Rags of Time
Part 11
by
Full headers in Chapter 1
Disclaimer: Not mine, none of it. Claim no ownership and make no money. I just like to play with them. Sorry!
Disclaimer: Not mine, none of it. Claim no ownership and make no money. I just like to play with them. Sorry!
Almost a year had passed since the day James Norrington had found Jack bound and flogged aboard Jenkins's ship. It had been a year unlike any he had ever known.
It had been a year in which he'd seen the world and his life and his place in it change in some slipping, nauseous way. At times he felt as though he were in a dream, or as though he were watching what was happening around him through misted glass, detached somehow. His mind wandered, constantly at times. His mind's restlessness occupied his thoughts, so that they were focussed on mainly one thing. That being a certain Jack Sparrow.
At times it was only feelings of unease. Like there was something out of place. At other times it would hit him, just how mad he feared he was going. He saw the change in him reflected in the men around him, the way Gillette's gaze lingered in a frown on James in the midst of some indecision, the concern poorly hidden in the Governor's voice when they met.
At other times it was like a relief, memories of the time they found together seeping through his consciousness in distracted moments. In the middle of some dreary soul-wrenching ball in which he avoided eye contact with everyone there he was suddenly back in his bedroom, rolling the solid knots in Jack's shoulders under his oiled thumbs, feeling the muscles crunch as Jack's body sagged forward, his bare chest leant against his knees while James's legs locked around him, Jack's own hands clasped around James's feet squeezing as he groaned dramatically with each pinch of relief.
Or fulfilling his chore of attending church each Sunday morning, singing absently and staring at the grain in the wooden floorboards during the sermons. He was then, instead, propped on a pillow in his bed, laughing quietly as Jack told stories and whispered words, kohled eyes heavy with sleep and a tired smile. James stretching his long legs out, the thin sheet sliding off him and catching Jack's attention, Jack tilting his head to one side, smiling crookedly as he began to walk his fingers up James's leg, running a finger up his inner thigh, losing his hand into the heat and hardness there as he spread his body over James's, catching his lips in a warm lazy kiss as his fingers gripped around both their cocks, stroking slowly in the languid summer night.
And the time many months before, in the fishing hut, one night when Jack had arrived in a dark mood, eyes darting and challenging James to a disagreement, antagonizing and biting at nearly everything he said until James made him tell him what was wrong. James had tried to hold his tongue as Jack finally explained his temper: he'd narrowly avoided mutiny when the crew had seen through his bluffs and excuses for refusing to go after a British merchant ship. Although Jack would not say why he had not pursued the ship, James saw the conflict there, between his freedom to choose and his odd sense of loyalty to James. He would have been flattered, if Jack's mood had allowed it.
"I could get you a Letter of Marque, if only—"
"I could get myself a bloody Letter of Marque, I don't want a bloody Letter of Marque—I'm a bloody pirate, James, not the Navy's bloody pet."
Their words had become heated, Jack bitter and angry and blaming James for his own decision as though he'd forced him to ignore the British ship at gunpoint.
"You can't have it all, Jack, you either leave the British alone or I'll have no choice but to—"
"But to hang me, aye, I know! And what makes you think you'd bloody-well catch me?"
"Look at yourself, Jack," James had laughed, the sound more cruel than he had intended. "I already have."
Jack's face changed darkly, his usual dizzying warmth gone cold suddenly. James felt his own anger well inside him, months of frustration and conflicting desires boiling up.
"You know, I fancy I feel a change in the wind," Jack said, voice heavy despite the mocking sarcasm in his tone. "I think I may take after my namesake and fly south for the winter."
"Sparrows don't migrate, you idiot."
"Well this one bloody does!" he said in an explosion of hands and jerking arms, spinning round and storming his way out of the door, slamming it behind him. James held his hand to his forehead, pressing fingertips to his temple, wondering at which point he'd allowed the man to seep so deeply under his skin, at which point it had become something so dangerous.
