Disclaimer: I took the liberty of filling in Squirrel's name.
A/N: Thankyou, everyone, for reading this far. To those who have reviewed: your kind words have made me laugh and helped me to keep going. Rock, rock on.
Squirrel opened her eyes, and saw Marty looking down at her, concerned. "She's awake!" He cried, relieved, then turned back to her. "You alright, Miss?" His voice was garbled, distant.
Squirrel sat up slowly, feeling nauseous, the landscape spinning. Slowly, her senses returned, and she was able to take stock of her surroundings. It was night now, early evening, and the trees overhead were those of mangroves and swamp plants. The air was warm and close, smelt fetid, like rotting plants. Mosquitoes whined through the air, birds called unseen through the trees, water splashed from the passing of hidden creatures. They were in the swamp.
Tia's swamp.
"You fainted," Marty said, unnecessarily explaining the hole in Squirrel's memory.
"And small wonder too," Gibbs added, offering a canteen of water to Squirrel. "After not eatin' all day, and then with fightin' the Kraken and then with J…" His voice faded away into nothingness, the light in his eyes to hopelessness.
Leave me be, Squirrel said - or tried to. Her voice was gone, and her tongue lay flat and immobile. Wearily, she leaned forward, her hair falling over her face, and stared at the planking between her knees.
How fortuitous it should be that the island that hid Davy Jones' heart should be so close to the island of the Pelegostas. What a coincidence it was that the dead man's chest was so close to where the witch - the one who told them the tale of the heart in the first place - lived.
No coincidences, Squirrel thought, the corner of her mouth kicking up in a brief and cold half-smile.
The heart of Davy Jones. Squirrel's eyes flashed bright for a moment, savage anger which she quickly restrained. The heart was gone. Stolen. Stolen to be traded. Norrington, she thought, her lips mouthing the name, her brow furrowed. Ah yes, you took the heart, didn't you? Coward.
Squirrel could picture Norrington now, standing in Port Royal, an officer once more, but only in name and not in honour. The heart lay on a desk, held under the piercing eyes of a man whose presence sent shivers down Squirrel's spine. His eyes were so determined, so self-confident. Now, he held the world in his hand. Just like he'd always wanted.
"Beckett," she murmured, too low for even herself to hear.
The animal noises of the marsh were slowly drowned out by a slow, droning hum. Squirrel lifted her head, pushing her hair from her eyes, and looked around. There were no fireflies tonight, but lights of a different sort. Faces came out of the darkness, each one bearing a candle. Dark forms of escaped slaves - men, women and children - rose out of the trees and the river, each one bearing a flickering light, their faces turned to the boat as it passed through the river. It was their voices that made the funerary humming. They came close, this time. Before they had watched silently from the trees like silent sentinels; now they came forward, presenting themselves plainly, bold and unafraid.
Squirrel watched them all pass, one by one, unaffected by the sheer number of them, untouched by the sadness and sympathy on those faces. Squirrel had to fight to prevent her lip curling in disdain as the boat passed a woman whose tears fell unashamedly.
Why do you cry for him? Squirrel thought with disgust. You don't even know him!
A second thought rounded angrily on her, baring hateful fangs: You knew him! You know him! And your eyes aren't even wet! The voice softened, beseeching. Please, don't be like this. You loved him. You still love him.
Love? Squirrel snarled silently, forcing the whining voice away. Love is foolish. Love is blind. Love is stupid, naïve, a hope easily shattered; love is for fools and simpletons; love leaves scars that will never heal. Love fails. Love dies.
Love dies.
She looked around at all the mourning faces, and heard the chorus of their humming. The sound seemed to bore into her skull. She tried to block it out, tried to ignore it. She tried to listen to her heart instead.
But she couldn't hear it. She couldn't even feel it.
Will looked over his shoulder, seemingly to search for something. His eyes caught Squirrel's. They stared at each other for a second, an eternity, before both of them looked away.
The boat slowed as it reached its final destination. Squirrel was the first out of the boat. It had not even touched the dock at the base of Tia's tree before Squirrel leapt, the first to set foot ashore. Cradling her wounded hand, Squirrel awkwardly climbed up the ladder to the treehouse with her right hand. She didn't care about the others. Her body groaned, its old aches and pains remembered, but was ignored. All Squirrel wanted was to get this over with. She pushed the door aside.
