Around noon, Joanna tired of watching Jack's futile and petty pursuit of Elizabeth -- he had cornered her at the stairs, prattling about marriage, of all things. Joanna attempted to retreat below decks, but her way was blocked by an unflagging former Commodore.

Joanna was short; James Norrington was tall. She despised men who towered over women to make a point. Glaring up at him, she said, "I'm nicer than Jack, so I won't ask you to shine my boots."

"Thank God for small mercies," he replied sarcastically. His eyes sharpened. "I've been wondering, Joanna, as to how Will ended up on the Flying Dutchman in the first place. I wonder if even you know."

Joanna almost took a step backward, shocked by his bold attempt at manipulation. "I do know," she practically growled. "And it's none of your damn business."

"Ah." Norrington's smile was mean. "I've heard what the men call you. Jack Sparrow's woman. Perhaps you had a hand in it."

Joanna flushed with shame and fury. "I lost an ear in it." It burned beneath its bandage; a reminder. She hissed, "You're lucky I'm nice, James, and that I used to think you were a good man."

Norrington's smirk vanished like smoke. "Better than the company you keep."

"Better than pigs," Joanna scoffed. She felt righteous; stepping (stomping) out of Norrington's path, she gestured impatiently. "Get out of my way."

Joanna stiffened as Norrington did the very opposite. He crowded into her space, sneering. "Careful who you call a pig. I'm sure thievery is taken as seriously on slovenly pirate ships as it is on Naval vessels."

With that, Norrington departed. His shoulder knocked roughly into hers as he went.

Jack Sparrow's woman. The very thought made Joanna's skin crawl. Taking deep breaths, she cupped a hand over her right ear. I've escaped that. I thought I escaped that.

The Letters of Marque burned a hole in Joanna's pocket. As she retreated into the belly of the ship, she pressed her hand against them, reassuring herself they remained secure. Joanna had stolen plenty in her tenure about the Black Pearl, but never from her shipmates and certainly never from her captain. Jack was bound to notice the pardon's absence eventually, and when he did, he'd have only a few directions to point a finger in. Considering the way their relationship -- or lack thereof -- burned hot-and-cold lately, Joanna suspected he would start immediately with her.

Joanna sighed, berating her impulsiveness. She was an idiot to take the Letters from Jack. She smiled wryly -- if she was lucky, Jack would be impressed by her boldness.

When Joanna reached her cabin, she shut and latched the door behind her. After a cursory, paranoid scan of the room -- Elizabeth had left the bed rumpled, she noted with fleeting amusement -- Joanna plucked the pardon from her pocket and scrutinized it.

He's optimistic. I'll give him that, Joanna thought of Beckett's intention to coax Jack under his wing once more. She bit her lip, reading the papers over and over. A full pardon, commissioned as a privateer on behalf of England and the East India Trading Company.

Joanna envisioned herself as a privateer -- a captain. Captain Joanna Brown. Her lips twitched traitorously in a smile, seeing herself in a wide-brimmed hat, calling orders to sailors and soldiers dressed sharply in blue.

As quickly as the fanciful thought entered her mind, it washed away, leaving Joanna discouraged. There was no world in which a timid, ex-convict, woman such as herself could command a ship of rambunctious, horizon-seeking sailors -- even if returning the pardon and Letters to Beckett was possible.

Joanna's stomach twisted unpleasantly, imagining signing herself into Beckett's service -- willingly -- with the knowledge of what he had done to Jack.

A year ago -- practically a lifetime ago, Joanna felt -- Jack had languished in Port Royal's gaol, awaiting a hanging that would never come. Joanna, Will, and Elizabeth had swiftly thwarted that event. But in the days leading up to that fateful day, Joanna had visited Jack's cell daily, bringing him books and rum and conversation.

On one particular day, Jack had told her a story -- a story that, in retrospect, Joanna was shocked and touched he had chosen to share so soon into their acquaintance. It was the thrilling tale of how he had left the East India Trading Company, involving a princess, magical bracelets, and Jack freeing two-hundred slaves.

Jack's exploit had ended in a pale P, pressed into Jack's right forearm by Cutler Beckett himself. The mark hadn't always been so white and inconspicuous -- Jack had told her, hesitating over his words, that it burned black as coal when Beckett drew the brand away. That Beckett had loved doing it. He'd smiled to see Jack's flesh melt away.

"An' then he burned my ship, too," Jack went on to say, quiet and not meeting Joanna's eyes. He said nothing more than that, as if that had been the most painful wound of all. Joanna was left to assume the conclusion of that tale; what final fate met Jack's first command, the Wicked Wench.

Sick to her stomach, Joanna shoved the pardon and Letters into her pocket. She didn't know what to do with this prize, but she would not use it for her own self.

...

Jack's selected shore party surprised Joanna -- herself, Elizabeth, Pintel, Ragetti, and Norrington.

"Really?" Joanna whispered to Jack as they scuttled down the side of the ship to the longboat. "Him?"

"I jus' can't resist ordering him around, darling," Jack replied, grinning as she sat beside him. The only betrayal of his anxiety was the rapping of his fingers against the lid of the jar of dirt.

