Fathoms 17

Reunion

by

Manic Intent

There were shouts from the other ship when the Black Pearl cruised into place, and they had barely put down the gangplank when William and Elizabeth had scrambled aboard, not even bothering to ask for permission, or even checking for undead crew, half-fish crew and the like. And froze, staring at the helm, mouths open. Jack grinned, and waved, swaggering down to the deck.

"Jack! You're alive!" William's eyes were so wide it was a wonder that there was still room for the rest of his face. "How did you escape?"

"M'Captain Jack Sparrow, mate," Jack slapped a ringed hand on his shoulder, drunkenly holding on to his hat. "Don't know why everybody keeps forgettin' that. 'Tis right depressin', it gets."

Beads and dreadlocks moved to a halt when he stood before Elizabeth. She was dressed in her boy's garb, lips trembling, eyes downcast. Thinner than when he'd last seen her, and he doubted it was to do with the supply of food on the ship—Barbossa always liked a large larder. Worry, grief, regret—too much pain. "'Lizabeth."

"Jack."

He reached out a hand, palm open between them, careful not to react when she flinched slightly. "M'need t'thank ye fer what ye did."

Her head jerked up, staring at him in shock. "Thank me? But... but I..."

"Ye were right. I wanted t'do th'right thing. But I needed some convincin'." His free hand stroked the rail of the Black Pearl affectionately. "An' if I'd run wi' ye, me Pearl would'a been right pissed, like t'never speak t'me again. So thank ye, 'Lizabeth. T'aint all right what ye did, but yer young, an' I'd like ye t'know that old Jack don't hold it against ye."

Lips trembled again, then she abruptly hugged him tightly, burying her head in his shoulder. "Jack, I'm so sorry... sorry..."

"There, there," Jack said awkwardly, cautiously patting a shoulder, looking over at Will—no jealousy there, at least, seemed the girl had put him straight on what had really happened, only relief that they had squared the issue. But there was one other person about who might take offence...

"Norrington?" Jack winced. Young Will could pitch his voice high when he wanted to.

Elizabeth jerked away from him, then she gasped. "James?"

Jack rubbed his ear, wincing, staggering away from the couple. Norrington strolled out to meet them, wearing his characteristic smirk with his civilian clothes, hands loosely behind his back. "I'm glad to see the both of you too. Mr. Turner. Miss Swann."

"What... why... how..." William and Elizabeth stammered. Elizabeth was the first to recover, looking sharply at Jack. "Jack, what did you do?"

"Why is it everybody thinks it's me fault?" Jack swayed against the rail of his ship dramatically, petulant. Elizabeth was unimpressed—her eyes narrowed.

"Actually, I gave your father my word, for his peace of mind, to bring you and Mr. Turner back to Port Royal safely," Norrington said carefully. "And the Black Pearl is far faster than any ship I could arrange for or charter. That, and its Captain seems to feel that he owes it to the both of you to see things to the end."

"Where's Barbossa?" Jack asked quickly, before the oncoming barrage of questions he could feel welling up from the couple emerged.

"He went off into Canton," Will supplied, with a little frown. "Same place he goes everyday. Drinks tea, talks to locals." A glance down at Jack's hip, then an irrepressible, boyish grin. "Like the sword?"

"Lovely present," Jack patted the hilt. "Thank ye."

"'Course, I made that before you tricked me aboard the Flying Dutchman," Will said mildly, managing to hold the look of utter seriousness for only a moment before breaking out into a grin again. "But I'm square with that, too. It's been a hard voyage, all the way here, makes a man think. I'm glad you're alive, Jack."

"Ye have no idea how glad I am that I'm alive, too," Jack drawled, looking out over the bustling port. The European-only section, it seemed—but there were several officious-looking people with slanted eyes and pigtails peering at them.

"Where's Gibbs? An' Marty? Cotton?" Anamaria got bored of watching them talk, after making sure that the Pearl was properly settled.

