Fine Men, Chapter 5
Fine and Fair
by
Full headers in Chapter 1
Beta: Nancy (I have to protect the cookies!)
Beta: Nancy (I have to protect the cookies!)
After the roaring sound of the storm, the quiet churn under the surface was a relief, but also a warning.
James didn't have much time.
As he cut deep into the sea, he knew he had perhaps—perhaps—a minute of air. Not long. Not long at all to find a man in the whirlpool of dark water. James's naturally buoyant body was already rising to the surface, and he had to act quickly or his slim chance would be gone.
James pried his eyes open for the bare seconds he could stand against the burning salt just in time to catch himself from ramming his head against the same barrel that held Will down. It seemed the good Lord was with both Will and himself.
Startling in surprise, James lashed back to avoid the iron-wrapped wood, managing to hook a leg on it to pull himself around. He slid an arm under Will's and kicked for the surface, hoping that the way he was headed was indeed up. By the limp nonresistance of Will's body, James knew he was unconscious and likely full of water by this point.
Just like he himself would be within seconds as his lungs started to burn and ache and he had to fight against breathing in the salty cold. James couldn't stop his body's forced impulse, and his precious last breaths burst out in bubbles, letting the water rush in to fill the void.
Frantic, James kicked harder as he started to flail, swallowing once, then twice to keep from breathing the water in. All it took was one breath and he started to choke...
He broke the surface of the water into the tossing waves. Gasping and coughing, James managed to get two half breaths before a wave crashed over him, pushing him down again. He pulled on Will's body with all his strength and crested above the bubbles to drag in a deeper, needed breath.
"Jamie!"
Shocked, James flailed and looked around as best he could in the nearly blinding rain. He saw something solid and black in front of him, and he reached out one hand to touch slick wood. The Black Pearl.
"Jamie! The rope! Jamie!"
James dipped under the water for a moment to gather Will closer against him. Then he kicked hard and came back above the water, opening his burning eyes to see the rope nearby. He swam best he could toward it as the waves tossed them both and finally grasped it. He started wrapping it around Will's body, knotting it tightly and then yanking on it and waving his arm frantically.
Will shifted and was pulled out of his arms; he rose eerily from the water into the dark above. Gasping for breath and bobbing on the water, James swam toward the ship and kept one hand on her side. Feeling his way, he started swimming alongside her, groping with first one hand, then the other, searching for the ropes of rigging he knew cascaded down her sides.
A particularly rough wave knocked him hard against the Black Pearl, and James flopped into the water and held his head in pain, fighting the urge to black out. The splashing and crashing drowned out the creaks of the nearby ship, and the roar of the storm threatened to deafen him. Distantly, he heard his name.
James gasped as he felt himself sinking both in body and in mind, hoping the Lord was of a mind to hear him one more time. He hoped Will was well. He hoped the Black Pearl weathered the storm intact. And damn, he hoped he'd be allowed to see what happened next in his puzzling, frustrating, and fascinating something that might be a relationship with Jack Sparrow.
His eyes shut and he felt himself tossed against the ship's hull, and it seemed the lady sea cradled him in her arms and soothed him to sleep.
"It's all right, Jamie. I've got you."
When he opened his stinging eyes again, he was indeed bring rocked, but not by the waves of the swirling sea. His body lay still upon sturdy wood and the warmth of a firm body, and that body's arms curled around him tightly. James's eyes dropped closed again. He was so, so tired.
"You're safe, James. Safe again upon the Pearl and with me," he heard murmured against his ear. James twitched in reaction and drew a careful breath.
"Jack?"
"Aye, Jamie. I've got you."
James sighed in relief and shifted a hand to touch one of Jack's arms. "Good," he murmured as sleep stealthily beckoned.
"You're a right bedamned fool."
James smiled slightly. "William?"
"A bit green, but he'll be staying with us, the young pup will."
"Elizabeth would have skinned us both," James murmured, turning his face against wet, clinging fabric that he imagined was Jack's waistcoat.
"Likely so, I must admit," Jack said, voice pained. "Was going to jump after him myself."
"While your diving form is impressive to see, you would not have cut deep enough..."
"Not with that again," Jack muttered. "Gibbs said the same."
"Fine man," James murmured, focusing on breathing. He curled his fingers around Jack's arm and the pirate squeezed him closer.
"Aye, a fine man. As are you, James." Jack's voice was soft and low.
James sighed. "I suppose you will take credit for that."
Jack chuckled, a warm rumble that shifted his chest under the commodore's cheek. "Of course I will."
James tried to pull his eyes open again. Despite the dark, they still hurt.
"Careful now," the captain cautioned. "Need to flush the salt from your eyes."
James turned up his nose. "It's still night." They apparently sheltered under the stairs, against the same sacks of grain as before.
"Aye. We've ridden out the worst of the storm. Just rain and a bit of wind now, and the Pearl is taking us to safety in a nearby cove."
"Who is at the wheel?"
"Anamaria," Jack muttered.