Jack had gotten ten paces away, though they were long paces, being angry ones, and his anger being magnificent and terrifying and such. Though it was just those ten paces till he felt some tug somewhere in his chest that made him halt, his angry fog fading somewhat as he recognized that pull as something he'd not known in an inordinately long time.
"Oh, bugger."
James had his face covered by both long pale hands as Jack threw the door open, and visibly jumped at the noise. Jack marched over to him, not breaking eye contact as he grabbed handfuls of his waistcoat and pushed and pressed him forcibly up against the wall, forcing his voice quiet in a fierce kiss and pinning him to the wall with hips and chest.
"Don't say a word, Jamie," he whispered through teeth and tongue and lips, his voice weak suddenly. "No questions, no words, love."
They did not speak for a number of hours, their mouths engaged in other activities.
Months later James began to wake in the night, thinking he'd heard the door catch or a floorboard creak, sitting bolt upright in the dark but finding himself alone. Or worse, some nights he wouldn't realise he was dreaming. He would be standing in the courtyard of the fort, watching as Jack's crimes were read aloud, watching as the noose was secured, watching as the hatch dropped, as the rope went taut, as the boots jerked, as dancing hands twitched and stilled, rich, living eyes bulged and dimmed. And then suddenly watching as Jack's body was hung on the headland, bloated purple as gulls plucked out treacle eyes, tore at heavy lips.
He'd awake shouting wordless noises, skin slick with sweat and tangled in drenched linen. Sitting up, he'd try to tell himself it had not been real. Rubbing at his eyes, his voice still trying to drown out the noises—pecking, tugging, the wet dull tear of liquifying flesh. He'd sit on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands. With a heavy sigh he'd reach for the brandy, drink two mouthfuls, and wince at the morning sun creeping through the curtain.
Or sitting behind his desk in his office at the fort, staring blindly at paperwork of orders and rosters and dispatches. His mind would creep back to a night they'd spent at an inn on the outskirts of Port Royal. James's heart had been pounding in his chest as he tried to walk anonymously through the back alleys, his mind chastising him his stupidity at agreeing to meet Jack there. But the room was private, though the thinness of the walls had them reeling with laughter on the bed as Jack competed with their neighbours, imitating the loudest cries and moans of passion, till a heavy fist thumped against the wall to shut them up. Though the hitched, guttural noises James made later were ignored by the next room's occupants, accompanied as they were by Jack's own cries as he pulled James's hips towards him, thrusting into him as James writhed on hands and knees before him; Jack lost himself to the burn inside him, stroking James's cock as he came hard with James's body contorting and tensing around him and beneath him.
Or remembering the first time, a long time ago, after an evening of drinking wine and Jack making him laugh until he struggled for breath. Feeling the drunken giddiness in his head as he asked Jack to show him, the flare that lit up in Jack's eyes and the slow teasing gentle way he took James, gliding so slowly, kissing him and whispering to him and waiting as James felt his body exploding from the inside in waves; grasping at Jack's hair to pull him closer, Jack staring into his eyes, staying with him as it tore through him.
And so it went. James's existence now punctuated by flashes of Jack, both in person and in memory. The importance of most other things seemed to slip away somewhat.
James slept deeply, hadn't even noticed Jack arrive. Though Jack's arrival was far from characteristic this time: he was hunched over as he stepped through the bedroom door. He noticed the half empty bottle of rum by the bed, thanked the stars and every god and goddess whose name he could remember for that little miracle as he tipped his head back and drained a large volume of the bottle. He painfully lowered himself to the bed, took another drink, realised the rum was the reason James had not yet woken.
Letting the empty bottle drop to the floor he sat and watched James sleeping. His scorched eyes adjusted to the welcoming dimness of the room, saw James's pale relaxed face framed by soft brown hair. Unblemished; safe and sound. Breathing slowly, heavy in dreamless sleep.
