My first potc story! This idea surfaced quite a while ago and I never got around to it until now. It is set a few months after At World's End, because I haven't seen On Stranger Tides yet and it would interfere with my plans. This is a Jack/OC story, but it will take a while to get into it. I'll be taking it slow, but don't worry. It'll come around soon! Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it. I'd love to hear your opinions! :)
Jack had drunk too much rum. For most people, his usual, a tankard or two, was already too much. But this time, he'd gone a little farther. Now usually, the pirate captain could handle his drink better than any other sailor on the high seas and drink anyone, man, woman or child, especially child, under the table. But on this particular day, in this particular location,(the particular location being the Faithful Bride) Captain Jack Sparrow had ordered three full rounds for a table of five...for himself.
You might be asking why.
Two reasons. One, celebration. He'd finally rid himself of Hector Barbossa for good and had his ship back. No more tricks of the undead or voodoo priestesses. He was well and truly dead. The second reason was...well, because he could. He was Captain Jack Sparrow.
"Erm...Captain, perhaps it's time to go back to the ship?" Gibbs asked, raising a bushy grey eyebrow at his long-time friend in question.
Jack finished off another tankard of rum and, squinting, leaned in to scrutinize his first mate more clearly. He swallowed hard and rasped out an answer. "Perhaps not, eh?"
Pirate King Elizabeth Swann, who had travelled to Tortuga with one of her smaller fleets, frowned in disgust. She'd come for one reason and one reason only... To get any news on Will. Jack had been so adamant about not returning to Shipwreck Cove that she'd eventually had to venture out to a location he'd agree upon meeting her at, that being Tortuga. She was beginning to regret her decision. An hour now and he still hadn't told her anything! Jack turned from Gibbs and grinned saucily at her over the rim of his mug, as if knowing her thoughts.
"Jack, please. Tell me what you know. And if you don't know anything, just admit it and let me go. I don't want to birth this baby on a ship." Elizabeth said, placing a gentle hand on her protruding belly. Jack swung his head in a circle and pointed a wagging finger at her.
"Ships 'sperfect place fer birthin'. Babes turn ou' great...I was born on me da's ship, look at me."
Gibbs bubbled a laugh into his own drink and looked away as Elizabeth glared at him. She tried again.
"Jack. Please. What about will?"
"Well th'whelp was pro'ly born on land, wot with 'is—"
"News! News, Sparrow! I want any news you have of William Turner, my husband, captain of the Flying Dutchman and father of this child! Tell me!"
Jack blinked once and sat back in his chair.
"News." He repeated, an eyebrow quirking. "Shoulda asked, love."
Elizabeth gripped the edge of the table to keep from pulling out a weapon in frustration.
"Shipwrecks...on...the coast—" Jack hiccoughed and looked around in shock, as if the sound was alien to him.
"What coast?"
Jack hiccoughed once more, yawned, and before he could answer, slumped back in his chair. He was fast asleep.
Elizabeth sighed and turned to Gibbs.
"Do you know? Or am I just wasting my time?"
Gibbs shook his head, his round cheeks rippling. He didn't want to cross the pirate king, especially with her two bodyguards sitting next to her. Formerly loyal to Sao Feng, but allegiant to Elizabeth ever since his demise before the final battle. They were fiercely protective over her. She'd carried them through that fight, and for that they were grateful.
"All I know is somethin' 'bout Barbados. That's it." He said, lowering his face into his rum.
The woman considered his words and nodded carefully.
"And he's alive and well?"
Gibbs didn't have that knowledge, but he wasn't exactly in a position to disagree. Besides, he wouldn't make her doubt the faith she had in Turner, when it was all she had left.
"O 'course he is, Elizabeth. He's immortal. An' if ye got his heart, he's fine."
Elizabeth smiled.
"Of course. Just testing you, Joshamee." She said, reaching out and grabbing her mug of water.
Gibbs felt his eyebrows knitting together. Testing him? Whatever for? He swore to the high heavens above him, women were the strangest creatures of all living things on God's green earth.
"Prepare to broadside!" Jack roared suddenly, spluttering awake. He looked around in confusion, obviously wondering who had woken him up.
"Best be gettin' back to our ships then, aye?" Gibbs grinned, glad for the switch in conversation Jack provided.
"Aye. But I'm not satisfied with Jack. Expect a long, strongly-worded letter from me in the near future." Elizabeth said, using the arm of her bodyguard to haul herself out of her chair. She plucked a few gold coins from somewhere inside her oriental outfit and dropped them on a passing barmaid's tray. Gibbs nodded and helped Jack to his feet. Jack brushed him off, pretending he didn't need the assistance. One step and he began swaying dangerously.
