Will had no trouble summoning back the Jolly Roger. Blackbeard was a simple soul, motivated by greed and not much else. When they put out the word that strangers were in town, desperate for a magical ship that could transport them to another realm and willing to pay anything, Blackbeard delivered himself.
Blackbeard's agent gave the word and a deal was struck. So early on a clear morning, Belle, Will, Snow and David stood on the docks, watching the horizon. David pulled out a spyglass and finally spotted the top of the mainsail. He breathed in sharply. Snow silently took it from him and looked for herself. She felt tears at the back of her eyes, the ship so familiar in this strange land, and because it felt so close to Emma. She could almost see Hook at the wheel, and Emma close beside, even though she knew the ship no longer belonged to Hook. She felt more conflicted about the fact that perhaps Emma belonged to him now, instead.
They waited, reviewing their plans, as the Jolly Roger pulled up to the docks.
Will whistled. "I'd forgotten what a beautiful creature she is."
Belle smiled. "Well, we need to get her back to Hook. You ready to steal an enchanted ship, thief?"
"That I am," he replied, stepping forward to catch a rope and help tie the ship to the dock.
David and Snow couldn't recognise any of the men on board as Hook's crew. Blackbeard must have replaced them all, which made things more difficult as they would have to sail the ship entirely alone. Jones had given David precise instructions, and promised help, but David had still secretly been hoping that one of the sailors loyal to Hook would have survived on Blackbeard's crew.
The pirate appeared at the top of the gangplank, all swagger and bravado, a self-satisfied smirk above his dirty beard. Snow felt her fingertips twitching for her bow and arrow; she wanted to put one right through his depraved heart, knock him clean off this ship that belonged to her family. Ever since David had woken from his conversation with Davy Jones, told her that Emma was pregnant, Snow had completely given herself over to the idea of Hook as family. He was the father of her grandchild, now, and Emma's love.
And now his enemy, and therefore her enemy, was blocking access to the Jolly Roger.
"Are you the lot called for me?" Blackbeard called down to them.
David stepped forward. "That's us. We were told your ship could make the journey to another realm. Must say, looking at her… I'm not so sure it's true."
Blackbeard bristled, his hand moved to his sword. "She's the fastest ship in all the realms, made of…" David mentally tuned out the rest of Blackbeard's speech. He'd heard it all before, and from a better orator. David needed the ship on open water, where Jones would be waiting.
"We need to get to the Enchanted Forest," David cut off Blackbeard's speech. "Can you do it or not."
"Of course I can!" he blustered.
"Here's what we're willing to pay," David assented, nodding to Will. Will stepped up the gangplank to Blackbeard, handing over a heavy bag of gold coins that Mairead had stolen from the treasury.
Blackbeard's eyes shone. He looked his passengers up and down. Two couples, likely little trouble, he assessed. "Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger," he stepped back and waved his arm toward the deck.
"We need to leave straight away," Snow proclaimed as she stepped on board, Will helping her down from the gangplank as David took stock of the crew.
"Certainly, my lady. We can be underway as soon as the water kegs are loaded. Thirty minutes, no more."
Snow looked warily over at the docks. In the two weeks they had waited for Blackbeard to return with the Jolly Roger, Belle had found pockets of resistance to Arthur, swearing loyalty to the myth of Killian Jones. People believed him to be Arthur's son and heir. Many wanted the tyrant Arthur deposed in favour of the son that none of them had ever seen. Now Snow worried that Arthur's knights might find them out, treat them as traitors, stop them leaving, or kill them.
An hour passed achingly slowly, but eventually Blackbeard gave the order and the ship pulled away from the docks. Snow looked back at the docks; she saw no sign of anyone looking for them. She patted the knife strapped to her thigh, out of sight beneath her dress. Now to get out on the sea and send that bastard Blackbeard straight to Hook's father.
…
Regina let Henry stay. For two glorious weeks, Emma had a home with her son and she woke to Killian in her arms every morning. They ate every meal all together. They talked and laughed and plotted. She loved this life beyond measure, even if she knew it was on temporary loan.
Emma felt recovered from the stabbing; she had her energy back. Her hormones were still all over the place, though, and both Killian and Henry kept their heads down when they saw a mood approaching. They both segued straight into appeasement mode, agreeing to anything she suggested and handing over anything she wanted until the storm passed. Henry grumbled about how long this was likely to last.
"You've known her longer than I have, lad. I assumed this might be the permanent state of affairs."
