| |
The Quality of Mercy, part 1
by Rach74
Pairing: J/N
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The film 'Pirates of the Caribbean,' and the characters in this story (except Edward Keane) are owned by Disney. Although I think Johnny Depp owns Mr Caribbean Sex, Captain Jack Sparrow. I'm not making any money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. The characters merely inspire me.
Archive: If you like, just ask me and tell me where it's going.
Originally Posted: 10/24/04
Note: This story assumes that the two deleted scenes between James and Elizabeth happened. The utterly charming smile of James warms my heart. I wish they'd put them in because I think it would have made the ending far more emotionally powerful. So in my world they happened . Thanks to Fabu and warinbabylon for the wonderful betas. And thanks as always to Pam. This is my first attempt at a full length PotC fic. All idiocies and mistakes are my own.
Summary: Captain Jack Sparrow saves James Norrington from an evil pirate, but that's only the beginning.
The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: It is twice bless'd
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
William Shakespeare
"The Merchant of Venice", Act IV, Scene I
Page 211: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works (OUP)
Captain Jack Sparrow was content with his lot; he had his beloved back, a crew who apparently liked him, and a tasty bit of loot to keep him in the rum. He hummed tunelessly and swayed in time to the off-key notes; suddenly he became aware he was being followed. He pretended he hadn't noticed and carried on with his drunken sway until he could corner his prey. He spun round and slammed the man against the corner wall with his sword at his prisoner's throat.
"You going to tell me why yer sneakin' round after me, mate?" His voice was deceptively calm, the hard edge of his sword making itself known in the man's neck. The man, obviously a misbegotten pirate like Jack, coughed and wheezed against the tightness and then managed a strangled sentence.
"Me Cap'n has a present for ye."
"A present for ole Captain Sparrow, eh? Now why would 'e be doin' a thing like that?"
"For riddin' us of that undead bastard; he were makin' it 'ard for 'onest pirates to make a livin'."
Jack loosened his hold on the man and his captive took in a deep breath, but made no move to leave. "And who might your Cap'n be?"
"Cap'n Edward Keane."
Jack swallowed at the name, but allowed none of his sudden fear show on his face. Keane, of the Cadaver, was one of the meanest men he'd ever had the misfortune to meet other than Barbossa.
"Has a gift? 'Ow do I know it ain't some trick?"
The man's face crumpled, as it was obviously too hard a question for his brain to understand. Jack sighed, and then tensed as he heard another noise behind him.
"Because I say so, my dear Captain Sparrow."
He turned sharply to be faced with the cold bastard. Handsome, and with good bearing, he appeared to be more navy than pirate. Many of his ilk had chased Jack from one corner of the Caribbean to the other. It wasn't an illusion. Keane had been a naval captain before taking to the seas. He'd been kicked out for unnecessary cruelty, which considering the navy's predilection for abusing its men, worried Jack to no end "And I can take yer word 'cos?"
"My dear man, I have you surrounded...."
Jack swirled round and he found that indeed it was true. Men appeared from the shadows. He bowed like a gentleman, and despite the whirlwind of thoughts through his head said laconically," Well in that case, Cap'n, I accept your offer of hospitality."
"Good, good. I keep a fine table, and I am sure you will find the entertainment most... interesting."
"Thank ye. Cap'n." Jack kept his voice carefully neutral, despite the sudden chill he'd felt at the simple words. This was going to be bad, very bad, but for once he didn't think it would be him who'd suffer, although the thought didn't give him much pleasure at all.
"You are a most difficult man to track down, Captain, and I apologise for the less than polite invitation, but needs must, needs must."
The Cadaver was a fine ship, thought Jack; not as fine as his dear Pearl, but fine enough. As they boarded, Keane's eyes fell on a tiny speck of water on the deck. Jack would not have noticed it except for following the captain's eyes. The crew were lined up nervously awaiting their arrival, and Jack's escort fell into line with scarce a word, very different to the usual feel of a pirate ship. Quicker than lightning, Keane had grabbed a boy from the line. The lad was scarce older than ten, and he gasped in fear at the grip. Keane smacked him hard knocking him to the deck. His voice however was as calm and reasonable as if ordering a drink. "Unacceptable when we have an honoured guest aboard." Turning to one of the grizzled sailors, who met the gaze with a slight grin, he said in the same calm manner," Lash the boy to the rigging, Beevor, see if that teaches him the importance of discipline. One can never have enough discipline, Captain."
Jack said nothing, unable to trust his voice, and an answer did not seem to be expected as the captain dismissed the crew and led Jack to his cabin. The cabin was all in red and gold, fine soft material and gilt edged chairs. The food was some of the finest Jack had seen, as fine as any at a Governor's banquet. There was even rum, no doubt a concession to his guest, as Jack was sure Keane's own taste ran to expensive brandy. The door to the sleeping quarters was shut, but Jack imagined it was a fine cot with silk sheets.
"Sit down, Captain; enjoy the feast. I am deeply grateful for your disposal of that uncouth individual. As you can see it has increased my plunder tenfold. I always like to reward those who aid me."
"Well ye are most kind, Cap'n, most kind."
He wondered how long he could be civil to this madman, and, to cover his discomfiture, took a large drink from the goblet in front of him and found it contained the finest rum he'd had for many a long year. He took a slice of meat and ate it carefully. Keane followed his example with a smile that chilled Jack, making it hard to swallow, but the man was pleasant enough. He complimented the Pearl and her crew, spoke of his own plunder, and then abruptly changed the subject.
"Now, Captain Sparrow, you are most probably intrigued by the gift I promised."
Jack nodded his agreement as he took another drink to ease his suddenly dry throat, and he tensed ready to fight, but Keane waved him to relax. "Sorry Cap'n Keane, but 'tis rare that gifts is freely given..."
"No offence Captain Sparrow, no offence. It is in two parts, interlinked as it were, but in two parts nonetheless."
He bent down, and handed Jack a sword, with the hilt facing up, and Jack could feel the eyes watching him. He knew this sword, knew it too well; it belonged to Commodore Norrington.
The food he had eaten turned in his stomach, but he managed not to show his sudden nausea. He doubted Norrington had given the sword up willingly...
"Tis a fine sword, Cap'n, a fine sword, that of a gentleman..."
"Indeed, Captain Sparrow. I wondered if you would recognise who was once the owner of this 'gentleman's' sword." Without waiting for an answer he abruptly stood and flung open the door. "Beevor, bring the rest of Captain Sparrow's gift."
"Aye Cap'n"
Keane took a leisurely sip of his drink. Jack copied his unconcern and sipped at his own rum, his mind frantically rushing ahead. He had a sudden horrible knowledge of just what the other part of his gift consisted of, and was desperately trying to ensure he would show no disgust at what he feared would be a badly mutilated body. Such disgust would only put him in danger. All he wanted to do was get away safely on his Pearl and forget he'd ever met this madman. He would make sure that people knew of Norrington's demise, that much he owed the man and Elizabeth.