"Jack! Anamaria!" a bellow from the dock and footsteps up the gangplank signaled that the people in question had just arrived on the scene. Gibbs stepped forward, arms wide, as if to envelop Jack in a bear hug, then froze. "Commodore!"

"I suggest," Norrington said wryly, "Before we have a repeat of the last few minutes, that we all adjourn somewhere with enough space and exchange stories."

"So what we be doin' now, Jack?" Gibbs was the first to ask.

Jack tilted his head, then glanced at Will, then opened his arms wide. "Don't know. M'the cavalry, mate. This savin' o' William's da wi' destroyin' th'soul, 'tis his little adventure. So ye 'ave t'go try first, an' then I'd come out with th'clever rescuin' plans, savvy?"

"You're saying our role is to make a misguided attempt at penetrating World's End, get caught, and then wait for rescue?" Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. Her well-bred voice dripped sarcasm.

"Precisely," Jack swayed precariously on his seat as he clapped. "Indubitably. So why not ye get along wi' it, I do th'rescuin', we destroy this soul thing, an' then we all go home t'the Caribbees?"

William and Elizabeth sighed at the same time. "Jack..."

"'Course, that's me plan," Jack said, settling back a little. "Be glad t'know if ye 'ave any o' yer own."

William had the grace to look embarrassed—he even blushed a little. "Actually, I don't. Sorry."

Jack rolled his eyes, but Elizabeth came quickly to her fiancé's rescue. "We don't know the territory, Jack, or even where the soul is. We only know what it looks like. Tia didn't give us a lot of instructions. And..." She looked away briefly for a moment, not wanting to mention someone she knew Jack at best disliked, "Well, we were all really shocked about Barbossa. Being alive. To the point that we forgot to ask a few more pertinent questions. But he isn't very helpful—Tia only commissioned him to get us to World's End and back. He isn't required to actually lend any further aid, nor has he shown the slightest interest in the whole thing." This last was spoken in a tone of vexed irritation.

"M'know how that feels," Jack muttered, though some doubt filtered through his mind. "What did ye trade fer in India?"

"Silver bars, mostly," William said doubtfully. "It's tradable as currency here."

"That's very good," Jack said brightly. "An' they be tradable as currency over at th'World's End, too."

"Captain Sparrow," Norrington drawled, "I do recall we have cargo reserved just for this very expediency."

Jack winced. "Mate, we need t'trade that fer supplies here, as well."

"I took a look through your hold on the way here, Sparrow," Norrington looked at his fingers, his voice bland. "You seem to have somehow appropriated, or misappropriated, I should say, a small crate of silver, which should be enough for your purposes in Canton."

Jack pouted and wondered exactly when had he let Norrington out of his sight long enough for the man to do that. However, before he could inquire, Elizabeth asked, curiously, "What sort of cargo?"

"Nothin'," Jack said quickly, just as Norrington said, "Opium."

"Opium?" Elizabeth looked shocked. "Jack!"

"Well... it's goin' t'the pirates," Jack said, grudgingly, with a sidelong glare at Norrington. That annoying smirk. "We'd need it t'be let through t'the port. The last time Barbossa, Bootstrap an' I tried t'get there, we didn't 'ave any opium, so they didn't let us."

"James, I'm shocked that you condoned this," Elizabeth appealed to Norrington, as Jack had rather expected that she would. Will looked slightly bemused, as he did whenever he didn't exactly understand what was going on but was following Elizabeth's lead.

"As Sparrow pointed out, it's technically legal, and we do need... apparently... entry into the port to even be able to get close to whatever it is we're supposed to be looking for," Norrington said mildly. "But I believe we will need an interpreter. Perhaps some inquiries about town...?"

Jack sighed. "No need fer that. 'ow long 'ave ye been 'ere, Gibbs?"

"'Bout a week, mebbe a day or more," Gibbs said, scratching at his graying sideburns. "Why'd ye ask, Cap'n?"

"Awwrk. Apple a day," the parrot squawked, shifting its feet on Cotton's shoulder. Everybody ignored it.

