Chapter Twenty-Two

An Echo of What had Once Been

The water, smooth as glass and as black as the sky above seemed to whisper a haunting tune from its depths in Miranda's ears. She stood on the beach of blood-red sand and looked out to sea. There was not a wave or movement as far as the eye could see, and Miranda wondered for an absurd moment if the ocean had frozen over. The heat from the sand and still air reminded her it was summer.

She gingerly stepped into the cool water and watched the ripples widen in their perfectly-curved path away from her. When she looked up again she was in the brig of the Pearl, with Barbossa standing before her. She leaned forward to kiss him and as she did his flesh began to slough off and splash into the water at their feet. She bent to gather the pieces. They stuck to her fingers but dissolved as she lifted them from the water. She straightened up to apologize and saw Antony now standing in Barbossa's place wearing the pirate's clothes. His shoulder was soaked in blood and spreading. He looked down to wound and smiled sadly at her. His smile split his face in two, sending the top part of his head lolling back against the back of his neck.

Miranda took a step back and found her feet out of the water. She looked down and saw she was standing on a rock with small tide pools around her. Gold shimmered off every surface.

She was only vaguely aware that a fight seemed to be commencing around her until something exploded to her right. She whirled around to see bones and cloth blasted in every direction away from a long pole that now clanged to the ground. She raised her hand to see the tendons and bones off her palm exposed without the skin. Rings hung off her fingers-one that looked familiar for some reason.

She realized she was wearing tattered pants and a long coat with wide cuffs. She touched her face but couldn't feel the pressure. She stepped into the tide pool but couldn't sense the temperature of the water.

A gold coin flew through the air in an arc above her head. She looked at it soon enough to recognize the skull carved into it. As she followed its path through the air a hand snatched it. She followed the arm down to see the face of a young man with dark hair.

She felt her arm raise almost as if there was a string tied around her wrist that someone was pulling. Before her stood Barbossa, sword drawn, face wary. As her arm raised higher she realized there was a pistol in her hand. Her finger contracted. The pistol bucked her arm back and sent a shock wave through her body. Barbossa fell.

She opened her mouth to scream but as she did, water issued out from her throat at such a speed the cave was soon under water. She felt herself sinking until her feet hit sand, and she collapsed. She opened her eyes to see that she was back on the red beach, but the water was now boiling and seething. As the bubbles burst to the surface they made sounds like a child gasping ah! The sounds filled her ears and she clutched her hair as she cringed.

Miranda noticed black stones dotting the shore and stooped to collect them. She made a large pile as high as her waist, and as she dropped the last one on top Tia Dalma raised her head from the mound and looked kindly at her. She slowly pointed to the pitch black sky and Miranda craned her neck back to see. The world inverted itself and suddenly she was falling, falling, falling into the depths of blackness and eternity.

Miranda felt her whole body spasm as she flew up from her supine position. She propped herself up with her elbows in the bed and looked into the eyes of Barbossa.

"You're alive," she breathed, pushing herself forward to embrace him.

"O' course I am, Miss Farthin'. What else could I be?" He smiled and pushed her hair from her forehead damp with sweat. He leaned forward and kissed her warmly on the mouth. Miranda wished she could stop time to preserve this moment of sweet relief and comfort. She felt her eyes fill with tears.

"I'm sorry I left."

"Nay, lass. I never blamed you," he whispered, holding the back of her head and pressing his forehead to hers. "Smile for me."

"I missed you so much." The tears spilled down her cheeks as she tried to curve her lips.

"Shouldn't've slept so long, then."

Jack Sparrow's voice was like a bolt of lightning down Miranda's spine. She looked up and saw him standing behind Barbossa in the doorway of the small cabin. She looked back in confusion to Barbossa, but his body was twisting away like smoke in the wind.

Her brain seemed to tighten in her skull as she tried to make sense of reality. She had woken up within her dream, but her eyes hadn't opened to see Jack, nor had they been closed when she saw Barbossa.

"How long have I been asleep?" It was the only question she could think to ask that made an ounce of sense.

"Four days." Jack examined his nails. "I really should knock my passengers out more as they board," he grinned. "Saves me rations and putting up with 'em. You are one of my more bothersome clients. Your friend is really startin' to smell up the ship."

It took Miranda a moment to realize what he was talking about, and another to remember the last words he said to her before she was knocked unconscious. She knew if Jack found out whose body she had brought with her, he would certainly not let her follow through with her plan. She felt behind her head at the large bump by her left ear.

"I don't have a concussion, do I?"

Jack bent forward where he was and peered at her eyes. "Pupils look the same. I wouldn't worry, love."

