Dancing with the Devil

by FuzzyBeta

After making a deal with the devil, Peggy Blake hoped to hide in Port Royal and fade into obscurity. But when pirates attack her home, and her friend Will Turner follows them, Peggy must face her past and the dangers she left behind to help him. Can she turn the tide in her favour? Or will the mad schemes of her old captain Jack Sparrow land her in Davy Jones Locker?(T)

24. Chapter 24 - A Crack of the Whip

Chapter 24: A Crack of the Whip

"Oy Silver, two more fer ye! Silver? Silver?"

Will winced as Maccus's harsh voice snarled into the dark, gloomy galley. Despite the ship's swaying and the wood's creaking groans as it was battered by the storm outside, the kitchen was surprisingly quiet and peaceful. It was near the stern, beneath the captain's quarters but above the bilges and right next to the crew's communal dining area, which led onto the hammocks near the bow.

All in all, the kitchen was a narrow, tiny space with a little stove, a long wooden counter along one side and what appeared to be a bench on the other with a blanket and a mattress made from old straw stuffed into old linens, which was curtained off by a raggedy piece of old sail. From how clean the bedding was compared to the shabbiness of the rest of the room, Will guessed it had not been used long and wondered who had slept in it.

There was also a tiny trap door at the far end of the kitchen with steps leading to the bilges, possibly to make reaching stores easier. Will was not quite sure why a cursed crew would need a kitchen. Were creatures like Davy Jones capable of eating anything cooked?

Speaking of cooking, a small fire was lit in the stove while the most ancient and frail man Will had ever seen sat in a rotted and barnacle and coral-encrusted armchair before it, fast asleep and snoring softly. He was not as monstrously informed as the other crew members. His face was very much human, but his pale, waterlogged skin, encrusted here and there with coral and barnacles, was thin and weathered like crushed paper. This, along with his round bald head, whiskery moustache and short scruffy beard of silvery-white, made him look like a wrinkly old seal, especially when combined with the thick fur he wore like a blanket to cover his lap.

Will frowned as he looked at the elder's weathered pale hands resting on his lap, only to find himself eerily fascinated by the massive webbing between each claw-like finger. However, despite the sharpness of the claws, the man looked so frail and wispy that a single gust of wind might break him if it made contact.

Will glanced at Peggy to see her reaction. She was surprised to see tears in her eyes as she beheld the old man in the chair. These were not tears of shock but of recognition…of sad fondness. So she did know this elder…but that had to mean…

What the hell is going on?

"Agh! Stupid old man. Figures he'd fall asleep the second we turn our backs." Shark-headed Maccus rolled his eyes irritably before turning to grunt at Peggy. "Ye and yer 'beau' 'ave got two 'ours till yer shifts start. Ye better keep it down in 'ere or else…" he trailed off, swiping a claw-like finger across his neck. "Is that clear?"

"As crystal," Peggy muttered, her tone listless and her stare blank even as Maccus stalked towards her and Will, who stiffened in readiness but chose not to act. He had a nasty feeling that those sharp teeth were not for show.

"Good, because the captain ain't happy with ye. Not happy at all." His lips curled into a taut sneer as he sidestepped Peggy to circle her back. "He gives ye thirteen years o' freedom for one job, and ye took a runner the first chance ye got. So don't you or your lad expect any special treatment. Ye disobeyed the captain's orders ye got ter pay the price. Personally, I think 'e shoulda' wrapped a line around yer ankles and dragged ye along the sea bottom. But the captain thinks letting you stay down here to rot fer yer sentence is best for ye, an' what he says goes. but be warned, if you or yer boy cause any trouble, you'll both be facin' the punishment, no matter who's at fault. And I'll personally make sure ye lad gets to watch ye get flogged. Ye got that?"

"Yes…I got it." Peggy clipped, grabbing Will's hand to stop him from snarling as Maccus turned his snarl upon him.

"And you? Do you get that? Don't think for one second I would not lay a hand on yer woman if ye crossed a line."

"I understand completely," Will growled, willing every atom of himself from lunging at the foul creature even as he smirked and shut the door behind him with a sharp snap.

Still, the old man in the chair did not stir.

"Silver?" Peggy quietly drew away from Will to gently touch the old man's shoulder, only for her hand to jerk back as he let loose a waffling snore that sounded less like a human sound and more like a dog's snuffling.

"I don't think he'll be awake for a while," Peggy whispered as she gently pulled the furry blanket to cover the elderly man more appropriately. "Once he starts snoring, nothing'll wake him save for the fire going out."

"Peg…" Will sucked in a deep soothing breath to steady himself. "Peg, what the hell is going on? What are you doing here?"

"That's…it's complicated." Peggy's shoulders hunched as she sat slumped on the makeshift bed behind the old man.

"That's putting it lightly." Will snorted bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "What the hell, Pegs? I thought…I thought we were past all the secrets, yet here we are again!"

"I had no choice," Peggy mumbled, not meeting his eye.

"Bull!" Will pinched his nose. "You had a choice. You were just too scared to tell me-"

"Because if I told you, I'd be dead." Peggy snapped, quickly glancing at old Silver. But he was still snoring comfortably in his chair. Indeed, he seemed to have slid down into a more comfortable position now she had covered him better.

"What do you mean you'd be dead?" Will glared at her suspiciously. "I thought the selkie bond-"

"It's not that." Peggy shook her head, and Will groaned.

"Then what is it, Peg?" He strode over to her and knelt before her, quickly pulling her hands down before she could bury her face in them. "Peg, please…just tell me what is going on. Why do you…wait, what's… what's this?" He gaped in horror as he looked down at her right wrist in his grip.

A black ring of ink, like a tattoo, was imprinted on her skin. The blood vessels around the tattoo were stained black, the colour leeching into her palms, while the once pale skin between now throbbed an angry, painful red.

"Peg...what is this? When did you…" Will trailed off as understanding dawned, as he remembered all the times she had gripped her wrist in pain or hidden it quickly beneath a sleeve. Was this what she had been trying to hide all these long years?

"It's…it's his mark," Peggy mumbled, staring at the tiny fire in the kitchen stove.

"Jones?" Will frowned, his confusion greater than ever. "But I thought the Black Spot was-"

"The Black Spot is a death sentence created by the old gods to punish mortals that wronged them." Peggy's voice was dry as if reciting from an old textbook. "It can be passed down to any mortal by any of the Children of the Ocean or a being who actively serves an old god. Davy Jones is the carrier of souls, a ferryman of the seas. He has the authority to grant this mark like any other servant of Poseidon or any one of the old gods."

"And this mark?" Will scowled. "What does this mark mean? Why is it special to Jones?"

"All supernatural beings tied to the ocean have their gifts…or curses, depending on how you want to look at it." Peggy sighed. "This is one of Jones's gifts. His mark is created from the poisonous ink he creates in his body. It is the direst of punishments given to the most troublesome and disobedient crew. It means a slow and painful death for anyone that disobeys a direct order."

"And how in all that is good and holy did you ever become a member of his accursed crew?" Will sighed with frustration as she avoided his eye yet again in favour of staring at the thin excuse of a mattress she sat on. "Peg, please. I just…I want to understand-"

"Why? What good will dredging up the past do?"

"I don't know, but that's why I have to hear it so I can make sense of it all-"

"For what reason? You're only here for one task, and that's to get that trinket so you can prance off to be with Elizabeth-"

"No! I came here to find a way to save you."

"Why? Because you feel guilty?"

"Because I care about you."

"And how does your caring change anything, Will?" Peggy snapped, her tone cold. "How do you caring whether I live or die change anything when all you'll do after you're done here on this ship is crawl back to your precious fiancé? That was the plan, remember?"

"Plans change." Will glared at her angrily. "I told you I would save you after I was done with my mission."

"And how would you do that, Will? You can't love me in return because you love someone else. I can't force you to return my feelings without knowing you're faking it forever; that would break me more." There was a pause as she gulped down hard on the sob threatening to engulf her, her teeth gritted tight. "So, what, what do you propose to do to stop me dying or going insane, hmm?"

"I…I don't know." Will admitted, his grip on her hands tightening. "But I refuse to believe there is nothing to be done."

"Of course you do."

"At least I haven't given up like you." He spat hotly. "The Peggy Blake I know would never give up when times were tough. And she would never take the easy way out like this-"

"The Peggy Blake you know and the Peggy Blake I know are very different people." Peggy rolled her eyes.

"Then tell me more about her."

"Why? So you can add another damsel to your roster?"

"For heaven's sake, Peggy, you accuse me of stubbornness? Can't you talk through this mess with me?" Will snapped, cupping both her cheeks so she would meet his gaze. "Please…Whatever has been said and done between us recently, we've been friends for ten years. You once said you would tell me the truth when it was time. Well, that time has come. Please…you can be angry at me all you want afterwards. Snipe at me, push me around, I don't care. I'll take what you throw at me. Just tell me what you are doing on this ship. Jack promised me you'd be safe on the Pearl. He said he'd look after you and keep looking for ways to help you. And yet here you are, and the Pearl is sailing away. This wasn't part of the plan!...unless…Jack lied-"

"No…he didn't," Peggy mumbled, her eyes now brimming with tears as she remembered the coldness of Jack's stare upon her. "He…he meant every word he said regarding my condition…It's my fault I'm here. Has been all along."

"What do you mean?" Will bit his lip as he saw the guilt clouding her eyes. "Peggy, what happened?"

"I…After I first fell off my father's ship…I was picked up by the Dutchman...by Davy Jones…" She shivered as the name passed her lips as if it were some taboo to utter. "They fished me out of the sea…and told me I could stay until they passed near another port. Then, one of the crew would row me to shore, and I could figure out my way. The only thing I had to do in return was stay out of everyone's way and not bother the captain. Then one night…I…I had a nightmare. I came up on deck for some fresh air and saw a man getting flogged. They said he disobeyed orders, but I still don't know why he was punished. I…" She trailed off in a small sigh, and Will felt his gut sink.

"You tried to defend him." He murmured, and Peggy nodded.