The door opened and Jack struggled not to jump at the sudden sound. It took all his self-control not to react to what he saw. It was no mutilated corpse thrown carelessly at his feet, but an alive, albeit badly damaged, Commodore Norrington. The man fell with no sound and looked up quickly, fear clear on his face, before he returned his gaze to the floor, not daring to look up again. He had recognised Jack, that much was clear, and he was terrified, which worried Jack more than he liked to admit. It had taken some seconds to recognise this mess as the proud man who was the scourge of pirates across the Caribbean and but for the sword it would have taken longer. He wore naught but a ragged pair of breeches that hung off his frame. He was bruised all over, with other signs of abuse clear on the pale skin. His head of course was bare, and the brown hair was straggled and unkempt. He had no beard, although there was stubble; his face showed the signs of a less than careful shave, no doubt from one of the pirates, enjoying another chance to humiliate him. His hands and feet were free, but they showed signs of having been manacled. There were several marks that seemed to be rat bites, and clear signs of the cat were laid on his back. His face however, aside from the nicks, was mostly undamaged, his eyes dulled with pain and possibly the beginnings of fever. The strangest thing was a loose leather strap, hanging like a necklace round his neck. It was adorned with gems, locks of hair, a ring, and other sundry items that Jack couldn't see clearly enough to identify. Jack couldn't understand why Norrington clung to it, hard enough so his bruised hands were white with the grip. Jack had taken all this in within seconds and tried not to be sick, smiled at his host.
"A fine gift, but what will I do with 'im?"
"Well Captain, whatever you wish. I would keep him myself, but I think you deserve him more. He would make a fine catamite, for I have been sure to keep him unspoiled for you... or you could simply kill him. It is of no matter to me. He is yours."
"Ahh, but will 'e bite?"
Jack hoped for a positive answer. The signs were not good, but he could merely have been biding his time until he was safe. It worried Jack that Norrington had not looked up, or even made a plea with his eyes, in fact he never made a sound or move, just lay there still and silent.
"No, Captain Sparrow, I believe I have drawn his teeth."
Jack was not sure whether this was meant in the literal sense, and the confusion must have shown as Keane laughed; it was a cold, hard sound that seemed to drop the temperature in the cabin while bringing a sweat out on Jack's brow. "Not literally, my dear boy, not literally, but he will I believe cause you no trouble."
"Then I accept your gift, cheers."
He smiled, hid the sickening anger, and promised he would kill the bastard one way or another. That Keane thought that he, Captain Jack Sparrow, would want such a gift, would wish to have a broken man, let alone the wanton cruelty he'd shown to break the man, was a grave insult. "You are welcome, Captain." A thought occurred to Jack and he said with as much calm as he could.
"Why is he so silent; ye didn't remove his tongue did ye?"
"No, Captain, but I can if you wish. We just explained to him that silence was healthier."
"Healthier for him?" Jack's disbelief must have shown as Keane smiled, but it was no more pleasant than his laughter.
"No, that didn't seem to work, and he had the most annoying habit of spitting gags out... so we told him if he made a sound, we'd kill someone on the ships we plundered. As you can see he took some convincing." Keane indicated the leather necklace and then examined his perfectly manicured nails. "But the screams persuaded him."
Jack had to resist the urge to strangle Keane; his hands twitched as he saw Norrington flinch and hunch in on himself. No longer able to stand this he stood abruptly. "Well, Cap'n, I must be headin' off if I want to make the morning tide. Me crew will be gettin' antsy..."
Jack was rowed to his ship under the flag of truce, with his gift laid less than gently on the bottom on the boat. He appeared unconscious or at least asleep, and for that Jack was grateful, he must be in agony when awake, but just to make sure, Jack asked, "'E ain't dead, is he?"
The man took this comment as Jack had hoped he would and leered with a wink, "Nay, ye can 'ave your fun; he passed out when we 'auled him in." Jack smiled his gold-toothed smile, and felt filthy from his exposure to these men.
Anamaria eyed him as he was pulled aboard, and then looked even more askance at the sword at his belt and the bundle of rags on the deck. Jack shook his head and waved cavalierly at the departing boat, before letting his anger show.
"Anamaria get us out of here, head to Port Royal, no questions. Gibbs, Jase, Fred and Kay—"
His words were interrupted by a pained groan that was quickly bitten off. Anamaria and the others started at the noise and Jack knelt quickly on the deck, his moves belying his usual sway. Norrington was muttering and holding onto the leather band at his neck,"God, please, not again, not again."
Jack looked at his men, "Get 'im to my cabin, gently now or ye'll answer to me."
The men hurried to obey, but not out of fear, out of sheer pity for the pathetic form. At Anamaria's unspoken question Jack said coldly, "Norrington." She blanched and without a word headed out to sea.
Jack eyed the form on his bed and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now. He took a gulp of rum and moved closer, wincing at the smell of infection and human waste. He needed to get the man clean and then he needed to take him home. How the hell had Norrington got to this place? The last he'd seen of him was his glaring face as Jack had set off for sea after Elizabeth and young Will's wedding. Somehow the lass had procured Jack an amnesty for the wedding day, and Norrington's hands had been tied. The thought made him wince as he eyed the deep marks on the Commodore's wrists. He'd heard nothing about a ship sinking and knew he would have. He was surprised he'd not heard of Norrington's capture, but then that was no doubt something Port Royal had wanted to keep quiet. Keane, of course, wouldn't have wanted the navy's attention drawn to his ship so he would have kept his prisoner a secret. Jack placed the rum on the table next to the bed and poured some relatively clean water into a relatively clean pot and wished he had more. He ripped the lovely clean sheets he'd so nicely procured from that beautiful lass in Tortuga and soaked them in the water. He went over to the huddled body and the sudden silent tension in the shoulders, forcibly stopped before it became a tremor, did not pass him by. Norrington was awake then, thought Jack with some displeasure.
"Now Commodore, this is going to 'urt like 'ell, if ye scream it's nowt to be afeared of. Savvy? " There was no response and Jack set to his grim task. He first upended the rum over the back at least expecting a vocal response. Instead all Norrington did was bite his lip so hard it bled, to stop a single noise from escaping. "Damn you, stubborn naval idiot, scream if you need to." Jack's entreaty had no effect, so he started the cleaning process keeping up a steady stream of talk.