"Kinda," Henry admitted, "But this is much worse."
One morning, she awoke to find Killian gone from the bed; it was the first time in weeks he had not been there, tangled against her body, when she opened her eyes. She panicked, threw on some clothes, and rushed into the living room.
There sat Henry and Killian on the Persian rug in front of the sofa. They looked up at her, grinning in delight, surrounded by a jumble of electrical components.
"Killian took apart my laptop!" Henry cried jubilantly. He looked like he'd never had so much fun in his life; an adult had allowed his to open up an expensive computer with a screwdriver and pull it all apart. "We wanted to see how it worked."
Emma sucked in a breath. Regina would not be pleased with this. That was Henry's laptop for homework, sent specifically with him to keep up with school. Emma knew that they… well, Killian – how easy was it to think that what was his was also hers? – could afford another computer. Still, somehow she could smell the disapproval all the way from the mayoral mansion in distant and still unattainable Storybrooke.
"If I understand this correctly," Killian cocked his head to one side, "we should be able to swap out this board for a more powerful one and it will be better than new." His eyes shone as he and Henry noted down the correct position of every piece they dismantled.
Emma had her back to the door frame, panting through her panic.
"You okay over there, Swan?" Killian asked, studying her breathing.
"Fine, yeah, you just weren't there when I woke up, and I guess I sort of freaked out."
"Sorry, my love. Henry and I had made plans to fix the laptop, is all. You need your sleep."
Emma nodded slowly. The boys returned to their project, and she walked into the kitchen to make herself some tea and calm down. By the time she showered and dressed, she found them at the dining table, pouring over research on Arthur and Merlin, surrounded by books, shoving a notebook back and forth between them as they took notes. The remains of the laptop were carefully stored in marked plastic bags on the coffee table. Apparently reassembly was a job for another day.
Research. Emma had tried to channel Belle, honestly she had. She had spent days in the public library, a museum of books, to find out all she could about Arthur and the even more mysterious Merlin. Regina said the spell to open the portal had his fingerprints all over it, magic so rare and pure that she could not unpick its locks. But research had never been Emma's strong point. Hook read, often and in great quantity, with the stylish black glasses perched atop his nose. Emma rested her head on his lap in the evenings, sprawled out on the sofa, watching crap television while he read tome after tome of world history books, marvelling that none of this alternate realm's stories were known in his world.
Except for Arthur. Tales of Camelot existed in The Land Without Magic as something more than just fairytales - perhaps legends, something touching on the historical. Every day of these last two weeks, he and Henry would sit across from each other at that dining table, books and photocopies of 'reference-only' materials spread out before them, filling the notebook. Emma would slide quietly into a seat, attempt to read, but even more quietly give up after 20 minutes, too mind-numbingly bored to continue. This morning, Emma yawned loudly after 10 minutes, and started playing with her pen, tapping it against the book. Killian and Henry both looked at her, entirely unimpressed.
"Love, why don't you go for a run?" Killian suggested.
"Don't you need me here to help?" Emma asked, a bit hurt.
"No," they answered together.
Emma sighed. They didn't need – or want – her. She felt her emotions starting to tumble out of her control, and combined with the earlier scare, she began to tear up. Through her tears, she saw Henry rap the table to get Hook's attention.
"She's crying."
"Was it you or me?"
"You're the last one who really said something. You told her to go for a run. Musta been you." Henry looked back down at his book, divesting himself of involvement.
Emma felt the tears falling and she could do nothing to control them; she quickly returned to their bedroom and changed into her running gear. The tears kept coming. She stuck her head into the closet, rummaging for running shoes and popping on the earbuds she'd plugged into her phone. She closed her fist around the cell phone, only to feel a jolt of electricity run through it. The screen went blank. It had shorted out.
She had no further time to examine it. She felt herself being pulled gently out of the closet. Killian had caught up with her and was tugging her towards the bed.
"Love," he said, drawing her down onto his lap. She could hear effort in his voice as he levelled his tone into one of patient enquiry, "tell me what's wrong."
She hiccupped; she was holding back the sobbing to that extent. "Henry hates me. He thinks he makes me cry."
"Henry thinks that you're pregnant and emotionally messy and it's all a bit gross. I had to look that word up online after he said it. He's 13. He doesn't want to think too much about his mother's hormones and yet they're rather difficult to escape at the moment."
Emma just hiccupped in response.
