Disclaimer: I own no part of Pirates of the Caribbean. Original characters and plots belong to me.

Chapter 20

Winner Takes All

"Good evening, my dear," said Jeremy, smiling as he levelled his pistol at me.

"Monster!" I screamed as I knelt over Hector's body. "What have you done?" The storm had passed, but the soggy ground soaked the knees of my breeches, and there was a rainstorm of a different sort brewing in my eyes.

I bowed my head and let the tears run as I buried my face against Hector's chest. A conflagration was incinerating my heart, and no amount of weeping could quench that fire. I vowed to make Jeremy pay for his deed in the most excruciating way I could devise.

"Yes, I was afraid it might distress you," Jeremy remarked lightly. "But really, it was the best alternative. We only shot the Spaniard. Mr Digger struck your friend over the head with an oar."

I pressed my ear against Hector's ribs until I could hear the soft thudding of his heartbeat and feel the movement of his breastbone as he breathed. "Oh, Hector, Hector…" I gulped under my breath, sick with worry over him.

Digger hoisted me roughly to my feet and kept me back as the other two blackguards put manacles on Hector. A makeshift litter was brought forth, and they rolled him onto it.

"Well," said Jeremy, glancing about him. "I think that's all, here." He gave a quick, decisive nod and signalled the ruffians to start for the shore. He was followed by the two men carrying Hector, while Digger and I brought up the rear.

I turned to look back at Maroto's body. "You can't just leave him here," I pleaded.

Digger gave me a shove. "One more word, an' you can stay an' keep 'im company," he spat.

We were nearly out of the clearing when a fluttering noise made me look back once more. My blood turned to ice as I watched the mysterious white birds begin to gather around Maroto's body. "No…please," I murmured weakly to whatever saints were listening, "not that..."

Digger gave me another shove, and I stumbled as I walked into the jungle ahead of him.

When we reached the boats, there was heavy fog building in behind the rain. The Medusa's lights could barely be seen, and the Pearl was invisible, if she was even still there. If Jack had made good on his threat to weigh at once, then Hector and I were now completely alone.

Jeremy seated himself in the boat, and turned to look back at me. "I did try to keep you out of it," he said, "so you've really no one to blame but yourself. You should have gone to sleep like a good girl after all that card playing." Then he turned his back.

I slid off my seat, and was able to cradle Hector's head in my lap as we were rowed back to our ship. Though my hands were bound, I caressed his face as well as I could, and tried to wipe away the blood. I cupped my palms around his jaws and closed my eyes. Wake up, wake up, sweetheart, I repeated silently. I didn't bring you back from Isla de Muerte for this.

But he remained unresponsive.

-o-

When I stepped on deck, one thing was painfully clear-we had lost the Medusa. Jeremy and Digger had evidently opened the rum stores, and the drunken carousing of our erstwhile crew would have done credit to Tortuga. Fighting, drinking and gaming were everywhere, with the occasional pair of dice bouncing off my boots after a particularly energetic throw. All of them swaggered about, feeling invulnerable, boasting, threatening.

Jeremy leaned near my ear. "Nothing like rum and extra shares of plunder to keep pirates happy."

"They're a mob," I hissed. "There's no discipline. You'll endanger the ship and every one on her."

"I shall take that under advisement," he said pleasantly. "And now you'll be shown to your new quarters." He turned on his heel and departed.

Digger and his grinning cohorts locked us in the brig, and then mercifully cleared off. I had feared they would set a watch on us, but who amongst the raucous crowd on deck would spare the time to actually do any work? I clutched the bars, trying out a few profane epithets I had learnt from Jack, then settled down next to Hector, hoping he would come round soon.

It was sad but unsurprising that he had given in to the temptation of the Fountain. He had rebuked me and called me names when I stood in his path, and yet… and yet. In many ways we were cut from the same cloth. I understood him. I knew his flaws, his remarkable strengths, and how fiercely he contended with a world which seemed set against him. Not an easy man to love by any means. But I did – loved him just as he was, no matter the cost to me.

In the midst of my thoughts, I was startled by a groan. Hector was stirring at last. He held one hand to the wound on his forehead, moving like a drunkard at first, then gradually sat up and opened his eyes.

I began to touch his forehead lightly, but he winced and pushed my hand aside. "What happened?" he said hoarsely.

"To the best of my knowledge," I said, "Digger gave you one hell of a smack with an oar."