He heard his own breath rough in his raw throat, his head pounding, dizzy with exhaustion and his body aching from strain. He wanted James's body alongside him, wanted to hear his heartbeat and steady breath, feel his sleepy movements and little noises.
He let himself fall stiffly to the bed, pulled himself further up until his forehead rested against James's shoulder, curled his legs up and finally closed his eyes, let sleep pull him under.
Till his half-sleeping mind filled with flame and smoke and he called out as he woke up, waking James with a start and a thick yelp.
"Jack?" James sat up sharply, looking down at his hunched up form beside him in the bed. "What's happened, I didn't—why do you smell of smoke?"
"Jamie..." he whispered hoarsely with a smile.
"Are you all right? Was there a fire?"
"Just come here," he said quietly, lifting a weak arm to hold his shoulder, pull him closer. "Here, James."
James gently wrapped him in his arms, still unsure what was happening as he pressed his face against Jack's temple, smelt smoke and singed leather and hair.
"Are you hurt?" he whispered, pulling braids away from his face to see him dark with soot and dirt. "Jack, are you hurt?"
"Just need you. S'all well now." Jack's fingers gripped at James's nightshirt, pushed his face into the soft skin dipping around his collarbone. James held him there for a long time, stroking his hair until Jack moved back slightly. James reached out to the table beside the bed to light the lamp, but as Jack heard the clink of the glass he grabbed suddenly at James's arm.
"No! No light, James. Had enough of flames."
"Jack, what happened?" James asked gently.
"Was a fire," Jack said with a heavy sigh, rubbing at his eyes as he curled back up against James. "Woke up to the bell going. Not sure how, think it was powder going up from some fool with a lamp. Took hold too quick... don't know how long, but it was dawn and gone before we got it out. Lost three men..."
"Who?" James asked quietly.
"No one who's passing you'll mourn, luv," Jack said with a bitterness he didn't try to hide. He rolled onto his back but hissed as his body protested. "What difference does it make to you if they choked on a noose or choked on tar smoke behind flames too fierce to reach 'em through."
James held his tongue, only gently ran his hand across Jack's cheek. Jack turned his face into the gesture, closed his eyes, sighing till the sudden exhalation made him cough. James pulled him up gently to sit upright, rubbed his back to ease his coughing.
"Let me take a look at you," he said softly as it subsided. Jack grumbled a protest, but didn't stop him when James pulled him out of his coat. He could see even in the dimness that one shirt sleeve was singed, holes burnt in it in places. He pulled the sleeve back, mumbled an apology as Jack made a pained noise. His arm was dark with heavy bruising, and James could see the burns speckling the skin.
"A beam fell," Jack said by way of explanation. "S'nothin' bad."
James unfastened and removed his belts and ties, gently tugged the shirt over Jack's head. Jack limply held up his arms like a child being undressed, and that was how it went for a while, James slowly and carefully removing the clothes of a sad, despondent pirate.
"You'll never sleep with your clothes smelling of smoke," said James gently, bunching them up and getting out of bed to put them on the other side of the room. He turned and saw Jack sitting there unmoved, slouched forward and staring into the middle distance, lost in images imprinted in his mind. James was all too aware of what those images were. He had seen fires onboard ship, seen the panic and chaos and heard the screams and choking.
He got back onto the bed, crawled up to sit in front of Jack, slipped his arms around his back and wrapped his legs around him, crossing his feet behind him. He pulled Jack close until their bodies touched everywhere they could, Jack's head resting against his chest as James rocked them slowly back and forth.
"Where is she now?" James asked quietly.
"Docked in Tortuga. Left Gibbs in charge of making repairs, replacing the crewmen. Got passage here straight away. Had to see you, Jamie..."
James pulled Jack back slightly, placed both hands in his hair with palms cupping his jaw. He leant forward, pressed his lips against Jack's, felt him release the breath he'd been holding, and his muscles relax. He gently kissed his cheek, the bridge of his nose, his closed eyes, his forehead.
