FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

38—Tia Dalma

DISCLAIMER: Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! They are greatly appreciated and provide tremendous motivation. To those of you from the States, I hope you all had a very happy 4th! Where I was, it was hotter than bloody hell, so I hope you kept cool… at least the unfair weather prompted a little inspiration for the beginning of this chapter.

This chapter was a b*tch to write. Don't have a particular reason as to why it was, but it was. I hope I did Tia Dalma justice and I hope it was worth the wait. Sorry to reiterate dialogue from the movie, but it was necessary to move the story forward. Thank you all so much for your patience.

Anyways. Thanks again for the reviews! Enjoy the next chapter!

The sky was inky black and a very slight breeze did little to relieve the day's warmth.

Elizabeth sat in the crow's nest, her eyes closed, her head tilted heavenwards. Her mind was clouded and she had a headache. She couldn't stop thinking about Barbossa, or rather, the lack of Barbossa. She had racked her mind over and over again and still had yet to come up with a reasonable explanation as to how he disappeared.

She had come to the conclusion that she would never really know, though it was hardly a satisfying one. She believed in logic and reason, despite all she'd seen and done while on the Black Pearl, and the lack of a sensible explanation was an unusual form of torture.

They had left Isla de Muerta almost a day ago, said day being unrelentingly hot. Though the sun had disappeared several hours ago, it was still warm and she still felt sticky and uncomfortable.

Little did she know, Jack was just a few feet away, expertly clawing his way up to the crow's nest with one hand, for a bottle of rum was deftly gripped in the other. When he reached the top, he was for what felt like the millionth time since knowing her, stunned by her beauty. Sitting there, her eyes closed and completely unguarded, she was the most lovely being he had ever beheld. He grinned at her as he reached through the wooden rail of the nest and took hold of her foot. She jumped, then instantly relaxed upon opening her eyes to see a gold-flecked smile greeting her.

"I was wondering when you would join me," she said, her voice calm and throaty.

"Well," he said, grunting with the slight effort it took to hoist himself up and over the edge of the nest. "It's too quiet up here… past time to destroy your peace."

Elizabeth laughed at him as she scooted forward, allowing him to take a seat behind her, wrapping one arm lazily around her torso.

"Still troubled, luv?" he asked, using his available hand (and then teeth) to uncork the bottle.

"There's no sense to it," she sighed. "None at all… it's not as though he could have gotten up and walked away."

"No," Jack agreed. "But does it really matter, Lizzie?"

"It matters to me!" she wailed.

She felt him exhale, his breath warm against her neck. "Take a deep breath, darlin'," he encouraged. "A tide likely came in and washed it away," he assured her, his voice steady. "But either way, we know he's dead… I shot 'im, square in the chest. It doesn't matter where 'is body is because we know he's not comin' back. Savvy?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath, as instructed. After several quiet moments of thought, she sighed. "You're right." She leaned back against him, letting her forehead rest against the curve of his neck. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," he shrugged. "Were you thinkin' he was alive somewhere?"

"No," she shook her head before sighing again. "I don't know. Maybe. He's a dangerous man, Jack… was a dangerous man. And you're in danger enough as it is."

Jack chuckled. "I like danger," he admitted. "Gives a pirate drive…" He glanced down to see her eyes open wide, staring up at him. His chest suddenly felt heavy and he did not want to have this conversation… but he knew it was inevitable. "Ye remember what I told ye, luv? Before we left Port Royale?" Elizabeth didn't answer. "I promised I'd take ye back… whenever ye wanted, for whatever reason. Just say the word and I'll have the crew change our heading."

Her eyes widened, though not from the fear Jack thought it was, but from a rising sense of panic. "Do you want me to go back?" She leaned forward and turned so she could face him.

"It's not about what I want," he told her, a very slight grin on the corners of his mouth. But she could tell by the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes that this was rooted in sadness, a sacrifice he didn't want to make but was more than willing to if it was what she wanted.

"Of course it is!" she exclaimed, turning even more so that she was now directly in front of him, her legs bent forward against her chest. She shook her head. "But that's not the point, anyways. "Have you forgotten that I agreed to marry you?"

"No, but—"

"Is that not the strongest indication that I want to be here?"

