Fathoms 5

What's Mine, What's Yours

by

Manic Intent

"No, no. There's a way up river. 'Tis here that I put me Pearl when I've a mind t'visit, is all." Jack bit out an oath at the tight knots, and without having to ask, Norrington was there, taking over efficiently with nimble fingers.

"What sort of lady lives in these sorts of places?" Norrington finally asked, when they'd managed to lower the boat into the water without any further mishap. Jack clambered down first, then reached out to help the other man, who simply arched an eyebrow at him and shook his head slightly. Right. A seaman, and a proud one. Always forgot that.

"Yer rowing," Jack said quickly, seating himself at the prow. Norrington grumbled, but didn't object.

At his direction, they started out from the cove and towards the mouth of the inland river. Birds screeched at them overhead, some of the more curious island ones even landing in the water close by to cock a beady eye at them. Jack was watching (the feathers of) one brightly plumed blue and white one with some amount of avarice, when he realized Norrington was speaking. "I asked you a question, Jack."

"Right. The lady." Jack pushed his hand into the clear water, trailing fingers through the wake of the boat. "She's what ye'd call a witch. There, I said it."

"And so, by your particular brand of logic, that explains everything to me," Norrington drawled.

Jack leaned forward, and pressed fingers against one tanning wrist, his expression one of mock seriousness. "Not to worry, Jamie-luv. T'aint yer fault if yer slow to grasp th'more difficult things in life. 'Tis th'Navy I blame, an' mebbe yer private school upbringin', an' mebbe not enough o' bein' properly laid. We can fix th'last 'un, you an' I."

Norrington rolled his eyes. "The more difficult things in life. Like the idea of magic ships, and witches."

"Most absolutely," Jack clapped his hands together, winking impishly. "Slowly does it, Jamie. Yer getting there, ye are." The other man snorted, apparently not bothering to comment further, to Jack's relief. He wasn't sure how much of what he thought had happened was true. Maybe Tia Dalma was a descendant of the 'Tia' for whom the ship had been crafted, or maybe she was simply unrelated (though this he felt was probably unlikely). Maybe (and this would be bad) Tia would not care for him knowing this particular piece of her family history (or personal history). Jack grimaced briefly at the mental image of a little doll of him stuck full of needles. And maybe having wax dripped slowly onto it.

"She isn't somebody you've annoyed in the past, is she?" Apparently Norrington hadn't missed the expression change. The sunlight was being filtered through thick overhanging canopy, now, and the mottled light made the ex-Commodore look rather exotic. Or would have, if he wasn't obviously so nervous. Apparently he had noticed Tia's sentries—members of the native people who were her students, or attendants—Jack had never figured that out, and Tia had never liked to share much about herself.

"No, no, we're as thick as thieves, we are," Jack assured him hastily. He'd been worried the last time, but it seemed Tia had already forgiving him for... well, thieving. He had stolen things that time too, so, admittedly, she could be angry with him now... and... mental image of voodoo dolls...

"Because, correct me if I'm wrong, but you seem... worried." Norrington remarked. Jack tore his gaze away from the treeline and its well-hidden sentries, and back to his Jamie. The coat was barely able to hide flexing muscle that effortlessly manipulated the oars, and Jack would have been content to sit silently at watch—but it seemed Norrington had other ideas. "Jack."

"Well. Spooks me out, what she does," Jack decided to use a truth to cover for him. "M' might 'ave me Pearl, but voodoo magic spooks me out right proper. Even the potions."

Norrington looked as though he was struggling to realign what remained of his very British, educated world view, with the suggestion that voodoo magic was very real, and in fact, was about to be in evidence at their destination. It was quite adorable, really. The man had already come so far, and he was uncomfortable about going to see a witch, when he had faced down pirates and monsters with courage. More importantly, he seemed to have accepted Jack's explanation. "I see. I admit it all seems very unlikely."

"Ye'd be convinced when ye meet her. An', er, I ain't knowin' 'ow ye'd treat women o' colour, but ye'd be better off if ye treat her wi' respect. Tia Dalma's th'queen o' this island, ye could say."

