He woke slowly, scanning the contents of the cabin and frowning when he failed to recognise them. They looked suspiciously piratical. The Black Pearl, then. His frown smoothed away as quickly as it had come.

I've been kidnapped, he thought. How astonishing. There was a twist of irony to his mental voice that implied complete and utter lack of surprise. Well, Sparrow. I believe I can confound your expectations this time at least. I'm not on duty now, after all. Smiling faintly, he went back to sleep.


***


It was considerably later in the day, when the Captain finally showed himself—swaying and tipping and imitation-intoxicated. "Commodore," he exclaimed, "fancy meeting you here."

Said Commodore went from half-awake to almost two thirds, and yawned. Sparrow tilted, curiously. "Commodore?"

"Jack," James said, stretched lazily out on the pirate's bed, one hand shackled to the bedpost. "Tell me a story."

And Jack, pretty bird that he was, who never had to be asked twice to tell a tale, tipped his head suspiciously back the other way, and asked "why?"

"Because," James replied simply. He blinked sleepy green eyes at the pirate, stretching ever more lazily on the black satin sheets. "You kidnapped me, and I'm bored." Far from it, in truth, but his sparrow didn't know that.

"That's not good, luv." A flicker of hands ran through hair and over clothes. Feathers preened, Jack whispered to him, smoky-voiced. "Are you sure there isn't something more, shall we say, interesting, you would rather be doing?" Shadowed eyes fluttered, openly seductive.

James smiled. Not sure at all, pretty one, my trickster, but you must learn that kidnapping Commodores is a bad idea. He curled, lazy-catlike, stretching his manacled arm straight, so as to rest his head on it. "I'm sure, Jack. Tell me a story."

His sparrow cheeped exaggerated disappointment at him from his perch at the very edge of the bed, fluffing red and brown feathers as if to say he wished his captive would co-operate and allow himself to be seduced. James blinked back slowly, the very picture of innocence, until he melted.

"Alright, luv." Jack leaned back, letting the walls of his Pearl steady him, hold him safe and set him free. And Began.


"Once upon a time, O my Best Beloved, in the golden age of piracy—and not so very long ago for all that, luv—there lived a pirate, and there lived a prophetess. Now, I never met the lass, but the pirate was my very own first mate, Barbossa. He didn't much like apples then—that came later'."


James let the pattern of Jack's words wash through him like the ebb and flow of the tide, ripples and eddies that doubled back and clashed, never quite making sense, never needing to. James listened, and allowed himself to be caught up and entangled.


Not in Truth, perhaps, but in Wonder.


"And so, she turned him into a camel."

"I thought you said she turned him into a bird?"

"She turned him into a bird, then a camel. Hence how he ended up stuck up the tree, savvy?"

"But of course I do."


Lantern-light—bright lantern-light, but still lantern-light—flickered. Hands wove patterns in the air and James uncurled, just a little, to watch them. He purred, a dark rumble of contentment, his eyes slit-pupiled green and intent. The bird stares at him for a moment, as if dazed, then flits away.


"Where was I, luv?"

"You were trying to explain Barbossa's love/hate relationship with apples. I think you succeeded."

"It was an apple tree. Traumatic experience, really. Tragic."


Time skipped away from them, and took her time to return—she was young, yet.


Sway. Flourish. Brown feathers lit with gold.


"A seer, yes, but more. It's never a good idea to underestimate the Gods."

"Never?"

"Hardly ever. 'Course, it's never good to overestimate them either, but that's another story."

"True. Tell it to me sometime, Jack."


Creamy-white fur. Pounce. Spin. Rough and tumble. The cat pinned the sparrow to the floor, one paw on each side of his head, and grinned down at him breathlessly.


"You will tell me, Jack?"

"You will stay, James?"

"No."

"No." Both echo and answer. "Time's up, luv."


It was. He wished it wasn't. Beyond the cabin windows, the Dauntless had grown from a speck on the horizon into a beautiful white-sailed ship of war. James untangled his thoughts carefully, and straightened them—changing from lazy white cat to coolly reserved Commodore in the space between two heartbeats.


"No kidnapping, sparrow-pirate." The two words strung together sounded like an endearment. "Find another way."


The sparrow-bird changed too, from wistfully regretful to brightly, blazingly mischievous.


"And so I shall, luv." A brown feather appeared between his fingers, and he held it out, grinning. "Remember me."

The Commodore tucked it into a hidden pocket of his uniform. "And so I shall, Sparrow. Now, I'd be much obliged if you would drop me off at my ship."


***


Pearl and pirate ran, slipping off the edge of the horizon. The Dauntless watched them go, and the Commodore smiled. "Until we meet again, Captain," he murmured, "and we shall." The low words sounded almost like a threat and almost like a promise.