art credited to darrel warner. i grabbed this sketch from bring me that horizon: the making of pirates of the caribbean. in dmc concept art, elizabeth is usually depicted with short hair! it's a crime that didn't make it into the film, so i'm writing lizzie with short hair in my story. there's a cute visual for ya. xo

Joanna woke slowly, draped over her bedmate like a shroud.

Beneath her cheek, Jack's chest was vibrating from cheerful humming. His fingers skipped up-and-down the raised bumps of her spine. "Maraud and embezzle, and even high-jack," he murmured.

"Drink up me hearties, yo ho," Joanna rasped, her voice rough from sleep. Her nose wrinkled. "You smell."

"You smell," Jack retorted. "But I'm polite enough to say nothing."

"Well, pardon me." Joanna heaved herself into a sitting position with effort. She smiled down at him, fond of his disheveled hair and bright eyes. "How're you?"

Grinning a challenge, Jack raised his chin. "Sore."

"At least I left you in one piece." Joanna indicated her right ear, or lack thereof, with amusement. "Help me change the bandages?"

"'Course, Anna." Jack wiggled out from underneath her, bouncing to his feet with uncanny energy. He searched the floor, kicking around various articles of clothing in search of his own. "Will you paint my eyes?"

Joanna's face heated. "Of course," she replied, ducking her head to hide a smile. She proposed, "And after that, we can talk to Elizabeth."

Jack's mood dove smoothly into a sulk.

...

The balmy morning found Elizabeth standing over the rail of the Pearl, staring wistfully into the bright sea as if the waves could return Will Turner to her.

Joanna and Jack eyed her from across the deck with equal trepidation. 

Jack visibly prickled with discomfort. "Do I have to?"

Joanna smiled sweetly, pulling her fingers over the round, golden hilt of her sword. "Don't you want to?"

Jack's coy eyes observed her veiled threat. "Guess so." Without further adieu, he set a course for Elizabeth Swann. Joanna accompanied him as a determined chaperone.

"Miss Swann," Jack began grandly.

Elizabeth turned with curious surprise. Her eyes narrowed at the guileless shift of his feet. "Captain Sparrow. Joanna."

Over Jack's shoulder, Joanna flapped her hand in a cheerful wave.

Jack shot her a ruffled glare. "Anyway. 'S come to my attention that omitting truths to one's guests is rather and thoroughly rude, and y'know that's jus' not me, luv. So sorry." With a half-smile, Jack pressed his hands together and bowed apologetically. Elizabeth's eyebrows shot into her hairline. "I'm afraid that, through an unfortunate and entirely foreseeable series of circumstances that do have everything whatsoever to do to me, Will's been press-ganged into Davy Jones' viscous crew." Jack offered a sheepish grin as a grand finale. "Savvy?"

Arms folded, Elizabeth regarded Jack coolly. "That's all?" Her eyes flickered to Joanna, who shrugged -- that's all. "May I ask the circumstances?"

Jack's thumbs hooked into his belt. He swayed precariously. "You may ask."

Elizabeth's eyebrows climbed steadily higher as she waited.

"A soul debt," Joanna answered on Jack's behalf, noticing his increasing twitchiness. "Will's soul, for Jack's. But I don't know more than that."

Elizabeth cocked her head, smiling bitterly. "You trade him for a ship; now for yourself."

Jack's eyes glimmered. "At least I'm consistent."

Joanna's gaze dragged over the increasingly tense line of Jack's shoulders. Her knowledge of Jack's past was patchy, at best; what he shared with her was often nitpicked and hard-won. She knew enough, however, to place Jack's disconcerting deal with Jones as occurring just after his departure from the East India Trading Company -- without a doubt, one of the most tremulous points in Jack's life. Whatever the circumstances of Jack's deal with Jones, he very clearly did not want to discuss it -- or relive it.

Joanna inched into Jack's side, brushing a hand over the small of his back. She asked with a teasing smile, "Was that so bad? Telling the truth."

