i apologize for my lateness! my life is crazy right now and i can't find time to write. there will probably be a disappointing wait between this book and book three. school is taking up all of my headspace. that being said, enjoy the chapter!

"I heard something about Will's father?" Joanna posited.

Jack tossed her an unreadable glance. They were zipping through grass and palm trees, carving a path to the beach and their escape. Hopefully, Will and Elizabeth were on their tail.

"I take it you knew about that, too," Joanna accused. "Jackass."

"He's the one who showed up to give me the spot -- happened while you were away. 'M sure Gibbs had a riot, telling you how scared I was." Joanna cast Jack a surprised glance, but his eyes were locked on their destination. "Anyway, half his face's a starfish, now. Used to be a looker." The pensive line of Jack's mouth was replaced by a salacious smirk.

Joanna did not have the heart to ask if Jack had had sex with Will's dad.

Instead, she mused: "So Bootstrap Bill has been imprisoned for ten, fishy years."

The revelation of Will's dad, alive, left a strange taste in Joanna's mouth. Since Joanna had met Will Turner, he spoke of his predecessor less and less, inching away from the boy who had burst into John Brown's smithy with aspirations of combing the sea for his estranged father. Will's memories of William Turner, Sr, were unintelligible and smoke-like.

The proud Joanna of the present frowned, thinking of her own distant father. I owe him nothing, she thought. She clenched her jaw. Will owes his father even less.

Joanna's wrath at neglectful fathers was out of place on this heartless island. Setting her pique aside, she looked curiously at Jack. "You made a deal with Jones, yet you haven't gone squidy."

"Our deal was a tad different." Jack conceded. "If you ain't noticed, luv, he's been making an impressive effort to cash in on it, the past few days."

"I noticed," Joanna agreed dryly. She wrestled with herself -- her longing to know Jack's past versus her desire to respect his privacy -- but her selfishness won out. Joanna plucked one of Jack's wrists from the air, forcing him to a halt. "Jack -- will you tell me?"

Jack stared at her, his expression stuck halfway between amusement and disbelief. "You gotta decide if you wanna shoot me or seduce me, darling. Can't keep switching back 'n forth."

Caught off guard, Joanna floundered for words. She wet her lips. "You like it."

Silence stretched between them, broken by the far-off clang of swords and the warm breeze. Finally, slowly, Jack smiled. "You caught me," he said, catching one of her hands in his. "C'mon, before we have company."

They emerged from the sparse shade of the trees into the unforgiving sunshine of the beach. As they trotted through white sand, Jack seemed thoughtful, swinging their entwined hands between them. Joanna waited patiently, feeling as though she had pushed enough for one day,

Finally, Jack offered, "The Black Pearl and the Wicked Wench are the same ship."

Joanna couldn't restrain a gasp as the puzzle pieces came together. She marveled, "So...after Beckett had burned your ship -- the Wench -- Jones resurrected her?"

"And me," Jack added mildly.

Joanna's head snapped around to gawk at him.

"Useful skill, innit," Jack commented as they splashed to a stop beside the boat. The tide was coming in; Jack shot the rising water a hateful glance. His gaze next swept the length of the longboat. "Jar of dirt," he muttered.

Joanna was a bit caught up in Jack's admission, but she managed to say, "It's beneath the front seat."

"Oh, thank you, luv," Jack said, scooping it up.

Joanna hovered over his shoulder, bemused to see Jack tossing dirt in every direction. She cleared her throat. "Are you building more sandcastles?"

"No." Finishing spraying sand every which way, Jack salvaged the heart from his inner pocket. He stuffed it in the jar and began sloppily recovering it. "I'm bein' clever."

"Hm. Aren't you always." With a faint smile, Joanna swiveled to face the beach and nearly ate the sharp blade of a cutlass.

She yelped and ducked clumsily, knocking into Jack and sending them both crashing to the shallow water. The Dutchman who had nearly cleaved her head from her shoulders advanced with a growl. Joanna scrambled to unsheath her sword. She was just in time to parry a fast, downward blow, saving both her and Jack from being split in half.

