."

Elizabeth turned to her. The woman was almost a mirror of Jack; the braids, the hair and the wild clothing. Like Jack, she knew more than she let on. She was not easily deceived. Elizabeth faltered. Unlike Jack, in that respect then.

She resolved to listen. She would not sleep this night, and any advice was welcome. That of Tia Dalma may be more useful than anybody else's.

"You know, then?"

"Yes. Et blazes from you eyes. You cannot contain et."

Elizabeth was not as surprised as she felt she ought to be. It seemed that everyone knew more than her.

Tia Dalma shifted position next to her.

"I ave been tol' that many people see tings in the water."

Tia Dalma stood, a now towering figure in beads and baubles. She paused a moment, watching the ripples herself.

"Et seems to me that a creature of de sea may be found there, hmmm?"

Elizabeth watched the water too. It rippled and swirled with unseen fish, and shook as half submerged leaves wavered in the breezes. She looked up beside to see her companion, only to find her gone.

She was alone once more on the veranda.

She watched it for over an hour, and saw nothing. Clearly the mysteries black liquid of the bayou did not welcome such an evil soul as hers. As the birds called in the far away night-time depth of the jungle, Elizabeth lay down by the wooden bars of the veranda fence, and wept.

She cried for the crew who were lost that day. She had never seen so many honest souls dead, and wondered what power had deemed to keep her alive. Their gruesome fate had been lost among the terror and confusion of the attack, but now it was stark in isolation. Recollections of last looks and faces added fuel to her tears, and she mourned them, if no one else did.

She cried for Will. He deserved nothing of the last few days. His only crimes it seemed, were his father's identity, and his choice of fiancé. He was no pirate; the ex-commodore made a better rogue than he. Even her father, the respected Governor Swann, had performed more acts of piracy in the last few days than Will. Why he stayed, mystified her. Or perhaps not. He was an honourable man, sworn to rescue his father. He was caught up with pirates, but that was mere misfortune rather than design.

Finally, as the darkness silenced even the animals of the night, and mist deadened the weaker flames on some of the huts, she cried for Jack. Poor deceived Jack. He, who she had cursed as a coward as he left, then rejoiced in as a hero as he returned. He, who she had loved with a kiss, before betraying him with a lie.

"I'm not sorry."

Oh, but she was now. Oh so sorry as her eyes emptied her out, yet failing to cleanse her. She knew she could cry till she was too weak to cry any more, but it would never be enough. She was too much a pirate for his, and even her own good. Yet she was not pirate enough to withstand the consequences.

She fell asleep watching the inky blackness reflect the perfect moon above her.

Elizabeth Swann dreamed.

She dreamt that the bars of the veranda were made of metal not wood. She dreamt that she saw the moon through a window high up. She dreamt the rough weave of wood below her became cold stone. She dreamt she was standing.

The cell was like those in Port Royal. Was she home? She found herself alone and lingering in the corridor. Bars surrounded her, but they did not fence her in. She was on the outside looking in. She was not suffering for what she had done. Oh God, she knew what she would see…

She found herself stepping towards the bars on her right, her body turning, but not under her control. She caught the bars in her fingers, feeling her canvas-wrapped plait thump gently against her back as she moved. It was all so real…

The cell was not empty. The prison was well lit, and she could see a brown coat, tan boots and grey trousers. And that infernal hat.

"Jack?"

It was a hushed whisper, disbelieving. If she spoke too loud, the walls would shatter and break, and surely take him with them. His hat rested over his face, obscuring all but his mouth. He smirked.

"Pirate."

His voice was cracked, and as he lifted his hat away, she gasped. No horrid disfiguring scar. No bleeding, open wound. No, something far worse.

His kohl had vanished.

He was not Captain Jack Sparrow anymore. He was not whole, looking like that. It un-nerved her. His eyes still danced with the torchlight, but they were saddened. She clung tighter to the bars, willing them, and everything else, into existence.

"Pirate."

His smile was golden as always, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Elizabeth found herself so full of all her questions, yet unable to settle on one. He was here, unreal but here at least. She was conscious of wasting a chance, but still felt constrained. Finally, a question surfaced.

"Where are we?"

"Looks like a prison to me, love."

He laid his head back against the wall, and she noticed how he didn't much move his arms or body. As if he couldn't. As if he was injured. Certainly with his eyes lacking their adornments, he looked weaker somehow. Vulnerable. It scared her. She was unused to the infamous Captain Sparrow being so much at her mercy.

"Jack… I lied to you."

He chuckled quietly, his eyes closed, head back against the wall.

"No! I mean… Yes. But… Well, no, no that wasn't a lie!"

Her own sureness surprised her. Jack opened his eyes, turned his face toward her.

"Was it not, Miss Swann?" A wicked, teasing grin.

"It… It… It was a kiss goodbye, Jack. I knew what I was going to do. And I did it. And I lied about not being sorry. That was a lie. But the kiss wasn't…"

"I know love." He smirked, and he was so much like his old self that she nearly forgot where they were and why. Wherever it was. "You're a very bad liar."

"Oh, am I indeed?"

Haughty indignation. She didn't like being told she was bad at anything. Especially when she wasn't sure what he meant. Knowing Jack, confusion was intended.

"Your William's a very lucky man. I hope you're very happy." He waved a hand in her vague direction as his head turned away. "Have plenty of drinks at the wedding to remember me, savvy?"

"We're going to rescue you, Jack! We're going to save you!"

"Oh. How nice."

"You'll be at my wedding!"

Even though she couldn't see it, she felt his slight grin tug the corners of his mouth up.

"'Spect I will, love."

With horror she saw the walls fading, and the image falling away from her. Dawn in the bayou flooded into her vision, and she sat up with a gasp on her lips, and dried tears on her cheeks.

It was only as she looked out across the water, a cool breeze waking her up fully, that she wondered just what he had meant.