"You have a nasty cut here, it'll need lookin' at when we get to Port Royal... sorry about the pain, love... can't help it... You can at least make some noise." Frustration finally got the better of him and he raised his voice. Norrington flinched away from the sound, which left Jack instantly contrite. "Ye goin' be okay... hush now." The gentle words stilled the Commodore. Jack's anger grew as the water became dirty with blood and mess, and he knew Edward Keane's days were numbered. The bastard was going to die. As he bathed the back of Norrington's legs he said casually, "If you let this break ye, the man's beat you. I think you a better man than that." It seemed a hollow thing to say as he was damned sure no man would have coped any better than Norrington, but maybe it would reach that stubborn pride hidden somewhere under the pain. There was a reaction, slight stiffening, and then a hitch of breath, with an even tighter grip on the horror round his neck. He still held on to the damned thing, which he had refused to relinquish. Jack immediately regretted his words. They hadn't helped and he didn't mean for the man to suffer any more pain. "Ignore me, mate, you know I talk rubbish. It's the rum." That oddly enough brought a response, a minute noise that sounded like something less than pain.
Jack had so many questions he wanted answered but he knew it would be some time before he got to ask them. Humming softly he continued his work. He thought just once he heard a whimper, but it was gone as quickly as it had it come. Gibbs entered the cabin with a brief knock bearing some fresh water, clean clothes, and some foul smelling potions. "What ye got?"
"For the bites, and it'll 'elp with the fever... 'e don't deserve this Cap'n."
"No, he don't."
Norrington made a strangled almost noise which drew their attention, and then was violently sick. At least he would have been had there been anything in his stomach except bile. With a groan of dismay he curled up in on himself. He had managed to be sick on Jack's boots. It hurt to watch, and with the gentle tone of one who soothes a frightened horse Jack said, "I won't hurt you, or anyone else," and laid his hand briefly on the Norrington's head just as he slipped into unconsciousness. Jack turned to Gibbs, his usual drunken manner absent. "While he's out, we get 'im clean."
Jack was still gentle not wanting to hurt Norrington, but it was easier with him unconscious. All the cuts were bathed. The worst of them covered in the salve that Gibbs had brought. "It works, Cap'n," said Gibbs at Jack's speculative look. With an elaborate shrug Jack applied it liberally. Once they were done, they were in desperate need of rum. "Nothing more we can do now, " said Jack feeling suddenly helpless.
"We can get 'im home."
*****
It was cold, dark and wet, and he hurt. They'd left him alone for a while. The rats chattered in the cell, the deck was hard on his battered skin. He could hear voices and he raised his own to yell.
Too late, he remembered, too late. A sneering face loomed in front of him. Looking like a vision of hell. Black teeth, with a smell of death." The captain will be pleased... which pretty one dies this time?"
"No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Then he burned, as they died, his fault, his fault. He would make no further noise. The accusing eyes of the dead watched him as he lay there, judging him, and finding him wanting.
"Coward," his father's voice tormented him, sounding too much like the cold sneer of Keane's. Even the living found him lacking. Elizabeth shaking her head at him eyes cold, "And you wonder why I love Will." "And I wanted my daughter to have you as a husband." Not Governor Swann, he was always so good to him, he had failed them all.
Suddenly he was somewhere else, Sparrow, of all people looked at him in compassion. He turned away unable to bear it. Not for him, surely not for him.
He awoke to light, warmth, softness, and a surprising lack of pain. Was he still dreaming? Had he finally died? He'd had the strangest hallucination. It had appeared real; the horrible sensation of being dragged to the Captain's cabin had been real enough, and he was unsurprised to find the Captain had a guest. It often happened this way, but then as he looked up, he could have sworn he'd faced Jack Sparrow, but he didn't want to look again. It had then all become like a very vivid, but weird dream.
He'd been taken out of the cabin, thrown heavily onto a boat and woken, as he was being cleaned and tended. Or had he? He wasn't sure anymore. It had felt real enough at the time, but then many things had before. He looked around through half opened eyes. From what he could see, he didn't recognise anything. A thought occurred to him: this could still be the Captain's cabin. He'd not seen the sleeping quarters, and Keane had always been making hints: a caress here, or a leer, his snake eyes assessing and noting, finding such pleasure in the infliction of pain. Norrington knew the look; he was no innocent. He wondered now, why it had taken so long to come. It would explain how clean he felt, and the appealing softness beneath. Keane would want him clean. It had been so long since he'd felt anything but hard deck, that despite his fear that this was possibly the start of something worse, he couldn't help but burrow into the softness.
He could have sworn he'd heard Sparrow and Gibbs talking. His mouth tasted vile, and while that wasn't unusual; it seemed worse than what he now thought of as normal days. It felt like. . .had he been sick? Elusive memory returned, he had been sick over someone's boots, and had passed out; retreated in his cowardly way from the pain that would follow... but it hadn't come. So was he dreaming? He sensed a presence, and wondered whether he should pretend to still be sleeping. It never usually worked, so taking hold of his courage, he gripped the necklace, remembered the face of each he had killed and stirred. There was little point avoiding the inevitable. A familiar, not quite expected, and possibly hoped for voice came from close to his ear. "Welcome back to the livin', Commodore."
Norrington jumped, and then eyed the room nervously. He could see behind Sparrow to the main cabin; realizing he wasn't on the Cadaver, he swallowed. So this was real. He still half expected Keane to be there, or Beevor, who seemed as happy to inflict pain as his Captain. He tried to talk, but fear and dryness stopped him.
Sparrow noticed and said, "You'll be needing some water. I'd say rum, but I think it might be a bit too rich for ye tastes." Norrington shook his head, still not sure, but Sparrow offered it again, "Go on now, gently." The water was wonderful, clearing away the bitter taste of bile. He drank too fast, desperate for the cooling, sweet sensation, and coughed, spilling a good deal of it on his chest. "I told you: gently now." Chastened, Norrington looked down, the fear still lurking and fighting to come out. He expected Sparrow to take the water away, but instead he offered it again, "Slower this time."
Norrington sipped as ordered and finally shook his head when he felt he could take no more. Sparrow eyed him expectantly. Norrington still felt disconnected, and wasn't sure exactly what was expected, and simply looked, until Sparrow sighed and sat back.
"I figure you must have many a question, thought you might be asking, but I'll do the talking, eh? I'm never one to give up the chance of telling a tale or two. That what you want, Commodore?"
"James."
He was surprised he'd spoken, fearing the worst looked down, but the roof didn't fall on him; there was no crack of pain. In fact, Sparrow smiled: a pleasant, normal smile, with a flash of gold. Keane had called him Commodore with an odd little sneer, or Norrington with an evil smile, he didn't need to be reminded of that.
"Well then, Norr—James." It was obvious from the slip that the name didn't fit easily in Sparrow's mouth,"You're a gift from that fine fellow, Captain Keane. He thought I'd want my very own Comm—... naval officer. Where he got this idea from only his own mad brain knows, but I'm not wanting you. No offence meant, mate, but I'll be takin' you home. I think Port Royal will have need of ye soon, when I'm back to pillaging the populace."