"Well, I—"

"I don't want to go back to Port Royale," she told him, reaching forward and taking a hold of his thumb, gently making a cocoon for it with her fist. "Not today or tomorrow or ever."

"Ye just seemed… weary. Homesick, maybe."

Elizabeth smiled at him. "The Black Pearl is my home and I'll not be leaving it." Jack looked down and began to fiddle with one of his rings before looking back at her, the grin broadening, however slightly. "Like it or not, Jack Sparrow, you're stuck with me. So deal with it."

"I'm stuck with you?" he asked, chuckling. "I would have thought it to be the other way around."

"Well," Elizabeth said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. She leaned back against him, plucking the rum bottle from his fist and taking a swig. "Maybe sometimes."

The Pantano River was not a happy place. It didn't take long for Elizabeth to figure that out.

It took about an hour's worth of rowing for the hot Caribbean sunlight to disappear completely behind the banyan and cypress trees, but despite the lack of light it was still uncomfortably warm. Elizabeth felt sticky and every once in a while a drop of sweat would trickle down her back, tickling her, which only served to deepen her uneasiness.

Fireflies flickered eerily around the edges of the swamp they found themselves immersed in. They almost appeared to be eyes, just watching them, as if they were intruding. Every now and then they would come across a person, a poor, wretched looking soul, staring at them from a distance. It was baffling how anyone could find a sustainable life out here in the black muck of the swamp, but even more baffling was how they watched them, seemingly knowing that they were coming.

In their party was Gibbs, Marty, Cotton, Rosalind, herself, and of course, Jack, who sat at the foot of the longboat. The rest were instructed to stay behind with the ship. Whether or not they would listen had yet to be seen. Elizabeth felt wary at leaving the ship unattended, without her or Jack left behind to supervise, but she felt even more troubled at letting him go into the darkness by himself.

She found herself reaching for his hand and when she found it, she grasped on. He wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed lightly, and though she didn't look at him, she could feel him smiling at her. Rosalind, in turn, nervously clung to the excess fabric of Elizabeth's jacket, frightened.

At long last the river seemed to come to an end, stopping at the base of a lonely, decrepit little shack. Light glowed from within and Elizabeth could only imagine that this was the home of the priestess that Jack had told her about.

Upon coming to an unreliable looking dock, Jack gave swift orders for Cotton and Marty to stay behind with the longboat. Elizabeth didn't question his judgment… she knew he was only bringing the most trusted of the group inside with him. Jack helped Elizabeth up the front steps and left Gibbs to handle Rosalind. Before reaching the front door, he vaguely whispered something about staying close behind, but Elizabeth had difficulty understanding him.

She watched him, this supposedly fearless man, hesitantly peer inside before swinging the door fully open and motioning for the rest to follow him.

Elizabeth was instantly hit with a concoction of smells stemming from exotic spices, cloves and patchouli, and even a faint hint of tobacco. The place was unlike any she'd ever seen. A curious assortment of… things… hung in bottles from the ceiling. Cobwebs acted as adornments to the collection of oddities. The place couldn't have been any bigger than the servants quarters at the governor's mansion in Port Royale, yet it appeared to be vacant. She looked up at Jack for the briefest of moments before she heard a voice… out of nowhere, Tia Dalma had appeared.

"Ahhhh…" Her voice had a warm and wise quality to it, almost sounding ancient, like it had spoken to every person on the planet. "Jack Sparro'… I knew de wind was gon' blow ye back to me one day."

Elizabeth stared at the woman. There was something instantly familiar about her, but she had no idea what. Her skin appeared to be warm and rich, like the leather on her father's desk chair. Her hair was like a nest and she half expected a bird to fly out or a rodent to emerge from it at any moment. Her features were beautiful, but her face was haphazardly decorated with some kind of paint. And her teeth… her teeth were black.

"Tia Dalma!" Jack explained, releasing Elizabeth's hand. Like flipping on a switch, he'd gone into full Capt'n Jack mode, complete with charm and swagger. She watched with mild jealousy as he reached forward and plucked up Tia Dalma's hand, raising it to his lips and kissing it delicately before releasing it and holding it between his own two hands. "Lovely to see ye darlin', as always."

