A/N: Special thanks to all those who have left reviews. They mean a lot! Also, this is another plug for Maidenfairhair. She is wonderful and has a plethora of POTC stories for our reading pleasure. But she and I do not own POTC.

One Year Later...

"Captain."

Jack sat up in bed, blinking out stinging sweat from his eyes. His head throbbed, a constant pounding right in the middle of his forehead. Staggering to his feet, he opened the door from his cabin leading out to the deck. Ragetti, wringing his hands, stared at his own feet. The two stood on opposite sides of the threshold without speaking, one waiting for the other.

"Mr. Ragetti, I'm still a might affected by the celebratory rum. What's the meaning of waking the captain?"

"Sorry, Jack. I was just, just takin' the initiative, ye see…"

"You're achieving that, are ye?"

"The gold is gone."

"What?" With one last pounding smack on his forehead, the gears in his head began to turn, evaporating his previous headache. No one else floated into their particular cave, therefore proving a member of his own crew confiscated the gold.

"I thought it best to come get you, Jack. That was the right thing to do, wasn't it?" Ragetti asked, his false eye staring right into Jack while his real one still memorized the grains of wood on the Pearl's deck. Jack followed the gaze, noting Ragetti's trousers barely touched his ankles. Grimacing at the unflattering fit, he snapped his head back up to face him, a delayed nod answering the previous question.

"Shall I investigate with ye, Captain?"

Jack drew his sword, hesitating to answer.

"You're actually armed?"

"Aye," Ragetti said, a cutlass as skinny as he was poking out.

"Right," Jack said. "Where's Bill?"

The presence of every crewman there on deck, facing him with hard eyes, spurned goose bumps up and down Jack's arms, prickling their way up to his back. Each one's sword glistened under the full moon. Centered among them, Barbossa stood erect, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His gold coin he pocketed from that chest in the cave dangled from his belt, thicker than one of the many rum bottles strewn about the deck.

"Where's Bill?" Jack asked again.

Twigg shoved his way to the front of the crowd, pushing Bill with him. His pistol pressed hard against the corner of Bill's jaw. Spying a smirk on Twigg's face, Jack's goose bumps spread up his neck.

"Jack," Barbossa purred, "The men and I been havin' a chat. Nothin' personal, just one too many mistakes on yer part. One would think a man with more experience was warranted."

"One such as you."

"Aye," Barbossa said with a nod. "Start walkin' to the edge."

Like the Red Sea, the men divided in half, making way for Jack to march past them towards the Pearl's maidenhead, each one burning holes into their captain with their eyes. Bill's cries faded into the distance as Jack's ears grew hot, almost seeing the swirls of drowning swaying in front of his eyes. Don't faint now, he told himself. Don't faint now. His fingers groped his belt until they fell onto his sword. If he went for Barbossa now, chaos would ensue and the men would once again look to the very person they were mutinying against for leadership. Jack snorted at the thought.

"No fighting, Jack." Barbossa lodged his sword right under Jack's chin. "And if ye think about reachin' for yer pistol, we've already seen to that. One shot is all ye get. One shot."

"So you've thought of everything," Jack said. "Ye know, t'would be a most perfect time for me to wish a plague on both your houses, but I'm going to conjure up something much better for you."

The water just looked cold, he thought, looking over the edge. Tears welled up in his eyes, only adding to the dizzying feeling in his head. Bloody stupid fool. You actually thought they liked you. You just steered 'em wrong is all. No, they don't like you. They never liked you. You made 'em all pirates, bloody idiot. Don't cry.

Don't cry.

"Can't say we'll meet again," Barbossa heckled. "Well, goodbye, Captain Sparrow. Can't right say I'm sorry."

"I can," Jack breathed, his eyes hardening.

Barbossa lurched forward, and then jerked out his arms, reeling Jack over the edge of the Black Pearl and into the chilly, salty water below them.

XXX

Jack wondered if the sand that burrowed itself under his shirt collar and through his bandana would ever wash out, or if each grain would embed itself, forming a flea-sized scar the nonobservant, land-loving folk would mistake for a freckle. Did he know anyone who had freckles? Any at all? Well, there had been that freckle-faced…ah, another wooly cloud is blowing by.

Day three of being stranded on this God-forsaken spit of land. Or was it four? Three? Four? Such a pretty wooly cloud.