"I was so horrified they would treat anyone that way." Her eyes misted over as they fixed on a spot over Will's shoulder. "Back then, I was an innocent. I knew my father was a cruel man, but I had never seen him be violent with anyone. He preferred isolation and cruel words. Seeing the flesh…and the blood…and Jones laughing…I shouted at him. I tried to stop him but got swatted aside. Then, the man getting whipped saw his chance and tried to fight the captain. And…well, when you attack a captain, they can deal with you as they see fit. So…thanks to my 'noble' actions, I signed a man's death warrant and received my very first beating for interfering with the captain's duties."

Will stared at her aghast, unable to bring himself to speak as she sucked in a deep breath and continued:

"When I woke up, I was in here with old Silver tending to me. My selkie pelt was gone. Jones took it. And by the law of the ocean, when someone takes a selkie's pelt, that selkie is bound to serve them, whether it be through matrimony or slavery, for however long the person has it or lives…and since Davy Jones is an immortal being…well…" She shrugged. "Still, I tried to escape. I tried many times. Each time, I failed, or he used my pelt to pull me back. Then, five months after I boarded the Dutchman, Jones caught me again. However, this time, he decided on a cruel punishment rather than a beating. He offered me a deal. In return for spying on Jack Sparrow for him for thirteen years, I would only serve one hundred years aboard the Dutchman like an ordinary human. Once my hundred years were up, he'd give me back my pelt, and I'd be free to live the rest of my life naturally in the ocean."

"But…wouldn't you be too old?" Will frowned in confusion. "No offence, but…a hundred years, you'd be ancient by the time you were released."

"Time doesn't flow on the Flying Dutchman Will. It freezes. Aside from the mutations, everyone here is the same physical age as when they joined. You can't age while on the Dutchman, nor can you die. You're stuck till your sentence is up, and you move on to the next world, or you are freed back into the world of the living. Even I won't die from my selkie bond being broken so long as I remain on this ship."

"So why let you go in the first place?" Will muttered.

"I think he realised it would be easier to let me go out into the world and grow up. A child my age was hardly useful for many chores around a ship like this." Peggy snorted, the sound bitter and hollow. "Also, he's a monster. Beatings are fun sometimes, but the Devil's real delights are in cruel mind games. He wanted to dangle freedom before me like a carrot and then snatch it from me at the last second. And, like the fool I was, I fell hard for his game, and now…I'm paying double the price for my stupidity."

"What do you mean double?" Will asked, though he had an awful feeling he knew where this was going.

"I…I didn't stick with Jack, did I?" Peggy gulped down hard on the tears. " For ten years, I was in Port Royal, hoping that being on dry land would keep me safe. And it worked…for a while…he…Jones can't step on land but once every ten years. When I was living on land, he could not trace me."

"So if you were safe on land, how did he…" Will's voice fell away as his hands released her face. "No…You…you don't mean when we…when I dragged you with me to save Elizabeth-"

"Yep," Peggy murmured, eyes now fixed on her lap as Will's eyes watered. "The night we left Tortuga and got caught in that gnarly storm-"

"Oh god…"

"-He said ten extra years for every year I spent in hiding. So now-"

"No-no-no-" Will's head fell into her knees as he held onto her legs tightly.

"-It's two hundred years I shall serve the Dutchman. And if I tried to run again or tell anyone the truth, then the poison in his mark would kill me-"

"What no-You can't- you're already-!" Will choked, "He can't just…how could he do that? He had to know-You were so young. He can't have expected you, a child, to be able to spy on a man like Jack-"

"He didn't." Peggy's voice was hoarse as her tears began to fall. Her mind was again fixed on Jack's cold face, and her hands automatically found their way to stroke Will's dark brown locks gently, more for the comfort of the familiar sensation than anything else. "But, like I said, he delights in torture. You should have seen him when he exposed the truth to Jack tonight. I've never seen him so entertained. And Jack…I don't think he's coming back for me…not this time…especially not after what happened with Hector."

Peggy shut her eyes as Will reached up and hugged her around the middle and whispered:

"Peg, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." She whispered. "This one isn't your fault, Will. I didn't just stay behind in Port Royal for you. I was the one who chose to enter a deal with the Devil himself; then, I tried to run out on it. It was only a matter of time before he found me."

There was silence as Will buried his face into her stomach. He hadn't felt this wretched since he was a young boy. Now, guilt and grief ate away at his soul like voracious termites, hollowing him from the inside out.

It was bad enough he had broken her heart and condemned her once. Now, he had done it twice by dragging her back into the gaze of such a vile creature like Jones. And worse, she did not blame him at all. She should have been even more furious at him for his part in bringing her back under the thumb of such a being.

Instead, she tried to spare him, taking the blame upon herself again to keep him from feeling the sting…the same way she always did whenever pain crossed their path.

How many times had she waved him off when he caught her limping after a painful beating? How often had he seen her quickly hide her tears and force a smile to greet him after a rough day being scolded and worn down by harsh words? How often did she swallow her anger and apologise when she wasn't in the wrong after they had fought about something stupid?

I have been so blind. So foolish.

He shut his eyes as he sucked in a deep breath, her scent filling his nose as his face was enveloped by the cotton of her shirt and the softness of her arms around him.

"It wasn't your fault." He murmured, his grip tightening around her. "You were just a little girl. Your father should have protected you better from your stepmother, and Jones should never have tricked you or hurt you after agreeing to help you."

"From what I remember of the old stories, he was once a pirate." Peggy shrugged, her voice distant and soft. "Pirates lie."

"Still doesn't mean it's your fault." Will raised his head and craned his neck to press his forehead against hers. "You were an innocent child, and you were so young. How were you to know anything about pirates after being raised so sheltered? And as for that man who died, you are not to blame."

"But if I hadn't interfered-"

"Jones would have probably killed him anyway. From what I have seen tonight of this tyrant, I have no doubt he would have found an excuse to cull down any resistance." Will cut across her splutter firmly but gently, shutting his eyes as he basked in the touch of her skin against his. "You keep trying to play it tough, but I know you. You never can sit back and watch others suffer. You should not be ashamed or feel guilty for trying to show compassion to that man."

"But it hardly made a difference-"

"Are you kidding? Of course, it did. It was probably the only kindness anyone ever showed him in his final moments. That would have meant the world to him. I know how much it meant when you stood up to Barbossa to save my life." He reached up to stroke a stray curl from her face, his thumb wiping away a tear. "Peg…this isn't your fault."

"How can you say that?" Peggy blubbered. "After everything I've done-the way I've lied- the way I've treated you these last couple of weeks-"

"You were trying to survive a near-impossible situation that no person, child or adult should ever deal with," Will whispered. "You may have lied and kept secrets, but you did so because you didn't want to die or hurt other people. You are a good person, Peg. Yes, you've made mistakes and done some questionable things, but despite all that, you're still good in here." he reached out to touch her heart. "You've always been good, and you'll continue to be good, and no one, not me, Jones or Jack or anyone, can take that from you."

"Be careful what ye say, boy." An aged voice croaked behind Will's back. "This ship has quite the way of twistin' even the purest of hearts."

"Shit!" Peggy squeaked as Will's arms tightened around her so hard she almost squished in his grip.

Sure enough, when Will turned his head, the old man in the chair behind him was stirring in his seat. His eyes were drowsy but open enough for Will to see the dark brown irises staring blearily over his shoulder at Peggy.

Upon seeing her copper curls, the old man's face split into a wan smile.

"Ahh…girl, I wondered when I'd see you again."

"Long time no see, Old Man," Peggy sighed as Old Silver grunted and straightened himself in his chair. The blanket slipped from his legs to reveal a horrid sight.

Peggy gaped as Will's eyes widened. The elderly man's thin, withered legs, pants, and everything else were covered in bleached and slimy coral, which also covered the chair. The skin of his feet fused at the ankles, making his large, webbed flipper-like feet look like grotesque leathery fins.

Will was painfully reminded of Peggy's transformation between seal and woman, particularly the in-between stage just after she shed her fur and was still mostly seal-shaped with human arms.

"Silver," Peggy's eyes filled with tears as she gently pushed Will aside to pick up the man's blanket from the cold floor. "Your legs…"

"Oh, this…" Silver shrugged, hardly phased by their horror at his condition. "This happened a while ago. Good thing ol' Jimbo put these on the back of me chair." He jerked a thumb to where a pair of small wooden wheels had been attached to the two back legs so that another person could lean the chair back and push it around.

"Ah, Thank you, me dear." Silver sighed as Peggy resettled the blanket over his lap, quirking a brow at her sad expression. "Ay, don't give me that look; it ain't as bad as it looks. Besides, my old legs aren't what they used to be."

He turned a sharp eye on Will, his moustache quivering as he grunted. "So this is him, then? The lad ye risked yer life for?"

"Will Turner." Will stood up and reached out to carefully shake the man's old, webbed hand, wincing in surprise as the strength of the other man's grip surprised him.

"Hmm, well, at least ye found one that can do an honest day's work. Blacksmith?" He looked up at Will, who nodded.

"Yes, sir,"

"Hmph! Well, don't expect any mercy from this lot, then. They'll work you to the bone as long as you keep working." Silver grunted as he pulled his hand away and reached beneath the collar of his stained white shirt. "Well, as much as I'd hate to interrupt whatever lover's tiff is going on between ye two, but ye don't have much time till the next shifts start." He pulled a silver pocket watch on a chain and flicked it open for Peggy and Will to see the time.

They only had ten minutes left till he had to be on deck again, and Will felt they would not tolerate any excuse for lateness.

Will sucked in a deep breath and sighed. He supposed he should count himself lucky that Jack had let him rest for most of the day as they had prepared to board the scuppered ship. But still…the idea of leaving Peggy alone in here…he doubted Silver could do anything to her in his frail state. Nor could he help her if someone came in to have their way with her…

"Will, it'll be fine, I'm-" Peggy began only to blink as Will pressed something into her hands. She looked down and saw, to her surprise, a small knife, sheathed in worn leather. It was one of Will's creations; she could tell at once from the shape of the wooden handle.

