"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result."

Dilbert

Demon Called Deception

Chapter Twenty: Arrival

Jack stood watching, his eyes staring at the empty expanse of sea in front of him. It was here, he knew it was. The only problem was deciphering the riddle on how exactly to find it.

They had dropped anchor little over half an hour ago, ending in the exact spot that the map had indicated. Jack looked up into the sky, his right hand raising up to cover his eyes, effectively blocking out the sun. He was hoping that the sky would offer some form of an answer for him; giving him the answer that he so desperately desired. Nothing. Not even a single, dark, ominous cloud to show that a storm was on the way.

"Bugger," he muttered, his eyes going back to the water. "Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger."

"Are you alright Jack?" Will asked, coming up beside Jack. "You seem a little irritated."

"I can't figure it out," Jack answered after a minute. "This is the right spot; the right coordinates, but there's nothing here."

Will's eyebrows furrowed, concern crossing his face. "Is there something that you're missing? Maybe something from the Prophecy?"

The words to the Prophecy ran through Jack's mind for a moment, his mind turning the words over and over. Finally he shook his head. "No, nothing."

"Hmmm. Maybe something on the map then? I know it was a long time ago that you saw it, but-"

"Yes," Jack interrupted, a grin growing on his lips, his gold teeth flashing. "That's it! The map!"

Will stared at Jack for a moment, wondering if his old friend had lost what little of his mind he had left. "What about the map, Jack?"

"There was a message on it, something I didn't understand until now. We're going to need Rebecca."

Will drew back. "Rebecca? Why?"

"'The blood of the Chosen must be spilt,'" Jack recited immediately. "We need 'er blood."

"But she's not the Chosen."

Jack's grin widened, his brown eyes twinkling. ""No, but she's 'er twin. It'll do. Her blood'll 'ave ta work."

"But Jack-"

Jack waved his hands in the air, giving Will a glimpse of the man he used to be. "Always somethin' logical with you, eh? This island holds a treasure that allows you to alter Time mate, nothin' logical about that at all. She's got my blood an' her mum's blood in her. She'll do," he flipped his hands at Will in a dismissing gesture. "Now go. Get Rebecca. The island's just dyin' ta reveal itself."

"I can't help but feel that I should be there helping them."

"Our uncle is doing all he can."

Thomas snorted. "Jack Sparrow is a pirate. If he is doing all he can, why has he not brought Rebecca back?"

Emily sighed. "Something has happened apparently. Something that was out of his control; out of anyone's control. Once everything is dealt with, they will be back."

Thomas sat down in the sand, the slight wind playing with the tendrils of hair that had escaped his ponytail. "I'm just worried."

Emily wrapped her hand around his, squeezing gently. "I know. We all are."

Tristan stared down at Emory as she slept, her knees pulled up tightly to her chest, sleeping in a fetal position. He knelt down next to her, his left hand reaching out to tenderly brush a strand of hair off of her face. His heart thumped painfully in his chest as his eyes took in the various wounds all over her body.

Tristan hated seeing her like this; hated seeing her so weak. Emory was a strong woman; a woman who had the weight of the world put on her shoulders alone and yet it did not bring her down. And yet that was what he loved about her.

Wait? Love? Did he lover her? Was the burning desire to protect her stemming from his love for her or was it from something else? The answer to every question that ran through his mind was simple. Yes. He did. Tristan knew he had loved her from the very first time he laid eyes on her.

The only reason she was alive today was from him only shooting her in a non-fatal place. Tristan had fought with himself two years ago after shooting her. For two months he had drowned himself in drink and nothing else. Until his father had found him again. After that he had buried his emotions, setting a steely resolve as he had the night he had killed his mother. He would allow nothing to break through; not anger, despair, not even love.

And all of his barriers, all of his blockades sealing away his emotions had led him here, brought him to the point of watching the woman he loved be tortured. And he knew there was nothing he could do about it. His father was a sick man who delighted in destroying the lives of people weaker than him. And all Tristan could do was watch.