No, stay focused, Jack told himself, swallowing. The lack of any water created a burning, bloody in his throat. He tapped the empty bottle next to him, the absorbed heat scorching his fingertips. Dear friend, he thought. You dressed yourself up in a fancy brown bottle and then stabbed me in the back. Rum had always seemed to widen his eyes and splash cold water on his face, but now, it only dried his throat and scraped his tongue with a texture rougher than sandpaper. Ah, more clouds.

Arms spread out as if he were on a cross, he gripped the sand, letting it slip through his fingers back onto the beach. If he'd wanted to get up, he would mix it with the ocean water, a muddy, sponge-like substance he could shape into another bottle of rum, perhaps a juicy scarlet lobster with foam substituting for butter.

Butter is expensive, so no, he thought.

Company! Yes, he would sculpt the sand into a person to talk to, to help him gather wood for a fire. He let his hands sway into the sand, forming abstract circles with it. But in his mind, the circles were a pale Madonna face with bright eyes. Hearing a wave swish against the surf, he let it form the words of his new companion—a woman, no—a genie. The rum bottle, when emptied, contained a little genie girl that, when a fortunate soul rubbed said bottle, would pop out with a whiff of musky smoke.

That was what those horse-tailed clouds were, he thought. They were the remnants of his genie's smoke, floating up into the sky. It took two whole minutes for him to turn his head to the side and face the empty rum bottle, its long neck and curvy hips as smooth to the touch as…someone's slender waist and thighs. She'd be a fire genie, surrounded by flames, her hair dancing right along with them. She'd sing, too, with a loud voice failing to care if she hit any of the notes on-key. Why bother to care about such lowly matters when she commanded the fire? Why bother to care about such things when she could make him happier than he could ever make her?

You're alone, Jack. That means no girl, not even a little turtle inching its way along the beach.

Shut up, you. Use your imagination.

No, I rather think I'll conjure up my own little maiden, fashion her exactly how I want her.

Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon: for why should I be as one that turneth aside by the flocks of thy companions?

"There's a man here! There's a man lying here!"

Jack felt someone pick up his arm, attempting to hoist him to his feet. Damn it, he thought. Didn't they care he was channeling the woman who would finally claim his heart? She was so close. She was in the bloody bottle, damn it all!

"You're alive, sir?"

Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes.

"He's drunk our rum!"

"Rum?" Jack asked with a dry throat. "There's no rum, mate. I drank it." Couldn't his genie tell them that? Treacherous little Delilah, but bloody hell, he loved her anyway.

"Check the hideout!"

Shadows that probably were men ran past him into the island, screaming and shouting profanities that drowned out his love's boisterous singing. They ran back to him, pistols and swords pointed right at his head. His head jerking from weapon to weapon, he kicked his feet, hardly realizing he was still lying in the sand, kicking it up while he made all the motions of running.

Hurry, love! They won't let us be!

"Put your weapons away! Can't you see the man's dying? Load him up."

"Oh! Oh, thank you, good gentlemen. My lady and I were frying in this insidious heat! Where's your sense of chivalry, lads? Take her to the ship first!" Jack tried to wiggle free of their grasp, fighting his way back to the sand. They pinned down his arms, slapping him across the face, shouting 

nonsensical drivel that had nothing to do with the fact a gorgeous woman-genie was about to die, if genie's die…ooh, another wooly cloud.

XXX

They had asked if he had anywhere to go, if anyone might be worried about him. They left him in the bayou, where faces he knew in the past to only be fearful and dehydrated now smiled at his arrival. A few children climbed into the longboat with him, their braids thick like the ropes of the Pearl. Kohl outlined their eyes, shielding their eyes from the sun. Not one of them needed to squint when they passed a shady part of the river into a blinding light. She was the last wise person he knew, and even that might be more insight than wisdom.

It took more concentration to walk a straight line now, dry solid land resembling being on a ship now. The men, rum-runners, had a word for it, but Jack had forgotten it, too focused on walking on a line he had drawn in his little cabin they had given him. His speech changed too, he had noticed, having to repeat himself more than he had before. Barbossa, I'll kill you for making me such a clown.

"Come in, Jack."

Jack held his breath and waltzed into the shack, his shoulders back and his expression unreadable. She had no name when he knew her, just one language after another. But the rest of the natives named her once they determined she would be their leader, their medicine woman.

