DMTNT 7

He heard Jack's return. He heard the thump of wood on wood and the creak of the chair at the navigation table. There was a rustling and a scrap, and then the slight clink of metal against glass.

::"Pot calling the kettle, Jack":: Beckett replied smoothly. ::"So where is James? Off doing 'ship's business' again?"::

Beckett laughed lightly. ::"Surely that is only the effect of your own depraved mind. He is your whore now."::

"And not yours. Even when you don't say it, you say it," Jack replied. "It must be difficult for you, knowing that he is mine, body and soul. You could barely get a pinch on his sweet left cheek without offering him rank and a curly new wig."

"That you touched him? That you kissed him? Or perhaps you are referring to the time you sucked him off? A little fellatio after afternoon tea, as it were? How about the time he let you rub your naked body all over his person?"

"For as long as he pleases me. That promises to be quite some time, to be sure."

::"Ah a pleasant conquest. But you do know that he loves you... or so he thinks he does."::

James used the opportunity to open the door between the two adjoining rooms slowly, stopping it before it creaked upon its hinges. It was open just enough that James could fit his body through sideways if he eased himself slowly. James moved gradually, silently.

"Let's get to business," Jack said as he sat forward a bit. "The way I see it is this, you think I have nothing to offer you."

"Aye," Jack said in a wheedling tone. "I have the ear of the captain of the Dutchman, something dear James may never have."

Jack cocked his head and looked at the bottle with a vexed expression. "So you want t' go back to hell then?"

"Not heaven, but not back to the pit you inhabited before Will plucked you out of it. How would you like eternal service on the Dutchman?"

"Aye, back to hell then. I hear Beelzebub isn't as bad as the stories all say. Quite cruel, but not at all ugly like one might expect from a demon..."

"But reasonable. I should think an eternity of service swabbing decks beats all of hell's best garden parties any day."

James slipped the bow of the black ribbon that bound his hair. It came free into his hand. He took it, gripping it tight in both hands until the silk bit into the soft flesh between thumb and forefinger.

Jack sat back smiling. That was when James struck. He brought the ribbon about Jack's exposed neck and twisted. The force threw Jack from the chair, twisting against the pressure that cut off his breath with a crushing force; he landed on the hard floor with James practically on top of him.

James held on through the thrashing, through the clawing, and through the gurgling, choking that made his stomach turn. James held on as Jack flailed against him, his long hair flying about and his booted feet thumping the floor. James held on as wordless sobs broke from his own throat. Slowly, with feeble pulls and one last strained gulp, Jack went still.

James lowered him to the ground gently. He then gave vent to his own horror in one long keening wail. All was silent except for James' animalistic sobs of unearthly pain. It was done and James sat weeping, for long moment, unseeing to the room about him. He sat with his hands open, bruised red where the ribbon scored into his flesh.

"I hate you!" James hissed. He pushed himself up to the table, placing himself in Jack's seat. He wiped his face quickly on the sleeve of his coat.

"The code..." James said grasping the bottle in shaky hands. "We had an agreement."

::"Yes we did,":: Beckett said brightly. ::"Too bad you had to kill Jack for it. He could have deciphered the Tamil at the very least. The code is alphabetically three letters to the left for every letter, and then translate the letter to its English equivalent. There you have it."::

James let go of the bottle, as the door burst open. Gibbs came in swiftly and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Jack sprawled on the floor beneath James.

James reached below him, pulling Jack's pistol from his sash. He stood to face Gibbs.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Gibbs?" he asked as he came about the table with the pistol trained on the man. Gibbs eyes focused solely on the end of the pistol.

"Nay, sir." He backed away as James approached, but Gibbs' eyes burned with fury and fear. James walked Gibbs out of the great cabin doors, shutting them behind him. The sound of Jack's pistol was loud in James' ears, making them ring so that he barely heard the hard and heavy splash off the starboard side.

James went back to the great cabin doors, waving Mr. Ragetti and Mr. Pintel to him.

"Get him out of here." James said in a strained voice as he pointed to Jack's unmoving form.

"Aye sir," Pintel said soberly as he and Ragetti went to take their ex-captain away. They took hold of him by the arms with his head drooping between his shoulders and his hair hanging practically to the floor. They went, dragging his booted feet behind.

James closed the door to the cabin as they left. He then leaned his head against the oak doors with a heavy thump.

James looked about the room. As James expected, his lordship's study was a fashionably tranquil looking room with handsome leather chairs that looked plush and comfortable. A fireplace sat clean and piled with wood for an evening fire. On the mantle sat a small wooden box cut with intricate ornate patterns of East Indian origin. James guessed that the box held tobacco for a pipe. There was a great globe that sat on a rose wood pedestal next to a desk of the same luminous rose wood. Only two walls were devoted to book shelves but these were floor to vaulted ceiling high.

"Three from the top... twenty to the left..." James murmured as he looked up the first case which was to his left.

"There is nothing else for it," James replied. "I shall give you a boost and you must stand on my shoulders."

"Last I checked, Groves, between the two of us, you are the lighter. Would you rather have my bulk on your shoulders?"