Curios jangled as Jack shook his head at her. "You're becoming downright insufferable, darling."

"I think you're contagious," Joanna retorted.

"To everyone's benefit, eh?" Jack grinned, returned to his usual skeeviness. Quick as lightning, he nicked something from Elizabeth's crossed arms and whirled away.

"Excuse me!" Elizabeth exclaimed, darting after him. Joanna followed, tripping over her own feet in her haste to catch a glance of Jack's prize.

So suddenly his pursuers nearly tumbled into his back, Jack stopped dead in his tracks. Joanna darted to look over his shoulder. She only glimpsed a fat, twirling signature, swimming in a wheat-colored page, before Jack flipped the book over and faced them.

"Beckett?" He accused Elizabeth, flapping the booklet obnoxiously under her nose.

Glaring, Elizabeth took a resolute, ocean-sized step away from Jack and his gesticulations. "Yes, they're signed. Lord Beckett of the East India Trading company."

Jack squinted at the flowing script. "Bleh," he said, emphatically sticking out his tongue.

Joanna gathered her words, staring at the papers she had last seen in Beckett's office, miles across the sea. Thinking of that room provoked an instinctual stab of fear. "Where did -- how did you get these?"

Elizabeth raised her chin. "Persuasion."

"You -- you're here for the compass, too," Joanna realized. She looked sharply at Jack, flushed with anger for the lord of the East India Trading Company."What does Beckett want the compass for, Jack?"

Jack's fingers rapped against the leather booklet. After an unnatural pause, he proposed, "He wants the chest."

Joanna's anger swiftly redirected itself. The idea that stuffy, scrawny Beckett could possess an inkling of knowledge about the chest had not occurred to her -- but it had clearly popped into Jack's mind. "You knew that as soon as Will and I found you."

"Don't matter, does it?" Jack returned. "The Company controls the chest, they control the sea. An' we need the thump-thump in order to save dear Will, hm? So nothing's changed." He smirked, raising an eyebrow at Joanna's frustration. "Not even your perceptions of me, darling." 

Joanna gritted her teeth. She felt as though she and Jack were trapped in a two-step tango, stubbornly spinning while pretending no such dance was taking place. Joanna desperately wanted to trust Jack and knew, without a doubt, she could not. She couldn't presume to know Jack's pretzel of a mind, but she wondered if he found himself in a similar conundrum -- unable to trust the woman who had dueled him and climbed into his bed within the same twenty-four hours.

"Not my perceptions of you, no." Joanna cast her gaze on Elizabeth, who stiffened. "You, on the other hand." Joanna swallowed her frustration in order to present Elizabeth with a genuine grin. "I'm impressed."

Elizabeth smirked. She had been beautiful in a golden wedding gown, draped in pearls, but she was even lovelier like this, sharp and practical and deadly. Her hair hung choppy and short beneath the brim of her fancy hat -- not curly like Joanna's, but just as proudly unconventional.

Joanna wondered what losing her long, butterscotch hair meant to Elizabeth. For Joanna, cutting her hair had been pragmatic -- the stinging whip of tangled hair against her cheeks was a welcome loss -- but also a symbol of freedom, of choice, of leaving her dreaded destiny as a lonely tailor behind. What has Elizabeth chosen? What is she leaving behind?

"Persuasion," Jack quoted Elizabeth blithely. "Friendly?"

"Decidedly not." Elizabeth mimed a gun with her hand.

"Will strikes a deal for these and upholds it with honor, yet you are the one standing here with the prize," Jack asserted, flipping the sheaf open and reading from it with grandiose flair. "'Full pardon, commissioned as a privateer on behalf of England and the East India Trading Company..." Jack scoffed, unceremoniously tucking the pardon into one of his many pockets. "As if I could be bought for such a low price."