Joanna leaped to her feet as the Dutchman wound up for another swing. She blocked this attack, too, and yelled at Jack: "Could use a little help!"

"But you're doing so well!" Nonetheless, an oar came swinging through the air to strike the back of the Dutchman's knee. There was a grotesque crack and the man, who looked more like a pufferfish, collapsed with a shout. Joanna grit her teeth and buried her dao in the man's back.

The beach was coming alive, flooded by the malicious members of Davy Jones' crew. The Pearls were easily out-numbered. Joanna saw that Pintel and Ragetti still carried the chest, guarded by Elizabeth. She was an army unto herself, carving a path with her double swords. Wow, Joanna thought absently.

"I know, right?" Jack agreed ardently. Joanna realized with a blush that she had spoken out loud. "On your left, darling," he said, stepping in front of her to wield his oar.

Jack parried; Joanna slipped under his arm. She chopped at a knee; Jack jammed the oar under a chin dripping in seaweed. The opponent went down with a groan and a splash. Joanna and Jack exchanged a grin.

As they parried and swiped, hacked and stabbed, Joanna reflected that amid giant squids, supernatural hearts, and tricky bargains, it was easy to forget something important: Jack and I make a good team.

Rumbling beneath Joanna's feet announced the arrival of the towering, still-turning water wheel. Will and Norrington had ceased fighting; instead, they gripped tightly to the spokes and held on for dear life. The fighting stuttered as they sped by, each pirate momentarily spellbound by the sight.

A moment later, the wheel crashed to the ground, sending ripples of shivering water. Joanna winced in sympathy, praying Will was alright.

Distracted, she lost track of Jack. A quick scan of the beach located him -- swinging his oar in all directions, dreadlocks swirling around his head. The deadly tornado better known as Elizabeth Swann spun nearby.

As Joanna evaded one final Dutchman, tripping him and burying her heel in the back of his head, she noticed something alarming: James Norrington, stumbling to a stop beside the longboat. She saw his calculating gaze sweep over the sand dusting the seats.

"No!" She breathed urgently, bolting in his direction. Joanna's feet seemed to move in slow motion through the soggy sand.

Norrington caught her eye as she raised her sword, preparing to strike. She was breathless with panic, unafraid to kill him. He can't have it! was the mantra ringing through her mind.

Her tizzy made her sloppy. Joanna's poor form left too many openings in the face of the cunning former commodore. The second oar lay prone in the longboat -- Norrington seized it, swung, and Joanna saw stars.

...

Joanna swam back to consciousness slowly. Her entire head ached, from her injured ear to the tip of her nose. The ground rocked beneath her. I'm on the Pearl, she realized belatedly.

Cracking open her eyes, she came face-to-face with Elizabeth Swann. "Hello," Elizabeth greeted with a beneficent smile.

Joanna grunted in reply, raising herself onto her elbows. Her gaze flickered around, seeking something; when Joanna found it, her heart lurched.

Will lay at her side, slumbering but alive.

"God," Joanna whispered, passing a hand over her eyes. She looked again -- Will had not disappeared in a plume of smoke. "God. Will."

Elizabeth was silent as Joanna drank in the sight of him -- her brother -- breathing. "You really thought he was dead," she observed quietly.

The pounding against Joanna's skull only increased as she sat up, but she rose anyway. "Yeah. I did." As she pressed her fingertips into her temples, she noticed the lack of cloth around her head.

"Your bandages," Elizabeth interjected, perhaps after noticing a shift in her expression. "They were caked in sand -- I'm sorry if I overstepped by removing them."

Joanna tilted her head, listening hard to the bustle of the ship and the whisper of the ocean. When she passed her fingertips over her right ear, she found stiff cartilage and scabs. "I don't mind," she replied, reassuring Elizabeth with a smile. Joanna indicated Will, asking, "Did he also get knocked in the head?"

"Yes." Tenderly, Elizabeth traced the line of Will's cheekbone with her index finger. Will snuffled in his sleep. "Jack got him with an oar."

"Revenge," Joanna murmured amusedly, thinking of Will smacking Jack to the ground at Isla de Muerta. Sorry, Jack. I won't be your leverage.