"An' ye say Barbossa, he been goin' t'the same place each day an' drinkin' tea?" Jack tapped his lip. "Interestin'. Very interestin'."

"Why? What's he really up to?" Elizabeth was the first to grasp the subtext.

"See, 'Lizabeth, if Barbossa be really takin' a vacation while waitin' fer us t'be done wi' our business, then he be drinkin' rum, not tea. He drink tea when he wants t'be thinkin'."

"Sort of like how you drink rum in the same way?" Norrington asked dryly, "Though I have to say your methods are quite illogical, Sparrow. Tea, I can understand."

"Whatever works," Jack flapped his hand dismissively. "So. We need some rum. An' I'd go speak t'me previous traitorous First Mate an' see what 'e 'as t'say. In th'meantime..." an impish grin at the couple, "Try t'think real hard now on the possibilities of an aforementioned misguided attempt, awlright?"

"Whatever you say, Jack," Will grinned. Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"An', me Pearl be tellin' me, very loudly, that she wants Gibbs, Marty an' Cotton back, so we'd be tradin' over some crew."

"What? Just them?" Elizabeth frowned. "Wait. You're implying that your ship speaks to you?"

"An' that's exactly why she ain't interested in the both of ye," Jack smirked. Will laughed as he saw Elizabeth's expression of mixed indignation and confusion. "Off we ye two now. Gibbs, Marty, an' Cotton—welcome back t'the Pearl. M'sure Anamaria can show ye 'round."

"Me pleasure, Cap'n," Anamaria tugged briefly at her wide-brimmed hat, and the latest additions to the crew followed her out of the cabin.

"I'd go with you to find Barbossa," Norrington said, glancing out of the porthole over Canton harbor.

"Don't need that, Commodore. Why not ye stay 'ere an' babysit?" Jack gestured extravagantly at Will and Elizabeth. "M'sure ye 'ave lots t'catch up on."

"It's all right, Jack, we can take care of ourselves," Elizabeth said doubtfully, "And it'd be better if you go out into Canton with somebody else. Just in case. Of trouble."

"What trouble?"

"Well... uh... you seem to attract trouble, Jack," Will agreed, earnestly. "While um, the Commodore, he tends to repel it, so..."

"T'aint true," Jack argued, with agitated hand gestures, "This Commodore, 'e be a right 'andful fer..." An outflung hand caused him to finally overbalance over the chair, with a surprised yelp. The sound of a step, then his breath huffed out as he fell against an arm, caught before he hit the deck. Norrington's worried expression, edged with irritation, filled his line of vision.

"I knew that would happen sooner or later, Jack," he growled. Jack smiled, playfully, affectionately, then his mind reminded him that the both of them were not exactly alone, at the same time that Norrington's did.

The twin expressions of openmouthed astonishment were, impossibly, even more shocked than when they had previously first realized he was alive. Jack smiled winningly and hastily pulled away from the Commodore, righting the chair with a flick of his heel and a twist of a hand. "Shouldn't th'two o' ye be off somewhere?"

"You called him Jack," Elizabeth gasped, staring at James.

"Jack, what did you do?" Will demanded, and stared at Jack.

Jack glanced back at Norrington, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. No help there. "Well, y'see, I s'pose it'd be obvious eventually, but uh..."

"I guess it explains his endless fascination with Jack," Will commented to Elizabeth, as if the both of them weren't there.

"Yes, I was wondering about that myself," Elizabeth said primly, "His questions about Jack's conduct on the island were beyond professional curiosity, I felt."

"And the resignation."

"And showing up in Tortuga."

"And those... smoldering glances, over the deck of the Pearl," Elizabeth fanned herself with her hands with a playful grin.

"Have the both of you quite finished?" Norrington asked, wearily. "And do try to keep your speculations discreet."

"Going t'be hard, mate, what wi' th'livin' arrangements," Jack began, cheekily, but stopped when Norrington shot him a warning glance—living arrangements could be changed. Easily.

