Although Joanna witnessed the entire event, she was so tense with anticipation that the crack of the oar against Jack's forehead made her jump.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed in shock, tracking the tumble of Jack's body to the ground. "Will -- did you -- did you kill him?"

Will shot her an exasperated look. "No," he said, nudging Jack's lax body with his foot. "I think he'll be out for a while, though."

"At least we won't be adding murder to our list of crimes," Joanna lamented. She looked nervously at Will. "What's the plan?"

~

A few things became abundantly clear the longer Joanna and Will bore witness to the archaic ceremony of Isla de Muerta. First, Elizabeth's blood was required to break a curse; second, that curse had befallen the whole of the Black Pearl's crew; third, Elizabeth's blood had failed to sever the hold of the malediction upon the pirates.

Fourth -- it had failed because her blood was not that of a Turner.

"Where is his child? The child that sailed from England eight years ago --" Barbossa spat in Elizabeth's face, the bloody coin clamped in his hand. Joanna saw Elizabeth's rejoining sneer and felt pride in her fearless response. " -- the child in whose veins flows the blood of William Turner? Where?"

Elizabeth's silence earned her a backhand across the face, so loud it cozened a flinch from Joanna. Joanna turned to Will to say something clever in place of something hysterical -- I think I know where that child is! -- but he was already gone, slipping from cover into the black water.

"No goodbye?" Joanna muttered as he glided away.

"Hello," someone whispered hotly against her ear.

Joanna jerked in surprise and opened her mouth to scream; before she could, a hand clamped over her mouth. The icy blade of a knife found its way to her throat.

"My darling," Jack Sparrow said, taciturn and smooth. "You and your friend have made a grave mistake."

Joanna's heart was attempting to defenestrate itself from her chest. She squeaked in panic against the palm of Jack's hand, struggling minutely; her hands were soon seized and gripped behind her back.

"Give me one reason," Jack said as he tugged her backward, away from the chaos unfolding in the golden chamber and into darkness instead. "Just one, luv, why I shouldn't kill you."

The pressure left Joanna's lips, but his hand hovered over her mouth in case she got any ideas. Joanna took a deep, steadying breath before saying, "You were going to trade Will for a ship."

Jack's reply was cold. "A ship that's worth more than your paltry life." The knife dragged against her chin. "Try again."

Joanna squeezed her eyes shut. She tried again. "You'd have done the same. If we double-crossed you." She shrugged a shoulder in the direction of the blade at her throat. "As demonstrated."

After a beat, Jack released her hands and stepped away. Joanna sagged in relief, pressing a grateful hand to her un-slit throat.

"That was not nice," she hissed, angrily turning to face him. His rejoining grin was at odds with the enmity in his eyes.

"Neither is the headache I'm sporting," Jack replied, and Joanna finally noticed he was leaning heavily on the oar -- ironically, the very thing that had induced his calamity. "C'mon."

Joanna glanced over her shoulder. "I'm supposed to wait for Will." She shot another glare at Jack. "And I don't feel like following you."

Jack swayed close to her, the line of his mouth cross. "Your remonstrance is noted, but about forty miscreant pirates are about to traipse through this particular tunnel, so if you value your life, we should go this way."

With that, Jack swung around and began stumbling away. Joanna bit her lip and followed, tossing a final, contrite glance over her shoulder. Sorry, Will. Good luck.

~

At least Will had gotten away in one piece. Who else would have misplaced all of the oars and left an Elizabeth-shaped whole in his wake? As lovely as that was, Joanna struggled to find consolation. It was difficult to find solace when one was being dragged across Isla de Muerta by a group of grimy, execrable pirates.

"'Your remonstrance is noted'," Joanna said sardonically under her breath. "'If you value your miserable life, let's go this way'."

"Yes, yes, you've made your point," Jack muttered back.

Joanna was positively seething. She regretted ever seeing Jack Sparrow. If she could step back in time, she would transport herself to that day in the smithy and gouge out the eyes of her past self.

