Joanna woke suddenly, facing an unfamiliar ceiling. She was belowdecks. The bed seemed to sway beneath her, which she thought was quite odd until she realized it was a hammock.

She wasn't sure what had woken her until he materialized above her, dreadlocks swinging. "G'morning, Joanna," Jack Sparrow chirped. "Sweet dreams?"

Joanna carefully sat up, squinting as she recalled the adventures of the previous days. "I dreamt I busted a man from jail and stole a ship," she said dryly. "Oh wait."

"After today, you can add sailed with a buccaneer crew! How exciting," Jack said. "Need a hand?"

She grudgingly took the proffered appendage, never having escaped a hammock before and undesiring of a tumble to the floor. When her feet touched the ground, she found herself toe-to-toe with Jack.

Brown eyes, she observed; it was something she had already noted, but now she saw there were no poetically placed specks of gold or hazel. "You're the only man I know who wears makeup," she said quietly, conscious of the lack of space between them.

Jack smiled, freshly-outlined eyes crinkling. "'s called kohl," he said. "Protects against the sun."

It was strange and exotic and Joanna thought it would make him pretty, if not for the beard.

She stepped away, fishing in her pockets for a hair tie. "It's striking," she said, and followed up quickly so he couldn't comment on her admission, "Where's Will?"

Jack pointed at the ceiling. "Above. Readying the boat."

Joanna found the ribbon she'd been searching for and set about removing her hair from her face. "You trust him with that?" She asked with a smirk.

"'s a hard thing to muck up," Jack adduced. He extended his right hand with a pointed look. Joanna stared dumbly at it for a moment -- one ring, emerald and silver -- before she realized he was offering to tie back her hair.

It had been a long time since someone did it for her. She swallowed, thought what the hell, and dropped the ribbon into his hand.

The ribbon was actually a strip carved from her old skirt, but it served well. With a warm face, Joanna turned away from Jack, presenting him with her caramel, lopsided locks. Not long ago, in a fit of frustration, Joanna had attempted to shear off several inches on the right side. She'd immediately hated it so stopped halfway through.

Jack's warm fingers slipped beneath the curtain of hair, brushing against her neck. With practiced ease, he gathered her tangles into the makeshift ribbon and tied it on the first try. Considering the uneven state of her hair, Joanna found herself impressed.

"Thanks," she said quietly, turning to him again. His returning gaze was heavy and prompted Joanna into a small shiver.

Suddenly skittish, she strode for the stairs. "Best get going," she tossed over her shoulder. She didn't wait for Jack's response.

~

I don't even like him, she stewed on the way to the docks. Well, I certainly don't trust him.

Will was rowing because Joanna didn't want to, and Will wasn't in the habit of crossing her, and Jack didn't want to, and he was the captain. So Joanna watched the oars cut through the murky water, frowning into her knees.

He's interesting. And unlike anyone I have ever known, Joanna allowed. But he has threatened Will.

And anyone who did that was not her friend -- even if they spouted beguiling percentages at her and did her hair with gentle hands.

~

Gibbs was nothing if not efficient; in one night, he had amassed a modest group of scallywags. He presented Jack with the line of somber, eclectic pirates, each shifting with trepidation beneath Jack's calculating eyes.

"Feast yer eyes, Captain," Gibbs announced proudly. "All of 'em faithful hands before the mast -- an' crazy, to boot."

It was indeed a motley bunch. All men, Joanna noted with disenchantment. Some wore moth-eaten wigs in a parody of patrician virtue while others stood barefoot and scruffy.

"This is your able-bodied crew?" Will said incredulously.

Joana's eyebrows raised. "That's...kind of rude."

Jack sent Will a similar side-eye before sauntering forward, evaluating each prospective crew member with a critical eye. He paused at an elderly sailor accompanied by a resplendent parrot. "You, sailor!" Jack barked.

Gibbs popped up. "Cotton, sir."