"Keep this on you. If anyone tries anything while I'm not here, you have some protection at least."

"Will-" Peggy tried only to stop short as Will wrapped his arms around her tight once more, his face burying itself into her shoulder.

"We'll talk more later. I'm sorry I had to make you relive such awful memories, but know, I'm glad you told me the truth." He murmured, and Peggy was not sure if she had imagined it. Were those his lips she could feel pressing into the crook of her neck?

She shut her eyes and shook her head. Silly man, did he still not understand-

"Evenin' Captain!" Silver's voice croaked and Peggy and Will froze where they stood.

Shit. Peggy swore as she glanced over her shoulder and saw Davy Jones standing outside the now open door, glowering at the pair of them with such venom it made Peggy shiver and nearly shrink into Will's arms.

"Time's up." The Devil of the Deep spat, his pale green eyes narrowing as he saw the blacksmiths' arms tighten around the Selkie woman protectively. "Get to the deck, lad. I've got to have a word with your wife."

Wife? Will opened his mouth to object, but Peggy quickly nudged his stomach and whispered:

"It's okay, Will, I got this."

"You're sure?"

"I'm waiting, lad!" Davy Jones snarled, his face twisting as Will planted another small kiss on Peggy's forehead and pulled himself off her.

"I'll be back after my shift. Stay safe." He muttered, and Peggy gulped as she gave the tiniest of nods.

"You too."

She stood still as Will stepped around her, hardly daring to breathe. She watched him sidestep around Davy Jones and leave the room, glaring at him with all the cold contempt he had.

Oh, Will, please don't do anything stupid.

She bit her lip as Will passed out of sight, and the Devil turned his attention back on her.

"Insolent pup. Hmph!" Davy Jones snorted as he stared her down. "Figures ye'd pick a troublemaker."

"Is there something I can help you with, Captain?" Peggy muttered through gritted teeth, willing herself not to cry as the title passed her lips and made her think of another familiar face.

"I came ter lay down the rules of yer stay. I take it Maccus already told ye, ye'd be responsible fer yer whelp if he causes trouble."

"He did." Peggy nodded. "Will he stay in the crew quarters?"

"No." Davy Jones growled, his face a mask of discomfort as if the very words he was about to say felt disgusting in his pale mouth "He will stay with ye in here. Whatever said an' done I won't split a married couple that 'ave taken their vows before God, so long as ye don't cause any trouble. Or else it's the brig fer the two of ye."

Married? Will and I aren't …what? Did Will tell him that? Why? What the hell? However, despite her confusion, she kept her mouth shut, though something of her confusion must have shown on her face because Jones snorted.

"Aye, Sparrow told me all about yer lad. Then again, don' know why I am so surprised he'd follow ye here, given the pup's cheek given that yer cut from the same filthy cloth. Bah!" He spat on the floor, and Peggy quickly masked her surprise as she asked:

"And what of my duties?"

"Ye be down here with Silver, cookin', cleanin', doin' whatever chores he tells ye. Doin' what a woman's best at." Jones sniffed haughtily. "I told the men they ain't ter touch ye. Anyone that dares touch ye out o' turn without my permission will lose their hand. But don't think I'm bein' soft on ye." He added, his stare hardening on Peggy, and she knew well enough then to question the ice she saw in his gaze. "Devil I may be, but let it not be said I am not a man of my word. I can just as easily give the lads the word to whip ye with the cat-o-nines should ye or yer whelp put one toe out of line. Do ye understand?"

"I understand." Peggy nodded glumly

"Good. Now get ter work. Evenin' shift is endin' and they'll be needin' their rations. Ye will start yer cookin' at the end of the next deck shift, an' it better be ready in time. If yer tardy like yer predecessor, there will be punishment ye hear me."

"Aye, captain," Peggy said listlessly and thought she saw Jones bristle with disappointment even as he turned his back on her and stalked out the room, his crab-peg-leg thudding angrily with each stomp.

He must have expected her to crumble and beg for mercy before him like some damsel in distress. Well, the joke was going to be on him. Peggy had cooked, cleaned and worked a full twelve-hour day during her life at Port Royal, and she had helped run the galley on the Black Pearl, running smoothly as butter.

"So… married ey?" Silver's bushy eyebrows rose as his lips quirked into a smile.

"It's…complicated," Peggy murmured, quickly dusting herself off as she heard the thuds of many boots down a nearby set of stairs.

That must be the last shift coming down for their rations.

She gulped quickly, turning to Silver.

"Where do you keep the rations?"

"They're already ready in the crate down below," Silver grunted, jerking his head towards a crate in the corner. "Yer predecessor was kind enough ter make some to ease yer load before ye boarded. 'Twas he that also set this up for ye." Silver pointed to the makeshift bed of straw and crates half hidden behind the raggedy sail curtain. "Said a young lady like ye deserved a decent bed away from the rest o' them rough sailors."

"That was…that was kind of him." Peggy swallowed thickly as she quickly clambered down the stairs into the stores below. Luckily for her, a lantern was glowing at the bottom, illuminating the dank and frankly foreboding, dark room with its bright, waxy yellow light.

Peggy was quick to find the rations neatly organised in a large crate. Each sailor on shift had a small bowl, mug, and spoon to be taken to the kitchens and filled with porridge and ale kept near the stove. Each bowl had their sailor's biscuits, dried meat strips, and a small fruit. Peggy was surprised to see that the live animals kept below were incredibly healthy despite the dank dreariness of their surroundings.

Davy Jones might have been cruel, but he was a good captain. He understood food's importance to a crew's morale and loyalty, even when undead. It was one of the few comforts from life the crew of the Flying Dutchman had left, and though most men had mutated into creatures beyond recognition, they still were, at their core, human.

And speaking of comforts… Peggy looked up at the ceiling and thought about the straw bed above.

Who would ever show such kindness on this ship of all places? Davy Jones usually abhorred such displays of 'softness' among his crew.

I should find out who he is and thank him. Peggy mused as she carefully brought the crate of rations above deck. He didn't have to go out of his way for me when I was replacing him.

"Silver?" she mumbled as she came up the stairs.

"Hmm?"

"The man working here before me, what's his name?"

"Ey? What's that, girl?" Silver frowned, and Peggy rolled her eyes.

"What's his name? A man gave up his bed for me, so I think I should thank him, right?"

"Funny ye should ask that." Silver's eyes twinkled as he smirked. "His name ain't too dissimilar from your young man's."

"So he's another William?" Peggy frowned. It was not an uncommon name, but something stirred in her mind—an old familiar feeling.

"More like a Bill. Bootstrap Bill."

Peggy nearly dropped the crate in her arms.

"What? Bootstrap?" She squeaked, eyes wider than saucers. "Old Bootstrap - he's here? On the ship? He's alive?"

"Nah. Not alive." Silver snorted. "You know nothing is ever truly alive."

"Whatever!" Peggy quickly set down the crate on the long kitchen counter. "Where is he? How did he get here? How is he-"

"Peace, girl, peace!" Silver raised his hands in a stopping motion, wincing as her loud voice hit his ears. "Keep screeching like that; the captain will have both our heads."

Peggy quickly shut her mouth and sucked in a deep breath.

"Silver, what happened?" she asked through gritted teeth, barely suppressing the nerves within her.

"If ye want to know what happened to Billy, then ye better wait till he's back from his shift. It ain't my story to tell."

"You mean he's above deck?"

"Yes, yes!" Silver waved her off waspishly as several cursed crew members began lining up at the door. "Now on with ye. These men are hungry."

Peggy nodded dumbly, her body going through the motions as she served each crew member a ladleful of warm, lumpy grey porridge and ale to accompany their rations. As she served them, each man thanked her, and a couple stared in awe at her relatively clean and uncursed face.

Peggy wondered if this was the first time they had seen a woman in a while, let alone one so relatively clean. Though her hair was still messy, and her face was wet from tears, she was not covered in barnacles or dressed in rags.

She wondered what had happened to Bootstrap.

The last time she had seen him was the night of Barbossa's mutiny. He had stood in the doorway of her nook on the Black Pearl, doing his best to block Koehler and Twigg from entering and taking her captive. Peggy's heart ached as she remembered Twigg punching his lights out with a hit to the face, breaking his nose before tossing him, groaning to the side. Peggy would never forget the way the man had desperately struggled against his crewmates as they dragged him below deck to the brig for his actions, all the while being beaten into submission whenever he got close to escaping their grasp.

Now that she thought about it, it was not too dissimilar from the way Will had thrashed and screamed for her when Barbossa had first taken them captive.

Like father like son, Peggy sighed sadly as she served the last crewman his rations and closed the lid on the pot of porridge.

Was he still looking the same? Would she even recognise him? or was he a disfigured half-sea monster hybrid?

Bootstrap was alive… Bootstrap, here on this ship…with her…with WILL?!

Oh gods, William, please be careful. She bit her lip, cursing herself as her stomach warbled. In all her terror about tonight's events, she had hardly eaten a thing all day.

"Ye should finish up the last of that porridge." Silver groaned as he leaned back in his chair, holding up his webbed hands to warm them by the stove. "Ye will need yer strength."

"What about you?"

"I already ate before ye and yer lad came in?" Silver shooed her as he shut his eyes. "Now, do me a favour, girl, and let me finish my nap peacefully. All the fish and vegetables are up here, ready fer you to use. Start cookin'"

Peggy rolled her eyes as she silently nodded, gently touching her stomach. It gave another loud warble, only to freeze as she felt something odd beneath her shirt.

Huh? What's that?

She quickly turned her back on Silver, looked down the front of her shirt and frowned.

Something was down there—something made from dark material.

A package? Peggy frowned as she pulled the tiny thing out from inside her shirt. It was a small pouch, tied with a thin cord of rope, made from scraps of black canvas, the same black canvas that made the sails for the Black Pearl.

Someone must have nicked it while we were doing repairs. Peggy mused as she examined the pouch more closely. She had never seen it before, nor could she recall tucking anything away-

She froze as she remembered a familiar pair of ringed hands shoving something down her shirt a couple of hours ago.

