A/N: Apologies for any typos, but I'll be gone til Thursday and I didn't want to leave the update til then. Surprise me with a review for when I get back!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack overrode Barbossa's mumbly orders to take him to the hold. His instinct, Jack knew, was to crawl off into the darkest, most deserted place he could find and then hide until he felt better.

It was probably less dirty in the cabin though, and less far removed from the action, and all in all a much better hiding place. So Jack cleared everyone out and ushered Barbossa in, lecturing him the whole while about what a bad idea it had been to join in the fight. He relented and stopped lecturing when he saw how bad off his friend really was. "Don't you even worry about it, mate," he said, "We'll get you straight to Tia Dalma and she'll work her magic for you."

"Don't need no more witchery," Barbossa growled. "Just some rum and some sleep."

He was ash-grey and his eyes were glazed over. Humor the invalid, Jack thought. "That's right, mate, lots of sleep, you're going to be just fine." He doubted they would be able to stay on their feet long enough to rebandage the wound, so he just cut off Barbossa's shirt (it was much too stiff with blood to even think about removing in the normal way), lay him down, and poured an entire bottle of rum over him.

Jack didn't like the way Barbossa completely failed to react to the burn. Tough was one thing, but shock was another story. "We might have to cauterize that, mate."

"I find I don't care in the slightest little bit what you do or don't do," Barbossa answered. "Just let me sleep, or I'll kill you. Where's my gun?"

Jack sighed and handed over his own pistol. "Yours is out. Give it here, I'll clean it for you."

Out of habit Barbossa reached for it with his right hand. His eyes rolled back in his head. "Try not to do that anymore," Jack advised aloud, even though Barbossa was unconscious.

When Barbossa came out of it a few minutes later, his first words were "Where am I?"

"My cabin - our cabin, rather, sorry - on the Pearl. Things are dying down up top. I hear Davy clumping around, I think Will's got it all under control, we won, everything's all right."

Barbossa frowned. "Will? What on earth could have possessed ye to leave Turner in charge?"

"You left Turner in charge. You have no idea what's happening right now, do you?" Barbossa was watching him with a confusion that reminded Jack of the time they had smoked an opium pipe.

"What?"

"Exactly." Jack patted him on the head and stood up. "Go to sleep."

"Tell me, Jack: am I still losin blood?"

"No, but you've lost enough for one day, trust me. Go to sleep."

"No. I don't like it here, I'm thinkin under the table might be better." Barbossa made a move as if he were going to try and get out of bed. Jack put a stop to that by grabbing him by the shoulder and giving it a good squeeze.

He passed out immediately. Jack waited around a moment to be sure that he wasn't about to wake back up, then went outside.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx

As soon as the fighting had stopped, Will organized the deck: The pirates sailed the ship. The civilians were herded into a group and watched over by some of Norrington's soldiers. The rest of Norrington's soldiers were guarding Beckett's men. Norrington himself had to stand next to Will, who conspicuously waved a pistol at him every few minutes to ensure that the soldiers would continue to be cooperative. Davy Jones also stood near Will, all set to tie up loose ends and get his heart back, but Will insisted that the rest of the Dutchman's crew depart at once because they were scaring the human beings.

Davy agreed to send his crew away, but he did not agree to the return of Governor Swann's wig. "He decided to throw it. If he wants to use his filthy hairpiece as a weapon that's his business, but he can't go and ask for it back. Besides, look at it, half of it's already digested."

Will looked. The wig was stuck to a moldy creature whose funguses had already started to peek out through the curls. Will hated to set a precedence of giving in to Davy Jones, especially if there was more negotiating to be done, but he had to admit that the wig was a lost cause. "Fine. Keep the wig. And I agree that you should stay aboard here until everything's sorted out, but the rest of your crew has got to go. People keep fainting."

With a gesture Jones sent them away, then told Will that it was time to conclude the parlay and give him back his property. Will thought as fast as he could about a way to stall him, but before he came up with anything workable, he was saved (as usual) by Jack Sparrow.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack pranced out of the cabin and took stock of the situation. The fighting was over. Wounded people lay everywhere, making all sorts of unpleasant moaning noises, and Jack squashed his impulse to have Davy just take them all away.