"To the pearl then, Captain!" Gibbs said loudly, trying to snap Jack out of his drunken stupor, guiding him towards the exit.
"The pearl..." Jack whispered lovingly, his eyes glassy.
"Right, Captain. The pearl."
Captain Will Turner of the Flying Dutchman was at a loss of what to do. There he was, recruiting sailors from a devastating shipwreck and sending those already passed and those who wished to go to the afterlife off, when all of a sudden... There was a woman. In a dress. Demanding to be taken ashore.
Will had been told that the ship had been coming from England and as he found out, the woman was the sole purpose of the journey. Her name was Christian Casey, and apparently, her family in Barbados had sent for her after her schooling was completed.
Will didn't know what to do. In most circumstances (Actually, in all circumstances) the sailors he encountered were men. Men who asked to go peacefully into the afterlife or men who agreed to sail upon The Dutchman under his command. He'd never encountered a woman on a wreck in his brief captaincy of the ship, and so did not know the protocol for dealing with one. Was it different for them? He had no clue.
He didn't want to risk contacting Calypso and asking her, either.
Will observed the woman curiously. Her hair was wet and plastered to her freckled face from the rain. Her dress, previously an expensive, high-fashion garment, was soaked through and torn in several places. She was shivering like mad in the downpour, and she wore a mean looking scowl. She obviously wasn't dying.
Will could not recruit her. She didn't want to be recruited. He couldn't send her to the afterlife. She didn't want to go to the afterlife. So logically, the only thing left to do, that he could do, was take her to land.
"I want to go to land." She said, clutching her arms about herself. "You have to take me."
Will turned to his father.
"Is this allowed?"
Bootstrap Bill, previously known as William Turner himself, shrugged his shoulders.
"This has never come up before."
Christian looked between them in frustration.
"Oh come on! You are the captain! You make the decisions, you know what's allowed and not allowed! And it's not like it's far away... You could look through your spyglass and see land, I'm sure of it."
Will shook his head. He'd already looked through his spyglass. There was no land for miles around. But sometimes the rain and fog could be deceiving.
"Miss Casey...All I can do is attempt to approach the shore. I can not step on land, and I don't want to risk angering Calypso by making port."
"Fine! Just near the port, then. That's all I need. Heaven knows if we get close enough I'll just swim in." She growled, her teeth beginning to chatter. Bootstrap went to search for a blanket.
Will moved away from her and looked over the rail of the Dutchman. The ship she'd been on, The Intrepid, was massacred. It was a miracle he'd gotten any survivors off of it at all. The ship was almost below the surface now, as its hull had been torn open and had filled fast. It was amazing how many ships had run afoul on reefs in this area these past few weeks.
"Well? Are we not going to get underway?" Christian asked, following behind him. She seemed unaffected by the sinking wreck and looked at Will instead, wanting answers. He ignored her. Bootstrap came forward with a thick wool blanket and put it about her shoulders. She seemed to soften a bit and thanked him, holding it tightly around herself.
"Captain Turner?" She tried again, leaning forward to look up into his eyes.
"I'm sorry. But there's another place we have to be." Will said, feeling the telltale signal in his bones. Another shipwreck, with more souls to collect.
"What?" She demanded, all softness disappearing.
"I'm the Captain of the Flying Dutchman...I have to do my duties, or else..." Will made a finger-wriggling motion beneath his chin. Christian's face became the very picture of outrage.
"Then put a longboat down! I will row to shore!" She yelled, pointing at the small wooden boat on the deck. Will put a hand to his non-heart as the pain set in.
"We have to leave. Now." He said, abandoning the girl by the rail and heading up to the helm. Both Christian and Bootstrap followed after him. It was Bootstrap who spoke first.
"Captain! William...I'm afraid that if we want to get there before...before the hurt gets worse, we'll have to go down."
Will nodded gravely at his father.
"Miss Casey, I'm truly very sorry. But we need to hurry. And we need to go underwater."
"Underwater?" She spluttered, her eyes going wide. "Are you mad? I need to get off this ship! We're so close to Barbados! Please!"
Will gave a grim smile.
"I also regret to inform you that only the crew can survive the depths...and so, if you want to live, you'll have to take an oath..."
"An oath? No! I demand to be taken ashore! Now! I can even compensate you, my family is very wealthy—"
Will groaned as the pain in his empty chest worsened.
"Miss Casey, at the very least promise to serve for a fortnight." Bootstrap urged, looking at his son in concern.
"Then you are free to go and I will take you towards port as planned. Just...we need to go." Will finished, gripping the wheel tightly. Bootstrap called out a warning to the sailors and the ship started tilting forward, slowly submerging. Christian let out a frustrated noise and ripped the blanket from her shoulders, shoving it at William in anger.
"Fine!"