"So pleased to see ye, Jack, or do ya want to be called Jackie like parents called ye?"

"Teague been to see you, Tia?"

"A talented man, him Teague," Tia Dalma chuckled, revealing stained teeth. "It be most fun to know if da son is like da apple dat don't fall far from tree." She stood, her colorful skirt swaying along 

with her hips. Planting a kiss on Jack's cheek, she led him past a jar of eyes to her table, covered in claws and shells from various creatures.

"I want my ship back," Jack said.

"What ya want pretty Tia to do bout it?" She held her hand out to him, exposing her palm. Her fingers ran over each other, the tip of her tongue tapping her upper lip.

"My dear, in exchange for some information, I'm prepared to offer you this." He snapped his Piece of Eight off his bandana and placed it in the center of her palm.

"Ye give your lordship over to me freely? Oh, witty Jack, I don't believe it."

"The other pirate lords might find it amusing. Teague will anyway. Next time he's here you can give it back to him."

"Captain Teague only want to keep to the Code now. Him have his purpose now. But you…what pirate would not want lordship? It makes the mark of a real pirate."

"I ain't a real pirate, Tia," Jack whispered. He hadn't even done anything since he released her and the others, letting them cultivate this sticky, luscious wilderness into a civilization. "If I were to tell the complete truth, I'm a rather miserable pirate."

"A pirate we all know of here. Word of you spreading, Jackie."

"Don't call me that."

"Jack. A wanted man always has him name out and about. Most of da people here honored to say dey know da Captain Jack when traveler mention his name. Now, what is it ye want? Why ye here?" She placed the Piece of Eight back into his hand. "I won't take it. Not now."

"Why not?"

"I want to see ya have some purpose," Tia Dalma said. "It not fit da great Captain Jack Sparrow to mope about, pinin' away for his lost ship." She leaned across the table and kissed both his cheeks, brushing his hair back to whisper in his ear, "I will help ya find dat pretty, pretty Pearl if ye let me see da future tru yer eyes."

"Through my eyes? Just what does that entail?" Jack shuddered at what she could do to him, seeing as how a crow lay cut into pieces on her table, a pile of crab claws providing it a pointy mattress for it. Before he could form a word with his gaping mouth, Tia Dalma crawled over the table and leapt on him, ripping his shirt while she tugged it off over his head. "You hold on now," he said. "At least the sun didn't ruin this for me."

Hoisting her over his shoulder, he carried her into the next room. Only a straw-filled bed filled the miniscule room, a sharp contrast from the cramped front room. Purposely throwing her onto the bed, he wiggled out of the rest of his clothes and threw himself on top of her. He pushed her dreadlocks out of her face and kissed her, forcing her mouth open with his. I can tell you what's in your near future, he thought, grinning to himself.

No moan escaped Tia Dalma's throat when he inserted himself into her. Letting his fingertips slide down her neck to her breasts, Jack grunted at the inexpressive face underneath him and shifted to pinning her arms down at her sides. Grinding against her, he nibbled on her collar bone. Lawan had enjoyed that, he remembered. But then, she liked bondage, too.

"Jack," Tia Dalma whispered, her hands holding the sides of his head. "The Brethren Court. Tell me what ya see."

His eyes still closed, she watched Jack's face change from frustrated to observant, darting his head all around, searching a nonexistent room.

"This is Shipwreck Cove," he said, his eyes tightly shut and searching.

"That it is, Jack," she answered him, still underneath him, waiting to see if their intimacy would become anymore satisfying. "The Pirate Lords, the Brethren Court." At least this meeting would be worth her while, she told herself, chest heaving at the information seconds away.

She listened at the names he mentioned, one at a time, noting his tone never changed with any of them. Yes, he confirmed the names she collected over the years, the countless years of waiting, trapped in a single form. She pursed her lips to avoid laughing at this man, covered in tattoos and scars, doing his best to pleasure her. If he only knew what he was really doing.

"That are not all of dem," she snapped at him. "I must know all."

"Barbossa." A look of bitter disgust accompanied his answer, his lips forming a sneer along with the syllables.

"Der any-ting else?" Yes, they would release her soon, now that she knew their names. Each one of them would be under her protection, allowed to live until that time when their Pieces of Eight would join her, become one with her, and let her be what she needed to be. But anyone could spoil such a plan, this Gibbs Jack mentioned, any of the lords, Teague… "Tell me what ya looking at, Jack."