Tia was waiting, standing as demurely as a lady-in-waiting in her beautiful gown. Her skin shone like brass, and at her throat rested a heart of gold on a chain. Her deep, dark eyes were burdened with knowledge and sadness. Neither woman moved - they simply stared at each other. Waiting.
"He's dead." Squirrel rasped, and staggered.
Tia caught Squirrel before she fell, and helped her to a chair. The same chair Tia had occupied when she had played at being oracle, casting the crab claws. No claws were on the table now, but in a cleared space - between the bat candleholders and the collection of other strange items - was a bowl of water and a soft yellow cloth. Gently, Tia took Squirrel's left hand, and placed it in the bowl.
Squirrel winced and flinched, but did not pull her hand back. There seemed to be salt in the water, and lemon, and herbs. A healing concoction. Squirrel grit her teeth and endured the pain, for this pain would pass. It would heal her.
Tia looked sympathetically and sadly at Squirrel before turning to greet the others. The swamp woman moved silently, directing some to stand, so to sit. She seemed to know exactly what to do, what expression to wear, what comfort to offer. Tia did not speak. No-one spoke. Squirrel had said enough for everyone.
Squirrel bowed her head and stared at the bowl, at the way the water slowly turned pink from the blood of her hand. As she stared, her thoughts on nothingness, other details came to her attention. Among the various scattered items on the table - all seemingly worthless - Squirrel's eye was caught by a small flask. Curious, she picked it up, and examined it closer.
A small glass bottle, filled with a clear liquid, with a stopper of a pale green stone. Jade, Squirrel thought, although she couldn't say how she knew. The stone of the stopper was carved like a strange curling snake. There was a design in the glass of the bottle, a collection symmetrical lines that were both curved and straight. Lines which crossed themselves, which self-enclosed themselves in a circle. A strange symbol.
Shou.
Squirrel murmured the word. "Shou…" She closed her fingers around the cool glass of the bottle. It appealed to her, somehow. Slowly, Squirrel hid her hand under the table, and slid the bottle into the pouch at her belt, the one which would have contained the stones for her shanghai. The bottle fit perfectly into the pouch.
Something appeared above Squirrel's line of vision, and she jumped, startled and guilty. It was only Tia, lowering something before Squirrel's face. Squirrel kept very still as the swamp woman tied whatever-it-was around Squirrel's neck. She waited while Tia fastened it, and then lifted Squirrel's hair free. Then, Squirrel touched her throat, and her fingers found what had been given to her.
A necklace.
Five rough diamonds, hewn from bone, or stone, or fossilised wood, spaced evenly with beads of the same material. It lay heavy and close to Squirrel's skin; it was cold, but it was warming to her quickly. Curious, Squirrel fingered the edges of the centre diamond, and looked to Tia, silently asking the purpose of such a gift.
In answer, Tia took hold of Squirrel's right hand. She pressed between the two centre knuckles of Squirrel's palm, then the heel of her hand, then the left and right edges.
Squirrel understood straight away. The shape of the diamond. The four points of the compass. Then she frowned, and looked down at her necklace, then up at Tia again. There were five points. Five. If compass only points four ways, if a diamond only has four points, what is the fifth?
Tia pressed the centre of Squirrel's hand, then closed Squirrel's fingers over it, into a fist. The fifth point of the compass is wherever you stand. It is what your heart seeks. It is your heart, your guide. Tia held Squirrel's gaze with eyes dark and fathomless. It is all of these and none; it is what you decide. Do you understand?
Squirrel nodded. Yes.
Tia nodded in return, then turned away to the depths of her house, vanishing with a swish of her dress and of the curtain.
Squirrel stared at her balled right fist for a moment, then uncurled her fingers. Whatever I decide, huh? She looked up, and found Will staring at her. Startled, Squirrel made to turn her eyes away, but then realised where his sight led. He wasn't staring at her; he was staring past her, off into the distance. And Squirrel just happened to be in the way. In Will's hand was the dagger from his father. Restlessly, he held it, fingering the edge of the blade. Then, he threw it. The blade dug into the wood of the table he sat at; he prised it free and repeated the action. Again and again he threw the dagger, pulled it free of the wood, threw it again.