It took some trial and error, but at last they stood, Groves' feet on James' shoulders; James' hands bracing him at the ankles. Groves held on to the bookshelves for practical reasons of balance.

"Are you certain?" James asked with a slightly straining grunt as his back protested the extra weight.

"Third shelf from the top and twenty books in," Groves replied. "This skinny book on tribes of lower Angola hardly seems to be a big book of magic in disguise."

"Very well," James said. "As Jack is always reminding me, things of this nature are never easily accomplished. We will move to the next shelf."

"No," James said as he adjusted his grip. "Stay with me. Hold on to the shelves as a guide and move as I move."

They began their walk, slowly and carefully. They edged their way along the first set of shelves, heading for the second.

"How do you think Lord Beckett managed to slip the book into Lord Barwell's collection completely under his awareness?" Groves asked.

James grimaced as he thought of Beckett. "Knowing that repugnant creature, I would not doubt via some incantation and blood sacrifice."

"Just keep moving." James barely caught himself before he called the man 'Lieutenant.' He sighed at the notion.

"Third down... twenty over...." Then Groves wobbled a bit more than James could handle. First a very large book fell just before James' nose, taking him by complete surprise as it missed his toes and hit the floor with a substantial thump. But James really had no time to consider that last fact, for Groves was coming down as well, practically on James' head. A shoed foot to the forehead and a knee to the back and then they lay in a heavy sprawl on his lordship's Oriental rug, having raised a ghastly racket when gravity took its toll. Of course, this was when the Lady Eva rushed in.

"Lady," James said weakly, "forgive our manners if we do not rise to greet you."

No, it wasn't easy, and Groves and I are fortunate that neither of us broke our backs in that fall. Nevertheless, the Lady Eva actually gave us opportunity to spirit away our prize. Bless her squealing little soul. And it must have been due to her lack of perception and acuity that she never happened to question how Groves and myself came to be in that position on the floor of her father's study.

She raised an alarm and called for physicians. It was while she had the rest of the house in an uproar that I was able to give the heavy tome off to Mullroy, who, under the guise of sending a message to our accommodators, was sent away from the house. He was to proceed directly to the junk that awaited us and order them to take him to the

Then the doors to the great cabin opened and Jack Sparrow walked in. He walked with that familiar cocky sway, holding a large book, brown with age, and with an ancient, tarnished brass buckle that held its contents secure. The brown leather of its binding was worn and stained black from centuries of hands and sweat. Jack set it on the table next to the bottle.

::"You're alive! Of course you are. I should have known better. He would never kill you."::

Jack sat in his chair once more. "No, and I know you're disappointed and all. See, my James is a right clever and sneaky man when he needs to be."

"And he knew you'd never be square with us less we did something you really fancied. Now, wantin' me dead be something you really fancied. I knew it. You knew it, and James knew it. We just had to supply it."

"Aye, well, me with the dying t'was not much, but James and that wailing was worthy of the stage!" Jack replied enthusiastically. "The pretending to kill ol' Gibbsy was my idea. Didn't want you to doubt for even a minute."

"I must admit," Jack said as he pulled the book towards himself and undid the clasp. "I half expected this t' be some fake, a ruse, as it were, and the real article would be elsewhere. But then I thought on it. Who else but you would hide something right under a rival's nose? The partners being the greedy and suspectin' group of maggots that they are, you probably guessed Barwell would ransack your house for it."

::"Yes, I strongly suspected that he knew the book was in my possession. He questioned me at length once about you."::

"Aye, that be a burglar. Hired to add and not subtract. That had to be an interesting little bargain."

::"I offered it as a challenge.":: Beckett replied smoothly. ::"Once it was in place, I knew it was quite safe. Lord Barwell didn't know ninety percent of the contents of books in his little library. There were times when I doubted the bloated creature could read."::

"James will be along shortly. Bit o' trouble at the Barwell house, he took a tumble and the strange chittering wench went into hysterics. Called the physicians and all." Jack replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

Jack looked up to see James advancing through the door. Jack rose with a smile, stepping up to him. James was still in his dark, fine suit but he looked more than a little ill-used. There were scuff marks on his lapels, his wrist was bound with a bandage, and he looked to be developing a rather impressive black eye.

"My, you look like you've been no less than keelhauled," Jack said with a grimace.

"Thank you, Jack. I wasn't aware that I looked like I just came out of a dockside tavern brawl. What would I have done without your astute eye for details?" James replied with his usual dry, cutting sarcasm.

"It was an escapade worthy of you, Jack, and I may never live it down," James added.

"You may be very well right, at that. You won't live it down," Jack confirmed. "Nevertheless, a success is a success, and let's not bandy about the details."

"Aye, luv, t'is the same one I stole all those years before, or else dear Cutty here paid a pretty penny to have it carefully duplicated down to the last thumb smudge and torn page."

"Good," James replied standing straighter. He clasped his hands behind his back as he usually did when he was about to talk strictly ship's business. "Then might I suggest to the captain that we get underway? Lady Eva's confusing influence on her father will not last, and when Lord Barwell finally thinks upon the events of this day, he may seem inclined to enquire about us. When he musters his men to find the so-called solicitors from the Caribbean, it would take only one small slip of a tongue to call down the wrath of the East India Fleet in the South China Sea. In that eventuality, I would highly recommend that our nose be pointing south and west, heading back to the Indian Ocean."