Norrington frowned. "Do you take me for a bigot, Jack?"

"T'was only a suggestion."

"Jack. If, when I was on the Pearl, your first mate had still been in command, I would have been as comfortable sailing under her as I would you." A smirk. "Perhaps more so. For at least she was obviously capable, from what I have seen of her, and doesn't appear to be mad."

"I'd take yer word for it, Jamie-luv," Jack nodded, reassured. He hadn't warned young Will to this extent, but had been sure that he would be well received, enough to cover any possible accidental insult. And, as it turned out, far too well received—Tia had seemed willing to forget business altogether at the sight of a pretty boy. It was exactly why he had always taken William Turner Senior along with him, previously, whenever he had wanted to talk to Tia—though it was Barbossa, silver-tongued, snake witted, charismatic Barbossa, with whom she had ended up making fast friends with. She had been deeply hurt to hear of the mutiny—had, in fact, cosseted Jack for the first time ever after that, as if in mute apology. That it had been her favorite who had marooned Jack and sent Bootstrap to a living death in the depths.

As to James... Jack pulled thoughtfully at his beaded beard. Not exactly the sort of boyish pretty that Tia seemed to go for. Hopefully. Jack was very sure he would object to any sort of pawing at his Jamie. And was promptly slightly frightened at the wash of possessiveness that thought caused.

"Whenever you're quiet, I start feeling nervous," Norrington remarked dryly, before he could deal with that.

"M' thinking. M' do that at times, ye ken."

"That's exactly my point."

Jack was saved from having to come up with yet another evasive answer when they came to the odd, lantern-lit house perched on a tree that Tia Dalma lived in. Odd plants flourished despite the darkness in hanging pots, giving out a musky, almost heady scent. The mist was thickening over the water, cold and clammy. Norrington started with an oath, rocking the boat, when dark hands grasped the sides and propelled the boat towards the small jetty, anchoring it in place with ropes. The mist had hidden their welcome—Jack got a glimpse of a white smile of mischief, as the dark-skinned boy dived back into the murky water. At the surrounding trees, men and women watched them, vigilant, motionless, like gorgeously crafted statues, leaves tufted into their hair, loincloths weaved of animal skins. Primitive weapons were grasped, or held close.

Oddly enough, there were candles apparently floating in the water, and the scent of burning wax. The mist cleared occasionally to show young women, the bowls of candles held in slender hands. They hummed one note, over and over, when Jack got out of the boat.

"Is this normal?" Norrington's voice sounded strained.

"Not quite," Jack replied, feeling rather nervous himself. The candles—held in a concentric pattern—suggested that some spell of magnitude had been cast sometime today. He had read as much once in a book that Tia had allowed him, while she conversed with Barbossa extensively over the native customs of far off tribes. They harmonized the flows, or whatever. He had only been partially paying attention at that time, instead having been deeply amused by Bootstrap's polite, but panicky attempts to ward off the attentions of any number of Tia's native female attendants in a broken version of their dialect.

Jack smiled at her genuine relief and delight, even as his (thieving, he'd admit it) eyes professionally took in the bric a brac of the clutter in her cottage. Jewels and interesting little inlaid boxes lay in no apparent order amongst the skulls of small animals, dried plants, and yellowed parchment. There were a few strange oddities that were odd even in her possession—a telescope propped in the corner, with the seal of the Royal Navy beautifully etched into the side, a tarnished greatsword with a weaving Celtic pattern down its blade leaning against the door of another room, any number of rolled paintings and an enamel opium pipe from far off Cathay; all lay strewn over wicker and wood furniture.

"Miss Dalma," Norrington said with all the polite formality of his previous station in life, and bowed, full of courtly grace. Jack wasn't sure who was more surprised, himself, or Tia.

She glanced at the ex-Commodore thoughtfully, then at Jack, and grinned, showing discolored teeth. "An' who's this youse be bringin' to Tia, Jack?" She sidled over to Norrington, laughing in delight as he brushed his lips over her wrist. Jack had to stifle a growl when he noticed that his Jamie was obviously also enjoying her childlike delight with unfamiliar formalities, and stepped between them quickly.