The dismissive flap of Jack's coattails indicated an end to the discussion, but Elizabeth marched forward to snatch his sleeve. "Jack, wait -- the letters, give them back."

"No," Jack declined primly. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "Persuade me."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped as Jack faced her, swaying lasciviously. She banished her scandalized shock in order to glower. "You do know Will taught me how to handle a sword."

Joanna winced. That was just asking for Jack to --

"As I said...persuade me." Jack winked.

Joanna sighed.

Steaming with frustration, Elizabeth left them, boots stomping against the black deck. Jack's eyes sparkled as he watched her go.

"You're a real ass," Joanna appraised shortly. Jack was the opposite of offended, smiling benevolently as she came to a stop at his side. Preparing to scold him, Joanna glanced around for curious ears; finding none, she hissed, "You are not allowed to sleep with her, Jack."

"What?" That offended him. He grinned wickedly. "Jealous, Anna?"

"No." Joanna rolled her eyes, but her toes curled. Whatever thoughts plagued her in the dark of Jack's cabin, whatever romantic notions occupied her mind as she held Jack close -- those had no place in the morning sunlight. "But you've done enough to Will. Please don't also corrupt his fiancé."

Jack's gaze drifted off to sea, his smile turning fanciful. "Y'think I could?"

"Jesus Christ," Joanna muttered. She tapped his arm impatiently to seize his attention. "Jack, you already press-ganged him onto a ghost ship."

"Not for long," Jack promised, growing serious. He sidled closer in order to frame Joanna's shoulders with his hands. "We've got a navigator. Once we've got the chest, the ocean's ours."

Jack was often too optimistic, promising moons and stars and treasures belonging to dead Spanish conquistadors. Joanna saw that greenhorn faith in him now, shining in his eyes.

"Why Elizabeth?" With a frown, Joanna asked the question that had rattled her since the governor's daughter came aboard. "Why not give the compass to me?"

"'Cause dear William isn't what you want most, sweetheart." Jack brushed a lock of hair from her eyes -- a tender gesture that stayed with her, even after he had dropped his hands and stepped away. "You know that."

After a long pause, Joanna replied sharply. "I haven't held the compass in weeks."

Jack waved vaguely in the direction Elizabeth had disappeared to. "Ask to borrow it, then. See what happens."

"I will," Joanna retorted loftily, although she dreaded where the needle might point. "Maybe I'll keep it."

"If you fancy bein' earless, sure," Jack returned playfully. Too fast for Joanna to dance away, he reached for her unbound earlobe and tugged.

"You prick," Joanna snapped, jerking away and gearing up to kick his shin. Jack gamboled away with his annoying, inherent grace, blowing a vivacious kiss over his shoulder. Joanna firmly chastised her heart for skipping gaily in response.

And then it skipped for another, less noble reason. Joanna looked down her coat at what she clutched nervously in her hands: a full pardon and commission, signed by Lord Cutler Beckett. Jack had called her sweetheart as she lifted it, hands gentle around her shoulders.

Jaw settled with resolve, Joanna shoved the sheaf deep into her pocket. Jack had his chess pieces; so would she.

...

Elizabeth's tactical retreat led her to the steep deck of the forecastle. Her eyes were returned to the ocean, but her mouth creased with aggravation rather than thinly-disguised wishes.

As Joanna approached, heart set on gripping that absurd compass, someone was leaving: former Commodore James Norrington. Joanna shamelessly assessed him as he passed, projecting her distaste. His eyebrows raised sarcastically in turn.

When Joanna left Port Royal a year ago, her opinions on Norrington had been neutral. A year of evading the death his hundred-gun ship represented had tweaked her outlook more than slightly.

However, tormenting Norrington was not Joanna's goal -- she was sure her baleful crewmates had that firmly under control. Her objective was Elizabeth, who eyed her sideways as she reached her side.

"You didn't duel Jack for fun," Elizabeth determined. Her gaze brushed over the white gauze obscuring her mangled ear.

