I was, once again, screaming.

Whether it was from the pain or the panic as I toppled over the railing and to the water I did not know, but as the waves drew closer, I fell silent and waited.

Hitting the water reminded me of last year, on Isle de Pelegosto. Jack and I had fallen a greater distance than what I just had, and it felt exactly the same, like hitting a solid wall. Spots danced before my vision as white hot pain licked at my stomach, and I curled up around the wound that was driven deep into my gut.

Was I going to die? It suddenly occurred to me, what the outcome of this would have to be. My lungs were screaming, my vision was swimming, I could barely think.

I knew why Jack feared it now. Death. It was the apprehension, and the simple unknown that made it so terrifying. What did come after the moment in which my heart stopped?

I grew even more frantic, even trying to kick to the surface. I did believe that God was above us, dictating the rules, what was good and bad. Which was why I didn't want anything to do with him; no one ruled Adeena Sparrow. No one.

So where would I end up after I passed on?

I couldn't hold it back any longer. I gasped for air, and only got a mouthful of salt. Choking, I sank again. This is stupid. I thought, amusing myself for a moment, before the gravity of the situation hit me again.

I stopped struggling, giving up. The currents were too strong.

Which was why I was absolutely shocked when something began pushing me toward the surface.

***

There was so much chaos that Jack barely knew how he ended up with the chest, a broken sword, and a...wife. That was just weird, he decided, calling Adeena that. He'd refrain from the technical terms. Partner sounded less formal and more like someone who he'd end up stuck with in a prison cell.

His confusion was probably partly due to Davy Jones, he realized, shaking away the dizziness. Yes, that was right. Squid face had knocked him out.

Judging by the way the battle looked exactly as it had before Davy's claw found its way to his face, he'd only been unconscious for a minute or so.

Oh, wait. It was not exactly as it had been a minute or so ago. William was on the ground, as well as Elizabeth, and -- very conveniently -- the chest was lying not three feet away from him! And to top it off, the key remained clutched in his fist. Excellent turn of events.

He wasn't sure where Adeena was. A quick scan of the deck as he scampered over to the chest did not prove to help him in that field.

Perhaps she's on the Pearl? He wondered, hurriedly unlocking the chest. William was about to have a sword through his chest, how lovely. Another conflict, who was he to save? Himself or William Turner II, the bloody whelp?

He could procrastinate, he was good at that.

"Tell me, William Turner, do you fear death?" He arrived in time to hear Davy Jones snarl.

"Do you?" Jack called, heart in one hand, what remained of his faithful cutlass in the other. It gave him immense satisfaction to see the unease in Davy Jones' eyes as he caught sight of the danger he was in.

"Yer a cruel mind, Jack Sparra!" He spat, tentacles flying.

Jack grinned. "Cruel is a matter of perspective."

His fairly good spirits dampened as Davy smirked; that was never good. "Is it?" The captain of the Flying Dutchman asked.

Jack didn't have time to come up with a witty response. Davy Jones had already spun around and drove his sword into Will's heart.

***

I broke the surface, coughing and choking and trying to find time to breathe as the waves washed over my head. But something, something kept me surfaced.

Calypso? I wondered, squinting into the waves, ignoring the throbbing from the gash in my stomach.

Whoever it was, I thanked them.

I didn't waste any time, splashing my way across the maelstrom (I was only mildly surprised by this sort of magic by now) and trying to find the Flying Dutchman through the heavy rain. Is that it? I strained my eyes. Yes, the mossy thing with the torn sails. That's where Jack was. Move, I instructed my tired limbs. The force keeping me surfaced pushed me along, and I did my best to cut through the waves on my own.

I hadn't spared much thought to how I was to get back on deck. Stupid, I cursed myself, staring up at the great vessel as we circled with the current.

Perhaps whatever held me up heard my thoughts, because a gigantic wave hit me, and I was thrown onto the slimy deck of the ship.

That could have been worse. I thought, trying to stand. Pain jolted through me each time I moved. Thanks, Calypso...mom, whoever.

I was tired, and hot, despite the cold rain that pelted my skin. I probably had a fever. I needed help, however lame that sounded coming from my mouth.

"Jack!" I yelled, as I caught sight of him. He didn't hear me, he was staring at something, horrified. Dammit, it took a lot to put that expression on Jack Sparrow's face. What was happening now?

My question was answered when I stumbled up the the scene. Will. Will had a sword in his chest. Jack had the heart and a fragment of a sword. Elizabeth was panicking. Davy Jones was laughing.

"What the hell?" I gasped, toppling over as I reached them. Jack's gaze flew to me, and then to the wound that was still probably gushing blood.

His mouth formed my name, and he took a step, but we were both distracted as Bootstrap Bill Turner, with a roar, tackled Davy Jones. A distraction, yes, we needed that.

I crawled to Will. "Will!" I cried, ignoring Elizabeth, who was just as, if more, distraught as me. "You are not dying, estupido!"