"e's James Norrington. Ye know, the pirate hunter? Scourge of the pirates of the Caribbees, 'avin' nearly single-handedly hunted our kind t'extinction?" Jack pulled at face at Tia, who seemed unimpressed. "An' 'sides, we're 'ere on business. Again."

"Payment." Tia folded her arms, though she seemed to be giving Norrington the once-over, as much as he could be seen behind the slighter form of Jack, anyway. The pirate revised his previous estimate about Tia's type being only shy, innocent pretty boys.

"O' course," Jack fluttered his hands and grinned wickedly. "See, I was thinkin' 'bout how I could top that magic monkey, an' I found a magic ship instead. It's right in th'cove. Very pretty ship. Very magical. It'd take some sort'a genius to top even that!"

"What?" Norrington's voice was incredulous, and held a hint of outrage. Jack half turned and clapped one hand over thinning lips, just as he raised a finger at Tia.

"So, what's it t'be?"

"Jack Spar-row," Tia was shaking her head in disbelief. Dreadlocks and ornaments swept across a chocolate heart of a face, dark lips curved into a patient smile. "Youse think Tia didn't see ye bring dat ship, dat ship she knows well, onto her island?"

"Wouldn't think it at all," Jack said quickly, then flinched slightly when he felt a wet tongue against his palm. A quick glance up—Norrington's eyes were flashing mischief again. Very inappropriate timing. Someday he'd have to speak to his Jamie about that. "I thought ye'd like it, seein' as 'ow we found it floatin' all by its ownsies on a deserted island, wi' nowt t'play with."

"Jack, Jack," Tia walked back to her chair, at sat down, wearily. "There would-a be six ships, and they be White Tern, Lady Luck, Far horizon, Godspeed, Sea Dancer, an' Tia. Five ships youse saw, since the chillun took Lady Luck. Four ships now, and Davy Jones be angry. He be very angry indeed." She leaned forward with a faint smile. "'Sides, why would I be wantin' to trade what be already mine? Youse seen the name o' that ship. Youse seen whose face be on the figurehead."

"Half yours. Half," Jack grit his teeth at the soft kiss, and the nip, but managed to plaster on his most persuasive grin. "Half his. Or more, as ye'd know. I looked in th'ship, Tia, at 'ow it was made. Now ye can 'ave the ship, an' redecorate. An' it's still magic. Very shiny ship."

Tia Dalma seemed to consider this, frowning briefly as though recalling the past, and then she looked back up. "An' 'ow'd ye be getting' off my island, without a boat?"

Norrington seemed to tire of being left out of the conversation, and pulled Jack's hand away. "That was exactly what I'd like to know, Jack," he hissed dangerously. "Why are we trading in my... er, that ship?"

"I'm sure we can prevail on ye t'get us to Tortuga, Tia," Jack said with a quick grin, "I knows ye buy a lot of things from Tortuga." The fact was, as much as it reminded him of days past that he would rather forget, lest they bring back a stinging reminder of betrayal, Barbossa had set up those trading channels for Tia. If anything, his later reputation as the captain of the 'haunted' Black Pearl had only aided that.

He looked back at Norrington. "As to ye, it's 'cos we need help, an' I don't 'ave anythin' else to pay with, savvy?"

"You," Tia said suddenly, frowning, pointing at Norrington, when he opened his mouth to reply. "You have the heart."

"I thought ye'd 'ave known that from the moment we came in," Jack said, surprised. He had spent a long time believing that Tia was all but omnipotent, even.

Tia chuckled darkly. "When 'e cut out 'is heart, Jack, 'e cast spell, spell to hide it from Tia." She smiled, though it had no mirth in it. "The heart be a better trade."

"No, I have need of it for now," Norrington said quickly. "And I don't see what help we need here."

"We need t'be able t'hide on th'way back t' Tortuga, an' to... an' fer ye t'get to Port Royal, Jamie-luv," Jack said patiently. "'Else the thump-thump won't do ye no good at all. T'aint only Davy Jones that wants 'is heart, 'tis all manner of unsavory creatures that desire power over the seas. An', I need advice on 'ow t'get me ship back."