Miranda swung her legs over the bed and slowly stood. The room spun for a moment as she regained her balance, and she blinked several time. "I need some fresh air," she explained needlessly, brushing past Jack and through the doorway.

It felt so wrong to be aboard the Pearl without Barbossa giving orders and tossing Miranda gruff smiles when their eyes met. She knew the ship by heart but it seemed like a completely different vessel now that she was alone. She walked slowly to the prow and leaned her elbows against the railing.

Although she thought about Barbossa every day, she seldom wanted to remember the last time she'd ever seen him alive. She had been too upset, too selfish. He should have fought her.

"So yer up?" a man called to her. She jerked to see the man who met them at the well. Gibbs, Miranda recalled, was what Jack had called him. His question didn't require affirmation, and she returned her gaze back to the sea spread before them.

"Ye know, two men here reckon they know ye," Gibbs called. This got Miranda's attention; the only pirates who would know her had been aboard the Pearl under Barbossa's command. "Aye," Gibbs continued. He took a swig from a flask at his side, and then turned to cry, "Pintel! Ragetti! Get over here, ya lazy pea brains."

The names jarred Miranda as she watched the two familiar men approach. Ragetti was rubbing his eye with his palm, but dropped his arm when he saw her.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." He giggled and extended the hand with which he'd been rubbing his wooden eye to Miranda. She hesitantly shook his hand with her fingertips and smiled. "Nice to see a familiar face."

"'Allo," Pintel grunted, slapping Miranda soundly on the shoulder.

"How did you two get here?" She asked.

"The ol' parlay trick." Miranda thought she sensed a hint of bitterness in Pintel's voice.

"After we broke the curse, see," Ragetti began eagerly, "we was eager to stay alive. Didn't have much o' a choice but ta' join the Pearl's new crew."

Miranda nodded, only half listening as a question burned her mind. "Were either of you there when . . ." she glanced to make sure Gibbs was properly out of earshot, ". . . When he died?"

A look of sympathy filled Ragetti's ugly face as he nodded solemnly. "Aye, Miss. He died fast, if yer wonderin'."

"Did he say anything?" Her throat felt suddenly thick as she wondered if she really wanted to know more.

"Said 'e felt cold." Pintel muttered drily. Ragetti elbowed him in the ribs, and looked somberly at Miranda. "He said he felt cold, after he was shot."

"That's what I said 'e said!" Pintel was indignant.

"I know," Ragetti replied patiently, "but you didn' say it sympathe'ically."

Pintel huffed, and marched away grumbling. Miranda turned to lean over the rail again. Her body felt heavy from just hearing his last words. He'd waited so long to feel anything, and the one sensation he'd been given before Jack Sparrow robbed him of life was cold. Cold and pain. She felt herself shake with anger and grief.

Ragetti must have misinterpreted it for a sob, because he laid his hand awkwardly on her back. Miranda turned to look at his uncomfortable expression. "Thank you." She said curtly, and he dropped his hand with relief.

She had a brief thought of telling Pintel and Ragetti her plans and employ their help, but then reasoned that the fewer people that knew would be less of a chance Jack finding out, and she couldn't risk that.

"Aye!" Gibbs shouted from across he deck, "Tend to yer duties, ya one-eyed mantis!" Ragetti scurried away with a backwards wave at Miranda. She looked beyond him to the helm, whereat Jack stood, legs apart, eyes, on the horizon. Her amused irritation with the man had changed to pure anger and disgust with the new knowledge of his actions towards Barbossa.

She approached Gibbs, who despite ordering others around, had been leaning with his back to the mast as he swigged something from his flask.

"We are heading to the island where Tia Dalma lives, correct?" She asked him.

"Upriver? Aye."

Relief filled Miranda, and she continued, "And how far are we from reaching her?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Day or so." He clearly had nothing more to say to her, because he turned and walked away. Miranda returned to the rail, hugging herself as she leaned forward. The sea was calm, the water almost unnaturally blue. Miranda leaned further over the railing. It was so clear she could see the dark schools of shining fish below the surface and the sun gilded each crest with shimmering gold. Overwhelmed with its loveliness, Miranda closed her eyes to hold it in her mind.

"A beautiful sight." She felt a strong hand on her back but she didn't turn around. She knew it was him, and merely nodded.

"I meant you."

She smiled, ducking her head for a moment, and then looked out to the sea again. She felt his hand slide to her waist as he leaned with her against the railing.

"In all me years sailin'," he began, "not once have I tired of the water." It felt so good to hear his voice again that Miranda closed her eyes to just listen. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"We're almost there." She whispered almost more to herself than to him.

She shows you who you truly are. Miranda wasn't sure if Barbossa had just said those words or if she heard them murmured on the breeze as an echo of what had once been.