DMTNT 8

My James can be a particularly heartless man, mate. Now, he wanted to sit ol' corked-up Cutty on a table in our quarters in clear sight of the bed. He wanted to keep rubbin' the salt in the wound, as it were. I, on the other hand, thought enough was enough. Call it another bout of altruism or call it spooked by the idea of havin' a ghost watchin' me sleep, I wanted Beckett in his bottle back in the box.

Luckily, James agreed.

My sweetling was right about pursuit. It did come, and fortunately the

be still the fastest ship on this or any sea. We were long and gone.

We rounded the cape no longer in fear of pursuit. The open sea never seemed so very beautiful. Each morn, I awoke to my James tellin' me that I should rise and enjoy the dawn. I'd mumble some threat and he'd laugh.

Deep in the heart of me every day, love fills me up. It's in all the little places in me soul that used to be dark and hollow. It shakes out the regrets and makes every breath I take sweet and rich with life. So, this is what Will and Elizabeth knew? If so, then I can now say that I understand how it be truly worth so much.

Not all treasure is silver and gold, to be sure.

"Consider them marked," James replied coolly, coming up to the two men. Gibbs frowned as he looked to James, but moved away, recognizing the reprisal of an old dismissal.

Softly to Jack, James said. "I must presume that nothing will steer you from this course?"

Jack shook his head. He looked at James who looked at him. Jack wondered if he should ever tell his beloved Jamie about the last conversation he had with Lord Cutler Beckett.

"Aye. I suppose you'll be having some last words... some insult to me... perhaps a rude request, as it were?" Jack said as he watched the bottle on the desk, noting the gleam of the silver knob within. Beckett's prized walking stick, something else he took from his father besides his title and his money.

The bottle was still and quiet for a long moment, and Jack lifted the cork to put it back in place.

::"All I had wanted from you, from the beginning, was your heart,":: Beckett said in a soft, thoughtful voice.

That revelation took Jack completely off guard. His hand, still clutching the cork, dropped to the table with a thump.

::"When I saw you, in that tavern, I could see beneath the tatters and trinkets, beneath the rough, devil-may-care smile. I saw a man of beauty that under the right influence could be polished and refined into someone graceful, cultured and genteel. But you refused to be refined, Jack. You reveled in your vulgar nature, and there was nothing I could do to stop you. There were no words I could use to change you. But that made me only love you more."::

"Love?" Jack said softly. "Nay, not love, Cutty. Desire to dominate be more to it. I wouldn't be what you wanted, and it rankled you. That wouldn't do a t'all. You couldn't make me into your polished lapdog so you kept rubbing me nose in me messes like a bad puppy. Shoulda guessed I would eventually run away.

"And to keep with the canine metaphor, how nice it must have seemed to you to at last fall in with a purebred when you met James. Unfortunately, he was a hunting breed and not a lapdog as well."

::"I never loved Norrington,":: Beckett confessed smoothly. ::"He was always a pleasant diversion and a means to an end. Don't you know why I wanted him to kill you Jack?"::

::"When I was alive, your death to me meant to at last have the final measure of control. No one would have you."::

::"But I wanted him to kill you, Jack, because I knew there was nothing left for me in this world. I would return to hell, and you would be there. And perhaps, just perhaps, hell would be more bearable with you forever."::

Jack leaned back in his chair and regarded Beckett in his bottle. The polished silver knob of his walking stick, one of his most treasured objects glinted in the candle light as Beckett's voice issued from the bottle in a sincere, wistful tone. It was a tone that Jack rarely heard from the man, but Jack could recall hearing it come from him in the past. It disturbed Jack more than any other words Beckett had ever said.

He quickly placed the cork in place on the bottle. This conversation was over. Jack placed Beckett-in-the-bottle back inside the chest and closed it up.

"An eternity with you would have been more hell than any soul could stomach," Jack said to the box. "I would pity you were it not for all the innocent souls you sent on out of this world to further your own machinations. And, if that be the fact that you wanted me so badly, then I have that on me own soul t' bear as well."

"Of course, Jack," James replied. The concern in James' eyes was plain to see, and Jack knew he would have to tell him something.

James had two sailors spread a blanket on the main deck. In the center of the blanket, Cookie sat a block of salt from the galley. James came forward with the jewel box.

