A/N: Thank you so much to hurricane1714, Belphagor, and master of time for your reviews. They are so encouraging! And again, thank you to jedipati for her wonderful beta work.
Disclaimer: POTC belongs to Disney.
The deck of the Dauntless resembled a display of statues.
Commodore Norrington warily watched his grimacing opponent. The man's bones had disappeared, hidden by muscle and filthy brown skin. His blood-smeared forehead was framed by dreadlocks. Their eyes met and the bewildered pain in the frozen pirate's gaze sent unnerving tingles over Norrington's skin.
The pirate's cheek twitched, and then he keeled right over onto the deck.
Norrington realized his sword was suddenly dripping with blood.
Governor Swann was well past his endurance when the chest of drawers went still. He had also sweat more than he ever had in thirty years, and his dear wig was itching like mad. He never thought of removing it, however.
Everything outside had gone quiet and Swann's bodily discomforts were silenced by curiosity and hope. Carefully, he turned and pulled open the drawer, the evil limb's prison, and peered down inside.
It didn't look the same.
"Oohh!" He jerked back, nauseated by the gore, and then turned away with a hand over his mouth when the emanating stench reached his nose. "Ohh!" Belly rolling, he slammed the drawer shut. This chest of drawers was going to have to be burned.
Twigg the pirate had just seen his friend Khoeler collapse in a lifeless heap at the feet of a tall British officer. He glared at the prettily dressed British commodore and others around him, enraged by their dumbstruck faces and the agony that was screaming at him from almost every part of his body. Overwhelmed with confusion, he looked up at the moon.
Naked, it floated in full view, solemnly vengeful in clear midnight sky. The betrayal sank like a slow sword thrust into Twigg's heart and he heard his mates gasp with him.
Twigg tore his eyes from the moon and looked at the British officer. Their eyes met and the officer's face hardened. He lifted his red sword to Twigg's neck. Panting in pain and despair, Twigg let go his sword, and it clattered to the deck, snapping the holy silence in two.
Behind Twigg, another sword clanged to the planks. Another followed, then another, and another, and then all the weapons and the remnants of the pirates' defiance clashed to the deck.
On his knees amidst the quitted weapons, Ragetti lunged forward and caught his wayward eyeball. By some coincidence, he was right behind Pintel, who was being approached by Mullroy and Murtogg.
Quaking, Pintel stared at the vicious Marines; they both looked ready to take on the world. Even their spotless tri-cornered hats with the gold and white trim were still in place.
Murtogg shoved his bayonet toward Pintel's face and Pintel went cross-eyed.
Behind Pintel, Ragetti stood up, shoved his wood eye into its socket, and surveyed the situation. Then he did a double take, gulped, and raised his hands.
"Parley?" Pintel pasted on a hopeful smile, but his face fell when Mullroy gave him a heated glare.
Commodore Norrington drew back, up. "The ship is ours, gentlemen."
The British erupted into cheers, punching victorious fists into the air and lifting their hats. "Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!"
The cheering reached Governor Swann, who peeked out through a broken pane of glass and saw the celebration. His weary face lit up with deep relief. Straightening, he emerged from the captain's quarters and, stepping over the slain soldier, moved into the moonlight.
"Huzzah! Huzzah!" his voice joined theirs as he exchanged an exhilarated glance with a young Marine. Onto the deck he advanced, pausing to shake his finger in the face of a pirate. The scruffy man edged away, and joyously, Swann feigned punching at the other man's face like a boy. Goodness, it was invigorating to win!
The caverns of the Isla de Muerta were quiet now, idyllic in their own glittering way. But the heady aura of amazement and satisfaction had faded and died when Jack said flatly, "That'll reek after a while" and simply walked away.
Elizabeth, standing where she had almost died, looked up toward Will.
He was white, still bathed in moonlight. Standing like a king-statue over the Aztec chest, he gazed at Barbossa for a long moment. He dropped the dagger. Then slowly, like an old man, he sat down in the shadow of the chest and didn't move. His head lowered almost to his crooked knees.
He had to know. He had to know about her engagement to Norrington…and who knew what other pain he suffered? Not Elizabeth Swann. That thought blinded her with self-hatred, helpless frustration, and tears. She wandered, stopping to stare sightlessly at a pile of treasure glowing in the moonlight.