He glanced about sharply and his body tensed. "Why do I find meself locked in the brig of me own ship?" he growled. "An' what's become of the map?"

I pressed my lips together and breathed a quiet sigh through my nostrils. How typical. Possessions always came first with Hector. His plunder, his ship… I should have been angry, but my spirits had sunk too low for that.

"Steady yourself, love," I said glumly. "We're in a deal of trouble and you don't know the half of it yet."

He turned his penetrating gaze on me, waiting.

"Maroto is dead," I said stiffly, "just in case you wondered. Shot and … and eaten, most likely. And we find ourselves locked in the brig because Jeremy has taken the tablet and the Medusa. He must have followed us and set a trap. Digger's in on it, devil rot his guts, and several others. Oh, and you needn't worry yourself about me - I'm not hurt," I added with another jab of sarcasm.

"I can see that," he growled tartly. "So why didn't ye unbind me hands?" Well, I thought, bandy words with a pirate whose head is throbbing, and this is what you get – a petulant child. I made allowances, and bit my tongue.

"I'll unbind us both when we have a plan," I replied. "Until then, I don't wish to show Jeremy that I have certain skills with restraints and door locks."

He narrowed his eyes. "Why'd he spare us, anyways? We should be dead - he's got everything he needs now."

"Hector," I said gently, longing for the comfort of his embrace, "if anything had happened to you, I think it would have killed me." He slipped one arm about me as far as possible with his wrists in irons, and kissed my face absently.

After a few moments' silence, he gave an abrupt nod.

"He needs somethin' from ye," he declared. "He means t' tell ye he'll kill me if ye don't give it to him."

I frowned. "How do you know it isn't the reverse? That he plans to use me to-"

"Whose noggin got crowned, yers or mine?" he interrupted me. "He showed ye a bit of me blood, so's it would tug at yer heartstrings. Then he'll threaten t' do worse." He was quiet, then added, "'Tis what I'd do."

"But he said nothing all the way back to the ship," I said.

"He'll tell ye when he's good an' ready," Hector grunted.

At that moment, we turned our heads at the sound of boots clumping down the ladder. I went to the bars and peered down the passageway. As if in answer to Hector's prediction, Digger and another grinning pirate arrived with keys.

"Yer wanted in the captain's quarters," Digger said to me.

I glanced at Hector as they unlocked the brig. It looked as though Jeremy must indeed be good and ready.

-o-

"Ah! There you are!" Jeremy said cheerfully, waving me to a seat the table. "Well done on finding the map for me. I have it safely tucked away."

Digger untied my hands, and Jeremy placed a goblet of spiced wine in front of me. "A bit of refreshment for you," he remarked, shooing Digger out the door.

I glared at him as he joined me at table. Then I closed my eyes, ambushed by a sudden, dreadful memory. I recalled another meeting, years ago, following the death of my uncle, who had raised me as his daughter. In the midst of my grief, a relative I had never known arrived at Highcliffe - Hanibal Bitter. He had called me to a meeting similar to this, placed a comforting goblet of spiced wine before me, and offered to protect me if I would sign away all my property. I had refused, and then I had drunk the wine. Both actions were nearly fatal to me.

"What's in it?" I murmured. "Opium?"

"I assure you there is no drug present," Jeremy replied, and lifted the goblet to his lips for a quick sip. "I have matters to discuss with you that will require your full attention." He smiled the same smile as James – warm, broad, and all business.

"Lord Hervey is out of health," he remarked after studying me for some minutes. "He will likely be dead before I return to England." He took a sip from his own drink and continued gazing thoughtfully at me. "I would hazard a guess that he is no older than your father was when he lost his life all those years ago."

I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. "What are you driving at?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, perhaps. Only it does seem a shame when men of superior intellect and ability see their time run out so swiftly." Setting his glass down, he added, "Take my brother, for instance. You and he were the same age, but I warrant you wouldn't consider yourself ready to bid adieu to life, would you?"

I did not like the way this conversation was tending-the more so as I couldn't see its terminus. "You're in an unusually philosophical humour, this evening," I replied. "Does murder and mutiny often affect you like that?"

He laughed appreciatively. "You know, it will be a shame if you and I can't reach an accord. I would quite enjoy working with you." He sat back and crossed his legs, watching me. "I can see why he's so taken with you," he added slyly. My face flushed and my back grew rigid; there was no need to ask the obvious question.

