Pirates of the Caribbean Oneshots

Reflecting

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The knife was thrown, embedded and removed.

Over and over again.

They were sitting huddled in Tia Dalma's shack.

Mourning.
Missing.
Struggling with their conscience.

"Against de cold. An' de sorrow."

Elizabeth met the steady, intense gaze of Tia Dalma as she offered her a tray of tankards.

She took one, it's heat seeping into her cold hands.

The hands that had fastened that shackle to her captain's wrist.

The hands of a murderer.

She had figured out what the Kraken wanted.
The captain.
Not the ship.

She had delivered what it wanted, in the most deceitful way possible.

She had exploited his curiosity, seduced him, lured him with her lips.

Elizabeth joined the toast to her former captain, though she was hardly aware what she was saying.

Her mind kept drifting back to the Pearl and him.

The taste of rum on his breath, in her mouth when their kiss had deepened.
How his hands had moved over her body, exploring.

His expression when she'd pulled back and clicked the shackle closed.

That half-smile, the flicker of admiration in his dark eyes.

"Pirate," he'd whispered against her lips.

"I'm not sorry," she'd responded before tearing herself away.

But she was.

A light touch on her knee made her glance down.

Will's hand rested there.
It was clean and roughened by work, with well-kept nails and no adornments of any sort.

The hand she had tethered to the mast had been long-fingered, dirty, adorned with three rings and impossibly gentle as it had caressed her.

A soft chitter made Elizabeth glance over at the other room in the shack.

Barbossa's monkey-it's real name was too painful for Elizabeth to even think-was perched on the end of a bed.

Suddenly, she longed to shoot it.
The bloody thing was undead anyway, so shooting it did nothing except release stress of the person holding the pistol, which had been it's main function on the Pearl.

Elizabeth sipped from her tankard, wishing it held rum.
She remembered a marvellous night on a deserted island that had involved a lot of rum-drinking.
And rum-burning.

"No! Not good! Stop! Not good! What are you doing?! You've burned all the food, the shade, the rum!!"

She was powerless to stop his voice entering her mind as she thought of that night.

She remembered the scars he'd shown her, the two on his chest that she couldn't figure out how he was still alive after.
The one on his arm.
The "P".

"P" for Pirate.

What he'd been.
What she was.

"...Would you do it?"

Tia Dalma's accented voice was sharp, bringing Elizabeth out of her thoughts.

"What...would you do, hm? What would any of you be willing to do, hm? Would you sail to de ends of de Earth, an' beyon' , to fetch back Witty Jack, an' 'im precious Pearl?"

"Aye."
Gibbs' voice was strong and sure as he answered.

"Aye."
Pintel and Ragetti agreed.

Cotton's parrot repeated the word and Tia Dalma turned her ageless dark gaze on Elizabeth.

Despite the lump in her throat, she managed to say, "Yes."

Will whispered, "Aye" and Tia Dalma smiled.

"Alrigh,'" she said.
"But if you go an' brave de weird and haunted shores at World's End, den, you will need a captain who knows dose waters."

Slow, heavy footsteps came down the stairs and Barbossa stepped into thier midst, very much alive.

"So tell me," he said.
"What's become of my ship?"

A/N Ooh my first attempt at writing Tia Dalma!
I found her difficult and would love to hear your thoughts on how I wrote her so drop me a comment with thoughts/criticism? Please?
Have a nice day!
Captain Storm Sparrow.