"Mr. Cotton," Jack greeted severely. Then he said, rapid-fire, "Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?"

Cotton seemed bewildered, glancing at Gibbs for help. Jack continued, "Mr. Cotton? Answer, man!"

Gibbs stepped in apologetically. "He's a mute, sir. Poor devil had his tongue cut out, so he trained the parrot to talk for him. No one's yet figured out."

"Huh," Joanna murmured, impressed.

Jack nodded slowly. "Mr. Cotton's...parrot," he prompted. "Same question."

"Wind in the sails! Wind in the sails!" The bird squawked.

Jack looked to Gibbs for a translation. "Mostly, we figure that means yes," Gibbs supplied sunnily.

"Course it does," Jack said. He turned to Will, an eyebrow climbing into his headscarf. "Satisfied?"

"Well, you've proven they're mad," Will sanctioned.

You're not being very nice, Joanna wanted to say, just to annoy him, but another female voice cut in sharply, "An' what's the benefit for us?"

All eyes turned in surprise to the last pirate in line, a suspiciously slender lad whose face hid beneath an impressive hat. Jack edged forward cautiously. Although he looked apprehensive, he removed the hat with a customary flourish.

Long, shining black hair tumbled from the hat. A beautiful, pissed-off woman emerged.

Jack smiled warily. "Anamaria."

Anamaria slapped him in retaliation, so hard that Jack swung around to face Joanna and Will.

"I suppose you didn't deserve that one, either," Will said.

Jack winced, pressing a hand to his abused cheek. "No, that one I deserved."

Anamaria stomped her foot. "You stole my boat," she snapped.

"Actually --" Jack was cut off by another resounding slap. He took a deep breath before saying, "Borrowed. I borrowed it, but without permission." He smiled fleetingly. "With every intention of bringing it back t' you!"

"But you didn't!" Anamaria hissed.

"You'll get another one!" Jack offered as a propitiation.

Anamaria's eyes narrowed into slits. "I will," came her foreboding threat.

"A better one," Will helpfully piped up from over Jack's shoulder.

Jack grinned broadly. "A better one!"

Will glanced at Joanna with a small smirk, then added, "That one!"

"What one?" Jack demanded. He followed the tip of Will's finger, trained on the Interceptor.

"That one?" He nervously glanced back to Anamaria, who looked contemplative. Jack decided,

"That one. What say you?"

"Aye!" Anamaria shouted in tandem with the other sailors.

"Anchors away!" Cawed Cotton's parrot. With that, the crew headed for the boat in good spirits.

Gibbs ambled over to Jack, waving his hands in distress. "No no no no no, 'tis frightful bad luck to have jus' one woman aboard, sir. Let alone two."

Joanna stared at him, piqued. "That's --" She paused, then looked at Jack with a grin. "Certainly you have a way to counter it, Captain?"

Jack raised an eyebrow at her, then said to Gibbs, "It would be far worse not to have them, mate."

~

The voyage to Tortuga had been blessed by a strong, consistent wind, but it was soon apparent the journey to Isla de Muerta would be a different story. The riggers were kept busy, bustling to-and-fro among the shrouds and yards, defying death as they dangled meters above the deck. Joanna watched them in rapture, an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Because of the strange wind, the crow's nest's announcement of oncoming purple storms came as no surprise.

Since the ship was hers, Anamaria acted as first mate. She barked crass encouragement as she prowled the deck. "Are you lazy, good-for-nothing rats scared of a little wind?" She hollered, and any sailors within earshot would roar back, "No, sir!"

Joanna found herself a tad in awe of Anamaria. The woman stalked across the deck like a panther, snarling and proud, motivating any men in her path into action despite the long tumble of her hair or the curve of her waist.

As Jack's right-hand-man, Gibbs was quartermaster. Joanna observed a system between him and Anamaria -- Gibbs would give the orders, then Anamaria would follow up with a tirade of fortification disguised as insults. It was efficient and impressive.