The Black Pearl pirate who had her elbow, dragging her to see Captain Barbossa, jostled her roughly. It may have been an accident, but Joanna snapped at him anyway, "Watch it."

She received a snarl and an elbow to her face. It landed just under her eye and stunned her into a pained gasp, although she managed not to stumble terribly.

Joanna did not look at Jack, although she felt his eyes on her. Stewing in silence, she watched her feet as she was taken to parley with the most fearsome pirate captain in the Caribbean.

Barbossa was less of a devil up close, having lost the glamour of height and ceremony. But Joanna, cowed by his glinting eyes and yellow smile,  still hated to look at him. Joanna received only a bored once-over as she was brought before him. By all appearances, he was eager to lay into Jack.

"How in the blazes did you get off that island," were his first words.

Joanna knew Jack was dangerous -- he had proven it to her multiple times in only a few days. But she was still chilled to see him shift from one persona to the next as the situation suited him.

Jack had held a knife to her throat and asked her, in an arctic voice, for one reason, just one; he had drunkenly searched for the word parley, swaying in the face of ten pistols; he had scowled at her and rolled his eyes as she mocked him.

Now, with narrow eyes and a curling smile, Jack spoke like a man eager to pull a trigger and see someone die.

"When you marooned me on that godforsaken spit of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate," Jack said. He spread his hands and smirked. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

Barbossa smiled. It was sour and shark-like. In the beat of time he and Jack glared at each other, Joanna felt years of history thicken the air.

"Ah, well," Barbossa said, "I won't be makin' that mistake again. Gents," he gallantly spoke to his crowd of goons, "You all remember Captain Jack Sparrow?"

There were murmurs of gleeful, laughing damnations. Joanna glanced nervously at Jack. His jaw was tight, his hard eyes fixated on his former first mate.

Barbossa said genially, "Kill 'im." His cold eyes shifted over to Joanna. He slowly smiled. "And spare the lady."

Joanna went cold with fear. She heard twenty pistols cock and felt a pair of hands seize the back of her dress; she fought back a cry as she was jerked hard into someone's chest.

There was nothing more than that, though, because Jack said loudly, "The girl's blood didn't work, did it?"

The room held its breath.

"Hold yer fire!" Barbossa growled, spinning to face Jack. A chorus of disappointed groans followed his order as the pirates lowered their guns. Barbossa eyed Jack shrewdly. "You know whose blood we need."

Jack's smile was cocky and self-satisfied. "I know whose blood you need."

Dozens of pairs of eyes flew to Joanna. Click, click, click, vocalized several guns. Something hard and round pressed against the small of her back. Heart hammering, Joanna squeezed her eyes shut.

"No no no, not her," Jack said hastily. "It's not her."

The men did not put down their arms. Barbossa chuckled. "Forgive me if I don't believe ye, Jack."

"It's not me," Joanna said shortly. All heads turned to her. "It's --" she swallowed. "It's my brother." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack's mouth give a perturbed twitch.

"Is it, now?" Barbossa drawled. His cold eyes briefly flitted over his captives. "Cuff 'em."

~

The Black Pearl was grander than the Interceptor. It was taller, wider, and as dark as the night that hovered over Isla de Muerta. The figurehead, which Joanna observed as the boats glided beneath the bow of the Pearl, was a sweet angel. Her arm stretched gracefully before her; her hand cradled a fluttering dove.

But Joanna could see there was something wrong. Something eerie, something sick. The Pearl's sails hung in clumps and tatters. Paint peeled from the hull. Cobwebs draped from splintering beams.

Very suddenly, she itched to see Jack's face. To see him look upon this ill version of his old berth.

Joanna was taken unceremoniously to the brig. It was two floors down, dripping and stinking of mold and dew. Her feet splashed through slimy water. Joanna was no sailor, but she was certain the goal was to keep the water out of the ship.

She was also scared. Joanna had been tense with fear for so long, now, that she felt tired with it. Her hands had ceased to shake and all she desired was to sit down. She looked at the damp floor of her prison, however, and knew she would not sit in the repugnant water.

