A/N: I do not own PotC. I am making no money off of this. Although wouldn't it be nice to have Jack just once. . .over night.

The moon shone off the water, giving it an ethereal presence. The waves that gently broke against the hull of the ship made a soft comforting sound. To any that knew and loved it, it was a call home, a call that resonants to the deepest parts of the soul. There was barely a breeze, yet the sails were full and the ship moved along as if the gods of the sea themselves, moved the ship. None but the captain could explain the sails or the heading. For some of the crew members it was an exciting adventure to parts of the world previously unknown. To other members, it was a folly to venture so far into the warm seas. Rumors had abounded of the evil that ruled the waters, rumors of a ship so fearsome that any that met it, were never heard from again. But they said naught to the captain. It was her ship, her heading and her decision. And while she was a good and benevolent captain, she was still a pirate. The Pirate Lord of the British Isles. And her reputation for being fearsome was no rumor. Yet they wondered what drove her into those waters. They knew that she had come from there about 13 years ago, but never spoke of it. Forbade it even. Yet here they were just days from their destination and the captain seemed more uneasy the closer they got. They thought about sending someone to ask but none would take the job. So they sat, in their quarters, waiting for sleep to overtake them and these new waters to claim them.

The pirate was no fool. She knew her crew were uneasy and she couldn't blame them. Most had never been past the Colonies in the Americas. But the song had been sung and as a pirate Lord, she could not ignore it. There was to be a gathering and nothing could stop that. She must be there lest something happen. It was hard to imagine after all these years that she was going back. She had not sailed these waters for 13 years and had only made her way back once to return something. She had avoided any and all contact with ships that ventured up her coastlines, unless they encroached to far into her waters. It was her secret that she gleamed any and all knowledge they had of the Caribbean. It was a balm to her soul to know that those she cared about carried on.

There had only been one other time that she thought to return. It was only two years or so after she had left, just months after she had returned the first time after delivering an item to the Cove. But the news that she received had her turning her ship around with orders to hoist the sails and make ready for a long voyage. She got about halfway down the coast of the Colonies when she meet with another ship carrying the colors. Desperate for information, she ran a white flag of truce and hailed the captain. When he revealed what he knew, she breathed a sigh of relief and decided to return to her own waters. Of course, not before the other captain tried to take advantage of their truce and her trust. Hours later, he sat in her brig, his ship in the hands of his sensible and grateful first mate and a quarter of his loot in her hold. The next day, she left him afloat in the longboat they had removed from his ship, two days from the nearest port.

Smiling softly at the memory, she breathed in deeply as she closed her eyes. The salt on the air was different than what she had grown accustomed to in her new home. But taking in the warm salty air, she realized how very much she had missed it here. Opening her eyes, she strengthened her resolve to be done with this business and get back to her own waters as quickly as she could. It would do no good for her to linger, waiting for something that would never happen again, could never happen again.

She was called The Morrigan. A phantom queen, a warrior goddess. True enough, that she had cultivated that image. But she had only done what was necessary to do so. Never senseless death or destruction. And yet, that seemed to make her all the more fearsome. She laughed ironically at her title. For Morrigan was a goddess and ruler of fresh water, and she was most definitely a ruler of the ocean. Of course, it didn't help that she kept a large pet raven aboard her ship, which was the Morrigan's symbol. She had saved it as a chick when it had fallen out of it's nest. It had been with her ever since.

As the winds carried her closer and closer to the Brethren, she felt an aching in her chest. Of course he wouldn't be there. She wondered if he had made anyone his heir and passed on his piece. Or was there now no longer a Pirate Lord of the Caribbean. Unlike her crew, she knew that the rumors of a great evil were not just rumors. The East India Trading Company had taken over the seas. And they were using the Flying Dutchman to do their dirty work for them. Somehow, she just knew that he had been at the center of all this. They had stopped to restock at a little known port of call just days from Tortuga. It was there she had learned of the Black Pearl being lost to the depths along with it's captain. Jack Sparrow. No one there knew for sure how but it was assumed that it was a victim of the Dutchman. Tears had stung her eyes as she had staggered back to her ship. Her cache of whiskey had been passed over for the bottle of rum she had obtained at the pub when her worst nightmares had been brought to life.

Jack, she thought painfully as she came back to the present, my Jack. Gone. Her eyes held pain and anger. The emotions that had been brewing for days finally broke thru. She unleashed an unholy howl as tears coursed down her face. Her screams echoed off the waters for miles and any that heard it, felt the sorrow and rage. It caused a shiver down their backs and they thanked whatever gods were listening that it was not directed at them. The crew themselves shuddered. Never before had their captain showed such emotion. They hoped that whoever it was that had caused her release was making his peace with God. Because once she found them, there would be no mercy.

She let herself wallow in grief for another few moments before taking control. She checked her compass and made a minor correction. If she allowed herself to dream, she could already see her destination. Shipwreck Cove. Never thought I would go back there again. Still, something must be done about Beckett. An evil and malicious smile crossed her face then. And once that's done, Davy Jones and I will be having words. Any who saw that smile would have backed away and tried to erase it from their minds. For although the woman was beautiful, the smile was anything but and it promised retribution and pain.

I know not where ye be, Jack. But I swear on my life that ye shall be avenged. Even if I have to go to hell and back.

As she spoke her words, she removed a small bejeweled dagger from her belt. Making a swift cut across her palm, she held it out over the water. She watched as seven drops of her blood hit the water. For a moment, it created a glowing red trail behind her in the water. Then it was gone and the water was once again it's blue-black depths. Although she couldn't see them, she knew her normally bright green eyes, had turned pitch black. The Morrigan indeed.

Two days later she was pulling into the harbor of Shipwreck Cove. And there in the midst of the other ships was the most unbelievable and beautiful sight she had ever seen. Even with her sails tied and her anchor weighed, the Black Pearl was a sight to behold. She stood at the helm and watched as her crew made ready for port. Only one though crossed her mind as she tied off the wheel and she spoke it out loud. . .

"Jack. . ."