Josephine sat there in complete darkness. There was the occasional squeaking of a blank, the steps of heavy feet above her and the endless rushing of the sea. Always back and forth, back and forth. The ship had taken up this eternal rhythm, rocking gentle from one side to the other like a cradle.

The young woman leant her back against the cargo box behind her, her arms casually propped on her knees. She was sniffling a little and wiping her eyes with her hands. It felt like she had been crying for hours, at least she had done so till her eyes had started burning and the tears refused to come. After that she had sobbed quietly, her hand pressed over her mouth, so that no one would hear her.

This time she had been smart enough to not hire a passage, she had simply snug on board, while the sailors hadn't been watching. Davy Jones's ship had created a big enough distraction. The ripped sails, the strange creatures that were visible on deck, monsters, abominations of nature…that was where James was now. Unconsciously her fingers touched her lips on which she imagined she could still feel his good-bye kiss. She could feel the knot inside her stomach tighten, so she sternly told herself not to become sentimental. This would not have been the last time they had seen each other nor the last time they kissed. She had to be strong now. Find Turner and his fiancé Miss Swann. Find them, no matter what the cost. Find them.

Her point of departure would be Tortuga. What she knew about this place consisted of the information she had prodded out of merchants, Minzy and of course, the occasional unsuspecting soldier that guarded the mansion. The answer had been always the same, "It's no place for a young lady like you, Miss Beckett." That was probably why James had insisted she took a pistol with her. She hoped she would not need to fire it, that hopefully her disguise as a boy would protect her to some point. It could be as bad as everybody said.

Half a day later she had to revise her opinion. It was definitely as bad as everybody said, but at the same time it held a certain fascination. She had always asked herself how people would act if they were not coerced to behave as morals and etiquette told them to. Her considerations had been to the greatest part ironic, but now she couldn't find any humour in them being faced with the sheer reality of the situation. Was it really possible that the human animal was such a vile species, that drank, robbed and thought of nothing other than fornication. She was shocked, fascinated and appalled at the same time. Deep down, though she had to admit that a part of her actually liked that place, this little Sodom and Gomorra of the Caribbean. Those people here were truly free.

James had told her to go directly to the tavern, because it might be possible that someone there knew Will Turner and Miss Swann. She had laughed at him when he had pronounced the name Turner, it had sounded like he was referring to an infectious disease, not a man. A smirk briefly tugged at the corner's of her mouth, then it quickly disappeared again. Her hands vigorously pushed the entrance door open and she stepped inside.

The tavern basically consisted of a huge room, filled with drunken men and wenches who were there to keep the rum flowing. She soon realized that this setup had all the makings of a vicious circle, because she could see the hungry gazes the men threw at the only modestly covered bosoms of the women who were very eager to provided them with more alcohol, since they were not ready just yet to provide anything else.

Josephine took in her surrounding with the interest of someone who visits a museum. Over in the corner a fight was about to break loose so she should better hurry. She quickly dashed over to the bar and called for the bartender.

"What be the matter, matey?" the man's breath stank off rum. She immediately shrank back a couple of centimetres and politely tried not to flinch her nose, which was hard because of the stench of alcohol and his bad breath.

"I'm looking for a certain Will Turner or Captain Jack Sparrow, or better yet both. You didn't happen to see them per chance?"

"What are you boy? A spy of the East India Trading Company? We don't like no spies around here," the man glared at her, but the hostile expression on his face quickly died away, when he saw the hate in her eyes.

Josephine let out a bitter laugh, "You have no idea how much pleasure it would afford me if I could see every single ship of their fleet sink to the deepest depths of the sea." The venom that was audible in her voice could never have been the product of artifice.

"So, you're no spy then," he remarked dryly,"Good…..I'm not quite sure where Turner is, but maybe if you helped me a little I might be able to remember," he rubbed his thumb and his index finger together meaningfully.

"Do I look like I could pay you any money for that kind of information?" she squinted her eyes at him.

"Aye, you not only look it, you sound it and smell it, too," the man laughed and bared a set of rotten teeth at her.