"We won't be disturbing the both of you, then," Elizabeth all but chirped, getting to her feet and dragging Will by the wrist after her. "Bye." Will grinned and waved as they disappeared out of the cabin.

"That was fast," Jack muttered. Only a day ago, while having his hair turned back to the way it was by Anamaria, he'd agreed with Norrington to keep secret their relationship, at least until the issue of the World's End was over, so it wouldn't cause any potential problems with the others.

"I'm actually a little relieved," Norrington said wryly, pressing up behind Jack and nuzzling him. "I'm not sure I could have spent the next few days pretending that we were at best allies under a temporary truce."

Jack sighed, even as he leaned back. "Still 'ave others. Gibbs, Marty, an'..."

Norrington cut him off via leaning forward a little and tilting Jack's head up with gentle fingers, kissing him languidly at first, then more and more roughly. Jack began to purr...

A shocked gasp from the door made them break apart. Jack swallowed the curse in his throat as he saw a very astonished Gibbs. "Gibbs! Uh..."

"Sorry. Left me hat," Gibbs muttered, beet red from embarrassment, scooting in and grabbing the item off the desk. "Er. Sorry. Cap'n. Commodore."

Jack and Norrington watched silently as Gibbs left as though he had been set on fire. There was a soft chuckle behind his ear. "You were saying, about the others?"

They were in a partially open-air, slightly run-down looking restaurant (really just a wooden roof shelter over tables and benches, two walls, and a kitchen) that was packed with pigtailed people all trying to out-talk each other in a language that Jack could not begin to understand. Songbirds of myriad colors in delicately domed wooden cages—from dusty brown to pale yellow—sang in a cacophony to match, hooked from the edges of the roof. Barbossa sat in a corner alone, nursing a tiny ceramic cup of tea, the pot next to his arm. "Jack. Yer late."

"Got caught up wi' some problems in Madras," Jack shrugged, sitting down opposite the other man, Norrington beside him.

A waitress approached, bobbing her head at them, then smiling and bobbing again when Barbossa spoke briefly in the local dialect. When she left, he smirked back at them. "Ordered us some more tea, 'bit o' food. Madras, hmm? Anythin' t'do wi' Lord Norrington?"

Norrington frowned immediately, but Barbossa merely took a sip of his tea. "I brought the Pearl up this ways more than once, looking fer those damned Aztec coins. Impressive reputation—didn't quite meet him, though, more's the pity."

"Only a brief run in," Jack said impatiently, somewhat irrationally annoyed at the mention of the long years where he had been without his ship. He looked out over the street, where rangy, tanned locals were drawing British folk around in rickshaws with fluid efficiency.

"Nothin' t'do wi' how yer so obviously fuckin' his son?" Barbossa asked innocently, toasting Jack with tilt of his teacup, ignoring the intake of breath from Norrington. "Have t'congratulate ye, Jack. Didn'a know ye could poach one o' His Majesty's finest."

"Captain Barbossa. We didn't follow you all the way to Canton to discuss trivial questions," Norrington said coldly. "What are your plans for the retrieval of Davy Jones' soul at the World's End?"

Barbossa smirked back at him, unfazed by the icy tone. "T'aint that just like a Navy toff, Jack? Making demands that sound absolutely odd t'the average man in th'voice o' cool command. S'pose the two o' ye play at that when yer both on yer ownsies?"

Norrington's expression darkened. The food and drink arrived, however, with bitter brown tea flecked with black leaves poured into little cups for the two new arrivals, and little plates set out before them. A plate of steamed, smallish dumplings, some white, some an odd shade of yellow. And chopsticks. Barbossa picked up his pair as neatly as a native, and snapped up a dumpling. And smirked.

Jack returned it, as he did the same.

"Ye remember," Barbossa arched an eyebrow, in between mouthfuls.

Jack shrugged. "T'aint that hard."

Norrington, however, was having problems—he picked up his pair, glancing at both Jack's and Barbossa's fingers. The imitation was comical, especially since the Commodore was concentrating so much that he'd forgotten about the slight just a moment ago. Finally, Jack reached over and adjusted fingers and wood. Awkward, but no mishaps, then, "This is quite good."