He threw his head back, his chest swelled out as far as it could go. His grip on her arms tightened. Tia Dalma laughed, remembering what men's climaxes were like, so vulnerable. She could drive a knife into his back right this moment and he would never see it coming. With one final jolt, Jack collapsed onto her chest, sweat pouring from his forehead. "Tell me, Jack. Tell me what ya see."

What she thought would be a smirk, melted into a proud, soft smile.

"Lizzie."

She rolled her eyes at the breathlessness of his tone, spying her knife within arm's reach. His Piece of Eight here in her shack, there would be no use for this amusing lord for another ten years. What would it be like to stab a man?

"Wake up now, Jack."

His eyes open, Jack perked his head up and looked from side to side. "Was I drunk?"

Shaking her head, she picked up her knife. Jack dodged it, falling backwards from the bed and onto the floor. Stark naked, he dug through his clothes until he found his sword and held it in front of his body. Her blade met his, a sharp clang echoing throughout the room. They parried, each one nicking the others' wrists.

"I'm beginning to think coming here was not so grand an idea," Jack said, his sword finally knocking her weapon to the ground with a thud. Moving in, he held the sword at her throat. "Did I do something wrong?" He panted the question, his eyes wide with adrenaline and confusion. How could she not smile at such a sight?

"Ya go and leave me now, Jack Sparrow. I have no use for yer eyes or for yer body."

"Now that rather hurts," he said, letting his sword dangle to and fro in front of her face. "Just what all did ye want to know?"

Tia Dalma simply smiled. "Will ya really kill me?"

"No," Jack said, stepping back from her. "You're a little too interesting. So…I was really no good?"

"Well, not as good as I had hoped," she said, standing. Completely naked save for her long locks covering her breasts, she wrapped her bleeding wrist in a cloth. "But I got what I needed from ye." Before Jack could speak, she continued. "I promised ya good reward for the information…and the…love making."

"I presume you have enough decency to avoid spreading word of my once-in-a-lifetime inadequacy," he said, his head on her shoulder, those enormous black eyes pleading with her. "See, I've been told I'm actually very good, and if one of the ladies between here and wherever I may go next would like to see for herself, it would be quite detrimental to said girl and myself if rumor had it I had all the virility of a dying fish."

"No interest have I in what ya sayin," she called to him, throwing a robe over herself and sifting through the clutter in the next room. Pulling his clothes on at a rapid pace, he followed her out, only to come face to face with an object small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.

"What is that?"

"You want your Pearl, and this will show ya." She extended the object to him, waiting for him to take it. Keeping his other hand on his sword just in case, Jack took the trinket and fumbled it open. A simple compass stared up at him, a ridiculously showy red arrow began to spin. It spun and stopped for a moment to point to his far left, and then edged its way to the one o-clock position at his right. Setting his jaw, he glared back up at her.

"It doesn't work."

"It work. Imagine a map dat tell you where da tings ya want most in da world are. Ya don't have to wait, just follow da map until ya reach it. Dat's what dis compass is, Jack. Men will kill for it."

"It's magic?" Jack asked.

"Tink of what ye most want, what keep you awake at nights and dreamin' durin' da day."

The Pearl, he thought, closing his eyes. He pictured it in his mind, sailing a smooth course with only a light breeze acting as any resistance. Staring back at the compass, the arrow spun only once and settled once more at the one o-clock position had it been a timepiece.

"It's that way, then? Is that how it works?"

"Dat's how it works." She grinned back at him. "So comin' here was worth it now, was it?"

"Sorry I can't say the same for you," he said with a frown and a shrug. "I'd like to know what you got out of me, if ye don't mind."

"You'll know in time 'cuz it will happen," Tia Dalma said. "Yer future."

Realizing he would hear no more about whatever he blurted out or showed her while he had been unaware the lass was incapable of enjoying the act of physical lust, Jack nodded his head and groped the table for his hat. "Can't go out without this," he muttered, adjusting it.

"You'll be back on day, Jack Sparrow. You'll be back."

"Yes, but I doubt this will show me the way," Jack said, holding up the compass and shutting the door behind him, never looking back.

A/N: Ah, the beginning of Jack's quest. Any predictions? BTW, Jack, in his delirium, quotes a passage from "Song of Solomon." Even Jack knows his Bible...or maybe just the sexy parts.