"And you can help us with that, Miss Dalma?" Disbelief, but polite disbelief.

"Aye, Miz Dalma, she know a lot-a things," Tia was grinning again, obviously amused at the both of them. "Jack Spar-row. Youse catch big fish this time. Maybe too big for you."

"I'd be the judge o' that," Jack said in annoyance. "So. Is th'ship payment enough?"

"Done," Tia shrugged, her odd dress of dyed skins shifting, and she leaned back in her chair, tapping her cheek. "Now, youse be sitting down?"

Norrington sat in the single uncluttered chair, while Jack elected to perch on a side table, examining a stained wooden goblet carved into the shape of a snarling wolf, the eyes oddly set with rubies. He looked up to see Norrington's warning glance, and put the cup back, clasping his hands and smiling as innocently as he could. At the raised eyebrow, he pouted, and reached into his coat, returning the gold-gilded quill that he had swiped from the other pile of clutter while Tia had been walking to her chair.

Unfortunately, the silent exchange hadn't been missed by the witch, who was, to Jack's annoyance, thoroughly enjoying herself. "I be wrong, Jack. Maybe youse the fish, an' ye don't know 'ow good ye'd been caught." She glanced at Norrington and steepled her fingers before her in a pyramid, "'Nobody could-a control Jack, not even when he was a boy an' his beard was refusin' t'grow. E'en when he came to Tia wi' that brand fresh on his poor arm, refusin' t'cry, like any other wee child 'is age would-a." Tia smiled, her eyes far away for a moment, affectionate. "'e say, 'M' a pirate now, Tia, this says it fer th'world t'know. M' marked a pirate, and m' goin' t'be th'best pirate they ever see.' Brave boy. Not so smart, but brave."

His Jamie leaned forward, the need for aid and information outweighed by his curiosity at this tidbit, obviously wanting to ask further questions, but Jack cut in quickly to break up the reminiscence. He was grateful to Tia for that incident, for hiding him, treating the blisters, nursing him through the fever that followed, but gratitude only lasted so far, and he was reluctant to let any stories of his childhood circulate further. "Tia. We'd need that spell o' hidin', an' th'information. His Pirate Huntership there is impatient t'get back t'Port Royal, an' all."

Tia got up, and went to the back room, again sorting through her junk with mutters that Jack couldn't quite catch. Norrington was reading some of the parchments upside down with apparent fascination, but he looked up quickly enough when Jack picked up a tiny figurine of a horse, carved from clear jade. Hastily, the pirate put it back, holding his hands up briefly in wry surrender.

"Did you trade your compass from here, or steal it?" Norrington murmured.

"I traded it. Fair," Jack said, trying to sound properly mortified at the accusation. "Honestly, Jamie."

The ex-Commodore snorted. "I do beg your pardon, but since we've entered, you've picked up some silver cufflinks, a dagger with an ivory and gold handle, and a couple of sapphire rings. Put them back, if you please."

Sulkily, Jack did so. It was a good thing James hadn't noticed the inlaid fan, the emerald-encrusted comb and the gold watch.

"Uh. Thank you," Norrington said rather dubiously, putting his into his coat.

"Now. Your Pearl," Tia smiled thoughtfully. "She be at th'bottom of the sea. Youse could-a get Davy Jones to bring 'er back up again, but there will be debt—and youse not so good at debts, Jack. An' there should-a be some things, you must not pay." She shot Norrington a significant glance. "Or you risk worse than soul. Youse risk heart."

"Some would argue th'soul, is, more valuable," Jack grinned, choosing to pretend that he hadn't seen Norrington's puzzled expression.

"Both valuable. Depends on situation," Tia replied impatiently. "Now. You want different way. But even if you bring up Pearl, youse have no crew."

"M' have a crew, they were just 'ere, I bet."

"They's be off to World's End," Tia shrugged. "Ye wouldn'a be seein' them fer a while."

"World's End? What in God's name for?" Jack asked incredulously, and then frowned suddenly. "No. No, you didn't."