"'Course. If not why would I be sittin' 'ere fer a week while waitin' fer me ex-Cap'n?" Barbossa helped himself to another. "'Sides, the owner remembers us from th'last time. Asked where Bootstrap an' ye were."

"Bootstrap," Jack refilled his tea, his voice flat. "Tia was fair mad what ye did t'him."

"Aye, that was exceedingly obvious, when I woke up," Barbossa shifted his shoulders a little, the monkey resettling with a reproachful chitter. "'Course, I was just so glad t'be alive again that I just agreed t'whatever she wanted. But Tia's careful now, so I 'ave another curse." Another shrug that irritated the monkey. "I don't extend me help, an' I go back t'bein' un-dead. I do believe she said somethin' 'bout droppin' me off in the middle o' the sea naked an' tied to a large ironbound treasure chest. Our Tia's very much into poetic justice." Amusement, and the faint, fleeting hint of old affection. Tia was one of the very, very few people in the world whose opinion Barbossa valued—though apparently not enough so as to attempt to kill Bootstrap.

"Didn't tell th'whelps this?"

"They'd never 'ave left me alone otherwise," Barbossa snorted irritably. "Through th'whole voyage 'ere it was, 'Captain Barbossa, why are we dockin' 'ere?' an' 'Captain Barbossa, should we really be tradin' in that?' an' 'Captain Barbossa, 'ow much longer t'World's End?' Fair drive a man mad."

That just absolved both Will and Elizabeth of any little debts Jack could care to acknowledge between the both of them. He grinned wickedly. "They're not so bad."

"Ye can 'ave them on the return trip," Barbossa retorted quickly. "An' be welcome t'them."

"Aye, well, that 'as t'be delayed until we're finished wi' th'business, hmm?" Jack smiled, even glancing briefly at Norrington. His Jamie was distracted already, now looking at the birds, then back at the street. Canton was a visual feast for a sheltered Commodore late of the Caribbean, even in the so-called European sector. Women in brightly colored silk dresses that hugged their hips, walking in tiny little steps. Drums, somewhere in the distance—a street performance. Oriental buildings lined the wide, paved street, their layered structure roofed in delicately sloped slate. Visible down the street were a set of pillars that held up a building in a squarish arc, either carved or painted with writhing dragon-serpents. "S'pose ye've been thinkin' o' a way t'go 'bout it."

Barbossa took out a folded piece of cloth from his coat, and opened it on the table. There was an inked picture of an egg, decorated with designs that were painful to look at—convoluted and twisting. "We'd be needin' t'find this." Businesslike now, having bored of playing. "I spoke t'some locals 'ere an' there, seems Worlds' End 'as slacked off some on th'No Europeans rule, an' they be acceptin' passage in return fer powdered gold. Which I hope ye brought, lookin' as I was badgered out o' doin' so."

"Aye, I have," Jack nodded. Norrington chuckled.

"An' sortin' through all th'stories, seems that most agree that the port itself is on the only flat bit o' land on a ring o' steep cliffs that go 'round the island. There be a long chain hidden in the sea just a ways from the mouth o' the harbor. They want t'stop enemy ships from comin' in, or goin' out, they pull up the chain an' stop the ship, dead in the water. Then they cannon it down from their side."

Barbossa reached into his coat and provided a further drawing. The mouth of the island 'ring' was thicker than the rest of the land, and the port was marked on an inward curve. There was, therefore, a channel of water that ships would have to pass through to get to the port. A dotted line and smaller marks showed the location of the chain, and presumably, the structures that held some sort of device to raise or lower it. Probably cranks, like in a drawbridge.

"Weren't you concerned that word of your inquiries would get out to... the pirates at World's End?" Norrington asked, studying the drawing.

Barbossa snorted. "M'also a pirate, Commodore. Drop enough hints, an' they just be seein' a cautious old sea dog out t'make some profit on opium where it can be sold wi'out 'avin' t'dance 'round the authorities."