Jack! She breathed, hardly able to believe it. It had to be Jack. He was the only person other than Will who had been close enough to slip this onto her person without anyone seeing.

Carefully pouring some porridge into a bowl for herself before she quietly tiptoed around Silver's chair to sit behind it on the floor. His body blocked any sight of her from the door as she tipped the contents of the pouch into her hand.

A silver chain and oval locket pendant with an abalone shell embedded on the front.

"Oh, Jack…" Peggy wept softly. "Jack, I'm so sorry."

---

"HEAVE!"

Tug!

"HEAVE!"

Will groaned as he hauled on the thick rope with several other crew of the Flying Dutchman. Though she appeared smaller on the outside, on deck, she was a much bigger and bulkier ship than the Black Pearl. She was busier too, far more complex in her rigging, a battleship just as much as a pirate ship.

Cold rain lashed down from on high while thunder rolled overhead. Grotesquely deformed men and humans scrambled over the deck, groaning and grunting in pain while men with whips and batons shouted and hollered orders from the higher-ups.

He could understand how naive and innocent seven-year-old Peggy would have felt so scared of such an environment. If one were not used to the business of a ship, then it would have been a massive shock to the system.

By comparison, the Black Pearl, the Dauntless, and the Interceptor felt like havens even when under pressure. Maybe that had more to do with the captains of those ships than with the actual ships themselves.

Even that brief journey with Barbossa at the helm of his undead crew had been far less intense than this. There was some fear with Barbossa at the helm, but he also commanded respect from his crew with his impressive presence and air of authority.

Jack was similar in that sense. He, too, had a lot of respect from his crew, which had more to do with his reputation as a living legend, eccentric as he was. Yet, though Jack could be dangerous, he was not violent or intimidating by nature, so his most loyal crew served him out of fondness and steadfast loyalty.

Davy Jones, on the other hand, was indeed a formidable and intimidating figure. His crew respected him, but Will almost smelled the fear rising wherever the captain treaded. He was Hell incarnate to all who saw him, even his most loyal followers. The tenseness on this ship was palpable and could not be ignored.

Will shook himself as he caught sight of Jones's hat disappearing below deck.

To think he would meet the devil that had haunted his Peggy's nightmares for years. Will had always thought that when Peggy called Jones the Devil, it was because he was a figment of her imagination, a safe way for her to process her trauma in a way her young mind could understand.

To think all this time, it was a real, breathing person holding her life in his hands…or claws…

Will snarled as he hauled on the rope with the men again, thanking his lucky stars that he had retained enough self-control back in the kitchen when Jones had entered the room.

It had been long since Will had felt the urge to thrash the daylights out of anyone. Not even Barbossa had managed to incur that much wrath from him.

But then Will remembered how Peggy had shrunk into his arms at the sight of the Dutchman's captain, how she had shivered and looked down at the floor like a beaten dog.

Peggy was one of the bravest people he knew. Although she may have gotten scared of some things, he had never seen her cower like that before. She looked like that terrified, broken little girl he had found on the beach all those years ago.

She never stopped being that terrified, broken girl…she just got better at hiding it until it was too much to bear. Until I tipped her over the edge. Will thought miserably, remembering her story about the man she had tried to save…how she shivered as she recalled her first beating at the hands, or claws, of Davy Jones.

Will's knuckles tightened upon the rope. Not for the first time in his life did he wonder why there were so many adults who dared to hurt children. Why? What good did it do them to hear a child's screams of pain and see the fear in their eyes?

Will spared another small glower for the accursed captain, not caring if he was spotted. For all the man knew, he was mad about the weather. So long as he made it through this shift and could return to Peggy. Then he could rest easier knowing she was close at hand.

I must find a way to get to that key when I get off my shift. Will scowled as he was sent with a couple of men to haul on another rope across the deck. If we can get the key, we can escape and find Jones's heart. With Jones's heart in hand, he can barter for Peggy's freedom and release Jack from his debt. Yes…if I release Jack from Jones's debt, he would have no choice but to come with me to Beckett if he wanted to pay me back…Then Elizabeth can be spared the hangman's noose, and then…

Will's heart sank as he remembered Peggy's tear-stained face and utterly defeated expression.

Even if he somehow miraculously achieved this plan forming in his head, there was still that mess with Peggy's broken heart. Saving her from Jones would not magically heal their tattered bond and stop her impending doom. Now that he thought about it, Jones had also marked her with that awful tattoo that would kill her if she disobeyed an order or tried to run away from him.

I'll have to keep her out of my plans as much as possible. Or at least make sure Jones can't pin anything on her. So long as she remains innocent in his eyes, she can't be hurt. Will grit his teeth. And when we get out of here-

His thoughts halted as loud, booming music began to bellow from deep below—a haunting, blasting melody that swayed and swerved in time with the ship's rocking against the harsh, stormy waves. He was sure he had heard the tune before, but where?

Was he imagining the sound? Where on earth would music be coming from on a ship like this? But no sooner had the thought crossed his mind did the bosun bark:

"Secure the mast tackle, Mister TURNER! STEP TO IT!"

Will quickly rushed to his chore, barely noticing another man rush up to the foremast until they were shoulder to shoulder, jostling for a grip on the rope.

"Step aside!" Will shouted, wondering who this man was and why he had obeyed a command that was not his own.

"Hey! Mind yourself!" the other man shouted, and for a second, Will's ears pricked in recognition. That voice…he knew it from somewhere…

However, he quickly dismissed the thought as the rope slipped from his wet hands. He quickly grabbed it again, doing his best to haul it back to the rigging, but his efforts were halted when the other man tried to yank the rope from his grip.

"Oy!" he shouted at the man as he felt himself get jostled to the side. Just what was his problem? Why wouldn't he let Will complete his task?

"Let go, boy!" the man shouted.

Angry, Will straightened up to look his competition in the face, and his eyes widened in shock.

A pallid, waterlogged face of a middle-aged man stared back at him. Unlike most of the Dutchman's cursed crew, he retained most of his human features, though a starfish and barnacles stuck to the right side of his face. His mop of brown hair was half hidden under a cap of grey-blue, and his eyes were pale light blue.

For some reason, those eyes looked familiar to Will, though he could not pinpoint why. Where had he seen them before? Had he and this strange man met in the past? But if so, then when? And how did this man come to be in Davy Jones' crew?

The man, likewise, stared at Will, his eyes watering slightly as they roamed across each of his features, drinking them in one by one until he finally met his gaze.

"No…" He breathed, stumbling back and letting go of the rope.

Will gasped as the sudden weight displacement on his rope's end offset the cannon used as a counterweight high above the deck. With a yelp, Will found himself flying backwards off his feet, clinging to the rope for dear life as he was dragged bodily across the deck, his already sore back slamming painfully into the damp wooden railing.

He was so in pain that he hardly noticed the creaking groan of metal above his head or the loud crash as the cannon suddenly fell from on high and landed solidly on the deck. Luckily for the crew, they had been able to scramble out of the way of the impact just in time, though for many, it was a close call.

"Haul that weevil to his feet!" the bosun snarled, and Will grunted, still dazed, as two pairs of strong mutated arms pulled him to his feet.

He hardly struggled as he was thrown against the rigging. His two captors, a man with a pufferfish face and another who looked like he was made from coral, held his arms so that his back faced the rest of the crew as the bosun strode forward, whip in hand.

"Five lashes will remind you to stay on 'em!" the bosun shouted, raising the whip in his hands, only for his wrist to jerk to a stop high in the air as a pale hand grabbed it with a shout.

"NO!"

To his surprise, Will turned his head to look at who was sparing him and saw the man from the mast tackle with him. He was standing between Will and the bosun, doing his best to cover him with his body as much as possible, even as he was snarled at fiercely.

"Impedin' me in my duties? Then you'll share the punishment-"

"I'll take it all!" the pale man shouted, only to stiffen as heavy footsteps thudded across the deck.

"Oh, will ye now?" Davy Jones sneered as a flash of lightning illuminated his pale, tentacled face and flashing angry eyes. "And what would prompt such an act of charity?"

"My…my…son, "the pale man gulped, turning to look at William, his eyes full of emotion. "He is my son…"

There was silence on deck, save the howling of wind and rain and the creaking of ships.

What? Will stared at the pale man before him, looking him up and down as something in his mind finally sparked like a cannon fuse. Those eyes…that face…Will remembered them now, though they had used to belong to a face slightly younger and filled with more colour and life. His hair had been curlier, too, not the damp mop tangled with seaweed that drooped out from under his cap.

But…But it can't be my father. My father should have died the day we broke the Curse of Isla De Muerta. This miserable wretch can't be…he just can't…

Then Will remembered the order the bosun had shouted. Mister Turner…that was the name called, and this strange man had answered so readily.

Now that Will thought about it, it was only his first shift aboard the Dutchman. Hardly any man would have learned his name to call it out so readily on the deck. But if this was Bootstrap Bill Turner, then why wouldn't he answer the summons?

Will shivered as Jones threw back his head and laughed, the sound as cruel and cold as the stormy waves splashing into the ship's side.

"Ha-ha-ha! What fortuitous circumstance be this?" He looked between the two Turner men, examining their features closely. "Five lashes be owed, I believe it is." The Devil held out his hand to the bosun, who handed him his whip with a wide, malicious grin. Then Jones held it out expectantly to Bootstrap.

Boostrap stared at the whip in horror as Will struggled against his captors, the animal instinct in the face of fear taking over his usual bravery for a split moment.

Though he had taken many beatings in his life, Will had only been whipped once before as a lad, nearly eleven years ago when he first set sail from England after his mother's death. He had been lashed three times for stowing away on board that English Trading ship before being put to work and could remember the biting sting of his flesh tearing apart like it was yesterday.

"No…No, I won't!" Boostrap's voice wavered despite his attempt to be firm.

"The cat's out of the bag, Mister Turner!" Davy Jones scoffed loudly, his shout piercing the night air even through the rain and waves. "Yer issue will feel its sting, be it by the bosun's hand or your own."

