The departure from Tia Dalma's dwelling would have been of absolute, steely silence, but the soothsayer seized Joanna's elbow just as her foot touched the doorframe.

Joanna eyed Tia warily, her mind burdened by black spots and enigmatic captains.

Tia smirked, quicksilver, and released her arm. "Mayhaps destiny is contagious, hm?"

An invaluable, terrifying contact, Joanna evaluated Tia Dalma. She departed the witch's lair as quickly as possible, hands shaking.

...

Joanna forcibly inserted herself at Jack's side, replacing the handy jar of dirt. Kindly, Marty and Cotton pretended she was not pressed snuggly between Jack's side and the boat, whispering urgently and gripping his marked hand between her own.

"Jack," she murmured, turning his palm over and running the pads of her fingers over his callouses. Her gaze was drawn to the inexorable spot. Rather than appearing as a dark blemish, it was as if an isolated circle in Jack's hand had decomposed. Mushy and tinged with vile green, it even smelled -- uncovered and so close to Joanna's face, she detected the pungent, ripe smell of death. "How did this happen?"

Jack allowed her ministrations passively. Bereft of his secrets, he was calm and resigned. "'S a long story."

With gentle determination, Joanna bestowed a kiss to the unlikely injury. Satisfied with Jack's wellbeing, she released his hand. "Why --" she began, halted, and remained silent.

Jack didn't press her, dedicating his focus to rewrapping the black spot. The monotonous sounds of rowing substituted Joanna's aborted accusation.

Why didn't you tell your crew? Joanna bit her tongue, well-aware of the answer. The admission could have cost Jack what was most important to him -- his adored ship. Keeping company with a member of Davy Jones' hit list was far from wise and the crew would have jousted him upon realizing.

Joanna abandoned logic and admitted her underlying, aching emotion -- hurt. That Jack had not trusted her, specifically, with something so vital. He had lied deliberately when given the opportunity to offer the truth.

Would I have told me, in his position? Joanna wondered. She wasn't sure. Jack wasn't like Will, who Joanna would trust with any secret -- Jack was out for his own self at all moments, at all costs, and Joanna didn't pretend to forget that. She knew and chose to call him a friend anyway.

Breathing deeply, Joanna began anew. "He's real."

"As real as you and me, darling." Jack bit his lip, struggling to tie a knot with one hand.

"Here, let me." Jack gave his hand to her without protest, thanking her tacitly. "Does he really -- will he really send a giant squid after you, Jack?"

Jack's mouth twitched beneath his mustache. "Dunno. Never done this before, y'see."

Joanna tugged the knot into place. She kept hold of his hand, suddenly desperate for any sort of anchor. "D'you think they'll mutiny?" She asked very quietly. Jack had, with explicit knowledge, put his men into profound danger.

Jack's eyes flickered with old fear. He glanced over his shoulder, quickly tallying what men he had left. "No," he replied, but the line of his mouth wavered. "No. You, Gibbs, Will, Cotton, Lejon, I can count on -- were I a cowhearted mutineer, I wouldn't test those odds."

Joanna nodded, finding her own calculations in line with her captain's. Her thoughts twisted into tangles -- Joanna plucked one, at a random, and quizzed Jack. "You've never told me how, exactly, you know Tia Dalma."

"We go way back," Jack shrugged. "Mostly I come crawling to her for help an' advice. Steal a coupla shinies while I'm at it. She's like a magpie -- always has pretties lying around." Jack thoughtfully tacked on, "She's pretty, too."

Joanna nodded her agreement but thought with private discomfit that Tia wasn't her type. "Have you known her your whole life, then?"

"Eh, just about," Jack waggled his fingers in approximation. He leaned closer, indicating subterfuge. Joanna tilted her head obligingly. "She's been that young for more than two decades, Anna."

Joanna's jaw dropped in surprise. "Really. That's a neat trick."

"Maybe it's the swamp air," Jack suggested histrionically.

Joanna couldn't contain a snort. "The swamp air?"

"Maybe. How would you know?"

"This many bugs can't be conducive to health."

"Now, Anna, all life is precious."

"Shut up, Jack."

...