"So getting in be th'easy part," Jack mused, tapping a nail over the drawing. "At least t'the port. Hear anythin' 'bout th'island?"

"Only that it's a short voyage from the port to the beach, an' it be a perfect round circle o' rock an' bamboo. What's at the center, nobody knows—too many different stories." Barbossa shrugged. "Some say it's a shrine to a god, the entrance t'Hell, the home o' a resident demon... so we'd be goin' in blind. Also, the pirates at World's End, they don't 'preciate anybody goin' t'the island. Nobody knows exactly why."

"Not like Tortuga or Liberté, then," Norrington commented, "There is governance."

"Aye, World's End be ruled by some chap wot calls himself the Dragon King," Barbossa drawled, "Nobody seems t'know what his real name is. Pirate king o' these parts. Long standin' disagreements wi' the British East India Company an' the authorities. Set up shop in World's End first t'store loot, an' now t'trade, since the world is changin' an' that be more profitable. Opium, slaves, silver, guns, ships, buyin' an' sellin'. Have enough o' either an' 'e may even grant us an audience."

"Ye've been busy," Jack acknowledged, grudgingly.

Barbossa snorted. "T'aint everybody wi' the free time t'go gallivantin' wi' members o' the East India Company and their sons, Jack. I'm lookin' forward t'going back t'the Caribbean, as soon as we can."

"How do you propose we get from the port into the central island?" Norrington asked, frowning. "I suppose they should have guards, and the sea chain will make it difficult to run."

"I propose we get t'the World's End, an' bring tea, an' rum," Barbossa ate the last dumpling. "Take some looks around, do some tradin' an' minor thievery, then put our heads together." A smirk at Jack, who scowled. "Just like old times."

"'cept Bootstrap ain't here no more," Jack finished the tea, eyes narrowed over the rim.

"T'aint hard t'find someone t'fill his role. His son, or maybe the Commodore. Just need someone t'keep goin' 'Jack, that'd never work', an' 'Hector, tell Jack that'd never work', an' 'I can't believe that worked', along those lines, in that sequence."

"Jack, this will never work," Norrington said, with a perfectly wooden expression. Barbossa arched an eyebrow at him, and began to laugh.

"Hidden depths!"

"Jamie..."

"No, Jack," Norrington said patiently, "I understand that you and Captain Barbossa have had a varied and unpleasant recent history. However, seeing as he mutinied, and you ended up killing him, I would rather the both of you put the past behind you, at least until we get back to the Caribbean. We already have far too many problems at the moment without having to deal with the both of you going at each other's necks."

"Hear, hear," Barbossa smirked, pouring himself another cup of tea. "What say ye, Jack? The Commodore wants us t'be... friends." This last was drawled, sarcastic.

Norrington smiled. "And you'd be looking to stay in the Caribbean, Captain Barbossa? Afterwards?"

"I said so, didn't I?"

"My jurisdiction, Captain," Norrington said mildly, "And as it so happens, previous charges against you can likely be revived, before you have the means to escape. 'Mistakenly believed dead. Recent evidence to the contrary. Outstanding crimes against the Crown'." The purr of a hunting cat. "Short drop. Sudden stop."

"An' is it so smart t'be threatenin' me when ye be far away from yer jurisdiction, Commodore?" Barbossa smiled coldly, still drinking.

"I can take care of myself, Captain. But I'm sure you wouldn't like to risk your newfound... life on such a gamble. On the other hand, in return for your cooperation and agreement to stop instigating trouble amongst the rest of us, I may be agreeable to giving you a head start, once we return to the Caribbean." Norrington replied mildly. "Enough for you to outfit another ship, and start anew. Do we have an accord?"

The two pirates stared at Norrington, then they both began to chuckle. Barbossa shook his head, briefly startling the monkey. "Aye, an accord, Commodore. Where'd ye find this one, Jack?"

"Luck. She favors me," Jack smirked.

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