James lay down, brought Jack down with him still with legs and arms entwined. He stroked Jack's hair with one hand, pressed his lips to his forehead as he pulled the sheet over them.
"It's all right, Jack," he whispered. "You're here now."
James held him close as he felt his body slowly become limper until he slipped into sleep. He felt Jack's breath heavy against his neck, heard it catch in his throat. He felt his own eyes closing, his head thick with tiredness and the rum he'd drunk to help him sleep.
Jack suddenly jumped himself awake with a gasping choking noise. James awoke with a start, sat halfway up on the bed before he realised. Jack stared wide eyed into the dimness, trying to catch his breath. James lay back down and pressed his face to Jack's damp forehead.
"Talk," Jack said breathlessly. "Tell me something. Clear my mind."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Tell me—about England... about your home. Anything."
"England isn't my home," James said quietly.
"Aye, but it was, as it was mine. Just talk."
James sighed quietly, tried to think of things he hadn't remembered in a long time. Tried to recall things that would calm Jack's thoughts: sprawling green fields and peaceful, indifferent cows, horse chestnuts and chasing dragonflies by the river.
"My family owned an orchard," he began. "It was near the house. We would clamber through the fence and steal the apples."
"Who's we?" Jack asked, his voice beginning to sound calmer.
"My sister and I. Emily. She's younger than I."
"Didn't know you had a sister, Jamie," he replied, his voice quieter still.
"Nor do I know if you have siblings. Nor parents or wives or children for that matter," James said with a sly smile. Jack laughed weakly.
"Point taken. Tell me about her. Her and the apples."
"She is five years my junior," James began after a pause. "And she's the only other person who has called me 'Jamie'. Though I used to hate it, she insisted. I left for the Navy when I was thirteen, I've hardly seen her since. She lives in Portsmouth, married a Lord's son. She has three children, named her son James."
"Apples..." Jack said, sleep seeping into his face slowly.
"Yes. I would climb a tree, find the shiniest apples, drop them down to her. She would gather them in her skirts as she'd seen the housemaid do. We would take them to the cook, sneak in the kitchen door. She would make us a caramel, such a waste of sugar, really, but she couldn't resist Emily's charm. She would wipe her big hands on her apron, have me slice the apples and pretend not to notice Emily dip her finger in the sugar pot. She would coat the chunks of apple in the caramel, let it set. Then if she had time, though I think she always made the time, we'd sit at the table or in the kitchen garden and eat them."
He smiled at the memory, remembering the comfort in it. He looked down at Jack, saw him sleeping peacefully at last. James pulled him closer still, held him tight. Felt himself begin to fall asleep.
The bath was prepared in James's study; word was sent to the fort that he would be arriving later in the afternoon as he had important business to attend to at home. Jack slipped into the water and lay there still for a long time. James watched him as he shuffled through some paperwork at the desk, watched his face relax as though he were meditating again. Meditating indeed. There was far too much life and far too many schemes in that head for it ever to be emptied.
Jack suddenly dunked himself under the water, sliding his body down so only his knees were visible, together with his injured arm which he kept on the bath edge. James smiled as Jack came back up with a gasp and a reawakened look on his face. He met James's gaze as the water trickled over his face, loosening the soot and dirt from his skin. He smiled mischievously, then shook his head vigorously from side to side splashing and spraying water in a crescent around him.
"For God's sake, Jack!" James exclaimed, trying to shelter his documents. Jack laughed, propped his chin on his uninjured arm on the side of the tub.
"Come and get in with me, love," he said seductively, looking up at James through wet lashes as the kohl and soot smudged around his eyes, making them bigger.
"No," James replied curtly.
"Come on, love, you're not even dressed. Come on in with me."
"No."
"If you don't come in with me I shall be forced to get out and come and get you. Which will be messy, what with the wet and sootiness and such."
"You will do no such thing. I will have problem enough explaining to the housemaid why the bath water is as dirty as a chimney sweep's without having to also explain why there is water all over the room."