James chuckled. "You actually let someone else—and a woman to boot—at the wheel?"
"I let others at the wheel," Jack said defensively.
A smiled pulled at the commodore's lips. "Usually only in situations of great duress or distress."
Jack was long quiet as one of his hands slid to comb through James's hair, pulling the long, wet strands away from James's face. It was a most unusual gesture. Finally he spoke. "You're a fine man, you are, James, though I cursed you colorfully for acting the hero."
"Only acting?" James asked plaintively. Jack sniffed and James had to laugh and shift on the deck as his legs ached.
"Hurting?" Jack asked, a tinge of worry in his voice.
"No more than to be expected," James said on a sigh. Jack muttered something under his breath. "What was that?" the commodore asked tiredly.
"Here come your men," Jack murmured. "Buck up, Commodore. Here are your men to see to you," he said more loudly as James shifted more to his back to pull his face away from Jack's chest. Surprisingly, the pirate shifted to help James sit up and lean against the grain sacks rather than himself. The loss of warmth bothered James, and he shivered.
"James!"
The commodore turned his head to see George and Thomas kneeling down at his side opposite Jack.
"What an idiotic thing to do, James," Thomas exclaimed, drawing a chuckle from the commodore and a sharp glare from Jack.
"Leave me be, Thomas. I'm here, am I not?"
"Be that as it may, you did not make it under your own steam. Captain Sparrow here had to pull you from the drink," George said.
James's eyes slowly tracked sideways and up to Jack, who was studiously not looking at him. "Did he, now," James murmured.
"Had that rope tied right around his waist and jumped. Scared the life out of Gibbs and that woman," Thomas said. "They almost didn't catch the other end, he'd gone so abruptly."
James raised an eyebrow, still looking at Jack, who still wasn't looking at him. "Indeed," the commodore said.
"Are you well, James?" George asked.
"Yes, I believe so," James said, looking back to the Navy men. "And yourselves?"
"Yes. George dragged me into that cabin and wouldn't let me help," Thomas said in annoyance.
"And a lot of good you would have done us swept overboard like Turner," George snapped.
"I'm fine! I would have been able to help!" Thomas argued.
"Thomas. George. Please." James broke in with an aggrieved sigh.
The two men turned remorseful eyes to the commodore. "Can we get you anything, James?" Thomas asked.
Jack finally joined the conversation. "Some fresh water for his eyes."
"Right away," George said, helping Thomas to his feet. Jack and James sat silent until they returned, whereupon the captain took the water and carefully put it to use.
Finally the commodore sighed and murmured, "Thank you." Though his eyes still streamed, the terrible sting of the salty sea was gone.
Jack handed the flask back to George. "Off with you now, find something dry for the commodore to wear. There's plenty in the wardrobe in my quarters."
The two Navy men nodded and took themselves off, leaving Jack and James alone once more.
"You're quite insane, you know," James commented.
Jack rolled his eyes. "Pirate," he mentioned.
"Privateer," James corrected softly.
Jack looked at James as his head leaned to the side. "'Tis a fine line, is it not?"
"Not with you," James said clearly.
Jack blinked and looked furtively around them. "Well. Don't be spreading it around, savvy?" he whispered. "I've a reputation to maintain."
James chuckled. "One that will be shattered as word gets around of what you did today."
"I think not," Jack said indignantly. "Just you see, James. William and Elizabeth will spread word to the whole of Port Royal about how Commodore Norrington threw himself into the stormy sea to save young Turner so that he might both repay his debt of rescue and return Turner to his lovely young wife. A wife beloved by them both, I might add."
James groaned deeply. Jack was likely correct. "Pirate," he muttered, which drew a smile from Jack.
"And again with the compliment," Jack said with a wink.
Before James could answer George returned. "Thomas has picked some clothing for you, James. Let's get you to the cabin and changed."
George and Jack helped James to his feet. Although he felt somewhat unsteady, James was able to get there without help, though they both hovered, Jack somewhat theatrically, James thought. Perhaps the pirate was trying to make him smile. Annoyingly, he succeeded.
"Here you are, James," Thomas said, pointing at a pile of clothes laid on the long table, along with a rough towel. "We'll leave you to some privacy."
After one look, Jack followed, shutting the doors firmly behind them.
James rubbed his face tiredly and looked at the clothing Thomas had chosen. Clean and serviceable black trousers, a deep maroon shirt and matching sash, and a brown coat. Shrugging off his own finally ruined shirt, James took up the towel and started drying off. It took him a bit of time to wriggle out of his waterlogged pants, and they fell to the floor in a sloppy mess.
Pushing them aside with a bare foot, James thankfully pulled on the dry clothes and then sat tiredly in one of the chairs, trying to pull the worst of the snarls from his hair.
Someone knocked at the door, and he called out for them to enter. It was Jack, carrying a tray of food and drink.
"You need something in you besides seawater," the pirate said knowledgeably. James grunted, perhaps in agreement. He was too exhausted to know. Jack set down the tray in front of him. "Have a bit to eat, James," he said persuasively.