Jack stared at him for a moment. "You are incredibly wordy. Coulda just as easily said, 'let's get the hell outta here before someone suspects.'"

"Don't bother," Jack replied. "I'll just get used to the long-winded speeches. Anything less and I would suspect doppelganger."

::"As cute as your love-banter is, I doubt it will be enough to keep you together,":: Beckett said with smooth contempt. ::"You are both self-serving liars when all is said and done. Treachery and betrayal has become a way of life for you both."::

"And that one is having a bout of 'sour grapes', don't you think, sweetling?" Jack said pointing back to the bottle.

"There is little we can do to help him," James said letting the 'infernal smirk' slowly invade his expression.

"Aye," Jack smiled, coming closer to James. He put an arm about his waist and pulled him close. "And I'm not feeling all that altruistic today."

"That is fortunate for me," James said softly as he let his lips brush against Jack's.

::"And so it begins. Triumphant, you ignore my warnings, but I assure you, someday you'll awake to find...."::

Beckett cut off mid sentence as Jack reached back with a fast, fumbling hand and found the bottle's cork. Without disengaging the kiss he currently enjoyed, he blindly re-corked the bottle, only upsetting it slightly.

Jack loved kissing, and kissing James was such an overwhelming treat for him some days. James was still the prettiest kisser Jack had ever had the pleasure of enjoying. The way the color flooded James' cheekbones, the soft touch of his shapely lips, the whisper of his breath in a gentle sigh, the way he would tremble ever so faintly made James the purely perfect sweetness that Jack craved. He couldn't imagine living a life without that source of delight now.

Jack released the kiss, looking into the jade-fire of James' gaze. "Shall I put Cutty away for now?"

James shook his head. "No. No, Jack. Let him watch," James said in a husky voice. "Let him see what will never be his, what he never had... what is yours forever."

"You are so good at making my blood boil with your pretty words," Jack replied as he pulled James close again. Jack kissed him deeply, tasting tea and brandy.

"Only what his lordship's physician prescribed," James replied as he nipped playfully at Jack's lower lip.

"Aye, a necessity for any man brave enough to inhabit that house with that shrill little creature about. And if I were his lordship, I'd order it be placed in the kennel water dishes too."

James chuckled throatily and then kissed Jack deeper. Jack felt James' hands moving over his chest, smoothing over his shoulders and pushing his coat down and off. Jack moved his arms from James to let the coat fall to the floor. He would have recaptured his lover once more but James' quick hands and nimble fingers had moved on to the buttons of Jack's dark waist coat. Jack smiled wickedly.

"You are keen for this," he said, holding his hands out of the way as James stripped him.

And it was those passionately spoken words that got Jack's full cooperation. Jack's full cooperation got them down to skin much faster, which suited Jack just fine. Since the night he had bathed James, stroking soft, white skin, he had dreamed of this moment, the moment he would taste him once again. Jack's lips found one small pink nipple, surrounded by soft brown chest hair. He licked tenderly at the sweet, sensitive nub and listened to James' soft hiss as he inhaled on clenched teeth.

Jack knew it and reveled in the knowledge as he turned James against the table, sinking to his knees. His tongue took up a new game in another one of his favorite playgrounds on James' person. Jack listened with delight as James told him what every movement and every motion and every motive was doing to him.

Jack smiled. He felt powerful. He felt potent. He felt twelve feet tall with a prick made of solid metal. Aye, Beckett never had this man, this James Norrington. He never knew this sweetness. Never!

It was a quick, whirlwind of a moment to retrieve the salve; then Jack was back, leaning against James' back, his fingers hot, inside the silky tightness of James' body. Jack rested his lips against James shoulder blade, his tongue tasting the salty sweetness of his skin. And still James told him more.

Jack was very deliberate when he guided his ready member into James' tightness. He listened with hungry ears as James groaned long and low and began to beg Jack to move inside him. With his hands on James' hips, he drove his cock home again and again as he threw his head back, taking deep gulps of air. His hips moved with a will of their own, and he was lost in the very essence of the sensation. James was his. He was inside James. They were home on the Pearl. This was paradise. This was forever.

Jack knew that he could live very happily in this forever, and it was a wonder that it was his. Was it all his? Was this the wish finally come true just as he wanted it to be? He looked down at the strong shoulders of James Norrington. So very beautiful. Then James turned his head and flashed Jack a glimpse of pure green fire once more.

Jack tumbled headlong into ecstasy, gazing at the jade eyes of the man who loved him without reservation or doubt.

After a moment to catch his breath, Jack opened his eyes, his hand reaching about James. His hand encountered James' own, still holding his wet and softening member.

"Do you think Beckett got the hint?" James asked in a soft and breathless voice.

Jack laughed as he watched the dribbles of James' seed slowly slide down the clear glass of the corked bottle.

Dead Men Tell No Tales

Chapter 7