Filia Maris [Pirates of the Caribbean | Captain Jack Sparrow]

Tia Dalma

I will only post a single disclaimer, and it is this: I, sadly, do not own Pirates or Captain Jack or any of the marvelousness that is this series. If I did, I would not currently be worrying about student loans... Only Maris and her story belong to me.

A/N: This little fic idea had been floating around in my head since I saw 'At World's End' for the second time in theatres before I finally wrote it down and posted it several years back over on FFN. As such, this story draws only from the movies, and none of the games, books or other supplementary materials beyond small things like the odd ship name.

***

It was with a none too gracious thud that the body was laid out on the waiting table. Maris watched from the doorway, emotionless, as the three members of her crew made a hasty retreat from the shack that sheltered the table and, perhaps more importantly, the woman who had sent them racing off to retrieve it. Tia Dalma had been waiting impatiently for them to arrive, and had leveled Maris with a sharp glare when she entered the shack far later than she had been instructed. The mystic had rather irritably waved off the men, and presumably Maris as well, though the female captain had ignored her. She stood by, watching in silence as Tia circled the dead pirate, her long fingers hovering mere inches above him, muttering all the while.

After a few long moments she huffed in frustration, her eyes glinting in the low light.

It was obviously not going as she'd planned.

Not that Maris knew why. Tia had once offered to teach her the ways of voodoo, mysticism and whatever other fantastic things the woman was capable of. Maris had invariably declined. She knew her destiny was to roam the seas. Tia had been furious and, beneath that, disappointed, and had never quite dropped the issue. But Maris had never regretted the decision. The sea was in her blood. Captain Teague had once laughed that she had more salt water in her blood than any other scurvy sea-dog he'd ever met. Then, she had often made him laugh with her tenacity, her spirit, her scrappy nature and her love of the sea. Why else would he have kept on the scrawny stow-away, or taken her under his wing. Admittedly, her instinctual understanding of the sea had undoubtedly helped, but she liked to think she had earned his respect on her own merits.

Tia turned from the body, deep in thought. Maris, her arms still crossed in front of her, shifted slightly. It was enough to draw the voodoo queen's gaze.

"You 'ave brought 'im to me too late." Maris could only shrug.

"It's not as if de Isla de Muerta was easy to find." Tia scoffed. "Perhaps if you 'ad given me a better bearing—" Tia scoffed again.

"If you 'ad agreed to my lessons, you could have found it yourself. Den it would not be too late." Tia's accent thickened with aggravation. Apparently the emotion was contagious, as Maris found her own feelings of annoyance grow.

"So it was a waste, den." Tia shot the Captain a patronizing look, a sly pride surfacing under the fading irritation.

"No. 'E is only dead. It will just take a little more—work." Maris couldn't keep the skeptical look off her face. Not that she didn't believe it, mind. She knew Tia Dalma was immensely powerful. It was Tia's hesitation to elaborate that she was reacting to. Tia rarely revealed her secrets, but she seemed to let a lot more slip when she was alone with Maris. It was really one of the few hints of connection and even affection that Maris ever noticed in the woman. That and she tended to brag to the female captain, as though believing in showing Maria what she could've learned her mind might be changed. This reluctance to share was unusual. Tia froze for a moment, her eyes glazing as a thought from 'beyond' obviously came to her. She swung back to face Maris, her stare once again piercing.