The commodore looked at the food with clear disinterest, but sighed as if put upon and picked up a dry roll, broke it in half and started chewing. Jack nodded in approval and poured what looked like rum into a cup.
"You won't be caring for more water, I'm sure," Jack said, holding out the cup. "And you'll need the warming as well."
James wondered dimly about the care Jack seemed to be showing. It was all he could do to grunt again and take up the cup for a small sip, then a larger swallow as it burned all the way down, spreading that warmth just as Jack said it would.
After finishing the roll, a piece of jerky, and two small cups of rum, James sat back in the chair, limp but feeling more like himself. "Thank you, Jack."
The pirate, now sitting across from him, had his elbows propped on the table in front of him, his long fingers shredding a piece of jerky. "Aye," he acknowledged, keeping his eyes on James.
"How is Will?"
"Resting," Jack answered. "Best as he can. Took in quite a bit more of the sea than you, and a larger lump on his head as you never did see this side of a whore's pretty tit."
James almost snorted his drink of rum through his nose. He coughed as his eyes watered. "That was... colorful."
Jack grinned, the gold glinting in the candlelight. "That's me, is it not?"
"Oh yes," James agreed drolly. "Colorful. That is indeed you."
With a happy laugh, Jack clapped his hand on the table. "You see, you know me well."
James tipped his head to one side. "Not all that well. I would not have predicted your actions these past two days."
Jack looked hurt. "I thought we were friends, James."
"Are we? Or are we simply neighbors?"
The captain shifted in his chair. "Friends," he said decisively. "On our quest to improve ourselves and one another, remember?"
"You seem to have been more successful at 'improving' me—at least by your standards, whereas I have had nigh no success in improving you," James said. It was true. Though he no longer wanted to resist Jack's whirlwind presence in his life, he had no illusions that he left a mark of his own on the other man.
"Haven't you?" Jack asked seriously.
"Have I?" James threw right back.
Jack's face hardened. "How long ago would I have ignored William and Elizabeth's plea to find and rescue you, Commodore Norrington?"
The formal appellation from Jack's lips inexplicably hurt. "Not so long," James said quietly.
"Not so long," the pirate agreed. "But not so recently that you shouldn't have known better."
James flinched. He didn't give Jack enough credit, he knew, and this brought that affront into stark relief. "Not so recently," he murmured. The commodore thought back to the days before, on Sterret Cove, when he hoped Jack was on his way.
"I thought of you," James admitted. "Though I didn't believe you would come sailing to the rescue as if I were Elizabeth or another fair maiden."
Jack's lips twitched. "Perhaps I favor incurring debts upon impressionable commodores rather than wily debutantes."
James couldn't help but laugh at Jack's cheek. "You are an insolent, arrogant ass."
The pirate shrugged. "I am what I am, James. You have affected me just as well as I have affected you. Perhaps you don't look closely enough to see it."
James looked over Jack curiously, but the pirate waved a hand dismissively and smiled. "Ah, don't strain yourself, James. You're far too tired, I wager. Come on then, into bed with you."
James snickered.
Both Jack's brows flew up in surprise. "Well. Is that my influence at work or the rum talking?"
"Probably both," James admitted, head bobbing sleepily. It felt like the sea was rocking the Black Pearl again.
Jack peered at him before helping James to his feet and over to the bed. Once the commodore lay down, Jack pulled one of the woolen blankets over his legs.
James sighed and his eyes fluttered shut. He scented the pillow and the fabrics he laid upon; imbued with a smell he felt he should know, a little musky, a little spicy, with a tinge of salt.
It was Jack, of course. It was Jack's bed. And it smelled of him. James sighed, unaccountably comforted. It didn't bear thinking why.
"Get some rest, James. We'll be back in Port Royal in a few days, if the winds cooperate."
James pried his eyes open to see Jack perched on the edge of the bed watching him. "You look like a drowned rat, Jack. You ought to clean up and change clothes," James said as he looked the bedraggled pirate over.
Jack looked at him intently for several heartbeats. "You look stunning, Jamie," he said quietly. "A fine and fair man, in my estimation. I'd not have you change a whit."
Speechless, James could do nothing but look at the man who stared at him so seriously. Then that twinkle was back, and the twist normally upon Jack's lips, and the pirate smiled down at where James lay in his bed as if enjoying the sight.
"I won't be thanking you to lay around lazy the whole day," Jack said with a wag of his finger.
Still James watched the other man. The warmth that buzzed through him—from the rum?—was a sharp counterpoint to the ache in his chest. He felt completely and utterly swept away. Despite his desire otherwise, his heavy eyelids shut and he could not reopen them.
Perhaps he imagined the soft press of lips against his forehead as he dropped into an exhausted sleep, comforted by the soft shifting he felt as Black Pearl sailed home.
"Aye, Jamie," Jack whispered. "I'd not have you change a whit."
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