Joanna was quiet as they returned to the Pearl, mulish with imaginations of betrayal and sea monsters. She had faced cursed coins and undead mutineers. She harbored no doubts over the existence of Davy Jones and his pet.

When Joanna found herself upset, she found herself a needle and thread. Aware the crew was already short of hands, she returned to the deck after retrieving her latest project, available to abandon her mercenary task if needed.

As soon as she had sat down, a shadow fell over her lap. "What're you working on?" Will inquired, courteously side-stepping from the sun's path so Joanna had proficient light.

"Nothing special," Joanna replied, pulling the needle through. "Marty's pants. There's a tear here, see."

Will nodded and dropped to sit at her side. His eyes traced the path of her stitching as he gathered his thoughts. He said finally, "You should return to Port Royal to accept the pardon."

Joanna's hands paused. "Will," she said, then stopped.

"I understand your home is here, right now," Will continued, quiet but insistent. "But you don't know the future. You deserve options."

"Will, Beckett has offered one pardon," Joanna pointed out. "And it will go to Jack. I'm not naïve enough to believe there is anything for me but a short drop and sudden stop after this. You and Elizabeth, on the other hand, are not pirates." Her voice lowered with urgency. "I am. I'm a pirate, Will. I'm not the tailor that left Port Royal a year ago."

Will was silent. Without looking her in the eye, he spoke. "Leech, he called you..."

"I know what he called me," Joanna snapped, uncharacteristically tempestuous. Will's expression wobbled in surprise. "He's dead, now, Will. As are most of the men who troubled me. So you needn't concern yourself."

Will was like Joanna and just a few ways; namely, he also kept a temper that only growled when honestly provoked. "Fine," he said shortly, getting to his feet.

Joanna watched his tense back as he stalked away, her heart sinking with immediate, unpleasant regret. She returned to staring at the stupid rip in Marty's stupid pants. With a few vicious, stabbing motions, she closed the tear.

...

Joanna went to live up to her reputation.

With gritted teeth, Joanna knocked on Jack's door.

"'S open," came his friendly voice.

Joanna inched through the door, almost sick with guilt. "Hey," she said quietly.

She often walked in on Jack doing odd things -- practicing handstands or somersaults, meditating on top of his desk, dripping ink from different heights and measuring the width of the droplets -- but she had never opened the double doors to see Jack building sandcastles.

"Afternoon," Jack returned absentmindedly, waving a grimy hand. He was settled in the very center of the cabin and boxed in with lumpy, crumbling walls of damp dirt. Tia's jar rolled nearby, empty. When Joanna did not reply, he looked up. His mild expression morphed into a frown. "Y'alright, luv?"

"I've upset Will," Joanna said in lieu of an answer, sighing with the admission. She took care not to breach the sand walls as she approached Jack.

Jack's eyes narrowed in thought. "Hm. Stomp on this," he recommended, indicating his dirty barricade. "It'll make you feel better."

"But you spent time on it," Joanna protested. She saw a bucket of saltwater at Jack's side -- he must have drawn the water himself -- and noted the meticulously drawn-on bricks garnishing his sand fort.

"I think 's artistic to create something only to destroy it," Jack said pretentiously.

That pushed Joanna into a surprised laugh. "Alright."

With grandeur, Joanna lifted her foot and firmly trampled the foremost wall of Jack's castle.

"Better?" Jack grinned up at her. Joanna was always charmed by Jack's true, honest smile -- bright and wide and golden.

Joanna smiled softly in return. "Yes. Thank you, Jack."

"'M at your service, sweetheart." Jack's grin turned subdued. "Wanna talk about what happened?"

Joanna considered it, sinking to the floor so Jack didn't have to crane his neck to meet her eyes. "Not really. I'm sure you've parsed it out already."

"He doesn't wanna see you strung up on a gibbet." Jack filled in the blanks. "Will's a good man, luv. Thinks the world is full o' good men like him."

"He thinks Beckett will honor his word," Joanna concluded.

"He won't." Jack softened his sharp admission by brushing flakes of sand into a pile. "Will shouldn't return to Port Royal. 'S a death sentence."

"Elizabeth is in Port Royal," Joanna murmured. Jack knew as well as Joanna how deep Will's devotion to Elizabeth ran.