"They owes it to you, Jack. Tia knows. The girl, especially, she owes you big, big." Tia's eyes were flinty, her voice low and fierce. "What use is heart, without soul? They take his soul from World's End, problem over. You use heart, bring back Pearl. They use soul, destroy him, destroy his magic. Forever. Finish. No more Davy Jones. You sail free until youse die."

"Except they don't know anything about how t'get to th'World's End, an' even then, 'ow to make it through to 'is soul!" Jack was aware that he was getting agitated. He was rather fond of his current crew, as well as the whelp and the girl. And it wasn't true—they didn't exactly owe him.

"Barbossa sails with them," Tia said quietly. "I use big magic."

"Just about all of the conversation is going above my head, but... what did you say?" Norrington chose that part to cut in incredulously, seeing as Jack's mouth was opening and closing like a fish in shock.

"Use big magic, white man," Tia snapped, tapping her fingers on the table. "Bad magic break his soul and black his heart. I change it back. Balance, his life back. Balance, the chest and bad magic gone, forever. No more. Sea protect it now."

"So that's why th'treasure island sank!" Jack yelped, his mind managing to grasp that one fact first. "Tia!"

Tia looked at Jack darkly, unrepentant. Untamable, unafraid of no man. "Youse not the only one hurt when he do what he did. That treasure best gone, Jack. And Tia remember Bootstrap William Turner. Handsome boy with a love in Eng-land who he love strong enough t'stay true to, but not love as much as the sea. Tia see his son, Tia remembers, but Tia could'na tell him—your father, he good man, but he love the sea more than he love you. The son also, good man. Tia want to help. Stab heart, that not save Bootstrap. Destroy soul, that free him. Turn back the bad magic."

"Did you tell young Will that?"

"Of course Tia tell him. Tia tell him, he want to help Jack, he destroy soul for Jack. And he chase heart no more, for heart do Bootstrap no good. He chase soul now."

"And... Barbossa?"

"Barbossa owe Tia big now," The witch's eyes were cold, but her voice was pained. "Tia hold his life in her hands. He betray again, Tia's vengeance will be worse than undeath."

Jack rubbed his temple, trying to think and absorb the information. So far, it seemed as though everything was doing good... unless Davy Jones caught up with his ex-crew and the young'uns. Other than Davy Jones, World's End lay in the distressing territory of Oriental pirates, who had flourished without the corresponding version of Norrington in that area, despite the presence of the East India Trading Company. Besides, there was the matter of his ship.

"So 'ow do ye suggest I raise me ship? I don't own th'heart at th'moment, an' th'spells would'a be o' any use if he knows where we are, and what Jamie has. Didn't ye suggest there could be another way t'raise her?"

"Voodoo magic is earth magic, spirit magic, woman's magic. Tia knows not."

"I'd raise the ship for you, Jack," Norrington said softly. Green eyes flashed with jealousy for a brief moment when Jack visibly brightened at the thought of seeing his Pearl again, then smoothed back to icy glass. He looked down at his hands, chewing on his lip. "Perhaps at Tortuga, so you can start on refitting and repairs."

"T'aint got money, since somebody sank me treasure island," Jack glanced at Tia accusingly. The witch sighed.

"Youse get the Pearl fixed in Tortuga, Tia pay. Happy? Someday you make it up to Tia."

Jack grumbled, then thought of something else. "It'd just repeat th'problem. Davy Jones will just call that beastie out o' th'depths again."

"Jack, Jack," Tia smiled, "World does not center on you. Davy Jones, he be concerned over th'heart. Which..."

"Which I will bring to Port Royal. After raising the ship."

"And Lord Beckett will use it t'sink every pirate ship from 'ere t'Singapore, m'bet."

"Then it will be a fine time for you to become a privateer," Norrington smiled winningly.

Jack's jaw would have dropped to the ground if it could, to realize how he'd just been masterfully played. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait wait. M'said nothin' about privateerin'. An' I lost m'papers. An' there was only one pardon, which ye want yerself."