James found Sparrow reassuring, his rambling soft cadence a far cry from the precise, well modulated coldness of Keane. Not all he said had made sense, but there was something James needed to worry about, but he couldn't place it, and despite the struggle to stay awake, his eyelids were heavy. There was something terribly important that he needed to say, but he couldn't remember. He was falling free, and he was floating away. Sparrow's hand was soft, and so he slept.
********
Jack eyed the sleeping Commodore, and wondered what hell he had been reliving before deciding he was probably best off not knowing. Keane's had been telling the truth when he'd claimed he hadn't raped James, but Jack guessed from Keane's comments that the threat had not been far away. It occurred to Jack as he watched his visitor sleep that he was still a relatively young man. He was certainly younger than his officious manner had suggested. The good Commodore was usually fastidiously neat, even managing to seem un-dirtied in the heat of battle, something Jack had never quite mastered. He had enjoyed their little confrontations, enjoyed getting under the man's skin, to see the real man under all that fancy brocade, and the iron rod that was firmly seated up his arse. He had been looking forward to another encounter; this hadn't been what he'd imagined. Instead of the sense of triumph that many might have expected him to feel, he felt nothing but sorrow. Norrington was, for all that, a good man. He had done right by Will and Elizabeth, and even him... eventually at least. Jack felt a degree of guilt at slipping a sleeping draught into the water, but Norr—James looked like he needed a dreamless sleep, and then maybe he might realise he was safe. Jack was sure James would sleep for several hours, and went up on deck. It was well into the afternoon now, the sun bright in the sky. They were some days from Port Royal, which was a good thing, encounters with other pirates and the navy not withstanding. James would appreciate the time to adjust to his freedom, and Jack, once James was safely home, could mount a plan to kill Keane without making too many more enemies in the process.
"How is he, Cap'n?"
"Sleepin' like a babe, giving him a sleeping draught was a fine idea, Anamaria." The idea that had been at the edge of Jack's mind ever since he'd finished cleaning James up came into full focus, and with a smile that brought a suspicious look to his first mate's face said happily, "we need a bath."
"What?"
"Well these naval types like to be," Jack shuddered, "clean. So we need a bath, or something. Any suggestions?"
Gibbs had come up, "'alf a water barrel, Cap'n, and we can 'eat the water in the galley."
"Good, Gibbs, very good! Knew there were a reason I kept you on! Get at it then, you knaves!"
He knew he wasn't convincing anyone; least of all himself, but there was no harm in trying. He was Captain Jack Sparrow after all. He caught the tail end of a smirk from Fred, but nothing was said. He took the wheel from Anamaria and eyed the open sea, wondering what exactly what had possessed him in regard to the man in his cabin. He owed the man nothing, except to get him home. So where was the unwanted tenderness coming from? He was Captain Jack Sparrow, pirate, not some damn bleeding heart, but the tender feeling wouldn't fade. There was something impossibly appealing about the man. Well, he'd wanted to know who was beneath the uniform.
When dusk fell, and the Pearl was ensconced in a safe little inlet, away from prying eyes, Jack returned to the cabin. James was still sleeping, but it was far from the restful sleep Jack had hoped for. Adjusting the lamp for a better look, he realised that the fever that he had feared on first seeing the Commodore had taken hold. He was hot and restless, tossing and turning in silent misery. It was going to be a long, long night.
Delirium took hold quickly and with the heightened confusion of fever, the nightmares were seemingly endless, but James rarely made a sound, beyond muttered mumblings and entreaties. He was stuck in hell and Jack was sure they'd lose him on more than one occasion. The sheets and bandages were soaked through in sweat and at the fever's height it took three of them to stop him from hurting himself. Jack considered lashing him to the bed, but feared if he woke, James would panic and believe he was a captive again, so he was never left alone, and the Pearl stayed where she was. The crew were quiescent, as their last foray had brought them plenty of loot, but had wrought some damage on the Pearl. This interlude gave them chance to repair it. Port Royal was a tempting prospect. They were expectant of a good welcome, if they returned an officer of the navy, alive and relatively intact. If he were dead they knew things might not go so well for their necks.
Jack was woken by a groan and something approaching a snarl, and was shocked to find that in less than a blink of an eye his arms were full of angry Commodore, who was obviously fighting something, and seemed to have zeroed in on Jack. Unwilling to hurt him, but desperate to stop him hitting out, Jack tussled the taller man to the floor, and found himself trapped under him as he collapsed with a groan. He waited for a few minutes, before nodding to himself. "Yes, he's out again." Eyeing the unconscious form, boneless on top of him, he said, "You know James we need to stop meeting like this." Raising his voice he yelled, "Gibbs!"
The two of them manhandled James back onto the bed and there were no more occurrences during the night.
Four days later, the fever finally broke. James blinked at Jack, studied him, and reached out touching his shoulder. Jack stood the scrutiny, and said with a grin, "So yer recognising me mate? Good! Yer a bit long in the leg to haul around and a bit heavy to 'ave on top of me."
James looked confused for a moment, then blushed, but was obviously reassured by the look on Jack's face. With a tiny nod, and a slow release of breath, James slipped into a healing sleep.
*******
James woke slowly and carefully. His head hurt and there was a rather disgusting smell, but otherwise it was an almost pleasant waking. He remembered that he was safe. Well, as safe as one could be with Jack Sparrow, which was a damned bit safer than he'd been in some time. It was night, but the moon gave some light through the cabin window. He remembered on Keane's ship when he'd expected the sailors to turn into skeletons, and in his dreams they had: bony fingers pulling at his skin, hatred glowing out of them like a living thing. He shuddered. They were simply men, and that somehow had made it worse.
He truly had not believed any naval officer, ex or otherwise, could have been so cruel. That had been his most serious misjudgment, and people had died for it. He shied away from the memory but his hand lingered on the physical reminder of his failure. He was away from them now, deservedly or not, thanks to Sparrow. It was an unpleasant feeling being grateful to Sparrow, a pirate and his nemesis. As his life was no longer what he'd expected it to be, why should anything he'd believed be correct? He had been wrong many times so the fact that Sparrow had saved him was really of no great surprise. His mind drifted away from places he wasn't quite ready to face, and he reflected on more practical matters. How many days had he been here? Tentatively he felt his face and felt some growth there, but he couldn't think what it meant. He still hurt if he moved: sharp pain in places, aches in others, so some wounds were little healed, and the bruises were still present. Certainly he had been here for no more than a week then. He realised as he shifted that the unpleasant smell wasn't pirate, but him. God, he stank. He wondered what a sorry picture he must have made and then wondered where Sparrow was. He had always been there the other times he'd woken.