"Never mind, my dear," he went on, "I intend to show you the cards I hold, and then we shall decide what comes next."

"Then you'd best get on with it," I suggested. "The hour is late."

"As you like, then." He tossed back the rest of his drink in one swig, and threw an arm over the back of his chair. "At sunrise, we shall weigh anchor. But I shan't return to England just yet. I shall sail to the Fountain of Youth, thereby proving the map is correct, and then… Well, then I should very much like to test its waters."

I shrugged. "Best of luck to you, then. Release me and the Captain, and do as you like."

"If only it were that simple," he replied. "Unfortunately, the Fountain requires a ritual of which, sadly, I know nothing. But I suspect you might be of some use in that regard." He sat forward, resting his forearms on his knees and peering at me steadily. "You, and a man who seems to mean a great deal to you, are both my prisoners, and your other friend, Jack Sparrow, is anchored within range of my guns. There is no help for you in these waters-indeed, no one knows where you are. I can despatch Sparrow and Barbossa whenever I like."

My fury exploded. "They helped you, dammit! They don't deserve to die!"

"But they're pirates!" he laughed, eyebrows arched in surprise. "Of course they deserve to die! Especially that old brigand you've taken up with. But see here," he grew serious and leaned forward, "I am prepared to trade you their lives-and your own-if you disclose to me all you know about the ritual."

"Why should I know anything?"

"Because," he said, "my employers had acquired two journals written by Ponce de Leon himself, but they vanished before they could be properly examined. And we believe they were stolen by Captain Harry Bitter and his piratical friend, Edward Teague. Since Captain Bitter is deceased and Teague has slipped through our hands time and again, that makes you a person of great interest to me."

"I know nothing of this. Perhaps you should have questioned Maroto, instead of shooting him."

He gave me a cold half smile. "Do you think we didn't? When we caught that eccentric prelate searching Lord Hervey's house, do you think we neglected to interrogate him? How do you suppose he ended up in Newgate? We knew of his obsession with the Fountain, but he was most uncooperative. He wouldn't even tell us where the map was, though we had already conducted a search of the ruins here. You didn't know that, I'll wager." He poured me another drink, clearly enjoying himself.

"My mission was to get Maroto to lead me to the map," he said. "I think you'll agree I managed it quite well?"

"I don't see that you managed anything," I objected. "It was sheer luck that I was sent to exchange him for you. When he heard of your destination, he signed on to prevent you from getting the map."

"Exactly," Jeremy said. "Have you ever heard of the 'Spanish Prisoner'? It is quite a famous swindle, and I took inspiration from it. The general idea is to convince the mark that someone in prison requires their help -– the usual object is to extract money." He smiled. "My object was slightly different - it was to trick Maroto into revealing the location of the map to someone he trusted."

I sat still as a statue, the blood slowly draining from my face. Now I understood. It was horrible.

Jeremy nodded approvingly. "Yes, you were chosen to be that 'someone' and therefore, I needed to give you a way to earn his trust. I arranged the entire prisoner exchange, knowing he would never consign himself to the Spanish king. I counted on the fact that Harry Bitter's daughter would be a first rate Messenger, and devise a plan to release me, your countryman, without surrendering such a desperate, seemingly innocent man. And you have not disappointed me. I commend you for your resourcefulness."

"That's why you made such a secret of our destination," I marvelled, aghast at what he was saying. "You let me know the city's name at the last minute, so Maroto wouldn't be suspicious. He trusted me, and so he signed on with Jack."

"You see?" Jeremy said. "You have really been working for me all the while."

And so I had, unwittingly doing terrible things that I could never amend. I was responsible for Maroto's death. I had persuaded Hector to join the venture, which now threatened his life, having already cost him his ship.

I hated Jeremy with every bone in my body.

"It's morning," I blurted out. "I'm tired and I need to rest." But what I really needed was to get away from him. To think. Fortunately, Jeremy scented victory and was inclined to indulge me.

"Take as long as you like to refresh yourself," he said. "We're at least three days out from our next port of call."

The Fountain was closer than I had imagined.

-o-

Hector was immediately suspicious. "Why'd he show his hand like that?" he asked, after hearing my report. "Now ye know everything."

"Because it doesn't matter," I said. "We'll be dead - he'll kill us if I don't give him the secret, or sacrifice us at the Fountain if I do. Perhaps that's what he meant by 'testing'."