"Nothing's wrong here, darling, you know that, right?" He took her wet face in his hands and tried, unsuccessfully, to get her to look at him rather than the buttons on his shirt. "Henry loves you. I love you. God help us, the Evil Queen loves you." That brought a tiny flicker of a smile. "Regina said this baby might have some odd effects on you. He or she might be magical, like you." Killian kissed a tear that threatened to drip off the end of her chin. "And magic is unpredictable here." Emma let him kiss her. "Do you think sex might help?" he murmured.
"Mmmm. Yes," she sighed, as his hands began exploring her breasts. He didn't say anything to Emma, but he'd already noticed them growing larger, and he relished finding some way to check them every day. Several times, some days. "But Henry's in the other room…"
"True, my love. Do you think slaying something might help? I'm not sure where I'll find you a dragon in Manhattan, but I'll search. For you. To make you feel better," he was kissing his way down the neckline of her running top, his hands having already made their way under her sports bra. He managed to get her top and bra over her head. He could feel himself harden – they were definitely bigger today, he felt certain, if only he could get his mouth on one, then he'd know – and his tongue hesitated just above one perfect nipple. Almost there…
"We can't do this with Henry wide awake at the dining room table," she protested, rather weakly. Killian ignored that as not a serious enough objection. He slid his waiting tongue over her nipple and felt it harden to a peak beneath his taste buds. Her skin tasted luscious. Emma moaned out his name, loudly, well loudly enough for Henry to hear. They heard a book slam shut, then "Gross!", then another door slamming, presumably his bedroom. Hook took this to mean they were in the clear and he should slip off her leggings. Killian knew better. He released her breasts and stood up from the bed, collecting her clothing and handing it back.
"I'll go talk to him," he kissed her again. "Go for a run. You'll feel better."
Emma nodded. She pulled her clothes back on and headed for the door. She dropped her broken phone atop the pile of laptop components on the coffee table. Maybe Killian could fix it, she thought with a smile.
…
Killian paused at Henry's bedroom door. He took a deep breath and knocked.
"Are you two dressed?" Henry called out sarcastically.
"Henry… your mother has gone out for a run. May I enter?"
The door opened. Henry looked annoyed more than angry. "Don't worry, Killian. I'm getting pretty used to dodging adults having sex. You and Mom, my other Mom and Robin, grandma and grandpa…" He sighed. "At least Belle and Mr Gold split up."
Killian decided that an apology and a quick change of subject formed a good strategy. "I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable, lad. We will be more aware of it in future." He paused for a brief moment. "Do you want to cart some of these books back to the library and see what else we can find?"
Henry grinned and jumped of the bed, happy for an excuse to forget about the 'adult problem'.
"I'll collect all the books," he said.
Killian rounded up his coat, keys, phone and wallet, then led Henry down to the street. Jonathan was on the door, looking a bit worse for wear.
"Jonathan, I think Emma's gone out without her keys," Killian said. "Could you let her in if she's back before us? Also, are you all right?"
"Absolutely," he smiled. "I'll take care of Ms Swan when she returns. Off to the library again, Henry?"
Henry nodded at the doorman started off up the street. He still had no idea how to interact with someone whose job it was to guard the front door of the building. The whole idea creeped him out a bit, or maybe it was just that Jonathan looked a bit creepy today. Killian caught up to him and they walked together towards the library, summarising what they'd found so far and looking for clues on what to do next.
"Why do you think she's still with him?" Henry asked.
"Who?"
"Guinevere. Everything we read has her as this headstrong, independent woman, not even noble, who falls in love with Lancelot because he is brave and honourable and honest. The opposite of her husband, who is cold and controlling and obsessive. So why does she stay with Arthur?"
"Love? Power?"
"Maybe, but if she really loved Lancelot, why stay with Arthur? And she just doesn't sound like he power-hungry type. She never sought it. She married Arthur when he had nothing. So what else made her stay?"
"Blackmail. Threats. Enchantment," Killian ticked off the list of possible causes when anyone does anything out of character.
"It must be something. I don't think she's there of her own free will. Maybe that's some sort of weakness for Arthur. That his Queen is only loyal because he's drugged her or threatened her or something. Maybe she could help us."
"Good thinking, lad. We'll need to get to Guinevere to find out, though."
"Are you going to stay in this realm?" Henry asked nervously. "Are you taking my Mom away again?"