Jack was beside me, suddenly. He glanced at my wound, before grabbing Will's hand.

"What're you --" I stared, as he folded Will's fingers around the hilt of his shattered sword. Oh.

It's very cliche of me to say this, but I loved Jack very much in that moment.

I put my hand over his, and we guided William's hand, holding the blade, to the heart of Davy Jones.

Davy Jones froze, standing over Bootstrap. "Calypso," He whispered, before stepping backwards and falling, falling to the churning sea below the ship.

I didn't have time to care about the death of the squid face; William didn't come back to life, smiling and teasing me about how ridiculous I had looked, begging him to come back when he had never left...no, his hand fell limp to the deck, and I felt the pulses that his existence sent out cease.

When Elizabeth saw my expression, she panicked. "No, Will! Will, come back, no!"

"Jack," I said, holding a hand to my stomach, wincing. He nodded, grabbing Elizabeth's arm and dragging her away, a sober expression on his face.

He worked his magic, grabbing a rope, somehow knowing where it would take us, and reached out a hand to me. I took it, he sliced away the twine, and we were off.

It was over. I took Elizabeth's hand, struggling to keep my eyes open. She didn't move, pressing her face into Jack's shirt. I copied, having nothing to say.

We landed in the water, again, the sail that had kept us in the air falling atop of us. I weakly swatted it away, barking a curse. Jack pushed it away, smiling at my antics.

A rope was thrown down to us, and we gripped it, allowing whoever was on the other end to jerk us onto deck.

I stood in a rush, examining the skin that the sword had broken with wide eyes. There was blood, yes, it was sore, yes, but no wound. I was completely, and totally fine.

Jack snapped to, pacing across the deck. He was intercepted by Gibbs and Barboussa. I followed, deciding Elizabeth needed time alone.

"Jack, the armada's still out there," Gibbs said nervously. "And the Endeavor's coming up hard to starboard, and I think it's time we embraced that oldest and nobelest of pirate traditions..." He said, gesturing over his shoulder. Fight to run away? Whatever.

Jack gazed out over the sea, to the ship that carried Cutler Beckett. "Never actually been one for tradition..."

I smiled. "Yes, I was hoping you'd say that..." No one sent me a second glance.

"Luff the sails and lay on iron!" Jack barked, slipping into captain mode.

"Belay that, or we'll be a sittin' duck!" Barboussa argued.

"Belay that 'belay that'!" Jack shot back.

Gibbs tried. "But captain --"

"Belay!"

"The armada --"

"Belay!"

"The Endeavor --"

"Kindly shut it!" Jack snapped finally.

We were interrupted by the sound of waves crashing, from behind us. I whirled around, and low and behold, the Flying Dutchman rose from the ocean, dripping, with William Turner II at the wheel.

Elizabeth lit up like the sun. I had forgiven her a long time ago.

Jack's instructions suddenly made sense. "Full canvas!" He ordered, sauntering across the deck and to the helm.

"Aye, full canvas!" Barboussa shouted. Oh look, they agreed.

The Dutchman and the Pearl sailed parallel, enough space between the two that the Endeavor could fit with room to spare. I ran to the railing, watching apprehensively as we lined up.

"Fire!" I heard Gibbs yell.

And fire we did. The air became clogged with ash and gunpowder, the ring of cannons sounded. The Endeavor didn't even fire back. Cutler Beckett had given up.

I've read quite a few books, romance, action, whatever. I'm pretty diverse. I can tell you that usually, in stories of vengeance and angst, the revenge is never sweet; they'll finally achieve it and realize that it wasn't what they wanted after all.

I searched the wreckage for Cutler Beckett, but I found nothing. I had no idea what the people in books were talking about; revenge was sweeter than rum. Which actually didn't take much, but rum is fairly enjoyable.

We had reduced the Endeavor to a pile of slivers within seconds, and our ships sailed off together, into the fading sunset. I remained at the railing, listening to the cheers from the crew behind me. Would things remain peaceful now? Can I even handle peace after this? I smiled.

"Adeena."

I turned. Jack had joined me, missing his hat. "What can I do for you?" I asked with a smile, solicitous.

"Idiot." He nudged me. "Am I seeing things?" He gestured at my midsection.

Oh, that. "No. I'm fine. And before you ask, no, that has never happened, it will not happen again, it is not something I can just do."

He smiled with amusement. I took his hand. "What did it, then? That's bloody unnatural, love."

"Thanks." I scoffed. "I am slightly unnatural myself, baka. I think it was Calypso, if you must know."

"What did you do for special attention?" He asked, with a hint of jealousy.

"Don't worry, she liked you." I reassured him. "See, you didn't get stabbed and fall overboard, is all."

"Oh. Well, good for you."

I sighed with exasperation, but I returned his kiss, the faint taste of rum on his lips. He would never change, would he?

Well, I certainly didn't want him to.