"So's a noose," Jack replied simply. While Joanna could not argue with that (Will's life and wellbeing were of her highest concern), she imagined Will could.

After a breath of silence, in which Jack began tipping handfuls of sand back into the empty jar, Joanna inquired, "What's your plan, concerning the Dutchman?"

Jack smiled, mysterious and golden like an Aztec curse. "That's entirely up to darling William."

...

Shivering in the icy rain, hours later, Joanna came upon a realization.

As the water poured down her collar, so her thoughts rushed through her mind, accumulating into shame -- shame that her emotions had so deftly blinded her to Jack's latest scheme. As soon as you saw Will, you formulated this plan, Joanna accused silently, staring with parted lips at Jack's chipper figure. He swayed confidently, as much a part of the storm as the rain. Maybe you came up with this as you built sandcastles.

"What's your plan, then?" Jack asked, and Joanna said: "He's lying."

Three pairs of eyes -- Jack, Will, Gibbs -- swiveled to regard her.

"What," said Jack cleverly.

Hugging her midsection and shifting her feet for warmth, Joanna narrowed her eyes. "Don't bluff," she hissed. "That's not the Flying Dutchman." She raised her arm and stabbed her pointer finger at the pitiful wreck Tia's coordinates had directed them to. "You're a liar, Jack Sparrow."

Jack's eyes blazed with outrage. Behind him, Gibbs nervously edged away, sensing danger. "How the blazes would you know how the Flying Dutchman looks? You've no idea what that ship is or isn't."

Joanna planted her feet and glared hot, licking flames. "Davy Jones appears to dying sailors," she said. "That shipwreck, most certainly, will be crawling with dying sailors. You're banking on the Flying Dutchman appearing, and...and..." Joanna shook with cold and adrenaline. "I don't know. But it's dangerous, otherwise you'd be doing it!"

The longer Joanna spoke, the tighter Jack's rein on his expression became. By the time she concluded her damning allegation, Jack's face wore a phlegmatic, curt cloud. "The truth doesn't matter," he retorted. A callous smile tugged at his lips. "Will has, as you witnessed, promised me anything."

Joanna seethed.

"He's right," Will said evenly. Joanna turned to him in horror. Will's eyes, stony with betrayal and resignation, rested on Jack. "We made a deal."

"Then I'm going, too!" Joanna snapped. She gripped the pommel of her jeweled dao, which she had carried since plundering it from Isla de Muerta. She stared despairingly at Will. "Will, you can't go alone."

Jack stuttered forward, his smirk slipping away. "Wait --"

Will shook his head, cutting off Jack's hasty posturing. "No," he said firmly to Joanna. "This isn't your bargain."

"Yes, it is!" Joanna cried. "Trading the compass for freedom --"

"That's our deal with Beckett," Will reminded her sharply. Joanna trembled beneath his cool anger, now turned on her. "Which you've rejected."

Joanna's mouth opened and closed. She pleaded in a whisper, "Will, please let me come with you."

His heavy stare passed over her face, searching. "Not this time, Jo."

As Joanna's heart sank all the way from her chest to the damp deck of the Black Pearl, Will spun to face a stunned-looking Jack. "I'll row over, search until I find your damn key, cut down anyone in my path." Will brushed past Jack, on a mission to reach the longboat. "That's my plan."

Jack seemed at a loss, shocked that his play would work whether or not the pawns knew of their expendable status. "I like it. Simple, easy to remember." He followed this by taking off after Will, stepping with urgency.

Joanna came hot on his heels. Her voice shook as she opined, "If anything happens to him, I'll kill you, Jack."

Wasting no time, Will already had one foot on the railing, prepared to clamber down the side of the ship. "Any last-minute advice?" He asked Jack sarcastically.

"Actually -- yes." Jack cleared his throat. "If you do get captured, jus' say Captain Jack Sparrow sent you to settle his debt." He tried for a cheerful smile. "Might save your life."

"Right." Will shook his head in disappointment. His stoical gaze slid to Joanna. "Bye, Jo."

Joanna swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Goodbye," she rasped, blinking through rain and furious tears.