No matter what she did, she always came back to being Miss Elizabeth Swann. For a few moments she had been a woman fighting for her life, free. Now she was engaged. Who am I, truly? She wasn't Miss Swann anymore. But I have to be. She could run from it. From Father? He loved her. But he's not the only one…
When she heard Will's slow footsteps, her heart rose but she didn't turn. Anything is possible – you, Miss Captive of Undead Pirates, should know. She turned and watched him come up. His smile was half-hearted. She couldn't muster anything better.
Awkward, they gazed at each other.
Oh, Will. The simple affection that rose in her at the sight of him was like sweet honey. Even while she had tears hovering in the base of her throat, he made her forget them simply by standing in silence.
His expression softened. Her cheeks warmed when his eyes fell to her lips and he moved almost imperceptibly closer – or was she leaning toward him? She knew his embrace would be comfort beyond measure, warmth and strength, but-
Crash!
Elizabeth jumped and they both turned.
Jack, once more the jaded king of his world, stood twenty yards away in a moonlit alcove. Nonchalantly, he examined a crusted goblet. As they watched he tossed the goblet over his shoulder- crash!
Elizabeth stared at the floor. When Will faced her she pressed her lips together bravely, squinting in an attempt at a smile. "We should get back to the Dauntless…" She shrugged, and then watched him with intense eyes.
Will met her eyes straight on, miserably determined. "Your fiancé will want to know you're safe."
Elizabeth made herself nod. Then she made a fast retreat as tears washed over her in a wave. She wondered if she'd feel better if this mess was the responsibility of anyone other than herself.
Jack swaggered up to Will, clanking and clattering. Will gave him a stare.
An elaborate, jewel-studded crown sat crookedly on Jack Sparrow's head, weighed down on one side by a heavy necklace. Multiple chains of milky pearls and gold and silver encircled his neck, loosely angling over his shoulders. He carried a pearl and treasure-filled tray under one arm, and held a delicate gold wine cup in his other hand.
He met Will's gaze, and then they both looked after Elizabeth.
"If you were waiting for the opportune moment," Jack nodded, wrinkling his nose and pointing for emphasis, "that was it."
Will was speechless.
"Now if you'd be so kind," Jack sauntered on, "I'd be much obliged if you'd drop me off at my ship."
Now they all were having a rotten time.
Will, Jack, and Elizabeth bobbed silently in a rowboat near rocks just outside the caverns' entrance, the night thick and weary around them.
Jack sat in the front of the rowboat, treasure gleaming coldly in his lap, crown still jaunty on his head. He stared dully at the foggy space in the island's natural harbor where the Black Pearl should have been waiting for him. The space was miserably empty.
Behind Jack, Will took up the oars, eyes avoiding Elizabeth, who dismally slumped on her bench in the back.
"I'm sorry, Jack," she managed.
Jack didn't move, didn't blink. "They've done what's right by them. Can't expect more than that."
There were many things that happened after that. Reunion. Incarceration. Conversation. Commiseration. How the Dauntless found her way from an island that wasn't supposed to exist was a mystery to most, but Jack Sparrow was visited more than once in the brig by Norrington and the navigator.
Once they were well on their way to Port Royal, the biggest thing happened:
Silence.
Eyes did not meet. Words were stilted and used sparingly. Some passengers took odd pains to avoid one another. Footsteps were instinctively softened by everyone down to the powder monkeys. Some understood why and some didn't, but the Dauntless had become a time bomb. Over agonizingly long stretches of water she drifted like a poisoned fruit, pushed by a wind that wasn't fast enough for anyone on board.
It was luck that brought her into Port Royal before the fuse ran out. She rested at the Interceptor's empty dock because it was the only one repaired. Created for a vessel that would never come back, the dock was too small, the gangplanks shaky and under reaching.
A massive crowd filled the shoreline, pushing, craning to see. They cheered Governor Swann and his pale daughter. They shouted for a drooping Will. They applauded Norrington. They booed the limping remnants of the Black Pearl's crew. And they bellowed for Jack Sparrow when he appeared, glancing toward the empty cranes above. The sound was deafening and grew even louder when he managed a tiny salute with one shackled hand.
Then everyone of importance was hustled into carriages. The carriages clattered off, taking the passengers toward their futures.
The crowd dispersed chattily. During the Governor's absence not much had been rebuilt; there hadn't been enough time. But one structure had been tended to with much industry and that was a tall, sturdy gallows in the center of Fort Charles' main courtyard. It was a big courtyard. Good thing, too, because every square foot of standing space would be fought over. Everyone knew whose name was practically carved into the oak scaffold – it was all too terribly exciting.
Indeed, Captain Jack Sparrow swinging from that noose promised to be the spectacle of the decade.
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