He could do nothing to stop it; nothing to prevent all the pain she was going through. All he could do was offer a form of comfort.

Tristan rolled her gently onto her back, caressing her arms and neck as he went, careful not to brush any abrasions. Emory whimpered slightly in her sleep and he could see her struggling with herself to fight him; to push him away.

"Shh, Em," he whispered cupping her chin with both hands. "It's just me. I'm not going to hurt you."

Emory's eyes opened blearily, her beautiful eyes bloodshot and screaming with pain. "Tris'an?"

"Shh," he replied, his chest beginning to hurt from holding in all of his anger. "I'm going to try to clean your wounds okay? Will you be alright?" he asked, holding his gaze steady.

Emory nodded into his hands at his words. Tristan removed his hands slowly and reached for the bucket full of water that he had brought with him. She winced as the rough cloth brushed her wounds. Her hands dug into the dirty ground; he could see her biting her bottom lip in pain. Emory was trying to be strong for him. He knew that and it killed him.

Tristan pulled away minutes later, the bucket of water now tinged red. He dropped the stained cloth in the water, satisfied that the dried blood was cleaned to the best of his ability. Emory's breathing had slowed finally, her eyes only open a crack. He leaned back one more time, his hand grasping the neck of the bottle resting behind him.

Emory's eyes shot open as she noticed the bottle of liquor held tightly in his hand. Tristan held her gaze, his grey eyes staring into hers. He opened the bottle slowly and tipped it over slightly, soaking a clean rag with the liquid. Tristan leaned over her, tucking his left hand underneath her neck. He pulled her head up to meet his, crushing his lips to hers in a rough kiss just as he pressed the rum soaked rag to the newest wound in her side.

Tristan felt the scream of pain well up in her chest but refused to release her, swallowing any noise she made. When finally her struggles stopped, he released her, laying her gently down on the floor. "I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing light kisses along her jaw, attempting to calm her. "It'll be over soon, I promise."

"S'okay," she whispered. "Almos' 'ere. C'n fee' it."

Titus stared out at the calm ocean. They were so close, he could feel it. His skin was buzzing with excitement. It had been so long since he had been there. Not since that damned woman had trapped him all those years ago. And that would not happen again. He would not allow that woman to best him again.

He would win this time, Titus told himself. It would all be his again and there would be no one to oppose him. He would make sure of that.

Rebecca stared at the waves incredulously, one eyebrow arched and her arms crossed over her chest. "So you," she began, pointing at Jack, "believe that I," she pointed to herself, "can raise an entire island from out there?" she finished, pointing finally out to the ocean.

"It's wonderful, innit?" he asked, grinning.

"I think you're mad," she stated bluntly.

"Aye, I may be," he replied. "But look at the beauty of the situation. You may not be the Chosen, but you are a Chosen."

"You're raving mad."

"I think Jack is right Rebecca," Will interrupted. "This may be the only way."

"But you're telling me that you have to spill my blood," Rebecca said, her voice rising up a notch.

"Nothin' much, love," Jack replied. "Just a drop at least. The map never specified how much," he paused. "Which reminds me . . ."

His crew stared at him for a moment, then, when he said nothing, looked at each other. "Uncle Jack?" Alex finally said.

Jack jerked slightly at his name. "Eh?"

This caused more looks amongst the crew. "What does it remind you of?" Michel asked.

"Eh?" Jack replied again, perplexed. He shook his head. "Oh, yes. Once the island is revealed, how will it disappear again?"

"What do you mean?" Rebecca asked.

"I think," Conway piped up, "he means how will we make it look like the island has not been found?"

"Maybe Skinner won't remember that part," Will suggested.

"No, he's too smart."

"Does it really matter?" Conway asked. "He's not the one we need to worry about. And I don't think Titus is going to care that we made it here first. He'll see it merely as a distraction."

Jack nodded. "Yer right. It doesn't matter. I guess we'll just get to it then."