"How much to help you remember?" she mumbled begrudgingly. She didn't like being bested, especially not by some smelly pirate with rotten teeth.

"That be three doubloons," he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Two," she glared at him from underneath the rim of her hat.

"Three."

"Alright then, three, but you will provide me with directions as well, are we clear on that?"

"Alright, matey, you'll be looking for Tia Dalma."

"Who on earth is Tia Dalma?"

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Will Turner stood at the veranda of the little crooked shack that was Tia Dalma's home. The expression on his face was unreadable, devoid of any emotion, as his brown eyes starred out into the swamp. Twilight had settled over the scenery and everything was by now reduced to hazy outlines and mysterious sounds. He stood there like a statue, only the constant rising and falling of his chest gave him away as a human being. His physical motionless state stood in sharp contrast to his inner feelings that were in deep agitation.

It had been four days since Jack was gone and he was itching to make himself useful. Tia Dalma wouldn't allow them to leave yet, the Gods only knew why and Elizabeth wouldn't talk to him. He suspected is was not so much that she didn't want to talk to him, she just didn't know what to say. He had seen her kiss Jack. The scene replayed over and over before his inner eye and every single time his mind provided him with new reasons to explain what it was he had witnessed there. At times the little voice inside his head, tried to convince him that Elizabeth had been compelled to act this way in order to save them, but what spoke against this theory was the dejected look on her face when they had arrived here. Other times, and those were the worst, he asked himself whether she had gotten bored with him. If he was not the man she needed – wanted. If their love had been just a passing fancy, because they had been both young…they were still young now, but much had changed. Maybe too much.

He wasn't able to continue further down that gruesome line of thoughts, perhaps he was even lucky his musing had been disrupted. There was a single boat approaching the shack, clearly recognizable in the dark, thanks to flickering lantern that lit its way. Will left his post and stepped inside the hut.

Tia Dalma was rummaging through her collection of strange objects and jars filled with all kinds of bizarre substances and things. As usually she seemed to be oblivious to his presence, but when it came to her one could never know. That she didn't look, didn't necessarily mean she wasn't aware of his presence.

"There is a boat coming this way," he announced, after clearing his throat hadn't managed to attract her attention.

"Already? Shouldn't wonder…those people are always on time," the voodoo priestess muttered to herself.

William had stopped to question her logic and also her enigmatic way of expressing herself, still he wondered whether this boat presented a potential threat, so he decided to press the matter for once, "Whose coming?"

"Da student, child. Da student," the woman finally turned around and merited him with a lop-sided smile, allowing him a generous glance at her blackened teeth.

Meanwhile Josephine had debarked and tied her little boat to the wooden footbridge that lead to Tia Dalma's shack. The sultriness of the swamp and the exertion of rowing had convinced her to give up her masquerade. She had taken off her jacket and thrown away her hat, so that she now was only clothed in shirt and trousers. Sweat was glistening on her forehead and her black hair had curled thanks to the humidity.

The air seemed to be buzzing with midges and all sorts of insects. She had stopped counting the itching red spots on her skin by now. Not without a certain amount of satisfaction she smacked one of those bothersome bloodsuckers, just as it landed on her upper arm. Ouch! She immediately regretted it afterwards. A slight sunburn, which was now blissfully beginning to fade into a tan, had tinted her skin red and made it particularly sensitive. The outline of her hands was briefly visible on her skin, then disappeared again. With a huff she blew her hair out of her face and started her way towards the hut.

She hesitated briefly before she crossed the step, but then made up her mind and entered. "Tia Dalma?" she called out questioningly into the seemingly empty shack. "Anyone there?"

Josephine heard somebody rummage in the back of the hut so she curiously advanced a little further into the room and came to a halt in the middle of it. With childlike fascination her eyes absorbed her surroundings. Jars of all sizes were hanging from the ceiling. She stepped closer to one of them and her mouth dropped in wonder, when she recognized its contents to be a tongue. It was not human, of that she was sure, because it was too big. Maybe it once belonged to an oxen or pig. Josephine tapped against the glass with her nail and the liquid inside of it briefly started wobbling. The next one contained some sort of dried algae. She squinted her eyes and stepped closer to scrutinize the glass more thoroughly. Then she heard a movement behind her, a rustle of clothes, the squeaking of a footboard.