Beckett's ship was deserted and anchored but the Pearl was sailing away from it, back towards Isla Cruces with Will at the helm.

The Dutchman was keeping pace with them, vaguely threatening. Jack saw easily from the state of the crew that further battle was out of the question. Davy had to be made to disappear now, permanently and peacefully. Either that, or he had to be quietly killed. But no more fighting.

Jack skidded to a stop right in front of them, threw his arm around Will and gave him a big noisy kiss on the cheek. "Wonderful job, mate, I'll take it from here."

"Fine, yes, go down there, it's quieter." Jack was busy thinking and didn't notice how eager Will was to shoo him and Davy away from the wheel.

When they had staked out a spot on deck to talk in, Davy went first. "Give me the heart."

"Relax," Jack soothed, "I'm going to give it to you. It's here, it's safe, let's just finish talking first."

"What else is there to talk about?" demanded Jones over the squelching of his tentacles.

"Well, for starters, what of Beckett's ship?" Jack crossed his arms. "Technically we were the only ones consistently on the winning side; therefore, the ship should belong to me."

"To you?" Davy repeated. "First of all, if you keep the ship it belongs to your captain, to the ship's real captain, the sane captain, the one who does not get himself mutinied upon in two measly years."

Jack did not look offended. "Semantics," he said easily. "Point is, we keep Beckett's ship."

"No."

"Aw, come on, mate, you know you don't need it. And you owe me for all the times you tried to kill me."

"I saved your sorry life just now, at least three or four times, while we were fighting!" This was true. Dismayed to see that half his crew was fighting for the wrong people, Jones had sought out the one pirate on whom he could count to be rational and intelligent for an explanation. Instead of explaining, Barbossa had just let him know that Jack was actually carrying the heart on his person, which people were currently trying to puncture with swords and bullets. Jones had spent the rest of the battle side by side with his least favorite pirate in the universe, protecting him. It left a bad taste in his mouth that even the memory of feeding Jack to the Kraken couldn't erase.

In any case. He didn't particularly want Beckett's ship for himself, but he was pressing hard for it, as a negotiation tactic. He could offer to trade it for the things he really wanted: an immediate unconditional return of the heart together with a promise to never seek it out again, his pick of the battle's casualties, and a parting on good terms with Elizabeth, who was an entertaining little creature he had every intention of seeing again sometime. He remembered from somewhere that women are like flies in that you catch them more easily with honey than with vinegar, so he was trying to keep the negotiations amiable. He gestured to the ship with his good hand and said, "Sparrow, it's a valuable thing, I'm not going to give it to you for nothing."

"Fair enough, mate. I have an idea. D'you happen to have those dice of yours handy?"

Jones was not thrilled with the proposal. Everyone had heard. Now he had the unattractive options of either backing down, or losing at his favorite game. He played for time: "We'll decide about the ship later. First, we agree on everything else."

"Easy. You can have your bloody heart back. No hard feelings though, savvy? You go your way, we go ours, nobody looking for revenge. Agreed?"

"I also want your wounded."

He caught the horrified look that flitted across Jack's face. "Well, you can talk to my wounded about that, then. You can't take them against their will."

"Of course not."

Long pause. "Well. Deception, then, eh? Davy Jones, I challenge you. Are you ready?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Will was still at the wheel while the game was being set up. Elizabeth came and tried to pry him off. "Come on – they're going to play right now, you have to watch. It's amazing."

It was good to see her smile again. "Feeling a little better?"

"About Beckett?" Elizabeth got serious. "No, not yet. I think that might take a while. He just murdered him, Will, you wouldn't believe it, I watched him walk up and-"

"Look, I know – he just walked up and murdered me, too. You have to remember, he's not like us. He's a pirate, they don't have a conscience."

"Jack does." She thought about it. "Sometimes."