"No." Boostrap shook his head, and the captain's eyes flashed angrily as he yelled:

"BOSUN!"

"NO!" Bootstrap snatched the whip out of Jones's tentacle-fingered hand, adjusting his grip.

"Shame yer woman ain't on deck ter see this lad." Jones barked as he watched Will's captors force his vest from him and ripped the back of his shirt open. "Then again, I suppose it'll be punishment enough ter see you marked by yer father's hand."

Will winced as the icy wind blasted against his bare skin and gripped the rigging he braced against tight as he tried to brace himself for the pain to come.

He thought of Peggy below, hopefully safe and hidden in that kitchen as he did. He was thankful she was not on deck to witness this, for she would have certainly tried to intervene on his behalf, no matter how afraid of Davy Jones she was. Then, the Devil really would show no mercy.

No. Will had to go through with this. He could not let Jones lay a hand on her…not after it was his fault he landed her back here.

Katwhack!

Will cried out as something heavy and sharp slammed into his back, the edge of it slicing into his flesh and dragging a painful line down his spine. The shock of the blinding pain was so intense that he would almost bite down on his tongue.

Quickly, he turned his head, groaning in pain as he bit into a thick rope that pressed against his face, bracing himself just in time for the next slice against his back.

He groaned into the rigging as his back seared from the second strike, which had crossed at an angle over the first one, almost doubling the pain.

That was two now.

Three more to go.

Will shut his eyes as the third strike hit his back, trying not to think about the pain that nearly forced him to his knees.

If only he could be anywhere but here.

For some reason, his mind wandered back to the night before Jack's execution, how he and Peggy had slept side by side in her tiny bed in her room in Mister Brown's home. They had both been so at ease with one another then. Neither cared about the outside world as they curled into one another beneath the covers.

Kathwack!

"AHHGHH!" Will cried out, releasing the rope from his teeth as the fourth strike landed heavily near his neck and slid over his shoulder blade.

Still, he kept his eyes shut as he forced himself to remember the morning of the execution itself. He had woken up to the sun shining on his face and the warmth of Peggy's head resting on his shoulder as she curled into his chest, her curls tickling his nose. He had awoken feeling rested and content with life, confident in his plans despite the uncertainty of his victory. For a tiny moment, it was just them and nothing else, and that was enough.

"GHAARGH!"

There was a cheer from the men as the final lash of the whip landed on Will's back, this time the tip sliding and landing a small slice over his ribs as he sank to his knees, his grip on the rigging slackening as the pain overwhelmed all his senses. He could smell the iron of blood mixing with the salt of the ocean for not only was his back bleeding, but his hands had gripped the ropes so tight that he had broken the blisters.

So in pain was he that he hardly registered the rough hands that hauled him across the deck and threw him down to a lower level.

With a cry of agony, Will landed with a heavy thud on the main deck, managing to land safely on his side rather than his back. The sting of cold air and salt water against the wounds on his back was enough to keep him wide awake as he desperately scrambled to his feet.

"You had it easy, boy!" the Bosun jeered from high above, but Will was not listening to him.

"Will!" the pale, cold hand of Bootstrap Bill Turner reached to help him up, but Will swatted it away.

"I don't need your help!" He growled at his father; his anger doubled in his pain. How could he? HOW COULD HE? His father, whom he had thought dead all these years – his father who had abandoned him and his mother to chase glory with pirates without looking back even once – Now he dared to act like he cared? Now? After whipping him on the orders of that Devil?!

Will did not know if he was shaking with pain or rage as he dragged himself up to stand against a piece of rigging.

"The bosun prides himself on cleaving flesh from bone with every swing," Boostrap called out as he threw Will his vest to cover his back.

"So I'm to understand what you did was an act of compassion?" Will snarled.

"Yes," Bootstrap said softly, his eyes wells of many swirling emotions. Pain, sorrow, grief, and yet there was also some relief there.

It hardly did Will any good to see it.

"Then I guess I am my father's son." He spat as he struggled to hold himself straight. "For nearly a year now, I've been telling myself I killed you – to save you!"

"You killed me?" Bootstrap blinked in confusion.

"I lifted the curse you were under, knowing it would mean your death," Will explained as he hobbled away, each step as painful as the last as his battered and bruised thighs burned under his weight "But at least you would no longer suffer the fate handed to you by Barbossa."

"Who…who's Barbossa?"

Will turned to face his father with a scowl, ready to snap at him, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw the man's face. He looked astonished…lost…, and confused. Will squinted. It seemed a genuine expression, and though he had barely any memories of his father as a child, he had a strange feeling that, like Will himself, Bootstrap Bill Turner was not good at masking his true emotions.

"Barbossa," Will prompted. "The man who condemned you to a life at the bottom of the ocean."

There was a pause during which Bootstrap seemed to consider this information. However, to Will's growing alarm, the man did not even register his name or the deeds he had committed. What Bootstrap did notice was the bewilderment on his son's face.

The pale waterlogged face softened as he strode to his side and said:

"The Dutchman is a strange place, son. Those who've done things to you, you tend to forget. But it's the things you've done to others…" he paused as his gaze swept sadly over Will's wet face. "Those are the things that hang on."

There was a pause as both Turner men stared at one another. Though nothing was said in words, Will could see the regret in his father's eyes…the grief and the desperation. All the words and apologies he wanted to say for years were in his eyes…but he was too scared to say them out loud.

Six months ago, such a sight would have made Will angry. But now…after everything that had happened recently…he understood the sentiment only too well.

So he let his father walk past him, letting the unsaid stay unsaid. Besides, those words were not meant for others' ears.

"Why do you forget?" Will asked as he and his father stepped under the shade of the upper deck, right next to a row of cannons illuminated by waxy candles encased in cage-like lanterns.

"It's part of the lie and the gift given by Jones." Bootstrap muttered as he shuffled before Will, treading the driest path on the damp, slimy floor. "Ye make the deal, join the crew. You think you're cheating the powers. But it's not salvation you found…" He paused in his step to stare Will coldly in the eye. "It's oblivion."

He turned back to his steps, gesturing for Will to follow him.

"Ye begin to forget." He muttered, "Losing who you were, bit by bit, till ye end up like poor Wyvern here." He pointed to one of the lanterns hanging from the wall.

Will glanced at the patch of wall and did a double take as he caught sight of an ancient weatherbeaten face almost hidden by the rot and coral. So aged and wrinkled was it that Will had thought it a carving that existed as part of the ship's woodwork. Yet as he looked harder at the man's face, he could vaguely discern where his neck and arms were, one of them permanently raised high as the lantern in his hand was solidified onto it by a mass of black…Will was unsure what it was, but it looked like hardened and filthy candlewax.

"Once you've sworn an oath to the Dutchman, there's no leaving it," Bootstrap explained grimly, his eyes welling with pity for his son's aghast expression. "Not until your debt is paid."

"I have sworn no oath," Will murmured, and Bootstrap sucked in a sharp breath as he desperately gripped his son's arm.

"Then you must get away." He whispered, but Will shook his head.

"I can't. My... someone I care about... someone very dear to me…" he gulped. "She's…she has a deal with Jones."

"She?" Bootstrap frowned, but then suddenly, his eyes widened. "Peggy?"

Will nodded, his gut twisting as he remembered that his father had known Peggy long before him. He was unsure what he would call the feeling jealousy…but it felt odd. He was not sure how to explain it. Envy perhaps? Envy that she had fond memories of the man when Will hardly knew him despite being his flesh and blood.

"Jack told me that the two of ye were close." Will felt his heart ache as his father's eyes sparkled in joy. "But he did not tell me the two of you were together. I should have known – I see the look in yer eye. The same I had when I met yer mother."

Then why didn't you stay with her? Why did you leave her behind with me if you loved her so much? Why did you leave us? Will wanted to say it out loud, but he squashed down the words hard. Now was not the time to rehash that old wound, as painful as it was.

"But if you two came here together," Bootstrap continued, stroking his chin. That must mean you're that married couple Jones brought aboard tonight."

"Yeah…that's us," Will grunted awkwardly, feeling his ears burn with embarrassment. Why did everyone on this ship think that he and Peggy were married? Then he remembered what Jones had said when he brought Peggy aboard…he had mentioned Jack…

Had Jack told the Devil that Will and Peggy were married?

Why? What good would that lie serve to Will's mission?

Whatever he's got planned, I don't think Jack would have told a lie like that if he didn't think it would work in our favour…or at least his favour. Will corrected himself as he fished into his pant pocket.

"That's why I came here. I need to free her. Jones tricked her into a deal and took her-"

"Aye, her pelt." Bootstrap nodded grimly. "The Captain keeps that under lock and key in his cabin. You'll be hard-pressed to find it without him noticing. A selkie's pelt is a rare treasure in these waters."

"How did you find out where it is?" Will frowned in wonderment to his father.

"I saw 'im with it once when old Silver down below sent me to deliver news on our stores a few weeks ago." Bootstrap reached up to the starfish on his face, which twitched and pulsed oddly at the memory. "I think he was tryin' to communicate with Peggy. I got punished for interruptin' him. Keeps it in a chest made of pure silver. Don't know where he keeps the key for it though."

Will nodded, quickly cataloguing that information. Good. At least he had a lead on one objective.

"And what about this?" Will held out the piece of cloth with the drawing of the old key. "The key."

There was a gasp, and Will and Bootstrap turned sharply to see a pair of murky, half-blind green eyes snap open in Wyvern's ancient face on the wall.

Will watched in horrified fascination as, with a strange creaking and crackling sound, Wyvern pried half of his withered coral and barnacle-covered body from the wall, leaving his brains and internal organs embedded into the ship's surface.

"The Dead Man's Chest." Wyverns' voice was as thin as paper and as wispy as the tiniest gust of wind as he looked down at the picture of the key in Will's hand.

"What do you know of this?" Will tilted the cloth towards the elder's face so he could see it better in the light of his lantern.

"Open the chest with the key," Wyvern mused, his voice distant as if trying to recall something from so very long ago "And stab the heart – no – no – Don't stab the heart!" he urged, eyes wide with dread at what he just said. "The Dutchman needs a living heart or there'll be no captain, and if there's no captain, there's no one to have the key."