A heavy thud shook the cabin slightly. A string of colourful but muffled curses followed the thud and quickly stifled laughter drew his eyes to the door. He decided that he might as well try to stand. It would be a good test as to how fit he was. The noise was intriguing and he was feeling far better. It couldn't be that hard. His legs and head unfortunately disagreed with him and the cabin spun. He landed with a sudden, painful thud on the deck.
His calm evaporated, and before he could fully assimilate what had happened, he was faced with an irate someone. He flinched from the noise, his heart thudded heavily in his ears, and nausea threatened. "I... um... sorry." He gripped the necklace at his neck. He hadn't been trying to escape he hadn't. A hand on his shoulder and he looked up meeting warm brown eyes, remembering this wasn't Keane. James felt weak with relief and was sure he must be blushing. Sparrow looked at him with a smirk that might have annoying in other circumstances, but merely made him feel like laughing hysterically. He bit down hard on the sensation. He would not lose his composure; God, he had lost so much already.
"You know, mate, patience is a virtue I thought you navy lot would have bags of it."
Sparrow offered his hands, which James took. A lot of wavering later, because of James's greater height and difficult wobbly legs, James was standing and leaned heavily on the bed and Sparrow. He was suddenly embarrassingly aware of his nakedness. Sparrow with a grin and a flourish yanked the sheet from the bed and wrapped it round his waist nearly toppling him back to the deck. James had sudden sympathy for Sparrow's usual swaying gait, and had an unwanted memory of his own lack of balance before he'd found his sea legs. He swallowed as he regained his balance and realised Sparrow was talking to him. "Not that you'll be needing it for a bit... with the bath and all."
**********
"Bath?" James looked delightfully befuddled at that, which made Jack grin. It had not been easy, but the look of pleasure that crossed James's face as he surveyed the water made it worth it.
"In you go, mate." He put action to word, and eased James slowly into the water. James was a good bit taller than Jack, so it was not an easy manoeuvre, and still weak from fever James could do little to help. Jack ended up wet through, but the sigh of contentment that escaped James was fair payment.
James accepted Jack's ministrations in silence and was surprised the pirate when he made no demur. Jack could tell he was only half awake. His only movement was a wince when the linen hit a bruise or cut. Jack stared at the protruding ribs and the pointed features while trying not to appear like he was. How long had he been held a prisoner? He was all bone and limbs. Jack had lit the cabin as well as he could with candles and lamps. James seemed to appreciate the light, which had been Jack's intention. He was sure James would have seen little brightness in his captivity. Jack didn't like silence; it bothered him so he started humming 'a pirate's life for me' and while it might not have been the best rendition, he didn't expect James to freeze or for his breathing to hasten in something approaching panic. Jack stopped, and started humming another random tune of his own making. James's breathing relaxed immediately. After a few moments, Jack said," You could do with your hair washing. It'll walk off ye soon. "
James glared at him, eyeing Jack's hair with some ire, and curling up his nose. Jack grinned, " Aye, but I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, pirate."
James muttered something that Jack didn't catch, but stuck his head in the water. Soon after, Jack helped James out, handed him some breeches and hummed, deliberately looking away as James dried himself on the sheet and dressed. Jack thought that on close examination, he rather liked what was under James's uniform. He was a little disgusted at the thought, considering what James had gone through, but then he always had a weakness for pretty things, and James was certainly easy on the eyes.
The Pearl had been somewhat silent on the matter of rescuing him and Jack took it as if not approval, at least not out and out disapproval. It was really of little matter as James would be home soon. A hiss of pain caught his attention and he turned round. "Well, let's see to these cuts, no more blood on me deck, and then you need to eat!"
James looked pale at the thought of food, and he looked about to argue, but his stomach made itself known by a grumble and he glared at that instead.
Food was a light broth and water for James, and rum and chicken for Jack. James ate slowly and politely as if he hadn't been half starved and frowned at Jack as he picked his teeth with the knife he'd used to eat his chicken. "Pirate, mate!"
James harrumphed, then after a pause said. "Why?"
Jack looked at James. It was only the second word he had uttered since arriving on the Pearl and it was the question he'd expected. The answer appeared easy on the surface, and Jack went for the most obvious. " I don't like men making, per, uh... them ideas that aren't right..."
"Presumptions?"
"Aye, presumptions, about Captain Jack Sparrow. Besides it's always good to have a navy man on yer side."
"A navy man, " James raised his water in a salute, his face suddenly unreadable. Whatever else he was going to say was cut off as the Pearl lurched alarmingly and tossed them both onto the deck.
"What's she doing to me ship?" Jack was up on his feet and about to see what the hell was happening when, after a brief knock, Fred, slightly breathless, entered the cabin, "Sorry Cap'n, don't understand it. We didn't hit anything, and she's righted herself."
Jack wondered what the old lass was playing at, but nodded and dismissed Fred. He turned his attention to James who had clambered inelegantly to his feet. He swayed slightly, and reminded Jack that he must be exhausted.
"I'm off to see what's up; I can't leave 'em for a minute! Ye may as well get some sleep, mate."
If Jack knew his ship, she was up to something, but he wasn't certain what it was exactly, but he was sure she'd tell him when she was ready.
********
James woke slowly and stretched carefully. He was not fully recovered but certainly felt nearly human and still very tired. The dreams would not leave him be and the weariness felt bone deep as if he would never shake it, but it was an improvement. James had woken when Sparrow had returned from seeing exactly what had happened with the Pearl.
James watched as Sparrow slung a hammock up and had to admit he had been relieved when Sparrow had shook his head at James's offer to sleep in it. James had been sure Sparrow would fall onto the deck. He'd looked alarmingly unsafe swinging up into it, but had managed. As far as James could tell he'd not fallen out of it during the night. He'd offer to sleep in it himself again tonight. It seemed the only fair thing to do.
He stood and savoured the feeling of being relatively steady. It was early afternoon judging by the sun and Sparrow had been up hours ago. He wandered slowly into the main cabin where he found Sparrow muttering to himself and making weird notations that James was sure had little to do with anything approaching proper measurements. But Sparrow survived, and who was he of all people to judge? But still what the hell were those squiggles? He came up behind Sparrow who grinned at him, and waved at the map, squiggles and his ever-present compass. The squiggles as James peered at them did make a weird sense he supposed.
"We're a bit off course." Sparrow made a half a quills length between his thumb and forefinger and James tried not to smile, but it was difficult in the face of such cheerful optimism. His eyes flicked to the compass, and then back to Jack, his eyebrow quirked.
"Now, there's no need to be rude, love. We'll 'ave you home soon enough."
