Sophie

by Order of Chaos

Pairing: J/N
Rating: G (I think)
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean is owned by Disney, etc. No infringement intended.
Originally Posted: 4/30/05
Dedication: For: tiggothy who was able to answer the question 'how many shillings in a stone?', thus assuring me I'm not alone in the universe.
Note: Inspired by: jaekayelle's Amnesia fic, daegear's bendy kitten drabbles, the community flagitiousabuse, and the book 'Brothers in Arms' by Lois McMaster Bujold, but bearing approximately no similarity to any of them.
Summary: The Commodore and his wig. Jack Sparrow's sudden aversion to rum.

James struggled impatiently out of unconsciousness to a stabbing pain in the back of his skull and the worried fluttering of a pirate above him. His pirate. Jack.

Jack was saying something. He supposed he should answer. "What is it, Sparrow?"

"You all right, luv?"

"I think so, yes." James started to run a hand through his hair and froze. "No, wait—where's Sophie?" He sat up in alarm, ignoring the dizzying way the room lurched and spun as he moved.

Jack looked blank. "Where's who?"

"Sophie. My wig. Where is she?" He heard himself speaking through a haze of panic. Sophie, find Sophie.

Hands pushed him firmly back into the pillows—Jack again, James thought. No, my wig.

"It's right here, Commodore," Jack assured him in the soothing tones of one speaking to the possibly insane. Probably insane. "Don't panic." The pirate withdrew for a few seconds, returning to place the wig carefully on James' chest.

James eyed it critically. Slightly battered, but fine. Thank God. He curled his hands over it protectively, running his fingers through the white curls. Under his hand, James' wig stirred slightly and opened slit-pupiled blue eyes. It regarded Jack incuriously for a moment, then closed them and began to purr.

Jack perched on the edge of his bed, muttering something about rum, and never drinking again, oh no. But he stayed.

James smiled.