"Now Jack…" A coy smile fluttered across Tia's lips and she clicked her tongue at him before shaking her finger in his face. "Ye know betta than to flatter an' flirt in the presence of yer woman."

Elizabeth watched, her mouth dropping slightly in surprise when Tia's eyes shot directly to her. As she walked across the room towards her, her own eyes darted around nervously, as if wondering where she could run and hide. She watched in astonishment as Tia seemed to glide across the room, like she was floating. She gulped when the priestess took her hands in her own.

"Elizabet Swann. I know you."

Elizabeth laughed nervously. "Bed pardon?"

"You are de one who has tamed de Sparro'," Tia said, speaking slowly and carefully. She then released Elizabeth's hands and raised them both to her cheeks, placing them delicately against her skin. Upon contact, Elizabeth involuntarily shuddered, for Tia's hands were unfathomably cold, like the depths of the ocean might have been. "You are destined for many great tings, child."

Elizabeth's eyes widened and when they found Jack, he shrugged nonchalantly, as if he was entirely used to Tia Dalma's riddles. "Thank you," she uttered, not knowing what else to say. Tia Dalma smiled at her, lowered her hands and turned around.

"Well den, Jack Sparro'. Ye come to ask of Davy Jones, do ye?"

"I do," Jack replied quickly, not seeming to be surprised at all by her psychic abilities. "Ye know by now dat I demand payment."

Jack smirked. "Is my welcomed and sorely missed presence not payment enough?" he asked, swaggered toward her.

"Maybe once," Tia replied, smirking back. "But you are a sold man now."

Elizabeth felt mildly offended. Was Tia suggesting that her love for Jack imprisoned him?

Jack's smirk faded and he made a face, whistling sharply and motioning for Gibbs, who carried the cage containing Jack's namesake. Gibbs let out a discontented groan and handed over the cage, watching with irritation as Jack placed the cage on the table in front of their hostess. Elizabeth watched as he proceeded to pull out his gun and fired a single shot in the primate's direction, causing her to jump and Rosalind to squeak. The monkey screeched with fury but was not wounded.

"An undead monkey!" Jack proclaimed proudly. "Pretty fair prize, I'd say."

Tia sighed, looking bored by it. She shrugged before unlatching the cage's door, allowing the monkey to run free into the darkness of the shack. "Fair enough, but next time I expect better," she told him.

Jack's smirk returned to his lips. "We need to find the key," he told her, his voice low and husky, just above a whisper.

Tia sighed and leaned back into the chair that sat behind a sprawling table of odd and dusty trinkets. "I assumed as much." A feral grin then crossed her face as she looked from Jack to Elizabeth and then back to Jack again. "Yer compass no longer works, does it Jack Sparro'?"

"Of course it does," Jack said, frowning.

Tia Dalma frowned back and leaned forward. "Do not lie to me, Jack Sparro', you have already found what ye want most and so it does not work." Jack looked around sheepishly before she continued. "De key is merely a tool for what you seek. Yer key go to a chest. What be inside de chest is de true object of yer desire."

"What's inside the chest?" Elizabeth asked, crossing her arms.

"Gold?" Gibbs asked, stepping forward.

"Jewels?" Rosalind added.

Tia Dalma smiled almost wickedly, pausing for several long moments. "Ye know of Davy Jones, yes? A man of de sea, he is. A great sailor. Until…" she paused again for dramatic effect, looking around to make sure that all eyes were on here before continuing on. "…until he come upon dat which vexes all men."

"What vexes all men?" Rosalind asked, her voice still quiet and timid.

Elizabeth smirked when Tia Dalma looked at her and grinned. "A woman."

"Dat's right, child. A woman. He fell in love."

"No, no, no, no…" Gibbs protested. "I thought it was the sea he fell in love with."

"Same story, different versions," Jack said, shrugging, as if completely uninterested in the entire meeting. Elizabeth could slap him. The purpose of being in that dusty, worthless, dried up shack to begin with was to save his rear end and he acted as though it didn't even matter.