With more alarm, Joanna remembered her own unpleasant experience of being bonked with an oar. Norrington.

"Jack," Joanna said suddenly, getting her feet beneath her. "Where is he?"

Elizabeth's eyebrows raised at her sudden gravity. "He's not hard to find."

Indeed he wasn't. Joanna found him loitering around his favorite haunt, the helm. When Joanna arrived, Jack was talking to Gibbs in a low voice, one hand on the Pearl's wheel, one hand on the jar of dirt. She interrupted loudly, "Jack -- I need to talk to you. Now."

Joanna was met with surprise, but a brief read of her expression had Jack's brow furrowing. "Alright," he said, relinquishing his gentle grip on the Pearl. Cotton, a silent sentinel nearby, took over.

Joanna seized Jack's arm and nodded at Gibbs, drawing them away from prying ears. "Please don't panic," she prefaced.

Gibbs paled. Jack smiled blithely. "That doesn't sound like me."

Under normal circumstances, perhaps. Under the circumstances of being prey, however, Jack had performed a considerable amount of panicking. Joanna bit those words back and jumped to the point. "Norrington has the heart. I tried to stop him, but..." Joanna pointed a finger at the growing bump on her forehead.

Jack joined Gibbs in looking ghostly. He said, in a small voice, "Okay."

"That's -- that's bad," Gibbs contributed.

Joanna deadpanned, "Yeah." She abruptly reached for Jack's hand; ripping the fabric wrapping his palm aside, she revealed what she had feared. Jack looked grim as she replaced the flimsy covering. "The spot's back. You didn't say anything."

"That's bad!" Gibbs emphasized.

"I promise, it genuinely never came up," Jack replied with an air of hysteria. So abruptly Joanna was startled into dropping his hand, he turned serious. "You stole my Letters."

"I promise, I'm genuinely sorry." Joanna cringed. She reached into her coat, grasping for the sheaf. "It was impulsive."

Joanna's stomach dropped with distress. She turned out her pockets, finding only air. Now, Joanna felt herself go pale.

Jack's eyes thinned. Gibbs guessed weakly, "Norrington?"

Joanna bobbed her head numbly. The three of them stared despairingly at each other, each hoping the next person would come up with something, anything. There wasn't enough time -- from behind Joanna came the roar of water, announcing the arrival of the very last ship the Pearls wanted to see.

Joanna turned slowly, dread brewing in her heart, to see the Flying Dutchman emerging from the waves like Aphrodite. Water gushed from her gunports and seaweed dripped from her masts. The sight sucked the air from Joanna's chest -- it was terrifying and magnificent. Over her shoulder, Gibbs muttered a prayer and crossed himself.

A white-knuckled grip embraced Joanna's arm. Setting her jaw, Joanna pried Jack's hand from her wrist and tightly entwined their fingers.

Gibbs shuddered, eyes on the maw of the Dutchman. "Y'have a plan, Captain?"

Jack nodded stiffly. "Bluff," he explained shortly.

Joanna took one look at Jack and determined his poker face was not up to par. Resolved, she said "I'll handle it" and whisked the jar of dirt from beneath Jack's arm.

Jack's eye twitched, but he allowed the trespass. Joanna felt his eyes on her back as she marched away. Think like Jack! She firmly ordered herself.

Joanna opened her mouth and what fell out was her best effort: "Hey! Fish face!"

Quiet fell between the two ships, replacing vile jeers and terrified murmurs. All eyes flew to the short woman who brandished a jar of dirt above her head.

Joanna's heart nearly stopped when Davy Jones met her eyes. She shivered, set her jaw, and pressed onward.

"Come to negotiate?" She yelled to Jones. Jittery with nerves, Joanna trotted down the stairs to the main deck. She breezed by Will (awake) and Elizabeth (still awake), who gaped openly at her charade. "You slimy prick! Look what I've got!" Shaking the jar for emphasis, Joanna bared her teeth in a grin. "I've got a jar of dirt! And guess what's inside it!"

Dead silence followed Joanna's claim. Then, a snarl from the still-dripping Dutchman: "Enough!"