"Spoil-sport," Jack said with a pout as he flicked his wet fingers at James, sending droplets almost all the way to reach him. James shot him a warning glare, and Jack decided to leave him alone. There was not much less entertaining than a grumpy James.
Still, he caught James looking out of the corner of his eye as he washed himself, using the jug to rinse the suds from his hair and back as he poured the water over him. He heard James get up and come towards him as Jack began to gently wash his damaged arm.
"Let me see that," said James, his voice matter-of-fact. Jack held his arm out to him, winced as he dunked it under the water.
"Ow!" he complained. "I was keeping that dry for a bloody good reason, you know."
"Yes, but if you don't tend to it it may turn gangrenous."
"I've had worse," Jack replied sullenly.
"Yes, Jack, of course." James turned Jack's arm over in his hands, looking at the burns. There were blisters, but none that were too deep. "There are some splinters in this cut, Jack. I'll fetch the tweezers."
Jack groaned in protest but was silent as James plucked out the slivers of wood, only flinched when he prodded at the flesh to ensure there was no more debris under the skin.
"You're lucky," James said quietly. "The skin is thicker here from your old burn scars."
"Weren't a burn. Told you, it were a sea serpent."
James gave him a dubious look before drying off the skin and applying ointment. Jack watched him, smiled as he wrapped bandages round his arm.
"Why do you make such a fuss, love?" he asked.
"Because I am not there to ensure you do not get yourself hurt. I can only fix you when I find you."
Jack frowned at the seriousness in James's voice, opened his mouth to question him further but was cut off by a silencing look. James rose from where he was crouched on the floor and made to leave the room.
"I'll get you some clothes," he said. "I'm afraid you'll have to take your own back with you as they are. I'm sure even you could not come up with a believable story to explain to the maid how they came to be here and why they must be washed."
"James, you offend me. Course I could," he called after him, but the door was already closed.
Jack put on the shirt James had brought him. It was much too big, but as Jack posed in it he fancied his reflection in the fireplace looked quite seductive. Almost like the whores who wore men's shirts around their rooms, to emphasize their slightness beneath the baggy linen. And without breeches on the shirt left just enough to the imagination as to drive it wild. He spun round to face James as he twirled a damp unruly braid back into tameness. James was at the desk still, still pretending not to be watching him slyly.
"You know, you can look, James. You are allowed," said Jack, making his way slowly across the room.
"I was not waiting for your permission. I have work to do, and it must be done even if I am here just as if I were at the fort."
"Am I proving to be a distraction?" Jack asked, bringing two fingers to his mouth in mock surprise.
"Jack," James sighed, pausing in his writing for a moment. "You were born to be a distraction, I think, in one way or another."
Jack chuckled quietly, walked around behind James's chair and slipped his arms over his shoulders, sliding hands firmly down his chest to rest on his thighs. James's body tensed beneath his touch as he inhaled deeply at the feel of Jack's fingers gripping at his legs beneath his heavy housecoat.
James let his head fall back against Jack's shoulder as he placed his lips on the side of James's neck beneath his ear, pressed his tongue against the skin there. Felt Jack's thieving hands tug at the knot in the tie of his housecoat, undoing it and pulling it open. Felt all reason and rationality leave his mind as Jack's fingers grazed his hips, pulled up over his stomach and encircled his chest while his tongue made maddening patterns against his neck and shoulder.
Jack twisted his body around the chair, moving to face James and trailing kisses over his collarbone as he hopped to sit on top of him, making the delicious roll of his hips against James's. James let his arms drop to his sides as Jack held his face in both hands and kissed him deeply, nipping his lips between his teeth. James grasped him almost roughly by his hips as Jack rose to the touch, twisting his waist to press his hardness more firmly against him through the teasing linen. James felt Jack's muscles tense beneath the oversized shirt, and the idea of his body naked beneath one of his own shirts suddenly lit some fuse inside him and he stood up, lifting Jack with him as he twisted his legs around James.