The young woman whirled around and came face to face with a black woman who was smiling at her mischievously. The shock that spread through her body thanks to her unexpected appearance mixed with utter astonishment, because Josephine suddenly had the strange feeling that this meeting had predestined all along.

"T…Tia Dalma?" Josephine managed to stutter.

The other woman just nodded quizzically and walked over to a huge wicker chair that suspiciously resembled a throne, on which she took a seat with a graceful movement. She looked at Josephine in a way that gave her the impression she was somehow put to a test.

"I came here looking for Will Turner," the young woman managed to get out.

"Nah, you be looking for something else child," Tia Dalma shook her head with majestic dignity.

"I….am I?" Josephine was startled. She hadn't been expecting that, but she quickly caught herself, "Very well, enlighten me, what is it I am looking for then?"

"Your place in this world," the voodoo priestess told her quizzically.

"That's merely a description of the human condition in general," the young woman raised her eyebrows cynically. So far she wasn't impressed.

"For you it's more difficult than for most, child. You is stuck between to worlds, the past and the future. Your heart be of the past" she chuckled to herself and made a graceful gesture with her hands which looked almost like a wave. "And your mind of the future."

Josephine gulped heavily. Tia Dalma's description of her character was unsettling her, "For now I'd just settle for finding Mr. Turner, if you please."

The other woman let out an amused laugh, "That be the easiest part of it , Josephine."

At her words a handsome young man stepped inside the room. There was something gentle, about him yet at the same time there seemed to be a rather melancholic streak to his character as well. Josephine couldn't tell what exactly it was that gave away that impression, maybe it was his eyes.

So that was the infamous Will Turner, not like James had described him, which didn't surprised her at all. She wouldn't necessarily call this young man plain, but James couldn't exactly be blamed for not being objective in that matter. At the thought of him she felt an unpleasant sting and she had to bring up a huge amount of willpower not to let her emotions show in her face.

"Who are you and why are you looking for me?" Turner had a pleasant voice, she had to give him that. The fact that she already knew more about him than he did about her, gave her the slight feeling of superiority.

She briefly considered whether she could give him a false name, but then decided against it, "I'm Josephine Beckett."

"Beckett as in Lord Cutler Beckett?" Will Turner looked at her in amazement.

"Exactly. And before you're going to ask. I'm not daft, I know that some people might consider me a valuable hostage if they wanted to settle a score with my brother…., but I can assure you that this would be a rather pointless endeavour, since Cutler himself has recently threatened to murder me," she raised her chin in defiance.

"He didn't go through with his plan apparently. So, what is it that you want from me then?"

"A couple of days ago a certain James Norrington brought my brother Davy Jones's heart," she let the information drop with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Josephine knew very well that Turner had sworn to kill Davy Jones, in order to free his father from the cursed sailor's clutches. "He must not be allowed to wield that much power. Cutler, as unpleasant as it may be to admit for me, has no sense of morals what so ever…"

"So you just came here to tell me this out of the goodness of your heart?" Turner raised an eyebrow.

"No, I came here, because I have to settle a score with my brother and I think you do as well, after all he held your fiancé prison and threatened to hang you."

"What do you suggest?"

"That you bring me to Captain Jack Sparrow as fast as possible."

The young man let out a bitter laugh, "I fear you're four days too late, Miss Beckett. Jack is dead."

Josephine's heart sank at that information. Jack Sparrow had been a substantial part of her plan. Now that the tables had turned so suddenly she wasn't quite sure what to do anymore. She was quickly tumbling towards despair, but the voice of Tia Dalma spared her from that faith.

"Dead, but not lost, Will," the woman interjected and thereby directed their attention back to her.

"We can't save him unless you allow us to finally set sails," the frustration was clearly audible in the young man's voice.

"But now you can. Now your crew be finally complete," the voodoo priestess grinned contently and leant comfortably back in her chair, while she enjoyed the baffled looks on their faces.

"Set sails to go where?"

"We're supposed to take her?