"No. That's not my idea of a good time." Joanna gripped the rail tightly. She observed the blood rushing in and out of her knuckles as she flexed them. "My goal was revenge."

"You didn't find it."

"No," Joanna agreed. "I almost got his hand -- there's a neat bullet hole through his sleeve, now. Not as nice as what he gave me." Joanna's fingers drifted cautiously over the wound. She breathed a laugh, meeting Elizabeth's eyes. "I'm not sure where he was aiming, but I can make a good guess."

"Jack doesn't back down when it matters." Elizabeth's face flickered with a wan smile. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Joanna was tempted to smile and say pirate! But that was a poor excuse. "In all honesty, I was attempting to manage a strange situation." Shifting nervously, Joanna began a study of her hands. Her nails were a dirty umber. "I am sorry."

Elizabeth murmured a quiet thank you. Her next words were slow with hesitation. "I thought you two -- you and Jack, I mean, were..."

"He's my friend," Joanna said firmly. Wryly, she added, "Or something like that."

When Joanna's claim was met with silence, she glanced at her companion. Like a moth to light, Elizabeth's stare had fluttered to Captain Jack Sparrow. They observed him together -- the way he hovered around the Pearl's beloved helm, snapping his spyglass open and shut.

"Why do you ask?" Joanna prompted, drawing Elizabeth's attention.

Embarrassment briefly colored Elizabeth's cheeks. "I was curious," she replied evenly.

Joanna's jaw almost dropped, but she tactfully restrained her reaction. She whispered, "Do you fancy him, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth sighed, withdrawing the compass from her pocket. She flipped it open and presented the needle to Joanna. The red arrow wiggled -- into the distance, where Davy Jones' heart laid buried, then to the helm, where Jack Sparrow dawdled.

"I think he's charming," Elizabeth insisted with quiet frustration. "That he's the thing I want most? I can't accept that."

Joanna shivered. With the tip of her finger, she pressed the compass closed. "The compass -- it's not literal," she assured Elizabeth -- and herself. After a deep breath, she continued with honesty. "Jack may have something that you want." An idea struck. "...Maybe Jack is to you as the Black Pearl is to him."

"...What?" 

"The Black Pearl is more than a keel and a hull and a deck and sails, to Jack. She's freedom." Joanna flattened her palm against the Pearl's brittle railing in order to feel her thrumming. In moments of fantasy, she saw the same divine whimsy in the Black Pearl as Jack did. "Jack could give that to you, couldn't he? Freedom." With a thin smile, Joanna shrugged. "He gave it to me."

After a pause, Elizabeth admitted quietly, "I thought about freedom when I cut my hair. If I could have found freedom in Port Royal. After everything."

"I couldn't go back to normal, after everything," Joanna shared softly. "Normal felt...grey. Colorless."

"Jack is certainly colorful," Elizabeth observed, directing an amused glance his way.

Joanna's eyes settled on the compass, still resting in Elizabeth's hands. "May I?" 

"Sure -- yes." Elizabeth dumped it into Joanna's open palms. "May I peek?"

"Sure, yes," Joanna rejoined. They shared a grin.

Joanna projected a firm thought: what I want most, what I want most...Pondering this, she unclasped the compass.

The crimson needle danced in more than one direction -- with a chastened wince, Joanna saw it favor Jack -- before finding its home. As it always had, as Jack had promised Joanna it would, the compass indicated Joanna's own heart.

"It's -- yourself?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Jack says I'm solipsistic," Joanna said, snapping the compass closed. She didn't bother to disguise her irritation, offering the tool to Elizabeth with a sharp gesture. "He thinks I desire myself. My true self. Something like that." She looked out to sea, brow furrowed in consternation. It was an impossible attainment. "I should want that heart -- for Will's sake and Jack's."

"Jack's sake?"

"Oh boy. I suppose I didn't tell you about the fish people."

"The what?"