James felt suddenly cold and the laughter he'd felt just seconds earlier vanished without a trace. He could see that Sparrow was puzzled by the odd reaction. He had no doubt assumed the Commodore would jump at the chance to return home now that he was making progress, but he was wrong. He would not go back. He fought to speak through his suddenly constricted throat, and managed to force out his words. "Port Royal?"
"Aye, home for you, mate."
"No." His voice wavered, but he stared defiantly back at Sparrow, gritting his teeth to stop himself from looking down. He was not going back.
**********
Of all the things Jack had expected James to say that hadn't been number one, in fact it hadn't been in his top one hundred. "Eh?" Not the most startling comment Jack Sparrow had ever made, but James didn't seem to care.
"I'm not going back."
"You can't stay here. I told you. I don't want you. Navy and Pirates, too many complications, mate."
James had gone white at the mention of Port Royal and had looked so unsteady; Jack had urged him to sit. A gaze almost manic in their intensity burned into Jack and shocked the pirate. He had known there was more to James than he thought, but this strength of emotion was still unexpected.
He grabbed Jack's arm before releasing it quickly when Jack looked at him, but did not look down. His voice was harsh with meaning "Then leave me somewhere, anywhere. I'm not going back."
The stubborn set of James's jaw was frustrating, and Jack felt suddenly angry, but as James glared back, and despite the circumstances Jack's anger faded and he felt a grin threatening. He had hoped for some sign that Norrington was still in there, and this boded well however inconvenient it was. Jack was sure he could persuade him.
"Mate, you're going to have explain this to me. You'll go back a hero. Welcomed with open arms. We can make up a wild tale for you. Promotion beckons ye. Lots of pretty girls beggin' to marry you. The world is at your feet."
"No."
"Well, dropping ye somewhere like you are now be like signing your death warrant. Captain Jack Sparrow won't do that. I didn't rescue you so you could go and kill yourself, mate "
James just shrugged at that, finally dropping his gaze from Jack, his voice pleading, "Don't make me go back, please."
Jack just stared at James; the plea stopped his half formed rant. He was, for once, albeit briefly, at a loss for words, but he refused to budge either. "Well, I'm not just droppin' ye off, and leaving you unless you explain to me what the problem is."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"You don't want to talk about much it seems."
James still wouldn't look up and studied his still bruised hands as if he never seen them previously. The once finely manicured nails broken and battered. Jack knew he'd pushed too fast. He knelt next to the chair and, making sure James was looking at him, said softly, "Won't think less of you, mate, I promise you that."
"What date is it?"
Jack was surprised at the seemingly unconnected question, but answered it nonetheless "August 23rd. You want the year too?"
James ignored the sarcasm and said softly, with a mixture of pain and bitterness, "Two months... I think if they had wanted to find me, they would have."
"I think you're making a fatal error there, mate. The Navy aren't that good, love." He was about to elaborate on his theory, but was stopped by a knock.
On his reply, Gibbs entered the cabin, " Navy off the port bow, Cap'n. Flag of truce too."
"There you go, Commodore; what did I tell you?"
He turned to leave, but was halted by a tight grip on his arm, "Please, Sparrow—Captain, don't."
Jack was half tempted to ignore the plea, but caught by James's obvious terror, he couldn't.
"Well, I'll just go talk to them, mate."
"You can't trust them, Captain, they be navy!"
"I can see that, Gibbs, but they're navy and they usually play fair, so I'm going aboard."
Jack was sure he'd be safe and, in fact, the young lieutenant who greeted him treated him with respect and the correct amount of deference. He wished his crew would have half as much, especially Anamaria.
"Captain Sparrow, we're here at the behest of Governor Swann; he has a proposition for you."
Testing the water, Jack asked with a grin: "I am sure the good Commodore had something to say about that. I was hoping to speak to the man, thank him for his kindness in letting me escape. "
The lieutenant shuffled uncomfortably, and looked round making sure no one was listening, "Captain Sparrow, that's what this is about." An older, more senior, and infinitely smugger officer came up and glowered at Jack. He was obviously under orders to be polite, and nodded, the strain telling on him, much to Jack's amusement.
"I'll see to Spar—Captain Sparrow, lieutenant. Attend to your duties."
"Ye don't like me much, do you? I promise I won't bite." Jack punctuated the comment with a shark like grin and a release of breath. The officer reared back, whether it was in reaction to the teeth or Jack's breath Jack wasn't sure.
"Mr Turner will see you now."
Will! Now that made things easier. He needed a plan and quickly to get James to return home. He might have to enlist Elizabeth's help, and young Will would be the best person to ask. He was sure the good Commodore still had a soft spot for the lass, and there was nothing like some womanly persuasions when it came to making men do what they were supposed to. Elizabeth might work on Governor Swann to ensure a promotion. He was obviously fond of Norrington. Yes, James wouldn't have a chance against Captain Jack Sparrow. He'd like to cross swords with the man again when they were back on equal footing. Maybe he could snag a lift to Port Royal, his crew seemed in no danger of mutinying this time. All this was running through his head as he was shown into the cabin. With a stiff bow, the man exited, but not without a final glower at Jack's back.
Jack was gratified to see both Will and Elizabeth. With a confiding wink he said in a stage whisper: "I don't think he likes me much."
"You keep escaping; it's an affront to his honour, not to mention the matter of a ship. Good to see you, Jack!"
"You've still got a nice hat, Will."
Elizabeth surprisingly hadn't spoken, and was seemingly quite willing to let her husband do the talking.
"Thank you, Jack." There was an awkward pause, and Jack wondered what was up.
"As wonderful as it is to see ye both, me crew will be wondering if you're going to be keeping me here..."
Will cleared his throat and looked at Elizabeth who nodded and turned away to the rather grand looking cupboard and brought out a fine bottle of rum and handed it to Jack. He slurped it appreciatively. Any rum was welcome, but good rum was better and this was exceedingly good rum.
"Jack, we have a favour to ask of you. I know it's not going to be something you'd necessarily want to do, and we will understand if you refuse... but my father will, of course, recompense you for any loss of earnings..." Jack's eye had caught the flash of gold coin as the rum had come out. This was going to be easy... as long as James agreed.
"Ye know, lass, I don't remember you being so long winded. Will?"
It was amusing to see the mixture of emotions cross their faces; he was sure he knew exactly what they were going to ask. "We want you to find Commodore Norrington. "
And there it was, thought Jack; he intended to drag this out as long as possible. "And why would I want to do that? He keeps trying to have my neck stretched, and I'm rather fond of the length it is now. Can't you take this nice big boat out to look for him?" He waved distractedly at the cabin around him.
"We intend to, and we have been since he went missing, but your lines of communication are more diverse than ours. The Admiralty seem to think he went missing deliberately to avoid court martial for losing the Interceptor."