"So the captain has the key?" Will urged but Wyvern flinched away from his eager face as if his words burned him. "where is the key?"

"Hidden," Wyvern whispered, his voice frightened as if the very Devil would crawl out of the woodwork to condemn him.

"Where is the chest?" Will tried prompting again.

"H-hidden." Wyvern breathed as he let himself melt back into the wall, his body moulding back into the wood and damp sea flotsam. He shut his eyes and his mouth, hardly moving even as Will quietly tried hissing his name.

After a few tries, Will realised the old man was literally and figuratively not going to budge.

"Yeah…he does that sometimes." Bootstrap sighed in exasperation, reaching out to take his son by the shoulder. "You should go down to your girl. You're in no state to continue working like this."

"What about you?" Will frowned at his father, who shrugged.

"I'll continue my shift. The captain might not blink an eye at you going down below to lick your wounds, but two of us…he'll get suspicious." he trailed off, and Will nodded in understanding.

"I'll…I'll see you later then," Will grunted as he turned, slumped down the stairs and into the blackness of the Flying Dutchman.

---

Tia Dalma smiled as she looked into her bowl of seawater and watched Will Turner stumble desperately through the bowls of the Flying Dutchman. His back was bleeding, but she could see from here his heart was ablaze with fire.

Finally, the wheels of fate were turning the right way. It had taken her a long time to manoeuvre the pieces so that the board ran in her favour, but it was all proving to be worth the risk. If the boy held to his promises and his heart, he would do well in playing his part.

The Voodoo Sea Witch exhaled heavily as she focused on moving her gaze to the red-haired woman cooking at a stove in the Dutchman's kitchen. Merely being so close to her pelt was doing her a world of good. Tia Dalma could only imagine how relieved the poor selkie would be of her burden when she finally wore it.

Still, for now, it was a start…

"Soon chil', soon ya will be whole again. Just don' give up yet. Not when ya so close." Tia Dalma's dark eyes burned as she clutched the silver crab musical box on the table beside her scrying bowl "Den we will both have our revenge."

---

"Ah, lad. You're early."

Peggy looked up from her spot by the stove as she splashed water on the fire below. She had been stirring a large pot of stew when Silver's voice had pierced her thoughts. It had been hours since Will's shift had started, and it would not be long till it was over. Soon, he and his fellow crewmates would be down and tired and ready for food and rest.

In the meantime, Peggy kept herself busy, taking stock of the stores, preparing the next meal, and somehow managing to repair a couple of shirts that had been brought to her.

From what she could see of the bloodstains in the material, the clothing must have been looted from the recent kills the crew had made aboard the scuttled ship earlier that night.

She shook her head as she turned to watch Will enter the kitchen, determined not to think about the grim chore, only to freeze at the sight of the blacksmith.

His face was pale, and his shirt was ripped open at the back. He took a timid and cautious step toward her, leaning forward to catch himself on the wall.

Then Peggy smelled the blood.

"Will!" She quickly left her cooling stew to dash towards him, nearly squeaking in alarm as he all but fell into her arms. "Will, what happened?"

"Whip." He grunted, his feet slipping as she hauled him onto the makeshift straw bed and sat him down clumsily.

He groaned as she crawled to sit behind him on the bed and began pulling off his vest.

"Will, please don't squirm." She growled as Will tried to shrug her off. "Let me see that-"

"I'm fine, Peg!" he grunted as he tried turning away from her, only to cry out as his back twisted and one of the wounds strained. "Don't! I just need to lie down and sleep it off."

"Not until I've had a look."

"Peg! It's not that bad-"

"I'll be the judge of that, William Turner." Peggy spat, a hint of fang baring as she managed to remove his vest and his shirt, only to gasp as the two halves split asunder under her light touch.

However, Peggy hardly cared about the ruined garment. Her eyes were on the five bleeding gashes carved into Will's tanned back.

"Oh, Will."

Will shut his eyes in dismay as he saw her water slightly. Incredible, he was supposed to protect her, yet she still bore his burdens.

"It's my fault. I didn't secure the mast tackle in time," Will muttered before she could open her mouth. "The cannon we used to offset the weight nearly crushed the crew."

"But no-one got hurt?" Peggy gulped down on her tears as she tried to pull herself together.

"No…not as far as I know." Will sighed, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees. "But the punishment was-ah!" he hissed in pain as her fingers accidentally grazed one of the marks.

"Don't! I said I'm fine!" he snapped, swatting away at Peggy as she opened her mouth to apologise. But before she could chide him for his childishness, Silver steamrolled over her in a surprisingly sharp, authoritative tone:

"Enough of that boy! Turn around and let me see the damage." The tone was so final, deadly, that Will shivered.

With a grunt, he reluctantly turned his back to face the older sailor, who squinted at the injuries.

"Hmm, don't seem too deep. Not the Bosun's handiwork. Oy girl, fetch some water, lemons, honey and bandages, there should be a needle and thread in there too just in case. There's a good lass."

Peggy nodded dutifully as she quickly dashed down the stairs into the storeroom, leaving Will to glower at the old cursed sailor in the chair.

"Thank you for the concern, but I'm sure I'll"

"Boy, shut it." Silver cut across him sternly, and though his body seemed frail, his brown eyes were sharp like swords. "If ye don't treat yer wounds on this ship, you'll end up with more barnacles than ye can take. The more of yerself ye lose, the less human ye become."

Will shut his mouth, horror and disgust filling him. Was this how the rest of the Dutchman crew became so hideously mutated? As all physical traces of their humanity were stripped away, the ocean's curse came and took its place.

At least with Barbossa's crew, it was a sudden change that could be undone with a finger…but this slow, unholy torture.

"Good ye finally understandin' something." Silver scoffed. "Now get that useless shirt off and lie on yer front. And when that girl gets back, ye better apologise fer yer cheek and let her heal you properly. She been worrying herself sick down here about ye, and now she's trying to help you; this is how ye treat her? By shoutin' at her and shovin' her around?"

"I wasn't trying to be ungrateful." Will snapped. "I was just…I don't want her to fret-"

"She's yer woman." Silver quirked a brow. "That's her job. Ter fret and care for ye in sickness and health the same way ye would do fer her. An' take it from me boy, you better take any care she can give ye because there ain't any other on this ship who would do the same for ye. Do ye know how many men aboard this ship would kill to be in yer place right now? Ter have someone love them so much they'd risk the Devil's wrath ter protect ye? Ye have a real treasure in yer hands. Don't toss it aside because yer pride got knocked around a bit. Now take off yer shirt and lie down on yer front. Don't make her job any harder than it already is."

Will stayed silent as he obeyed the stern command, his head bowed in shame, and he buried his face into his arms and lay down on his front. Though he could not possibly understand their entire situation, the old sailor's words hit him with the force of a battering ram.

His pride? Since when was his pride…but no…no, Silver was right. Will felt his gut sink as he heard Peggy's footsteps rush back towards the stairs.

There was a thud of a tray on wood, and Will felt Peggy's body heat settle beside him as she sat on the edge of the bed to examine the wounds again. God, she was warm. It took everything he had to stay still and not curl into her lap like a cat.

"Will?" Peggy timidly touched his shoulder.

"He's awake. Start treatin' him. I'll keep watch on the stove." Silver snorted, and for this, Will was grateful. He was not quite ready to face Peggy's upset face just yet.

"Tell me if it's too much, okay." Peggy gently stroked the top of his head,d and he nodded mutely to show he heard her.

The process was painful, not just physically. Will was almost glad of the cuts on his back because it allowed him to hide his wretched guilt.

Here she was offering him her help despite the fact it could put her in danger, and he was making her job harder by rejecting her aid and being a stubborn ass. Yes, he did not want to add to her burden, but pushing her away was only hurting her more. He could try and blame the pain of his wounds for his sour mood, along with the confusion still swirling in his gut from his father's re-emergence in his life, but even then, Will knew he had no excuse. Pain or no pain, anger or no anger, he had treated her poorly.

He had never done so to Elizabeth or any other person. He would politely assure them he was fine, or civilly decline help. But with Peggy…he had shoved her away so with such ease…as if it were second nature to snap at her so crudely.

How many years had he been doing this? When had he gotten so comfortable dismissing her concern for him? Then, to top it off, when she wanted her privacy to heal, he felt like he had a right to shove his concern for her down her throat.

I'm such a fool. He buried his face into his arms, his body wincing and tensing as she finished cleaning his wounds and began applying a salve of honey and lemon to each cut. All I do nowadays is hurt her. Still, she looks after me like this.

He groaned as Peggy smoothed some salve over one of the slightly deeper cuts on his back.

"Sorry," Peggy murmured tremulously as she pulled away to examine the remainder of her work. The wounds were shallow enough that they would not need stitches, but they still stung nastily. He was lucky he had not gone into shock. "Almost there, Will. Almost there."

Will's fingers gripped the sheets below tight as she resumed treatment, her fingers feather light as she did her best not to press down on the cut or bruised skin.

Such a gentle touch. He sucked in a deep breath to steady himself as she finished applying the salve, the combination of honey, lemon juice and seawater making his back burn and tingle as it disinfected the damaged skin.

"Will, do you think you could sit up?" Peggy stroked away his curls from his face. "I need to tie the bandages around you now."

Will nodded, cursing himself as his face leaned into her tender touch so eagerly, chasing the familiar warmth and softness even as he turned over to his side. And it wasn't just her hands on his face he chased. Every piece of skin she made contact with tingled and burned under her touch as she helped him sit up and began wrapping bandages around his chest.

"Not too tight, is it?" She murmured, and Will shook his head, feeling his cheeks burn as her fingers danced across his skin.

He remembered all the other times she had tended to his injuries…then the way she had touched him during that dinner before the fight at Isla De Muerta. The tender way she had held his hands, the graze of her lips against his, even when drunk…the warmth of her mouth against his when they had kissed by accident two days ago…

He remembered the day of Jack's execution when he had taken her aside to talk with her…how when she had breathed his name, he had found himself staring at her lips as his thumb had brushed them by accident, marvelling at their softness.