James lowered them both to the floor, his mouth fighting with Jack's to control the kiss. Jack lowered his legs but kept them bent up either side of James, rolling his hips rhythmically against his. James slipped his hand to run down Jack's thigh and bit at his lower lip as Jack pulled away with a gasp when his fingers slid against his arse and pressed slowly inside.
"God, Jamie, please-yes—" he whispered tensely, his back and neck arching backwards as James kissed his way along Jack's jaw and throat.
"Where is your coat?" James asked into his neck while twisting his fingers, making Jack yelp wide-eyed at the jolt that sent through him.
"Soap!" he said, the poorly disguised desperation in his voice making James smile. "Soap is fine, get soap."
James laughed quietly as he fetched it, found Jack had moved onto his front and was laid out on the floor propped on one elbow as he watched James work the soap suds around his cock, his eyes following him as he knelt behind him between his knees. James scooped his arm around Jack's waist and lifted his hips a few inches from the floor as he gently pushed his way inside him, gasping at the closeness and need he always felt at this.
Jack curled his fingers to scratch against the wooden boards as he tried to subdue the deep keening noise trying to make its way up his throat, and breathed into the feel of James filling him. As James began to move and thrust he struggled to keep quiet himself, till a creaking footstep on the landing outside made James freeze.
Jack could not pass up the opportunity to infuriate James's desire at the most inappropriate moment. As James began to rise further up on his knees turning his head towards the closed door Jack lunged backwards to pivot on all fours, driving James deep into him and making the poor commodore bite down on what sounded like it would have been a very pretty noise.
"Jack..." he growled by way of warning, but then brought his hand to his mouth to stifle the same noise as Jack began to writhe and move and tug and push away and against him.
The footsteps made their way downstairs, and as they grew more distant James grabbed Jack's hips and endeavored to make Jack cry out similarly helpless noises.
Jack moved round, breathing in whimpers and hitched sounds as he rose to rest his chest on the seat of the chair, his body being shoved against it in a rhythm that made him feel like his insides were melting. He stood them both up slowly, finding his feet with a questioning James practically stuck to his back. He lowered himself so he lay with his stomach on the table and let out a long low noise of relief and need as James adjusted his position accordingly, grabbing at his hips and handfuls of loose linen. James teasingly whispered his fingers across the inside of Jack's thigh, refusing to do anything useful there as he thrust harder until Jack reached under the table and grabbed James's hand, wrapping the long fingers around his cock.
James stroked his hand back and forth slower than he moved his hips, making Jack bite around his frustration with curling lips, pleading with him eventually as James tugged the shirt down with his spare hand to expose the back of Jack's neck to kiss and lick and bite at. Jack came with a shuddering force, his body stiff then shaking beneath James that pushed him over the edge also, feeling like is was all of him spilling into Jack.
James rested the side of his face between Jack's shoulder blades, heard his heart racing. He slowly pulled back and sat down in the chair to catch his breath, entwining his fingers in Jack's, splayed out on the table. He pulled Jack back with him so that he sat straddling James again, Jack's head heavy on his shoulder as he loosely wrapped his arms around him.
"I shall have to leave shortly," James said quietly, still catching his breath. Jack only made some noise of acknowledgement in response. "Will you be here when I return?"
"For a time," he said quietly. "Have passage on the first tide in the mornin'."
"Jack?"
"Yes?"
"Please don't make yourself known to my housemaids."
"James, really," Jack said, sitting back to look at him. "What do you think of me? Would I really do a thing like that?"
James locked Jack in his bedchamber and took the key with him. He was still laughing to himself as he reached the fort over the way Jack had protested so much. Although by the time he'd actually left, Jack was sprawled out on the bed sleeping away the rest of his exhaustion from fighting a fire aboard ship for an entire night.
He was therefore completely unprepared for the letter that awaited him on his desk. It was from the Governor, demanding he meet him the following day to discuss recent issues related to his competency as commodore of Port Royal.
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