Jack took the chest. "Best let me," he said solemnly. "I'll not let him sully you any further."

Jack looked at him, still serious and somber. "It's sending the damned back to the pit of despair."

Jack then sank to his knees next to the salt block and placed the chest carefully on the Pearl's deck. He was very careful as he pulled out the bottle, and he made sure the block was centered on the blanket. He didn't want even a dust-size sliver of the cursed glass getting itself on the timbers of his ship.

James, still watching with a troubled look, instructed four sailors to lift a corner of the blanket to bowl in the contents.

Jack hefted the bottle in his right hand, looking it over closely for the very last time.

"Goodbye, Lord Beckett. I guess in the end, we get what we deserve. It took me a long time to learn that. Me Da told me and Mick told me. Elizabeth Swann told me too... each in their own way, to be sure. Vicious bouts of altruism have their rewards. They off-set the earnings in hell for all the greed."

Jack let his hand open, the glass bottle tumbled the short distance and connected with the salt block. The clear glass shattered cleanly, releasing the silver knob that tumbled over the fragmenting salt. The bottle had broken with a pop, but the glass made no noise as it fell about the blanket.

Jack stood, and the four sailors that held the blanket ends brought them together. They tied the salt, the knob and the broken glass into a neat bundle.

Murtogg and Mullroy, who had been two of the four, nodded. Carrying the bundle to the starboard side of the Pearl, they heaved it to the boiling sea where the Isle de Muerta once existed. It was done. Jack and James went to the side to watch the bundle float away from the ship, slowly sinking as the blanket grew heavy with water and the remaining block and heavy silver knob pulled the bundle down to the deep.

From beyond the Pearl's bow, the Flying Dutchman surfaced from the depths in a glory of spray and thunder. Will had come to collect his charge. The Ship glided among the dark waves and settled alongside the Pearl.

"You were successful," Will said, his voice almost at Jack's ear. Jack jumped and whirled to face him.

"You should really stop with this ghostie sneakin' thing, William," Jack tried to say blandly, although he was currently catching his breath from the shock. "It does you no credit."

"We completed the task set before us," James said directly to Will. "Calypso will keep her end of the bargain?"

Will's smile grew a bit bigger as he turned his face to look at James. "She had already granted you all immortality the moment you agreed to take Beckett on to the Black Pearl," he said. "She never doubted you."

"Hush, mister 'I serve others before I serve meself!'" Jack hissed back at James.

Both James and Jack turned to look at him with incredulous stares. Will gave a great laugh.

"How many times must you be told that you are a good man, Jack Sparrow, before you finally believe?"

"Let us not risk this rare humility in Jack," James said, placing himself at parade rest with a smug expression.

"I doubt we can," Will replied. "But, this gift that Calypso gives is only a mark of her trust in you, Jack. You and all the crew of the Black Pearl are her agents now. The task before you will consume the ages. It will not be easy."

Will smiled fondly. "It will be your job to secure them and keep them safe, Jack. It will be the responsibility of you and James and all the crew of the Pearl to keep these items from falling into the hands of the greedy and irresponsible... for the sake of all. As long as you stick to the quest, Calypso will provide for every one of you."

"No more pirating, Mr. Gibbs," Will replied. "At least none will be necessary. What you chose to do in your free time is another matter entirely."

"I suspect that this course shall leave us very little free time, indeed," James added. Will did not reply but only smiled.

From just behind James, Jonathan Groves came forward and stepped to the starboard rail. He stared hard at the crew of the Dutchman, assembled along the port side of that ship.

James and Jack's eyes were drawn to gaze where Groves looked with an intense and hungry stare.

"Gillette..." James said softly and Jack looked from him to the young-looking red-headed man who stood on the forward deck of the Dutchman just below a lantern's wan light. Jack then looked at Groves whose entire body seemed to be straining, holding back from flying from the very deck of the Pearl to sail across the expanse between the ships and land at the other man's side.

"I see there will be one member of the Pearl's crew that will not keep his name on the ship's articles," Will said solemnly as he watched Groves' intense gaze.

James' frown was stormy, "Jonathan, that is the ship of the dead. To sign aboard is eternal. There is no leaving the Dutchman's crew."