"It doesn't have to be permanent," Norrington said persuasively. Jack found the earnest green eyes extremely disconcerting. "Yes. One pardon. But also one Letter of Marque. Which would amount to the same, for our purposes. I raise the ship, it doesn't get destroyed by Davy Jones, Mr. Turner and the others find the soul, and after it's been destroyed, you can go back to doing whatever you'd like. I get pardoned and reinstated, and you get a temporary reprieve, during which you can repair your ship. And, I have your papers."

The silence that ensued was only broken when Tia began to laugh, and clap. "Jack Spar-row. Youse canna run from this 'un, Tia thinks."

Jack growled, but ignored that for now. "We're placing a lot of trust on Barbossa, Will and 'Lizabeth, an' th'rest, here."

"Mr. Turner and Miss Swann have both proven to be extremely resourceful, despite their youth and rashness," Norrington said mildly. "But I am sure you can, after getting the Pearl repaired, select a crew and go haring off after them, if that is your wish."

"Anamaria be in Kings-ton," Tia said suddenly. "Her business over. She wait for you, Jack. She need help soon."

"Just chalk that up on me social calendar," Jack groaned. A Letter of Marque. Norrington wouldn't understand why, out of principle, he couldn't accept that. And especially not from Lord Beckett, who had likely issued it precisely because he knew Jack would never accept it out of his own free will. A sucker bet made to children who were too in love with each other to do any sort of research before running off to the high seas.

However, at the moment, it looked as though he had no choice. It was the easiest way to get his Pearl back up from the depths. Although there was so much that could go wrong, Jack was a canny enough gambler to know that he had just been dealt a decent hand, and it would be foolish not to play it through. That didn't mean, however, that he couldn't entertain some final reservations.

He said as much later to Norrington, when they were alone. Tia had instructed her attendants to prepare them both a spare hut in the tiny village where her disciples and guardians lived, knowing that Jack likely needed some time to think things over. She had gone off with a small escort to check out the ship they had brought her. "I won't accept the Letter. Nor anything issued by Beckett. 'e an' I, we 'ave bad blood between us."

"Jack," Norrington said mildly, but firmly, from where he was folding the tattered blankets provided into pillows on the pallet, "You sign the Letter, or I forge your signature."

"Forgery? On a guv'ment document? Ye'd be hanged!" Jack waved his hands quickly, shaking his head. Actually, he wasn't sure what happened to forgers, but like many pirates, he had a special place in his mind reserved for contemplations of the noose. "Short drop, sudden stop! T'aint fun at all, m'can tell ye."

Norrington tensed as though in pain. "I know, Jack. I had to watch the last time, remember? I don't want to have to do that again. If you can't keep to the Letter after Davy Jones has been neutralized... please, leave the Caribbean."

"Ye keep sayin' that, an' I'm going t'feel right unwanted, mate," Jack pouted, though he would have to admit to feeling rather... touched. He had no idea (the last time, at least) that Norrington had been watching the spectacle with anything other than the satisfaction of a job well done. "M'not leavin'."

"You know that's not true, Jack. And you'd have time to decide that for yourself, when you have your Pearl again," A shuddering breath. "So. Will you sign this, or not?"

"M'don't 'ave a pen," Jack said sulkily, knowing he was being childish but not caring.

Norrington held out a quill and an inkbottle. "From Tia."

Grumbling, Jack very grudgingly signed 'Captain Jack Sparrow' in a flourish, and even inked and pressed his thumb next to it. "There." He tried to be furious, but Norrington's relief, so strong that he was unable to hide it, as he almost reverently pocketed the papers was far too endearing.

However, a plan involving his soon to be newly repaired Pearl, the heart, far Cathay and Norrington was beginning to fit itself together. If it wouldn't have been far too obvious, Jack would have started rubbing his hands together. And perhaps even have cackled a little (though even his overdeveloped sense of the dramatic knew that to be somewhat over the top).

It was no longer about revenge, Jack knew. It was about winning, and Norrington could not know how formidable a pair he and his Pearl were. Right now, he would concede a few skirmishes, until he was allied again with his lady love. But in the end, Jack Sparrow fully intended to have ship, James and the proud freedom he so prized.

Take what ye can. Give nothin' back.

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