Rebecca backed away a step. "I never said I would allow you to cut me."

Jack sighed. "Look, as much as it pains me-an' believe me, it does- we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Yer me daughter, I don't want to hurt you."

"I-" she paused, watching him closely, attempting to read his face. "Is it absolutely necessary?"

Jack grinned, knowing she was giving in. "I wouldn't be askin' ya if it wasn't."

Rebecca studied him again, keeping her gaze locked on his. His lips were smiling but she could see that his eyes were not. Jack's eyes were grave, their expression serious. She had never been able to understand the man standing in front of her. While he would say one thing, his eyes would always say something else. He always seemed a contradiction amongst himself.

She sighed. After a moment she looked away, holding out her left hand. "Just do it quick. Please?"

The grin left Jack's face as he took in her somber, pleading expression. He nodded quickly. "Aye," he all but whispered. Taking a small knife from Conway, he took hold of Rebecca's outstretched hand. He led her slowly to the edge of the Pearl and held her hand over the railing.

Jack placed the knife against her palm and closed her fingers over it. Her eyes locked onto his as her fingers hit the cool edge of the blade. He held her gaze and pulled on the knife quickly, trying to inflict as little pain as possible. Jack saw the flinch in her eyes as the blade cut. He smiled at her. "It's over love," he whispered.

A small trail of blood trickled from her hand. Jack watched as the small drops fell from her palm, falling slowly into the blue water. He took a cloth from his pocket, wrapping it quickly around her wound. They waited patiently with bated breath, Conway walking up to stand beside Jack.

At first nothing happened, the water's surface remained untouched, not even a breeze ruffled the sails. Jack's hand gripped the railing almost painfully, his knuckles turning white from his grip.

"It's coming," Conway breathed.

Jack turned to stare at him. He hadn't seen anything, hadn't felt anything, since the blood drops hit the water. Then it happened. The ship began to shake, gently at first but slowly building in cadence. Jack kept his grip on the railing, steadying himself as the ship shook beneath his feet. Shouts echoed on the deck, relaying orders to each crew above and below. Waves crashed into all sides of the ship, the water spraying everyone, soaking their hair and clothes.

"Ah, there she is," Jack said, his eyes watching the bubbling sea.

A spike was the first object seen, rising above the roiling water. The tip of an ancient building appeared next. Intricate carvings, still visible even from the Pearl, were etched into the building's face. Rebecca watched with a mixture of awe and horror as more buildings emerged from the water. Each building was perfectly preserved, despite having been buried beneath the waves for so long. Sunlight glistened on ancient pedestals, reflected off of small, cracked mirrors. What looked to be houses, all in various states of disrepair, littered the island.

"It's beautiful," Michel whispered.

"What's the plan Jack?" Will asked.

"Most of us will go ashore," Jack responded, not looking away from the island. "You, Mr. Conway, will go with us. Rebecca will as well. Most of the crew will stay on the ship, same goes for the crew of the Whisper. They'll be needed in case of a battle. We'll need to be prepared and stay on our guard. Skinner wasn't a pushover before an' I doubt he is now."

The crew nodded and then set out to ready the ship for battle.

"Make ready the boats," Jack said. "We need to be there as soon as possible."

"Aye, aye, Captain!" the crew called, elated to finally be having some excitement.

AN: I realized something the other night while I was driving home: this story is almost over. I believe that there are only four chapters left. It left me feeling almost empty inside when I realized this. Also, the only reason this chapter is up so soon is because I was able to write it while I was in the doctor's office for a lovely cut on my thumb. That was a lovely day.

Smithy: Will and Elizabeth allowed their children to do whatever they wanted. Michel became a blacksmith like his father while Alex decided to join the Royal Navy.

The DuTchess of Doom: I'm glad you liked the chapter. And I hope that this chapter wasn't as dark as the others. It'll be at least one chapter that isn't!

PineAppleLintWell, she at least has some help! Tristan will always be there for her to help her through this.