Squirrel restlessly stirred her hand in the bowl of water. Each thnk! of the dagger was unsettlingly comforting. Each time the dagger stabbed the wood, Squirrel relaxed, silently agreeing with Will's hidden anger and discontent.
Elizabeth sat across from Will, her golden face smeared with tears. She looked a picture of abject misery.
We've been betrayed, you and I, Squirrel thought darkly, looking back at Will. We're in the same boat. Will looked up, and he and Squirrel shared a glance laden with meaning. Thnk, went the dagger.
Tia re-emerged from behind the curtain with a tray. On this tray were candles and a collection of mismatched mugs. She went to Elizabeth first, offering her a drink, but the woman shook her head, not wanting one.
"Against the cold," Tia said. "And deh sorrow."
Elizabeth reluctantly took one. Will's dagger stabbed the table once again.
"Is a sheem," Tia went to Will's side. "I know dat you're tinkin' dat wid deh Pearl, you could have cap'tured deh Devil and set free yer fah-dah…"
"It doesn't matter now," Will said, stoic and blank. "The Black Pearl is gone. Along with its captain." The table got an extra savage stab. Squirrel nodded invisibly, her eyes on the depth of the wound in the table.
"Aye," Gibbs said, from out on the balcony. "And already the world seems a little less bright."
You're so full of it, Gibbs, Squirrel thought, but kept the thought off her face. She accepted the drink Tia offered her. Sipping at the cold metal cup, Squirrel almost gagged. Her throat was so tight and bound she couldn't even swallow a mouthful. Regardless, she tried again, and this time the drink slid down her throat. Squirrel gagged again. The drink was neither warm nor cold nor room-temperature, nether spicy nor plain, neither sweet nor sour nor bitter nor salty, and it had no texture whatsoever. Squirrel had expected it to taste of something bitter, or at the very least, something bitter sweet. But it tasted of nothing. Squirrel stared at the liquid in the cup, and her reflection stared back at her. What is this? What manner of… ah, but what does it matter? A drink's a drink. Without further thought on the topic, Squirrel tilted back her head and downed as much as she could.
"He fooled us all, right to the very end. But I guess that honest streak finally won out."
Will and Squirrel looked to each other. This time Squirrel didn't bother hiding the expression on her face. Honest? Him? No. He was a pirate. A pirate to the end. And he took what he wanted from all of us, just so he could keep his precious life. He died because his misdeeds caught up with him. His crimes. His debt. He never put his life in play, and therefore, he lost it. Will stabbed the table, agreeing with Squirrel's shadowed eyes.
For whosoever would save his life will lose it… A woman's voice echoed, distorted and twisted by time.
"To Jack Sparrow!"
Squirrel looked over her empty mug to see Gibbs' drink raised in salute. You cannot be serious…
"Never another like Captain Jack!" A tearful Ragetti lifted his mug too.
"'E was a gennelman of fortune, 'e was!" Pintel agreed. Cotton and Marty lifted their mugs, silently.
"He was a good man."
Will lowered the mug from his lips, looking wounded. Squirrel looked over at Elizabeth, the green dagger piercing her again. Good? Good, was he? How good, exactly? Better than your man, hrm? Squirrel's wounded hand clenched in the bowl, and she set her mug down, refusing to salute.
But Will drank from his, downing all the drink in one swig. Then he turned to look at Elizabeth, and something seemed to strike him in the heart too. Perhaps it was the woman's misery which made him pause. "Elizabeth… If there was anything that could be done…"
Both Squirrel and Elizabeth looked to Will, surprised, though the latter had tears in her eyes and the former had naught but disbelief.
Will rose to his feet. "If there was any way to bring him back…"
"Would you do it?" Tia interrupted, moving smoothly into place before Will. "Would you do it, hrm?" She looked around. "What would any of your be willing t' do?" She looked to Squirrel. "Hrm?"
Squirrel looked down at her torn hand, her face hard.
"What would any of you be willin' t' do?" Tia looked around at the assembled company, her ink-stained smile making her look like a sibyl once again. "Will ye seel t' deh ends of deh eart'… an' beyond, to fetch back wid deh Jack, and him precious Pearl?"