The journey to shore was defined by Jack's increasingly hunched shoulders, Pintel and Ragetti's loud bickering, and long-suffering glances exchanged between Elizabeth and Norrington. Joanna noticed a unique kinship between them -- two fallen angels of high society.

Elizabeth looked debonair, wearing the other half of Jack's wedding gift to her and Will. Whereas Will chose to leave his on board the Pearl, hesitant to damage it, Elizabeth seemed intent on flaunting the flamboyant hat as much as possible.

Joanna expected at any moment for Jack to point a jeweled finger in her face and yell, "Thief!" It never happened; Jack seemed preoccupied with the depth of the water they floated over. Joanna hated feeling relief due to someone else's stress, but she was glad not to be put on the spot.

Jack's first steps onto solid land were accompanied by a deep breath. Then, he abruptly snapped his fingers in the direction of Pintel and Ragetti. "You two. Mind the boat, mind the tide, don't touch my dirt." Slinging a shovel over his shoulder, he stalked away.

"Um -- Captain." Joanna attempted the respect she would have given Jack a few days ago, before he sold Will to the devil. "You trust these two with our only way off the island?"

Jack spun to regard her, jaw flexing as his mind worked. His gaze drifted to Pintel and Ragetti, who looked offended and sheepish, respectively.

The droll angle of Jack's eyebrows suggested he thought they were too stupid to try such a thing as taking off without him. Nevertheless, he flashed a grin at Joanna. "I think you'd make an excellent babysitter, darling."

...

"I don' need a babysitter," Pintel growled as Jack shrunk into the distance, accompanied by an indecisive Elizabeth and sour Norrington.

"Oh, yes, you do," Joanna countered. She propped her hip on the prow of the longboat, watching the pair of clowns like a hawk. "Once a mutineer, always a mutineer."

Leaving two known traitors in charge of their only escape from the island was foolish. Joanna wondered with exasperation whether or not Jack had his head on right; probably not, if the past few days were any indication. Not that he wears his head right in the first place, Joanna thought dryly.

To pass the time, Pintel and Ragetti struck up a passionate game of tic-tac-toe. Ragetti seemed to have a knack for it, to Pintel's great displeasure. Amused by their bickering, Joanna didn't notice the otherworldly phenomenon over her shoulder until Pintel pointed it out.

His jaw dropped. So did the stick he'd been using to carve an X. Ragetti followed his gaze; stunned, he pointed a shaking finger.

Joanna looked. The back end of the Flying Dutchman was sinking into the sapphire sea.

"...That's not good, is it?" Ragetti quizzed.

"Nope!" Joanna squeaked. "Extremely nope. We need to warn the others -- come on."

They followed the scattered footsteps Jack, Elizabeth, and Norrington had left behind. The closer they drew to the scene, sloshing quickly through shallow puddles, the more incredulous Joanna grew. She thought she saw three men slapping at each other with swords. She thought one man, dancing gracefully through puffs of white sand, looked particularly like Will Turner. She thought finally: Holy shit. That's Will Turner.

Elizabeth was furiously jumping up-and-down, throwing rocks at the three-person duel. Joanna skidded to a stop beside her, gaping at the impressive battle. "What -- how --"

"Men!" Elizabeth shrieked. Whatever had occurred between Jack, Will, and Norrington, it had just about done her in. She was practically tearing out her own hair.

"What's happening?" Joanna demanded.

Elizabeth's gesturing hands sliced angrily through the air. "Jack wants to save himself. James wants to save his -- his career. And Will wants to save his father." She threw her hands in the air. "His father! Agh -- pirates!"

Joanna latched onto one word. "Will's father?"

Elizabeth shook her head, biting a hole through her lip in frustration. "Apparently they were reunited on the Flying Dutchman."

"I physically do not know how to process this information," said Joanna. She blinked. "They're fighting over the chest, aren't they? Where is it?"

Elizabeth's harried eyes finally met hers. Her expression turned to dread. "I was supposed to watch it," she said.

Joanna and Elizabeth turned in unison to see Pintel and Ragetti sprinting across the beach, cackling and swinging the chest between them.

"Shit," Joanna articulated sharply, zipping after them. She heard Elizabeth kicking up sand as she followed.

"Hey!" Elizabeth shouted, hoarse from her previous yelling. 

Their prey did not falter. Exchanging a glance with Elizabeth, Joanna took a deep breath. She snarled, "Dammit! Stop!"

At the same time Pintel sped up, Ragetti froze, stupefied by the murder in Joanna's voice. Their opposite momentums resulted in an ungraceful, loud collapse to the ground.

"Jack should have left you with the cannibals!" Joanna hissed as she approached. Her dao sang as she drew it from her belt.

Rushing to their feet, sneering, the pair of idiots joined Joanna in drawing their weapons. Their choler swung to Elizabeth, who had no sword; she flushed and stepped behind Joanna's shoulder.

"'Ello, poppet," leered Pintel.