Or had it been an accident?

Now that Will thought about it, her touch had often made his skin tingle, even as an adolescent. It was one of the big reasons he had started holding back on hugging her and being tender with her in public when he was eighteen…when he had begun to notice how beautiful a woman she had become.

He remembered that day most clearly. He had returned home from the forge one evening, and she was alone in the tiny apartment, so she had not shut her bedroom door as she was changing. She was just as lovely then as she had been on the beach two days ago. Even just thinking about both instances made his stomach do strange things. Strange but pleasant things.

Two years ago, he had thought it was just his male body reacting to a woman's touch because of sin and temptation. Yet he had seen women in Tortuga bear just as much skin, which hardly affected him. His heart fluttered when he saw Elizabeth in her glorious wedding dress, but seeing Peggy standing on the deck at sunrise on the Black Pearl in her weathered shirt and breeches had him spellbound.

He chanced a peek up at her as she busied herself, tying a knot at the end of her handiwork to secure his bindings. Despite his misery, his heart swelled in his chest as he saw her brow furrow and her lips purse as she concentrated. How many times had he seen that expression on her face when she was scrubbing a stubborn stain on one of his shirts?

For one shining moment, Will could not see the dank, dark, depressing kitchen of Flying Dutchman. All he could see around them was him on his bed back at their old apartment while Peggy tended his bruises by the light of a dismal candle, pouting in concentration or snarling under her breath about Mister Brown.

"Will?" Peggy frowned as she looked up from her handiwork to see her friend's current state. She found him staring at her unblinkingly.

His gaze was oddly distant and wistful, yet intense. His eyes drifted down her face, drinking in all her features as if he were seeing them clearly for the first time.

She opened her mouth to ask him if he was in pain, only to blush as she noticed his gaze flicker down to her mouth. Her stomach jolted as she became aware of how close she had let herself get to him. They were nearly nose to nose now…and Will leaned in further as if to…

What am I doing?

Peggy quickly pulled back, eyes downcast as she shook her head. No…she was just being silly. Will was probably still in pain. Besides, why would he want to kiss her when he was betrothed to his beloved Elizabeth?

"All done, " she murmured, her eyes averted and completely ignoring the stricken expression on Will's face as she pulled away. "You should lie down and rest. Dinner will be ready soon."

"What about you?" Will asked softly, taking one of her hands in his. "You need to sleep too."

"I'll sleep after the next watch comes down and eats." She shrugged, but Will could see the bags under her tired and puffy eyes. "There must be a spare hammock somewhere."

"Hammock?" Will frowned. "Just sleep next to me-"

"Will, you need space to rest properly-"

"So do you." Will's hand gripped hers tighter. "There's more than enough space for us both if we sleep on our sides, and if you sleep in the crew quarters, you'll be in danger-"

"Boy's right." Silver grunted from his spot by the fire. "This is the safest place for ye girl, and ye'll be doing yer friend Bootstrap a disservice if ye don't accept the kindness he showed ye. Now, if ye two don't mind, I will settle back in for another nap. Do try to keep the noise down." He waved Peggy and Will off as he slumped back in his chair.

It was almost impressive how swiftly he started to snore as soon as he had pulled his fur blanket high enough on his lap.

"That geezer could sleep through a hurricane sent by Zeus." Peggy rolled her eyes at the elderly cursed sailor as he opened his mouth and saliva dribbled out of the side.

Will, however, was a little more bitter as he said:

"You knew my father was alive?"

"Not until tonight. Silver told me just after you left." Peggy bit her lip only to blink in surprise at him. "Wait…how did you-"

"I met him up on deck." Will grunted, lip curling in bitterness as his back prickled at the memory "You haven't seen him yet?"

Peggy shook her head. "I've been stuck in here. When Silver told me he was alive, I could hardly believe it. I was…I hoped to see him when he came off his shift…I…I haven't seen him since the mutiny…I never thanked him for trying to save me-"

"Save you?" Will narrowed his eyes.

"When Koehler and Twigg came to grab me from my cabin, your father stood in their way. He tried to stop them throwing me overboard, but he got knocked out. That was the last I saw of him before he…and it was one of the reasons Barbossa ordered him to…to…" She trailed off, gulping down on the lump in her throat.

Will's heart felt heavy in his chest as the gravity of her words sunk like a stone in the ocean.

"You never mentioned that before…" he mumbled.

"I thought if you knew about my part in his death…you'd…you'd hate me." She whispered. "If I had just woken up sooner, I could have helped him-"

Her words were cut off as Will, ignoring the searing pain in his back, wrapped his arms around her tight.

"It's not your fault."

"Will-"

"It's not your fault. So please don't feel guilty." Will kissed her forehead bracingly, breathing in the smell of her hair and relishing in the feel of her skin against his even as the cold metal of her-wait, cold metal?

"Will, what's wrong?" Peggy frowned, her eyes still teary, as Will quickly pulled back and looked her up and down.

Finally, his eyes landed on her chest where her silver and abalone shell necklace hung.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, tilting his head curiously. "You weren't wearing that when we came aboard."

"I…I think Jack left it to me before I left the Pearl," Peggy whispered. "He snuck it down my shirt. One last dig at me, I guess…for betraying him." Peggy added morosely, only to feel Will's fingers graze her sternum as he reached out to take the oval pendant in his hand and turn it over.

"I don't think so." Will examined the piece critically: "I saw him fiddling with it just before I came to see you in your nook. He tried to fit something inside but wouldn't show me what it was. Whatever he's up to, I don't think he'd have left it to you without a purpose…nor would he abandon you as easily as this."

"I don't know about that. Jack can be very vengeful when he wants to be."

"Not when it comes to you." Will shook his head. "I've seen it, Peg. You're probably one of the few things he cares about other than rum and that ship of his. Even after everything, I don't think he'll give you up without a fight. Hell, you could kill Gibbs, and Jack would probably forgive you and let you get away with it-"

"Will…you didn't see him this time. I really hurt him-"

"Hurt or not, Jack won't abandon you. I know it. Here, I'll prove it."

"I'm not so sure about it this time", Peggy sniffed, curiosity winning over her lingering grief as Will carefully fiddled with the clasp on the front of the locket. "Besides, you can't fit much in there save a lock of hair."

Click!

"Or a small piece of paper." Will smiled triumphantly as he held the pendant out in his palm, open and waiting for her. There, already unfolding on its own, was a small square of parchment.

"I'll never figure out how you manage that with those big fingers of yours," Peggy muttered mulishly, and Will smirked fondly down at her annoyed pout.

"Trade secret. Now take it quickly." He glanced warily at Silver, who was still snoring in his chair. "Before he wakes up."

Peggy took the paper and quickly unfolded it, her watering eyes spilling over as her eyes swept down the small scrap of paper.

"Jack…" She breathed as she scanned the page again, eyes wide in awe and disbelief. "You bastard. You utter bastard."

"What does it say?" Will stared in alarm, only to find the paper thrust into his hands.

Will looked at the paper, eyes straining as he tried to discern Jacks' tiny chicken scratch in black ink.

"Nice try, Pegsy. Thought you could pull the wool over my eyes, did you? Well you thought wrong.
That squid-faced bastard may own your soul, but you're still MY cabin girl, you brat.
If you want to make it up to me, you better find me that key and return to the Pearl when you're done.
Make sure your whelp doesn't get himself into any more trouble. I ain't cleaning up any more of his messes.
– Jack.
P.S. Give Jones hell and show him no quarter. Captain's orders."

"I'm going to kill him," Peggy mumbled as Will looked up at her and was surprised to see that though she was once again crying, there was the faintest hint of a smile. "If I see him again, I'm going to bloody kill him."

"I told you he wouldn't abandon you." Will grinned as he cupped her cheek and kissed her head. "And neither will I. We'll find that key together and your pelt, and you'll be free."

"You really shouldn't," Peggy whispered into his shoulder. "You're already in enough trouble because of me as it stands. If Jones finds out-"

"He won't. And if he does, I'll take the fall."

"Will, he'll kill you, or worse, he'll-"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Will whispered fiercely, wiping away her tears. And before you say anything about dying or the Selkie bond, let me say this: Whatever happens after we find the key and your pelt, at least you'll be free. Of course, I'm still going to save you. And I will. Don't you dare say it's impossible, " he added fiercely when she opened her mouth to object. "You just thought Jack couldn't forgive you after you betrayed him, yet he still trusts you. So believe me when I say we will make it through this. We will." He leaned his forehead against hers as she sighed in exasperation.

"And if I do die. Will, don't! You know it could happen."

"Then I guess I'll have to follow you to the afterlife and drag you back home." Will snorted, and Peggy rolled her eyes.

"You…" she sucked in a sharp breath to soothe her frustration. "You are the most stubborn, stupid man I have ever met."

"Yes, I am..." Will muttered, his mind sparking as he remembered her words from that night in the Black Pearl's dining room as he murmured into her crown. "I'm your stubborn, stupid man."

"But Elizabeth-" Peggy started to say, but Will sighed.

"She might be my fiancé…but I have been – have always been, your idiot…yours." He mouthed that last word so quietly Peggy did not hear it.

"Hmm? What?" her brow furrowed, only for her to jolt in shock as someone banged loudly on the kitchen door.

"OY! GIRL! WHERE ARE OUR RATIONS? WE'RE STARVIN'!"

"Go…" Will whispered, wincing as he twisted his injured back. "I'm going to lie down for a bit."

"You should eat something, " Peggy said, biting her lip as she stood and dusted herself off.

"So should you." Will shot back, quirking his brow as she shrugged.

"I'll eat after I'm done serving."

"Then I'll eat with you."

"The food will be cold by then."

"Knowing you're cooking, it'll still be delicious." Will took her hands in his and kissed the backs of them warmly. "I'm sorry I was acting so beastly earlier."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not." Will shook his head. "I should not have snapped at you like that, no matter how much pain I was in. I swear, I will do better by you in the future."