Tia's choice of words was so ironic that Squirrel had to bite her tongue to keep from letting out a peal of laughter. The ends of the earth? Squirrel hid a half-smile. Well, I said I would. And I always keep my word. She silently laughed, mocking herself, then picked up her mug and finished the last mouthful. But I said I would go. I didn't say I will.
"Aye." Gibbs said, standing tall.
"Aye," Pintel rasped.
Eager Ragetti was next to agree. "Aye."
Cotton saluted, and his parrot spread its wings. "Aye, aye! Brawk!"
Elizabeth nodded. "Yes," she whispered.
Will looked to Tia, resolve in his eyes strong, but his voice soft. "Aye."
Squirrel blanched, the laughter in her dying. What? You? You'd go to save that… pirate? Why? Will, for what purpose could you possibly…
Elizabeth's tears were slowly fading, a light of hope flickering in her eyes as she looked to Will.
Ah, Squirrel thought, lowering her eyes. Now I see, William. You'd sacrifice your happiness… just so that she'd smile again.
Faces turned to Squirrel, waiting, expectant, predicting her answer. Squirrel looked down, her hair hiding her eyes… then rose to her feet. She wrapped her wounded hand, dripping from the healing waters, in the yellow cloth, and faced Tia boldly. The crew - her friends, her family - all smiled, all thinking they knew why she'd risen.
They were all wrong.
Squirrel looked to Will, her mouth set in a grim line, but he was not looking at Squirrel. He was looking at Elizabeth. There was such devotion in his eyes, devotion and unsullied integrity which masked the pain and heartache he felt.
Squirrel's mask was blank - she could show no other face to those gathered.
"All right," Tia nodded, well pleased as she surveyed the faces turned her way. She spoke slowly, making sure all heard her, all understood. "But if you're goin' t' brave deh weird an' haunted shores at world's en', you will need a kep-ten who knows dose waters…" She turned, lifting her eyes to the ceiling of her house.
Heavy booted footsteps marched across the planking above them. Faces turned like sunflowers to the sun, following the sound of those steps.
As each step drew nearer, Squirrel frowned, her breath quickening. There was a chill passing down her spine, yet, at the same time, her senses were singing.
The thrill of fate.
Slowly, Squirrel turned, leaving the comfort of the table to look to see who Tia's words had summoned. Turning to see who it was that would take them to the end of the world.
Black boots descended the staircase.
Behind Squirrel, seven breaths were caught and held in surprise and fear. But Squirrel did not know the man who stood before them, so she breathed easy. But she did know the monkey that sat on the man's shoulder.
A scarred but congenial face laughed. "So tell me," he burred, his accent course and charming, "What's become of my ship?" He took a bite of a green apple, looking well-pleased and amused by his reception, the juice of the apple running down his chin. The monkey gave a hissing bark at the faces turned his way.
No-one moved. No-one spoke. All were shocked. Frightened. Horrified, even. Will even reached for the hilt of his sword, but dared not draw it.
Squirrel stepped forward, unafraid, unintimidated. She put out her right hand.
"Squirrel Grey," she said, introducing herself. "Lookout, cook, and occasional quartermaster."
The older man dressed in black took her hand like a gentleman. There was an admirable strength in his handshake. "Charmed," he said, looking at Squirrel with eyes the colour of the sky. "Cap'n Hector Barbossa, at your service, miss."
"Barbossa." Squirrel stared. This was the man she'd heard stories about. The man who'd sent William's father to the bottom of the sea. The man who mutinied against and marooned their former captain. A man so evil that Hell itself was said to have spat him back out.
Squirrel did not slacken her handshake, nor did she pull away. Instead, she gave a wider smile, welcoming, and gripped his hand firmly. "Good to have you with us, Captain," she said, considerate and warm. "Welcome back."
Barbossa chuckled, and took another bite of his apple.
A/N: Thus ends Squirrel: Deux. Thankyou all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. To those who reviewed more than once, especially if you helped with stuff or just wanted to chat - you guys rule. Thankyou so very much!
Coming soon, the next instalment. Barbossa leads Will, Elizabeth, Squirrel and the rest of the crew to the World's End. Compromises, betrayals, double-crossings, and hidden agendas are sure be involved when you make deals with pirates... let alone if you are one!