Joanna swallowed, her confidence dipping. She was no sword master -- how could she secure the chest and protect Elizabeth at the same time?

She was saved by the oddest thing she had seen all day. It began with rumbling, beneath her feet, then the crack of blades.

Their party watched open-mouthed as a water wheel rolled by, bearing Will and Norrington as a cherry on top. They were locked in an epic sword fight, feet working over shifting platforms as they aimed for each other's throats. Like an afterthought, Jack ran after the wheel, scowling as he dodged prickly bushes and tree stumps.

Joanna was jolted from her reverie by a thunk. It came from the sudden appearance of an ax, burying itself in a tree not far off from Joanna's back.

"Oh my," Elizabeth uttered, eyes wide on the approaching crew of the Flying Dutchman.

"Yeah," Joanna agreed. She snapped at Pintel and Ragetti, "The chest! Grab the chest!" In their panic, the pair handed tossed their cutlasses to Elizabeth; she caught them, bewildered and scared.

"Fish people?" Elizabeth asked in a high voice as they ran.

Joanna bobbed her head fervently.

United by a common, fishy enemy, the four of them bolted through the jungle. Joanna's hands shook with fear -- she could hear very well remember the sliminess the occult crew had brought to the Pearl.

They couldn't outrun Davy Jones' cronies forever. Their escape ended when Pintel and Ragetti tripped around a tree. The chest fell loudly, clanking and rattling.

An unhappy shout came from over Joanna's shoulder -- Elizabeth, crossing blades with Dutchman. Having two swords to his single blade, she disarmed him and slit his belly open in an impressively athletic motion. Her victory was tampered by terror, though, when she saw minnows spill from his intestines instead of blood.

"Sword!" Yelped Ragetti. Joanna spared him a glance -- he was weaponless against an eel-looking man -- before wrenching the sword from Elizabeth's left hand.

"Fight! Protect the chest!" Joanna ordered with more confidence than she felt. She gripped Elizabeth's free hand tightly, offering courage, but the governor's daughter didn't seem to need it. Her bright eyes had already hardened with resolve; she held her sword high, as noble as a knight in shining armor.

They fought, twirling round and round the bottomless supply of damp and undead sailors. They shared the three swords between them. Joanna fell into a surprising rhythm with her companions; while she admired Elizabeth, she trusted Pintel and Ragetti as far as she could throw them. Despite it all, they executed some type of beautiful dance against their opponents.

Joanna heard giggles and craned her neck to look -- sure enough, a man with a conch for a skull had taken off with the chest. "No!" She growled, cutting down the nearest Dutchman in order to give chase.

The chase did not last long because a coconut came flying out of midair and knocked the unlucky man's head off his shoulders. He and Joanna yelped with surprise, although the Dutchman's exclamations continued with panic as his body stumbled away, headless and chestless. Joanna's shock filtered swiftly into glee.

She dove for the chest, reflexively curving her hands around the ornate lock. She was startled when a pair of nut-brown hands curled over hers.

"Jack!" She exclaimed breathlessly. With her adrenaline-fueled tunnel vision, she had not seen him approach. "Nice throw."

"Thanks." Jack grinned lopsidedly. Smugly, he slowly lifted what dangled around his neck for Joanna to see: a large, double-pronged key. "I bear a gift."

"That's for me?" Joanna settled onto her knees, her smile teasing. "You shouldn't have."

"I'd like what's inside," Jack amended. He lifted the necklace over his mane of hair and oddities in order to press the key into Joanna's palm. "But it'd please me to see you open it."

Joanna eyed him warily, half-aware this was an attempt to charm her back into his good graces. She was, nonetheless, charmed. She turned her eyes on the chest.

Sucking in a deep breath, Joanna inserted the key. She twisted it firmly.

The chest clicked and clacked, greenish shapes shifting as it opened. Joanna had never seen anything like it -- she watched the lid swing open with wide-eyed awe. "...Woah."

There it lay, pulsating slowly...the still-beating, coral-encrusted heart of Davy Jones.

Joanna and Jack exchanged a leaden glance. With admirable aplomb, Jack plucked the heart from the chest.

Joanna snapped out of her reverie in order to express her disgust. "...Ew."

Jack raised the beating thing to eye-level -- his mouth formed an O. "Huh."

Joanna squeezed his hand. "Yeah." That about summed it up.

In fact, it was mind-boggling enough that Joanna put aside her revulsion. She slowly lifted a trembling hand. Her palm fell over the crown of the heart, damp and undulating beneath the caress of her fingers.

"It's real," she murmured. When she turned her face to Jack, he was grinning.

"It's real," he agreed. He kissed her nose; Joanna lifted her chin so he could find her lips. In between them -- ba-dump. Ba-dump.

The enthusiastic sounds of a fight drove them apart. "You should get out of here with that," Joanna advised, sending the quickly-approaching brawl a wary glance. Elizabeth, Pintel, and Ragetti appeared unharmed, efficiently sharing two swords.

Jack's hand slipped into hers, dragging her to stand. The heart was tucked into his shirt; the key remained in the lock. "Let's get back to the Pearl," he said.