Joanna was also surprised by Jack. In the small company of Will and Joanna, he had seemed deviant and droll, but with a crew at his fingertips, he gained a natural, indisputable authority. He strolled among them as if the floor wasn't rising and falling unpredictably beneath him, calling orders and generally commanding respect.

When the first drops of rain came, Joanna solemnly turned to Will. "If I die out here, I leave to you all my worldly possessions."

He rolled his eyes.

Joanna didn't realize until later how appropriate her comment was. The rough wind turned into peeling gales, raking through her clothes to bite at her skin. Those few drops of rain turned into sheets that blinded her eyes. The tie was torn from her hair by a particularly decisive gust of wind, leaving Joanna with a new enemy to tame. All the while, the deck heaved beneath her feet, threatening to toss her into the roiling sea if she didn't watch her steps. In summary, Joanna was a healthy amount of spooked.

Anamaria and Gibbs' hoarsely-called instructions could scarcely be heard above the storm, but Joanna and Will did their best to do as they were told. Able-bodied sailors would point them in the right direction and they would go, hauling lines and tying knots and catching fellow outlaws from tumbling into the waves.

At some point, Will yelled above the racket, "How can we sail to an island nobody can find with a compass that doesn't point north?"

Joanna opened her mouth to ask Will what the hell he was on about when she realized Gibbs was on her other side, and he was replying to Will. "Aye, the compass doesn't point north. But we're not trying t' find north, are we?"

What the hell kind of compass doesn't point north? Joanna wanted to ask, but Gibbs stumbled away before she could. He fell in the direction of the bridge deck and Joanna heard him yelling at Jack, proposing they drop canvas.

"She can hold a bit longer!" Jack returned with effervescence. He looked like a chimera of the sea, lit by a dazzling splash of white lightning, hair whipping and eyes crackling. Joanna looked away.

~

The storm left as suddenly as it had arrived. It dissipated around dawn, leaving a steamy, grey sunrise and a crew of exhausted pirates.

Jack bounced down onto the main deck as if he hadn't spent several hours wrestling the helm of the Interceptor into submission. "With favorable wind and sea, we'll reach Isla de Muerta within the day," he announced, and received a cheerful, if tired, "Aye!" from the crew.

Will and Joanna were leaning against a gunwale, catching their breath, as Jack passed them by. He grinned at them, looking smaller with his hair and clothes flattened by water. His kohl had smeared and left black streaks across his face. "How're you two holding up?"

Joanna smiled. "You've got a little something, there," she said, gesturing.

"All part of the look, darling," Jack said breezily, winked, and sashayed on his way. Joanna stared at his back.

"He winked at me," Joanna said absently.

Will didn't say anything, but she could tell he wanted to.

"And it is none of your business whether I minded or not," Joanna said cryptically.

Will raised an eyebrow at her. Joanna had the feeling he saw right through her goading statement. Without a word, he pushed away from the gunwale and from her.

Tired and sopping wet, Joanna spared a moment for self-reflection. I would not be here right now if not for William Turner, she acknowledged, observing him as he trailed after Jack, likely to ask about his dubious plans.

When Will came to Port Royal eight years ago, he was about ten years old, penniless and without prospects. Joanna, barely sixteen, had recently lost her mother.

Joanna's father turned to drink. Their relationship unavoidably suffered, as did the family business; Joanna was forced to grow her sewing hobby into a serious enterprise for extra money. Will's arrival as a second hand was instrumental in saving the remaining Browns from financial ruin.

But most of all, Will was instrumental as a friend to Joanna. He distracted her from her loss and became her closest confidant. Joanna couldn't imagine a version of the past eight years of her life without him.

Joanna blinked and came back to the present, feeling the ship rock beneath her. She realized she had been staring into space. Prickling with embarrassment, Joanna turned to the sea.

She contemplated the sparkling waves. After some thought, Joanna decided there was no place she would rather be than here, helping Will. Regardless of her flourishing criminal record.