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Will said, and meant it. Even if he didn't like the unnatural closeness that had developed between his fiancée and a bloodthirsty pirate, he wouldn't want to see it destroyed at the price of her happiness.

Elizabeth was silent for a moment. "Well, I still want him at the wedding," she said, a little defiantly. Will got the impression that it was her own conscience, and not him, that she was defying.

He let go of the wheel long enough to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. "You could have the devil himself at the wedding if you wanted. On the day we are married, Elizabeth, you can have anything your heart desires."

"I'm going to hold you to that," she teased, but he could see that she was still feeling a little down.

"Go on and watch your Deception game," he urged. "I've got to stay here."

She went off, and he heaved a sigh of relief that she had not thought to ask why he had to stay at the wheel or what he was planning to do.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack could read people like none other, and worse, could hide his own thoughts completely. Davy knew it. He decided to get creative: they threw the dice, and Davy pointedly did not look at his before he said "Two twos."

Jack grinned at him. "Living on the edge, are we? Two sixes." He had not looked at his dice either.

Davy liked to consider himself a brave man, but upping the bid at this point before he even knew what his own dice might be was crossing the line between bravery and stupidity, wasn't it? He checked his dice.

No sixes. Call Sparrow a liar?

No, that would be premature - he had no reason to think Sparrow was lying yet. "Three fours," he said. He only had one but he doubted Jack would call him on it.

Jack looked at him, smiling, for a long moment and Davy failed miserably to guess what he was thinking. After Davy's beard started writhing in irritation, Jack finally dropped his eyes, still smiling, and peeked under his cup.

"Four ones."

Davy had one one. Call Sparrow a liar now? How likely was it that Sparrow had three ones of his own?

With Sparrow, one could never tell. Davy shook his head. Why chance it? "Four fours." He watched, amazed, as Sparrow lifted his glass again and peered into it. Squinted, looked closer.

"Oh, scuse me," he said, sounding surprised, "It seems I don't have any ones at all. Your dice are pretty dirty, mate, I can hardly read them. Four sixes, that's what I meant." His grin had turned blatantly mocking. You have no idea what my dice are or what I'm thinking, that smile said.

Davy didn't believe him. Not at all. However, he had three sixes himself. If Jack had even one, then (unintentionally, of course) he was telling the truth.

So Davy shrugged. Shot in the dark: "Five ones."

"Five twos," Jack fired back immediately.

Enough was enough! He was just picking numbers at random, wasn't he? Liar was on the tip of Davy's tongue… but Jack's smile was still hovering and Davy lost his nerve. He had three sixes, so his best bet at this point was sixes. "Five sixes."

Jack's grin faded. "Sorry, Davy." He actually did look sorry. "I'm going to have to call you a liar, mate."

Davy swore a blue streak. "Damn you, Sparrow, damn you and I hope Beckett's ship sinks on you!" When Jack started to laugh, Davy banged his claw on the table. "And what's so funny?"

"What's so funny," Jack explained, "Is that you don't know any more than I do whether or not there are enough sixes under here to back your bet. Yet when I tell you I think there aren't, you believe me! And you of all people should know better than to believe anything I say."

That cheered Davy up a little. "A good point, Sparrow. I think you're lying. I should have called you liar when it mattered. Let's look."

Davy showed his three sixes, but when Jack moved his cup, five twos showed their dirty faces. Five twos! Jack had been telling the truth on that last bet.

Five of anything was an excellent hand. "I didn't have a chance," Davy realized, aloud.

Jack shrugged. "You win some…"

"And others, you play with Jack Sparrow." Davy pushed his chair (box) back and shook his head. Jack leaned over the table to shake his hand.

"Good game, mate."

"You can have that damned ship, Sparrow, it's right over- Ho! Where are we going?"

They both looked around. Jack jumped up. "Sit tight, I'll fix this. Will! Will Turner, you bloody idiot, where are you taking us?" He shoved through the crowd that had gathered to watch the Deception game and got within speaking distance. "Will?"