"Elizabeth's father has told them he wouldn't do that... and he's given us some time, but it's been two months."
"We half hoped maybe he'd caught up with you; that was all we meant to happen... but when he didn't come back..." Elizabeth's voice cracked on the last word.
Jack frowned and reconsidered his next words, "What do ye mean, what you meant to happen?"
Will looked at Elizabeth, and Jack was surprised to see a lot of anger in the look. Elizabeth flinched and stared at her feet.
"Elizabeth and her father decided that Commodore Norrington needed a diversion after our wedding, and sent him pirate hunting with some supposed information. The Governor set it in motion, but it was Elizabeth's idea."
"I didn't mean... I just... It was meant to lead to nothing, but he always seemed to be happy when he was chasing you... I felt responsible... " She trailed off, obviously realising how stupid it all sounded now.
"I told them it was dangerous, wanted them to wait till you came back to Port Royal; it would be a much less dangerous game, but they insisted. So Jack, please will you try for us?"
" I think... I'm afraid he might be dead... there was some pirates that raided Tortuga, and Lieutenant Groves said James, Commodore Norrington, had been asking about you. But there wasn't any trace..."
Jack hid his anger that this had all been the result of a silly game, and now it might well cost James his career. This certainly explained his reluctance to return home. He might not even be certain it hadn't been deliberate. He pretended to consider, enjoying making them sweat. He would have told them that Norrington was safe, but he'd had a change of plan...
"I'll do it. With payment in advance, of course."
They offered him some food and he accepted the offer, thinking it would give him time to think. He caught up on their news. Brown had finally done the reasonable thing and drunk himself to death so Will had become the proud owner of the business and it was thriving. Jack took the rum with him. It was only fair.
On taking his leave he said somberly," I can't promise that you'll like the news I bring." Pain and sorrow crossed Elizabeth's face but Jack felt no sympathy for her. But for a madman's twisted sense of honour, her stupid game would have cost a man his life, and it had come close to costing him his reason. Will, too, seemed to be unwilling to offer comfort, and instead turned to speak to Jack, handing over the money.
"I understand; we understand." Will eyed Jack warily with a nervous smile. Jack knew Will could sense his anger, but was wise enough to say nothing on the matter. It was good at least someone in this mess had used the brains they were born with."Good luck, Jack."
**********
James paced the cabin and tried to think about his options. He had figured out that even with Sparrow's bizarre plotting that they were not far from Port Royal, a day's sail at most, probably less, because the Pearl was a fast ship. The idea of returning to Port Royal terrified him, but not to go back would make him a coward. Even if everyone presumed him dead; he'd know and he couldn't live with that. He had to go back, but the thought brought him out in a cold sweat, and he covered his face in his hands.
He would return. It was his duty. He took deep even breaths and tried to relax, but he couldn't stop shaking. He was not worthy of the uniform, but sometimes choices had to be made, however unpleasant. That stilled the shaking to a fine tremor, and he stood from the chair he'd slumped into when he'd feared his legs would not hold him.
Sparrow had left some rum out and he eyed it with intent. It seemed to work for Sparrow. Would it be better if he didn't return? He did not know, but if he was not welcome, there were other places he could settle. Rum tasted far better than he remembered rum usually tasting, and it certainly made the situation much easier to deal with. He suddenly understood the attraction. If he drank enough of this, it'd be easy to go back to Port Royal.
James found the floor inviting; it wasn't cold or wet, and didn't have rats. It made his back hurt, and the view wasn't very good, but then he was used to that. By the time he heard the cabin door open, he was reconciled to his return. He struggled to sit and waved the bottle of rum at Sparrow. He wanted to say something intelligent and express his readiness to return, but all that came out was, "Rum good. Want some?"
Sparrow gazed at him with a strange expression. James thought it looked something like affection but he wasn't sure. It certainly wasn't an angry look, which was good. Sparrow could have been angry, as James had drunk his rum. "Well thank you, James, but I have some of me own... but you don't mind if I join you?" It seemed to be a perfectly reasonable request and James nodded and took another drink from his bottle. Sparrow clinked his own bottle against James's and somehow managed to relieve James of his rum.
"Hey! That's mine." James lurched for the bottle, but Sparrow easily kept it out of reach. "That's not fair, you stole my rum."
"Well, mate, it's actually my rum."
"That's not the point... you said..."
"James, I'm a pirate..."
Considering this, James said: " If you have rum already, why do you need another bottle? "
Ha, thought James, that'd get him, but Sparrow, as usual, had an answer.
"Ye can never have enough rum."
"I have none."
"You've had enough."
There was something wrong with that comment. "But you said..."
"Since when did you listen to me?"
"Sparrow—Captain Sparrow." James was surprised at how whiny he sounded, but damn it, he wanted the rum. "You want me off your hands, and that," he pointed at the bottle, " will make it easier." See him get out of that one. Irre—something or other logic...
That odd look crossed Sparrow's face again, and he gently patted James's shoulder. "Well, problem solved. You're not goin' back. So ye don't need the rum."
"What? You can't tell me... but you." James wasn't exactly sure what emotion he was feeling. Indignation at being told what to do, puzzlement because Sparrow had been adamant, and if he were honest no small bit of relief.
"I changed my mind." Sparrow grinned at him, and James looked, before going for the bottle again, but Sparrow shook his head, damn the man.
"I don't like you, Sparrow." James knew he sounded sulky but he couldn't help it. He wasn't even sure it was true anymore, but Sparrow was being infuriating.
"That's Captain Sparrow to you, mate, and you don't have to like me." But there was little heat to his words, and he placed the rum down, but sadly way out of reach of James. He attempted to haul him to his feet, but James's legs wouldn't hold him and he crumpled to the deck.
"Staying here, I think."
Sparrow shrugged, and sat back down, closer to James than before, and his eyes drifted to James's neck. James knew what he was looking at, and decided he might as well explain. "I heard Keane tell you something about this," he fingered the necklace. He didn't need to look, each object was burned into his brain, "but he didn't quite explain the whole story. Shall I?" Sparrow made no answer, which surprised James, but he took it for assent and touched a lock of hair, which he knew was fair, and held a tiny curl. "This is from a young girl. No older than Elizabeth when I first met her. Keane killed her while I watched because I managed to escape from the brig. Her father will be waiting for his little girl, and she will never get home."
James let his fingers caress the next object, a gold ring with tiny diamonds embedded within and an emerald gleaming in its centre. "This belonged to a young man much like Will Turner, a gift for his sweetheart. He was killed by my own sword." Each item marked him as a coward.