Groves tore his gaze away from the Dutchman and looked James in the eye with the same angry intensity. "You think I don't know that? What would you give to be with the one you love, James Norrington? What have you given? Do you think my heart is any less than yours? Do you think I would throw away a chance for love forever just to be free? Did you?"

James did not reply. Jack watched James' expression soften as Groves spoke. What did James give? He gave Jack his trust and his loyalty. James could have taken Beckett's offer. James could have been free to sail the seas with the immortality promised by Calypso and without Jack to hamper him. And yet, here Jack stood by James' side.

"Leave him be, sweetling," Jack said softly, putting a comforting hand on James' shoulder. "We all deserve our fair share of forever."

James looked back at Jack, his green eyes, dark but beautiful, expressing some wistful sadness.

"Be glad for me... for us!" Groves said, calling back their attention. "We have been honored to have served under your command. Now, we are going on to a new commander."

Groves saluted James with a crisp proficiency and competence that made even his ragged ship-board attire look clean and navy-issue.

"We will be on our way," Will said, looking the crew of the Pearl over with a pleased expression. "Fair winds to you. If ever you need the Dutchman and its captain, you may come here to call upon me."

With that, William Turner vanished from their midst. Jonathan Groves vanished as well at the exact same moment. The crew startled slightly after the abrupt departures, but Jack looked over to the Dutchman. Will stood at her quarterdeck looking on as the Dutchman began to move off back into the sulfurous mist.

Jonathan Groves threw his arms about the red-haired lad on the Dutchman's deck. The man James had called Gillette enthusiastically returned the embrace. The two men kissed, unabashed that they stood top-deck for all to see.

as we sailed away from Isla de Muerta. He kept his head forward, never once looking back. He was silent, and I was concerned. However, I will not disturb his thoughtfulness. He will tell me what troubles him in his own time. I know this now.

Instead, I saw to the ship's smooth operations, taking on the late watch and part of the morning watch that would have belonged to Mr. Gibbs. As the sun peeked bright over the endless waves, I went below and fetched tea sweetened with rum.

Jack turned to look at James. He squinted for a second, either from the sun's warm light or from fatigue. James was unsure which it could have been. James handed Jack his tea.

"Ah!" Jack said as he eyed the cup with a pleased expression, and he sampled the steaming contents. "Perfect."

"You should get some rest," James said softly so only Jack would hear on the busy deck.

"Are you not always on at me about catching the best of the morning?" Jack said with some mild irritation.

"Only after you have slept the night through," James replied. "You are no good to this ship fatigued.... Please, Jack," James added in a near whisper.

Jack turned to look at James. The pirate captain truly did look fatigued and ill-used, his eyes were blood-shot and the ever present kohl about them was smudged and all but gone. His perfectly lovely lips looked thinned with strain. Even the beads and trinkets in his hair seemed to be faded and drooping.

Jack blinked and managed to look more awake for the moment. "Aye, well, you have been up just as long. I should order you t' your bunk, mister!"

James smiled. "And I would gladly go if I knew I would be warming the sheets for my captain's quick arrival."

Jack motioned to Cotton to take the wheel. He then followed James down to their cabin.

Jack smiled that old, wicked smile. "Now that is a right fortunate thing, to be sure," he said as he took the compass from James's hands and held it in both. James watched the needle swing smoothly away from Jack's chest to aim with a steady, nearly quivering determination back at himself.

"Cursed thing is useless to us now," Jack said. "T'will ever point to you when it is in me hands."

"Ah! Oh!" Jack said suddenly, shutting the compass and passing it back to James. He half jogged, half pranced over to the long clothing press near the bed. He threw open the wooden lid. From within, Jack withdrew something bright. James recognized it at once.

It was the scimitar James had used in Lord Barwell's home. Jack returned with it, presenting it properly to James, hilt first.

"I didn't manage to get the scabbard," Jack said. "We can get it a fine one soon. Perhaps back in Jamaica... or Bombay. Not likely we could come upon a worthy scabbard for such a fine blade just lying about. One may have to be made... or better yet, we could head back to Singapore and get the one that was made for it. What say you to that? Stealing stolen plunder wouldn't count as piratin'. I'd call it recovering."

James took the sword and held it up, looking its fine blade over with a quiet smile.

Dead Men Tell No Tales

Chapter 8