"I didn't exactly take her away last time, Henry. Arthur wants me dead, and now he wants your Mom dead, and he pulled us both into a portal to do it. And you and I are doing our best to find a way to stop him," Killian said honestly.
"So is your Dad really Davy Jones?" Henry asked.
"So your mother tells me. I don't have much memory of my father. Couldn't pick him out of a line up. She seemed pretty certain, though."
"None of us had very straightforward childhoods, did we?" Henry said, but it wasn't a question.
"No, we sure didn't."
They reached the library. "I'll go take the books back and look around for more. I know you want to get back to Mom." Henry smiled at him. "You make her really happy."
"So do you, Henry," Killian smiled.
Henry nodded and climbed the stops to the library. Killian watched him for a moment, then headed back towards the apartment building. Maybe he'd have enough time for a more thorough investigation of Emma's breasts…
…
From a bench at the entrance to the library, the knight watched Killian and Henry part ways. He turned this information over in his mind. Arthur had never mentioned another child of Killian's, but here he was with a nearly grown boy, dark hair, tall… Killian Jones had a son already, one Arthur didn't even know about. The knight knew exactly what he had to do. Killian disappeared into the crowd on the street, heading away from the building that looked like a temple. The boy walked up the steps and through the doors. Gawain followed.
…
Emma sensed someone following her before she saw anyone. Not long before, but enough time to manoeuvre herself towards a crowded café full of witnesses. The danger might be New York criminal, or it might be one of Arthur's legions. She had to be prepared for either.
She knew the answer immediately when she heard the scrape of metal on a scabbard. A knight. She heard screams, saw the crowd near part around her. She stood still, staring down the man with the sword. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt - here in The Land Without Magic long enough for a costume change, she thought - but he still wore a sword belt. He rushed at her, but blindly, clearly expecting little in the way of evasive tactics. Emma tensed, watching his eyes flicker as he ran at her, sword raised. She dodged to the side at the last moment, the sword missing her entirely, the knight stumbling wildly to the ground. She pounced, pinning his sword to the ground and pounding her foot into his hand until he loosened his grip. She kicked him in the head and grabbed the sword. She held it to his throat with practised ease.
"Don't move. I will run you through, and a whole crowd of witnesses will call it self-defence," she hissed at him.
The crowd had their phones out, everyone dialling 911. Emma knew she had to get away, and she couldn't kill him if lay still. She turned on her heel and took off through the park at top speed, stopping briefly by a pond to throw the sword away. She didn't hear footsteps behind her. But if a knight had found her, another would have found Killian. And maybe Henry. She ran for the apartment as fast as she could.
…
Henry made it as far as the reference desk before noticed someone following him. The man looked out of place: his dark hair too long, his sweater and coat fit wrong, he seemed uncomfortable in himself. Killian and his Mom had warned him that Arthur and his knights had no fear of being caught; they would strike mercilessly. He ducked into a thick crowd of tourists on a library tour, dropped to the ground and crawled into the bookstacks, unseen by the knight. Looking back through the books, he could see the man pause and take in his surroundings, his eyes searching.
Henry dropped again and crawled to a stairway. He hurried up the steps two at a time and came out three floors up. He sought out a secluded stack of periodicals and hunkered down. Henry tried to quiet his breathing; he inhaled and exhaled evenly. He tried his mother's phone again, but still no answer. He knew that this knight would have no problem with killing him in front of witnesses, so seeking out a crowd wouldn't help.
Henry also knew that he had two advantages: first, the knight had chosen to corner him in a building he knew like the back of his hand, every fire exit, every dead end of stacked books, every elevator and staircase and quiet study room.
Second, and most importantly, he had Captain Hook on speed dial.
…
Emma made it back to the apartment, having apparently lost the man who had tried to kill her. At the door there was no sign of Jonathan. Her heart raced. She knew he'd been there when she'd left.
She stole into the lobby and found the stairs, quickly running up to the apartment. She stopped at the top to even out her breathing and to listen. She heard the unmistakable sound of a fight, a clash of metal on metal. She burst out of the doors of the stairwell and through the open door to the apartment. Two knights already lay on the floor of the living room, unblinking, and Killian was facing down a third, the broadsword of one of the knights in his hands. He was covered in blood, and whether it was his or theirs, Emma wasn't quite sure. The final knight grinned at Killian.
"Do you know what they have in this Land, pirate?" The knight pulled out a gun. "I've been practising with these. Want to see what it can do?"