Will shook his head and tightened his grip on the wheel with one hand. With his other he drew a pistol. "Sorry, Jack."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack could hear Davy thundering towards them. "Might I suggest you explain what the devil you are doing," he hissed to Will.

Will's eyes were wild. "I'm running us aground."

"In my ship? I don't think so," Jack sputtered, but nobody heard him because Davy Jones stepped up and, his voice completely flat, said: "Boy, you're a dead man."

"Not another step closer, either of you," Will warned, waving the pistol in Jack's direction, "Or I'll shoot."

Jack raised his arms slowly. "Will, son, the heart is in my jacket. Right on top of my heart, to be exact."

"And I'm really sorry about that, Jack," Will said without lowering his gun. "I don't want you to get hurt. So I think you should help me keep Jones right where he is until this ship hits bottom."

"And what happens then?" Jones spat. "I'll disappear, will I?"

"No, probably not," Will allowed. "But I bet you'll forfeit whatever magic has been protecting you til now, and then I'll put a bullet right between your eyes and that'll be it for you. If you're a religious man - which I doubt - I suggest you make your peace with God now."

"Why, you filthy little turncoat." Jones's voice was hoarse with outrage and disbelief. He looked over to Jack. "Sparrow. The game... you were distracting me! It was all part of your miserable plan, wasn't it!"

Jack whipped around so fast that his hair ornament poked him in the eye. "You'd be surprised at how rarely one can describe my actions with the word plan." He didn't even have to paste on his Honest Face; this time he was really telling the truth. "I swear I had no idea he was going to do this."

The whole time Norrington had been standing silently beside Will. He had been trying to feel glad that the pistol was no longer being pointed at him, but in fact he found the situation intensely distressing. Will Turner as the good man turned murderer, the avenging angel gone wrong... who'd have thought?

"You should have had an idea," Will told Jack savagely. "I've made no secret about this the whole time. I intend to kill Davy Jones for what he did to my father and almost to me. How many times have I said that? I'm a man of my word, Jack. It might not be something a pirate like you can understand, but I made a promise and I will keep it."

Norrington thought that the gun pointed at Jack's chest might hinder his ability to argue, so against his better judgment he decided to step in himself and attempt to avert catastrophe. "I also would like to consider myself a man of my word," he said calmly, "And I am most definitely not a pirate, but even I know that there are some promises which should not be kept."

Will glanced over at him for a tiny split second. Norrington took that as a good sign and continued: "I made a promise to go after Jack Sparrow if it took me the rest of my life," he said, "And you see how that's turned out for me."

"You mean that it's ruined your career? As if that matters! Shame on you, Norrington." Will turned on him with the full force of his colossal blazing righteous fury. "What matters isn't the, the material results, it's your, you know, your conscience! It's how you judge yourself, how you feel about what you've done. It's your ability to look at yourself in the mirror. To sleep at night."

Norrington wanted to scream out That's exactly what I mean, you idiot, look at what's become of me! but he had a lifetime of training to repress these urges and the skill did not desert him now. "I know," he said quietly, and made hard eye contact until Will got the message.

"Oh," Will said, his sense of moral outrage fading. Now he was simply confused.

Jack took over again. "No one regrets what happened to Bootstrap more than I do. But killing Jones won't help, and besides, it's not even really fair. It wasn't his fault. And besides, you're trying to do it in my ship, and I really-"

"And besides," Norrington added, much better than Jack at fathoming the thoughts of a man in a moral crisis, "Your father would hardly want you to become a cold-blooded murderer for his sake, now, would he."

Will stared at him in wonder. Oldest line in the book... but... it was true. "I can't believe I'm falling for this," he muttered, and stepped away from the wheel.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC.

Sooo. Crisis averted, and yay for Norrington. Next chapter we get more Barbossa – awake and lucid again, and with a great big earful of Elizabeth to deal with.

I'm still not sure whether Barbossa is going to let Will's little tantrum go, or if not, whether it's Will or Elizabeth he goes after. Hmmm.

Things are wrapping up. Four chapters more, perhaps. Something like that.