"And all are true," Tia Dalma went on, confirming Jack's declaration. "It was a woman… as changing an' wild an' untamable as de sea. An' he never stopped lovin' her. But de pain it caused him was too much to live wit… but not enough to cause him to die." She paused for a third time, her voice lowering even still.

"What exactly…" Elizabeth prodded, scowling up at Jack to notice him swipe a small leather pouch and stuff it into his pocket. "...is inside the chest?"

"Him heart," Tia told her, smiling still. "He carved out him heart… locked it away in chest and hid it from de world." She leaned back into her chair. "The key you find on him. He keep wit him at all times."

Elizabeth's eyes shot to Jack, who was grinning rather triumphantly. She marched over to him with half the mind to slap him right them and there. "Did you know this already?" she asked, her voice sharp and unforgiving.

"Not… all of it," he admitted sheepishly. "I didn't know where the key was."

"And this information was not important enough to divulge beforehand?" Rosalind asked, chiming in.

Jack ignored her. "Well now we do know where it is. So all we have to do is slip aboard the Flying Dutchman, snag the key for our own purposes and sail back to Port Royale to save Will!"

Elizabeth exhaled angrily. She knew there was still more that Jack wasn't sharing with her and if he wouldn't let it out there… she'd have to work herself on him later. She turned back to Tia Dalma, who was now standing only a foot away, holding her dirty hand out expectantly and staring at Jack.

"Let me see your hand," she commanded.

Jack's eyes darted nervously between all in the room before doing as he was told. She said nothing and continued to wait for him to comply. Patience wearing thin and having a very good idea what Tia was after, Elizabeth snatched his other arm and quickly unbound the bandage that covered the large, blackened blemish in the palm of his hand. He was about to balk at her but before he could, Tia nodded knowingly and moved to rummage around on one of the shelves behind her.

Gibbs gasped in horror. "The black spot!" he exclaimed. Elizabeth watched as he spit on the ground and proceeded to spin in circles, three times, before rubbing his hands down his vest.

"What's the black spot?" Rosalind asked, her eyes going to Elizabeth, clearly knowing that she wouldn't get a straight answer out of Jack or an unexaggerated one out of Gibbs. Before Elizabeth could muster up a reasonable explanation, however, Tia Dalma reappeared, holding what appeared to be a very large jar of… dirt.

"Davy Jones cannot make port," she said quickly. "Cannot set foot on land but once every ten years."

Elizabeth glanced at Jack, wondering if he had known that too.

"Land is where you are safe, Jack Sparro'," Tia continued, stepping towards them and extending the jar towards him. "An' so you shall carry land with you."

"It's a… jar of dirt," Jack observed, taking it from her and furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yes," Tia nodded, satisfied with her gift.

"Is the… jar of dirt… going to help?" he asked, his voice riddled with doubt.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Jack, if you don't want to bloody thing, just give it back."

Jack scowled at her, pouting. "No…"

Elizabeth shot him what must have been the hundredth angry glance in the last five minutes before pushing past him and walking to Tia Dalma. "It seems we are in search of the Flying Dutchmen, then. Can you help us?"

Tia smiled and nodded, once again taking a seat. Elizabeth watched her as she gathered up an assortment of seashells, rocks and dried crab shells. She shook them in her hands briefly before tossing them onto the table surface in front of her.

"A touch… of destiny."

The assortment of treasures landed in a perfect arrangement on the table. Jack leaned forward and stared at them for several long, silent moments before nodding slightly, as if recognizing some significance in their pattern.

"Thank you, Tia, luv. Yer a diamond." Tia said nothing, but only nodded.

Rosalind was the first out the door, followed by Gibbs.

Elizabeth lingered for a moment, the silence so heavy and thick in the air, it could have been cut with a knife and served on a silver platter.

Jack identified that familiar look in her eyes… a look of sadness and betrayal… before she turned her back to leave, following the others into the surrounding darkness. He sighed and turned to follow when he felt a hand on his arm. Tia was staring at him, an ominous look in her eyes. He hadn't even heard her get up.

"Jack Sparro'."

"…Tia?"

"Death… is a choice."

A/N: Morbid, eh? What could that possibly mean????Well, that's for me to know and you to ponder. ;)

Thanks for reading, hope you all liked it! Now go review!

See you next time!!