My only consolation was that Jack had weighed anchor sometime in the foggy night, and was gone. I almost smiled as I recalled Jeremy's reaction and how I had given that particular knife a twist.

"Where's the Pearl?" he had demanded hotly when we emerged on deck after our conversation. Morning was beginning to burn off the fog, and Jack's ship was plainly, indisputably gone.

I laughed. "He's given you the slip, hasn't he? You know…" I stepped closer and looked him in the eye, "he's been on edge ever since he found poor James' gold ring on the Berwick. Well, Jack's got it now, and I don't suppose you'll ever see it again."

Jeremy had given me a murderous look that convinced me he had planned on killing Jack to revenge his brother. But my triumph was only temporary; now I was back in the brig, sorting through the wreckage of all my efforts that, in the end, were so misguided and had brought such bad fortune to those I loved.

James…if only I had listened to James' hints that Jeremy was dangerous and had no allies but himself. I had been so caught up in proving myself a competent Messenger that, though I remembered his words, I hadn't heeded them.

"Then we've to kill him before he kills us," Hector declared.

I was startled out of my thoughts. "Sorry?"

"I said, we've to kill him before he kills us," Hector repeated. "What are ye dreamin' about when I'm talkin' to ye? We need a plan…"

"First, I need sleep," I yawned.

"Sleep when yer dead!" he retorted.

"Shouldn't be long," I shot back miserably. "I've seen to that."

He seized me by my elbows and gave me a long searching look. "Ye've seen t' nothing," he said. "Ye played yer hand as best ye could. Yer only beat when ye give up, so hold fast an' keep fightin'."

"I admit I played me own part in this," he went on. "I let me guard down when I saw Maroto take the map."

I stared at the floor, chewing my lip. I couldn't deny it: his relentless hunt for the map certainly hadn't helped matters. I was on the brink of asking him if I would ever mean more to him than gold. Would he ever choose me over treasure? But I didn't think I could countenance his answer.

He tipped my chin up with his hand and our eyes met. "Remember when ye said I were yer hero? I s'pose ye know better now," he muttered sadly. "Why'd you even tell me o' the map? Ye must have known ye couldn't trust me."

"I did, my heart, I did," I replied. "But what was I to do? You're the centre of my world, and I can't go on keeping things from you. I chose to tell you, and I don't regret it. You are who you are, and I love you, no matter what. If we're destined to fall, we fall together."

He caressed the side of my neck and pulled me close. His kiss, the pressure of his warm, generous lips on mine, set the blood rushing through my veins and made my face flush with desire. His fingers traced the line of my throat as he kissed my nose, my eyelids, and then returned to my mouth, with more passion this time, parting my lips with his tongue and combing my tresses with his fingers.

I slid my arms over his shoulders and clasped them about his neck, drinking in his warmth and strength. "Sorry Maroto's gone," he rasped softly in my ear. "I assure ye, he was as eager t' go back as I was."

"I know," I murmured, feeling quite exhausted. "I'll be stronger after I sleep a bit."

He lowered me slowly to a resting place on the floor, and I murmured one last thing before I fell asleep. "Maroto told me things while we waited for you. He said to leave the Medusa if Ponce de Leon attacks her…"

My head drooped and my eyes closed. Then I dreamed I was ten years of age, staying in the home of Ammand the Corsair. From my window I could see flocks of brown and white goats climbing the green hills, and in the distance, clouds hung low between the pale blue slopes of mountains. Then Mavash, Ammand's wife, called me to my lessons and the scene changed. She was laughing and nodding approval as I practiced the Bandari dancing she had taught me, but as she laughed, she said, "Barat doa mikonam!" over and over, meaning "I will pray for you". Then, her voice echoed one final word, an urgent message: "Bandari!"

I awakened with a frightened gasp, seized by the conviction that our vessel was doomed. I lay awake, with my nerves keyed to the breaking point, ready to rouse Hector and abandon ship at once. Yet, as I waited and listened, with my heart pounding wildly, there was nothing beyond the normal sounds of a ship making way. Her timbers creaked gently, as though I was being rocked in a cradle, and I heard no shouts or firearms being discharged. Perhaps my dream was simply a vision of a place I associated with happy memories. I listened to Hector snoring for a few moments and gradually grew calmer. I settled back down to sleep.

A few moments later, the first volley of cannon fire shook the Medusa.

Next – Chapter 21 – The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea – Barbossa and Nina confront a mutineer.