He started to talk about the next, a brightly polished gold button, but Sparrow held up his hand, stopping him. James was relieved; he could feel the familiar bitter taste of bile. He hated that he was so weak, that he would so easily cease the story of his shame. "No matter. I remember them all." He held his hands out in front, he could see them, although the rum had blurred their outline." Do I have blood on my hands? Sometimes I think I see it there."
He risked raising his eyes to meet Sparrow's gaze, and saw fierce anger cross the pirate's face. James flinched from the look, certain that a blow would surely follow. He even disgusted Jack Sparrow. It was no great surprise because he disgusted himself. The expected blow did not materialise, and James was somehow ashamed that he'd expected one. Sparrow simply shook his head and handed him the rum. James took a grateful gulp, willing it to numb the pain. "To an officer and a gentleman, eh, Sparrow?" The anger was gone from Sparrow's expression, and James wondered whether it had been there at all.
Sparrow raised his bottle with a half smile and said," To a good man, James Norrington, to a good man."
Unexpected tightness stole James's voice, he was sure he did not deserve such an accolade, and shook his head mutely. Sparrow merely nodded. A strangely comfortable silence came between them.
James's eyes grew heavy, and he lay on the floor. It was too much effort to move much more. Gentle hands placed his head on something soft, and he knew nothing more except for the briefest of caresses on his cheek, that may have been mere imagination.
Dreams took him as they always did, noise and fear and blood, but somehow he felt disconnected, separate and sheltered from the scenes playing out in front of him. He felt safe and protected as if in an embrace. Not the touch of a lover, nor even that of a parent, but he was sheltered by something strong and warm, and so very solid.
**********
Jack watched James sleep for several minutes. He knew in the morning he would have some difficulty in persuading James not to return to Port Royal. He had a stubborn sense of duty, and that streak of masochism that all naval officers seemed to have. He wondered if it was the uniform. He knew from personal experience it was itchy, uncomfortable and hot. It was easier to look for the humour than think about the horror James had experienced.
The Pearl was quiet under his feet, as if distracted. Jack wasn't sure why his ship had taken to his visitor, but somehow she had, and that confirmed for Jack that his plan was the right one.
**********
"Sparrow, no, you cannot keep me here. I refuse."
Jack eyed James who held body and head as if he were hurting all over. Sleeping on a deck was not conducive to healing wounds, but his roar still managed to make Jack wince.
"There is no need to shout and if you make much more noise you'll bring Anamaria in. You can't refuse me, Commodore. You belong to me..."
A flash of quickly concealed hurt and betrayal flashed across James's face and Jack winced.
"I belong to no one Sparrow, no one; I am returning to Port Royal."
Jack grinned at James; he knew it would enrage the man further. "How exactly do ye think you'll get there? The navy is long gone; you'd drown before you got more than a few strokes, and I'm not taking me ship into Port Royal," he paused and looked intently at James who glared back, but Jack could see the hurt and fear just beneath the surface, " you didn't seem so keen to return yesterday, mate... If I recall you—"
"Sparrow, I can't expect you to understand, but it is my duty to return. " His anger drained, James sat heavily, giving into the pain. "I have no choice."
Jack sighed, "Stupid navy pride, mate... ye weren't exactly in any state to hear what I'd learnt from Young Will and his lovely wife last night... "
"What? Elizabeth was on that ship? Dear, God."
That had got James's attention and shut him up, which was good, as the shouting had begun to get irritating. Jack gave a brief recap of what he'd learnt and James paled to ashen as he listened. Jack feared he'd faint and was considering going for the smelling salts, but James merely bowed his head.
"All a game... it was all a game... I don't..."
"I'm sorry, mate..."
James didn't look up. "I suppose I should be grateful..."
Jack hadn't expected that to come from James's mouth. He wasn't sure what James meant.
"What?"
"At least it wasn't a plot to rid them of me. For that I can be grateful."
Jack rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the comment, surprised at the lack of worth the man placed on himself. He hadn't appeared to lack certainty on anything the last time they had met.
"James, you are an idiot. If I didn't owe the whelp and his lass..." Jack trailed off, suddenly afraid he'd revealed too much of his real feelings on the matter.
James looked at him; anger at the insult quickly replaced by gratitude; he knew what had been left unsaid. "I thank you for you concern and your care. I owe you a debt I cannot begin to repay. I will however endeavour to try. This news makes it all the more important that I return to Port Royal."
Jack shook his head. "This is not negotiable, mate; I will not take you back to Port Royal."
"I will escape, Captain Sparrow, make no mistake about that." The ice in James's tone did not quite cover the nervous twitch in his hand as James fought the impulse to touch the leather at his neck.
"You'd drown mate... and you're too valuable a treasure."
"For God's sake... you have the Governor's money, just return me. You've told me yourself, my presence here is too complicated. I should never have asked you... just let me go. I will make a terrible pirate, a difficult prisoner, and an unwelcome guest."
"Not unwelcome, James... But I have a proposition for ye."
"A what?"
James's tone was exasperated, but the anger had dissipated into resignation. Jack could see James knew he was outmanoeuvred and moved in for the kill.
"A working holiday as it were. Instead of looking for a missing Commodore, we go pirate hunting. Very much in your line; we both gain. You return with a ship and a pirate and your reputation intact."
"And what do you get out of this: a tame Commodore?"
"I'd not call ye tame... never that."
Jack was sure he caught the hint of a blush on James's cheeks and fought to keep the grin off his face.
James really was a lovely looking man.
"I don't know," James's indecision was obvious and he paced the cabin for several moments before shaking his head, but Jack already knew his decision. "Very well, Captain Sparrow, we have an accord."
James held out his hand and Jack took it. They shook but as Jack made to break the handshake, James grabbed his hand in both his and said: "Promise me something. If we're going to be captured by the bastard, kill me. You have to promise, or I will not take part in this crazy scheme of yours."
"Then you make me a promise, James, when we capture the black hearted bastard, you get rid of this."
He pulled a hand out James's grasp and touched the necklace. James reared back and dropped his hold on Jack's hand.
"You ask too much..."
"The blood is not on your hands, mate, and if ye believe that it will destroy you."
Jack had to get through to the stiff-necked idiot that none of this was his fault. It felt important for reasons Jack could not fathom. He knew from James's expression that he was not getting through.
"I told you all this last night, didn't I?" James's face was a mixture of easily read emotions. Embarrassment at his disclosures warred with anger, and a creeping despair that was the hardest one to face." All the fancy words and your twisted logic do not the change the facts; these deaths are on my conscience and I will not seek absolution. Not from God and certainly not from you."
Continue to Part 2
Leave a Comment
Disclaimer: All characters from the Pirates of the Caribbean universe are the property of Disney et al, and the actors who portrayed them. Neither the authors and artists hosted on this website nor the maintainers profit from the content of this site.
All content is copyrighted by its creator.
|
|
|