Two men escorted Joanna, a hand on each of her arms; two unfortunately familiar men. The very ones Joanna had lost the smithy to, so long ago now. They were, however, bereft of their respective mallet and hatchet.

Mallet opened the cell door like a gentleman. Hatchet, wearing a lecherous grin, roughly turned Joanna so they faced each other.

Joanna cut off the ribald words she anticipated from him. "If you try anything," she said balefully, "I'll make it very difficult."

He chuckled and dismissively shoved her into the cell. Mallet caught her arm, dragging her into his chest. "And what if we like a challenge?" He goaded.

Joanna quelled a shudder and snarled, "Then I'll make it impossible." With that, she drove her elbow hard into Mallet's stomach.

He wheezed and stumbled away, swearing vigorously. Hatchet growled at Joanna and grabbed his friend, dragging him upright. He hissed at Joanna, "You stupid bitch, yer not worth my time," and kicked the door shut with his foot.

Joanna watched them leave, breathing hard. Water was soaking into her boots. Tension was seeping from her shoulders. It left her exhausted and, uncharacteristically, ready to cry.

But she didn't weep. She grasped the bars of her cell and drifted forward so her forehead rested against the cold, damp metal. Joanna closed her eyes and took deep, even breaths. She counted them methodically.

Joanna startled awake without realizing she'd fallen asleep. She blinked blearily at what had drawn her from sleep; Jack Sparrow's feet, splashing through brackish water. He was escorted by the bo'sun and looked none-too-happy about it.

"Apparently there's a leak," Jack said in a voice that was somehow both blithe and caustic. Without replying, the bo'sun wretched the door of Joanna's cell open and tossed Jack inside.

On land, Jack possessed a swaying, wobbling gait redolent of drunkenness; on a ship, he moved with uncommon grace and elegance. He caught his balance, twirling to watch the bo'sun depart with a furrowed brow.

Joanna and Jack stood in silence for a long moment, moving with the Pearl's undulations. Eventually, Jack joined her at the bars, brushing his fingers dutifully over the metal.

"This must be strange for you," Joanna said quietly. Jack slowly looked at her. She continued. "Trapped here, on this ship."

Jack's jaw moved, as if he was biting the inside of his cheek. "Yeah," he said shortly. "It's strange."

Joanna wanted to ask how long it had been since Jack saw the Black Pearl. She wondered how long he had searched for it, bartering with the lives and possessions of others, only to be reunited with this ship as a prisoner.

"Ten years," Jack said suddenly, and Joanna realized he was answering thoughts she had not spoken. "Since I last saw my ship."

Joanna looked at the odious water staining her stolen boots. She said, "I bet it was prettier when it was yours."

"She was," Jack said wistfully. He kicked at the water bitterly. "I tell you, we certainly kept the water out of the ship."

Joanna turned and rested her weight on the wall of the cell. She considered Jack with halcyon eyes -- his aristocratic nose, the pout of his lips. "A boat is not worth Will's life," she said.

Jack's eyebrows flicked defiantly toward his red bandana. He spun to fully face Joanna. "Did you not feel it?" He asked. Joanna's brow furrowed. "As we passed beneath her helm."

"Feel what?"

Jack leaned forward. His eyes were so dark and intense that Joanna could not imagine looking away. "Her. The Pearl," He said, his mouth forming the word as if it were a prayer. "I saw you. Watching her, as we passed beneath her bow."

Joanna remembered studying the Black Pearl's elegant figurehead; seeing the carved dove, imagining that it had ruffled its feathers.

"She," Joanna said pointedly, "is a pretty ship." She glanced around -- the peeling paint, the rotting wood. "But she's -- she's sick."

Jack said nothing, but his eyes seemed to widen.

"Maybe when she is no longer so," Joanna hesitantly continued, "I'll appreciate her as you do."

Jack stared at her. Then, like the spark of a pistol, he grinned.