"Enough" evidently meant to run out all cannons. The mouth-shaped ports of the Flying Dutchman creaked open -- steaming cannons slid out, gleaming in the midday sun. A cacophony of deriding cheers arose from her moss-slick decks.

"Hard to starboard!" The hoarse call came from the helm -- Jack, leaning over the rail and looking fierce.

The stunned-still ship burst into action, spurred on by Elizabeth repeating the call. Will yelled, "Raise up the foreyard!" as if he knew what that meant.

Joanna swallowed her screams. As the first cannonball struck water, sending a great explosion of white foam up the side of the Pearl, she fought to keep Davy Jones within her sights. Had I your heart, I would stab it, she thought hatefully.

Her next stop was the helm. Jack remained prone over the rail, knife-sharp eyes wracking over the deck. "Jar of dirt." Joanna announced, planting it firmly beside his elbow.

Jack shot it a terse glance. With one flick of his marked hand, he knocked the thing flying to the main deck below.

Joanna's jaw dropped with surprise. "I see." The elated grin spreading across her face was tempered by the crack of cannons and the resounding spray of wood chips and shrapnel.

When Joanna ducked, she felt Jack's warmth behind her, shielding her from a shower of grey-speckled sawdust. "A brilliant bluff, luv," he said against her good ear before slipping away, drawn by fate to the Pearl's helm.

To herself, Joanna grinned.

...

A fear-driven combination of quick work and prayer led them out of the Dutchman's range. The Black Pearl flew over the waves, white spray rising from beneath her bow.

Elizabeth was shocked, watching the shrinking Dutchman with cautious optimism. "She's falling behind!"

"We're the faster?" Will, breathless and haggard, was not far from her side.

Joanna prepared to launch into a grandiose speech defending the Pearl's speed and grace, but Gibbs popped up beside her. "Against the wind, the Dutchman beats us -- that's how she gets her prey. But with the wind..."

"We rob her advantage," Will murmured, gaze zeroing in on the greenish silhouette of the death ship.

Above their heads, Marty dangled in the ratlines. "They're turnin' away!" He crowed. The crew followed his cue into a rousing cheer.

Joanna felt emboldened by their vicious spirit, but Jack's appearance at her side stifled her mood. His mouth was drawn into a thin, displeased line. "I've still got the spot," he said in a low voice, dark eyes flickering between those assembled -- Joanna, Will, Elizabeth, and Gibbs. "An' I've personally no idea how to kill a kraken."

Will's eyes were narrow. "My father is on that ship," he stated flatly. Joanna didn't hide her surprise as she stared at him. You can excuse years of absence, just like that? A glance to her right revealed her wide eyes mirrored in Elizabeth's face. "If we can outrun her, we can take her. We should turn and fight!"

Jack's eyebrows raised. "We're outgunned and outmanned," he pointed out. His fingers curled through the air, a simultaneously arrogant and timid gesture. "Even for your dear ol' da, Will, 's not an option."

Gibbs observed the unsteadiness in Jack's habitually flamboyant gesticulations and scowled. "Damn the Commodore," he muttered crossly.

The knife of guilt impaled Joanna's heart. She opened her mouth to meekly apologize for Norrington getting away -- for her sloppy swordwork, her unshakable habit of panicking under pressure, her inability to bluff Davy Jones into surrender -- but the Pearl was suddenly shaken by a massive judder.

After a beat of tense silence, Jack muttered, "Bugger."

"Time to figure out how to kill a kraken," Joanna pronounced with a smile she did not feel.

Will's expression shifted from righteous to determined. "I've seen it before."

"You've what?" Demanded Joanna and Elizabeth.

"You're the king of excellent timing, I'll give you that, whelp. An' now you're bein' promoted!" Chirped Jack. He seized Will's sleeve and dragged him unceremoniously to center deck, flapping his free hand above his head to garner attention. "Oi! Listen quick, or you're kraken bait!"

Merely the word kraken was enough to perk up the ears of the crew. Jack gestured grandly to Will, indicating the floor was his.

Will wasted no time getting on his soapbox. Jaw set, he ordered, "Ready the guns."