"OY GIRLIE COME ON! HURRY UP!" a man's voice yelled on the other side of the door, waking Silver up with an undignified spluttering snort.

"Ey?! Whoosaat yellin'?" the old man grunted, glowering at Will and Peggy irritably. "Come on, girl, ye can canoodle with yer beau later. You got a job to do now."

"Aye, Mister Silver." Peggy blushed in embarrassment, quickly extracting her hands from Will's, her heart hammering in her chest even as she opened the door to admit the queue of tired and grouchy undead sailors for their dinner.

---

"Captain? Captain, can I come in?" Gibbs gulped as he quietly poked his head inside the door of his captain's quarters

It had been a few hours since the Black Pearl had left the Flying Dutchman behind, Will and Peggy along with it.

Ay, lass, what have ye gone and gotten yourself messed up with? Gibbs shook his head as Jack grunted and waved a hand at him to enter.

The Captain was sitting in a chair, his feet resting on his small wooden desk over the top of a stack of maps that had once been neatly organised by Peggy's careful hand earlier in the day. To Gibb's surprise, the man seemed oddly calm and collected.

Now, Gibbs did not expect Jack to trash his living quarters. No, the captain's rage was rarely, if ever, violent unless he had drunk too much rum. But to be this calm and, dare he say it, at ease, especially after losing someone as precious to him as his cabin girl…something didn't add up. Gibbs felt rather like he had missed something very important and was not sure he liked it.

"Still up and about, Mister Gibbs."

"Can't sleep," Gibbs grunted, holding two bottles of rum. "And I figured you couldn't either. So, I figured, if neither of us can sleep, we might as well have a friendly nightcap. Could use it after all the chaos of today."

"No arguments there, mate." Jack nodded, accepting a bottle from his oldest friend, who sat at the edge of his desk and took a long swig.

"The crew all bitchin' and moanin' about what I did to Pegsy ey?" Jack sighed after a sip.

"Some of them. That Sloane boy is steamin' mad that ye let her go. He may just kill ye the next time he sees ye." Gibbs added, and Jack snorted into his bottle, gesturing for the old sailor to continue, "A couple are bitchin' about her betrayin' us. Seem to think that we should have seen it comin' with her bein' a redhead an' all that."

"But you don't feel angry at her at all?" Jack frowned with intrigue.

"Red hair bein' bad luck. Yes, I do believe it." Gibbs snorted, taking another hearty swig. "But Peggy bein' a traitor? No. Say what ye will about Selkies an' their witchcraft, but I don't believe a girl like Peggy would have joined a monster like Jones for a second…at least not of her own free will."

"That's what I thought too," Jack murmured, and Gibbs nearly choked on his rum. "The brat's too soft-hearted to follow a captain like him."

"You knew?!" Gibbs spluttered, coughing roughly as rum went down the wrong pipe. "You knew she was working for Jones all this time?!"

"Knew? Of course, I knew." Jack scoffed, waving Gibbs off irritably. "Saw the mark on her scrawny wrist the night we escaped Pelecostos. Silly girl was too busy drinking and crying over the bloody whelp to notice it wasn't covered up."

"And ye just let her go back to the Devil?" Gibbs stared incredulously at him. "Unless…wait, she's not in on the plan with Turner, is she? Because I swear, we didn't discuss this."

"She's part of the plan, yes," Jack answered carefully. "Like you said, we needed a second man on the inside to help the whelp in his search. Who better than Pegsy? Jones was taking her anyway, and yeah, bloody stupid Will broke her heart, but the two of them are a good team, all things considered." He admitted almost bitterly. "But no…she was not in on the plan. She will be now if everything's gone right and she's found me message-"

"But she was not in the know when ye talked with Jones?" Gibbs frowned. "Bit of a risk ye took there, Jack. Hoodwinkin' the devil himself-"

"That's exactly why I had to risk it." Jack clipped, "The girl has always been shit at lying. Jones would have seen her act from a mile off if she was faking it. Had to make it look as real as possible if it's going to work."

"She'll kill you when this is all over." Gibbs chuckled. "When she realises that you tugged her heartstrings like that."

"Nah, mate, she won't," Jack smirked smugly as he raised his rum bottle to his lips again. "Oh yeah, she might smack me around a bit, but she loves me too much to kill me."

Gibbs shook his head, knowing that while his captains' words were valid, Peggy's wrath would be something to behold. She always hated being on the receiving end of Jack's manipulations. He'd be receiving more than an earful for this one.

"So…you're not angry with her after all? Not really?"

"What angry? With Pegsy? Of course, I'm bloody angry!" Jack scoffed bitterly. "Stupid selkie brat goes and makes a deal with the devil behind my back. What's she thinkin' ey? Bloody hell, I wanted to wring her neck when I saw that mark on her. Jones don't give that to just anyone, ye know. That's only for the really disobedient crew that gets deep into the shits. How the hell did Pegsy, of all people, get into such bad debt with the Devil? Even I don't have that mark after all I did!"

"Well, she was supposed to spy on ye for thirteen years." Gibbs shrugged. "And she only did that for two and a half. The rest she spent with Turner."

"That bloody whelp," Jack muttered. "So he breaks her heart and signs her death warrant twice? And she still loves him? Now I'm really pissed." He took a swig and sighed, and Gibbs frowned as a sudden thought seized him.

"Selkie..."

"What?" Jack looked up from his bottle of rum and saw Gibbs staring into the contents of his drink with a thoughtful expression.

"Davy Jones is a ferryman for dead human souls, right?"

"Correct," Jack nodded, gesturing for Gibbs to continue.

"Well, Pegsy ain't dead, nor is she a human. She's a child of the ocean, an' from what the legends of Davy Jones say, he ain't allowed to touch the children of the oceans. Unless-"

"Unless they make a deal that satisfies the old ways of the ocean, yes," Jack confirmed, rolling his eyes as memories of his old, gnarly grandmother forcing him to read a gigantic tome filled his mind's eye. Boy, he did not miss those days at all. "Where's this goin' Gibbs?"

"Well," Gibbs coughed and cleared his throat "Ye don't think he has her pelt, do ye? From what I remember of the old tales, once a man has a selkie's pelt, they are bound-"

"-to his will." Jack finished softly, eyes glazing in wonderment. So that was why they had never found her pelt. She was not keeping it a secret from them. She had no access to it while that old squid-faced monster kept it under lock and key.

"Well, whatever Jones has done with her pelt, knowin' that blighter, he's probably got it on the Dutchman with him or else Pegs would have gone to find it by now. Selkies are pretty sensitive to that sorta thing. An' I can't see Jones keepin' such a valuable treasure too far from reach, not when he can use it to control her so easily. If she's goin' to get it back, she's on her own. Or that whelp can help her." Jack snorted scathingly. "He broke her heart; it's the least he can do to make it up to her, short of takin' her place and droppin' dead himself."

"Jack-"

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you bought his heartbroken act?"

"It ain't an act, Jack, an' ye know it. Yes, the lad is a bit of an idiot…well…no, he's a massive idiot." Gibbs corrected himself before quickly adding, "But he ain't the first young fool to break a woman's heart. He isn't the first stupid young man to break a selkie's heart, either. But at least he's tryin' to make things right. Even ye can't deny him that."

"Hmph! Just you watch me." Jack growled mutinously, and Gibbs sighed. On this point, he'd never reach out to Jack. The man was too personally involved for him to have any unimpaired judgment on the situation…though Gibbs could hardly blame him for that.

"So then…What do we do now?" the old sailor murmured, "Do we tell the crew-"

"Of course, we tell them. Can't have another mutiny on our hands because I left Pegsy to die," Jack grunted as he raised his bottle to his lips. "But first, mate, let's finish off this rum. Seems a shame to let it go to waste."

"Amen to that."

---

PHEW! Here we are. Yes, I went for a monster of a chapter, but I could not find a point that felt natural to stop until that last bit.

On that note, naughty-naughty Jack! tricking poor Peggy into believing he was abandoning her. Well, it would not be the first time he manipulated other people, and he saw the mark on her wrist earlier (kudos to those who noticed that small detail). I incorporated the extended version of Will and Bootstraps conversation from the DMC deleted scenes, with a few extra details. And Will is finally getting off his arse and figuring SOMETHING out about his feelings for Peggy! God, it took him effing long enough! (Yes, I know, I'm the author, and I made him that way in this fic, but even I was getting sick of his obliviousness, and like Jack, I felt he needed the effing kick up the pants...or a smack around with the whip as it were). And finally, FINALLY, Peggy told Will everything. GHAH, I'm relieved to get that bit over and done.

My new OC Silver is a super-massive reference to Long John Silver from Treasure Island. I've been bing reading many of the old fiction classics recently since i realised i know a lot of pop culture references surrounding them but have never actually read much of them. I've just finished reading Dracula as I was getting hyped for Robert Eggers Nosferatu (which is excellent btw) and also finished reading Treasure Island which i enjoyed immensely. Long John is such a nuanced grey character, which is highly unusual for the genre and time it was published. In many ways, he's a lot like Jack Sparrow in that he's morally grey and does bad things for his selfish gain while still having a soft spot for the protagonist (though Jack decides to go in a more 'heroic' direction while Long John is more an antagonist). So far, my fave renditions of Long John Silver are from Disney's Treasure Planet (That film is gorgeous and deserves more love), the TV show Black Sails (just starting season 1, and I'm enjoying it) and, of course,, Muppet Treasure Island with Tim Curry (One of my fave childhood films). Actually, I always thought it was a shame Tim Currey never got to cameo in the POTC franchise. That alone would have been epic, but alas...that will never be...*sigh* oh well, I can still fan-cast him as Silver in this fic.

Speaking of Fan casting, who would you guys pick to cast as Peggy or Sloane? I've been trying to figure it out in my head, but can't pick actors that would fit their appearance-wise.

But enough about me gushing on and on. It might be a while before I post again because I have a few things happening over the next few weeks that will take up a lot of time. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this monster of a chapter.

Please keep reviewing, faving, following and reading for more if you enjoyed it.

Thanks

FuzzyBeta