"Good for you," Killian snarked. "Playing with the magic of a realm you do not understand."
The knight noticed Emma standing in the doorway.
"Look, pirate, I don't even need to shoot you first. I can show you how this is done, and you can watch your lover die."
Killian threw himself at the knight. The knight shot at him point blank.
Emma didn't think. She held out her hands and summoned every magical thread within her. Light pulsed from her fingertips, stopping the bullet dead in its tracks before it could reach Killian. It dropped harmlessly to the Persian rug. She turned the rest of her force on the knight and knocked him back against the wall. The gun went off his hands again, the bullet lodging in the wall near the television.
She advanced on him, cutting off his air supply, choking him slowly. Killian got there first, running him through with the sword before Emma could take another life.
Killian kicked the knight's body off the sword. "I just got a call from Henry. He's at the library. Someone's after him."
Emma's eyes went wide with fear. "Henry… oh my God, Killian. We have to get to him."
"These are dead," he jerked his head towards the bodies on the floor. "Two more in our bedroom."
"One attacked me in the park," she said, starting out the door already, Killian behind her, running down the stairs. "Injured, not killed."
"And at least one more in the library with Henry."
Killian abandoned the sword at the bottom of the stairs. He couldn't run through the streets of New York covered in blood, chasing a woman in running gear, with a sword in his hands. They hit the street and kept running the few blocks to the library, ignoring all strange looks and setting off up the stairs to the last location Henry had texted to Killian.
They slowed at the top of the stairs, eyes scanning the bookstacks as the edged along the main corridor. The knight was easy to spot. They must have sent the least skilled man after Henry. Emma tried to spark up her magic again, but it wouldn't cooperate.
"The magic's gone again," she shook her head.
"I don't know how it was here in the first place, but it's not the first sign I've seen of it," Killian whispered. "We'll take this one down without magic."
She nodded. They saw the knight approaching the final stack of books, looking at the open window that Henry had already fled out of and onto a fire escape. As the knight ducked to squeeze through the window, Emma slammed his head into the wall with a heavy book. Killian bashed the dagger out of the man's hand and used it to slice open his throat. Emma closed her hand in the sleeve of her jacket, lifting the blade without touching it to her fingers. She wiped Killian's prints off the handle and dropped it to the ground next to the knight.
Killian and Emma climbed onto the fire escape and ran to the bottom, where Henry was waiting. He ran into Emma's arms and then hugged Killian just as fiercely.
"Are you okay?" Emma asked, holding Henry's head in her hands and searching him all over for signs of injury.
"I'm fine, Mom."
"We have to get back to the flat and make this mess disappear," she said. "We have to find Jonathan; he was missing and I'm worried. And we have to get out of New York. Much longer and we'll all end up in prison, where Arthur can find us and kill us. God only knows what CCTV footage this place has."
They made their way back to the apartment as quietly as possible. Killian stole a coat from an unattended chair in a café, covering up the blood on his clothes. The door to the apartment building was still unmanned. They took the stairs to the penthouse and found the door still wide open, the bodies gone, and Jonathan busy cleaning up the last remains of the blood.
"Jonathan…" Killian didn't know where else to go with that statement. Surely the man should be phoning the police? Killian paid him well, but not enough to cover up what must look like mass murder. Henry and Emma stood shocked and uncertain behind Killian, just inside the apartment.
Jonathan waved his hand towards the front door; it shut and locked behind them, sealing them into the flat. "The evidence is gone," the doorman said, "both here and at the library. Ms Swan didn't leave any in the park."
"Jonathan…" Emma began, but she didn't get much further. "What… I don't understand."
"Strangest thing happened to me this morning, Ms Swan, just after you left for your run. A man with a sword came up to me. Didn't say a word, just ran me through." Henry looked shocked. He looked sick. Emma put her arms around him. "Then I found myself on this crazy, desolate river shore… I'll spare you the details. But you are clear here. There won't be a police investigation."
Jonathan swept his red-rimmed eyes around the room. He dusted his hands off on his trousers. "Oh, and Mr Jones," he smiled at Killian. "Your father sends his regards."
With that, Jonathan disappeared in a puff of grey smoke.
…
The sun had risen enough for Will to be squinting in the light as he watched Blackbeard stalk down from the helm. The pirate had abandoned his place at the wheel as quickly as practicable after they left the harbour, glad to be free of any real responsibility for sailing the ship so that he could interrogate his passengers more thoroughly. Will could sense Blackbeard's cockiness; he knew the pirate planned to betray them somehow, and had been waiting for open ocean for his chance. They were over an hour from land now. Will tensed, waiting for Blackbeard's next move. He melted into the background, letting David and Snow take the limelight.
So when two pirates grabbed Belle and dragged her to the mast with knives at her ribs, he wasn't entirely surprised. Blackbeard sauntered up to Belle and ordered the men to tie her wrists.
"So, prince," he called, indicating David. "We're a long way from shore, and Arthur's queen has paid me a lot of money to get rid of you. I'm going to start with her," he indicated Belle with a twist of his head, "unless we can come to a more profitable arrangement."
David gave Blackbeard his broadest, most princely smile. He drew his sword and threw open his arms in invitation. Blackbeard drew his as well, pointing it towards Belle rather than the prince.
"Not in the mood for a sword fight today, prince," he said. "I'd rather just get on with either the killing or the payment."
Snow wasted no time. She nocked her arrow and fired, almost without bothering to aim, the shot was so open and simple. It found the pirate's blackened heart, and he fell forward onto the deck. Will had the crew member nearest Belle by throat, a dagger in his ribs, and David held the next closest at swordpoint. The rest of the crew froze, deciding whether to fight the strangers of simply down tools.
Their decision was made for them by a puff of red smoke. It appeared quickly and dissipated just as fast, leaving in its wake a tall man with dark, greying hair and sharp, blue eyes. He was dressed in a sweeping red coat over simple black trousers and a black linen shirt. His eyes creased in amused satisfaction at the sight of Blackbeard bleeding onto the deck of the Jolly Roger. He crossed the deck, men fighting each other to get out of his way as the demon made his way towards toward the body. He gave it a prod with his heavy, black boots. His smile blossomed over his features, the eyes shining with good humour. He turned to Snow.
"Well done, Your Highness," he nodded approvingly. "No dramatics, just get the job done right. I like your style. Direct and effective." He yanked the arrow out of the body and passed his hand over it. The blood disappeared. He turned the arrowhead towards himself and handed it politely across the deck to Snow. "Yours, I believe, my queen. No need to waste a perfectly good arrow on this rubbish."
Snow reached out to accept the arrow. As soon as she grasped it, Jones pulled sharply, causing her to stumble towards him. He held out his other hand and she caught it, holding herself upright. Jones took the opportunity to raise her hand to his lips and place a formal kiss across her knuckles, holding her astonished gaze.
"Davy Jones, at your service, Your Majesty," he smiled with intent.
David cleared his throat and gave Jones a hard stare.
"Forgive me, Prince," Jones bowed to him. "But she is indeed the fair mother of a beautiful daughter, and you cannot blame a man for paying her due attention."
"Wow," was all Snow managed to say, not letting go of his hand straight away. She continued to take in Jones, all hard lines and stylish sexiness. She swayed slightly. She looked over at Belle, still tied against the mast, and saw clearly that Belle was similarly overcome by the man before them. Her mouth was hanging slightly open.
Jones caught the shift in her gaze and crossed the short distance to Belle. He stood behind her and passed his arm across the ropes that held her. They slipped away, and he stepped close enough to press his chest into her back. "Better, my dear?" he whispered into her ear. Belle closed her eyes and nodded, panting slightly at the contact.
"All right, Jones, that'll do," Will said tetchily, reaching out to pull Belle towards him.
"Ah, Mr Scarlett. I cannot believe we haven't met before. Have you been cheating me?" Jones leant his head to one side, regarding the thief.
"Never once," Will shot back. "Now stop torturing the womenfolk and tell us what's next."
Jones laughed at that. He stood over Blackbeard again and looked over the dead pirate. "Can't have him mucking up the deck of my son's ship," he said. Jones waved his hand across the body and it crumbled to dust in front of the astonished crew. "You," he ordered the man who had tied Belle's hands, "clean up this mess now. The rest of you, ready this ship for a voyage to cross realms."
The crew began moving at speed and with purpose, readying the sails and cleaning the deck of all signs of neglect.
Jones looked over at Snow and Charming, standing together by the railings.
"Ready to head out, Charming?" he called.
David nodded. "Go on then, Jones. Show us the way."
Blackbeard's first mate stepped forward. "The ship is ready. Where are we headed, sir?" he asked Jones.
Jones gave the Roger's mast a comforting pat. "We're going to find her captain."