"...Excellent." Will groaned, watching as water spilled over the bow. "Now shake my hand."
Christian gripped his hand and they shook, just as the water reached their ankles.
"Please show this woman to a spare cabin." Will said to Bootstrap, just before they were engulfed in water. Christian's eyes widened in fear. She held her breath and clutched onto the wheel, not used to the peculiar and uncomfortable sensation of the ship diving under.
"It's okay." Bootstrap said, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her away from the helm. His speech was unaffected by the water.
Christian, unable to hold her breath any longer, reluctantly let the water fill her lungs. It didn't feel any different than air. She was also surprised to notice the water didn't hinder movement at all. It was like it wasn't even there. She let herself be lead away from the helm and down a set of stairs.
Bootstrap knew of only one spare cabin, and technically, it was a storage closet. He opened the door and looked around inside, then entered and moved a few things aside to clear space for her.
"This is a storage room." Christian said obviously, her fingers closing around the handle of a mop leaning against the wall.
"Yes." Bootstrap said, kneeling down and pulling a crate towards him. He removed a roll of brown fabric and shook it out. It was a hammock.
"Honestly?" Christian deadpanned, watching him hook it up on the wall.
"Yes." Bootstrap repeated distractedly, securing the hammock tightly.
"And I'm to sleep here?"
Bootstrap knew it was pointless to answer. The girl would realize soon enough that Dutchman life wasn't always easy or comfortable. She was lucky to have only sworn to a fortnight of service, and not an eternity like the rest of them.
"The captain will most likely be calling you up later." He said, before bidding her farewell and leaving the room.
Christian was left alone with her thoughts in the water filled cabin.
William finished with the sailors of the merchant ship Wanderer and prepared himself to talk to the visitor. They'd had to travel farther than expected to get to the wreck and now they were anchored close (but not too close) to The Azores. She would not be pleased about that, but there was nothing he could do. Even worse, now that she'd sworn to service, she'd have to see it through to completion whether she wanted to or not. He didn't think she would be too pleased about that either. Will descended the steps and headed for the storage room where she'd be staying. He stood outside the door a moment, his hand on the knob. He supposed he could come back later... But it was better to just get it over with. He pushed the door open and stepped in.
WHACK!
Will called out as he reeled back in pain, a hand to his nose.
"Don't come any closer, I—"
"It's me! It's Captain Turner!" Will shouted, holding a hand up, palm out, in defense. Christian was wielding a parasol like a weapon, but dropped it to the ground when she realized it was Will.
"Oh! It's you." She said, her demeanor calming. "You should know better than to enter a ladies room without knocking. I thought for sure it was one of the crew members coming to try and take advantage—"
"They aren't that type of men." Will sniped, shaking his head to rid himself of the pain.
"You sail on a pirate ship that hasn't docked in decades. Of course they're that type of men."
Will sighed. He didn't feel too bad about telling her the news now...not after she'd smacked him in the face, accident or not.
"Besides, Mister Bootstrap said you'd be calling me up, not that you'd be coming down. I was completely justified." Christian sniffed, taking a seat on a crate near the hammock.
"Why is there a parasol in here anyway?" Will demanded, sitting on a crate opposite her. He glared at the frilly pink thing on the ground in disgust.
"Don't ask me, it's not my ship. Or my room. My room would not be crammed full of miscellaneous objects all the way up to the ceiling."
He just stared. Christian coughed and turned her head away. Will blinked and regained his train of thought before beginning.
"I came here to talk to you about something. Unfortunately, I happen to be the bearer of bad news once again."
"Naturally."
He ignored the jibe.
"Two things, actually."
Christian looked up to give him a glare.
"First, we've had to travel farther from your destination than planned to ferry a few souls and collect a few sailors..."
"How far?"
"We've basically back-tracked your whole course. We're near Portugal."
Christian let out a growl and threw her arms up in frustration. Will hurried on before she could start yelling and demanding things.
"Secondly, when you took the oath, you promised to serve on the Dutchman for two weeks."
"Right. To be able to go underwater."
Will sucked in a breath through his teeth.
"Well, the thing is...You can't just take that back. You not only made a promise to me, but also to the ship. And that is essentially a promise to Calypso herself."
"You've got to be kidding."
"Afraid not."
"So what you're saying is that I've actually got to...to work?"
"That's precisely what I'm saying."
Christian stood quickly from the crate and stooped down to pick up the parasol. Will was sure she was going to hit him again but she turned and drove it into the wall.
"That's not very ladylike." Will said, pondering the double-standard. He had to knock on a ladies door, even if she wasn't being a lady?
"This is extremely ridiculous! Set sail for Port St Charles, right now! I refuse!"
"You can't." Will said, standing up to his full height. She looked up at him, challenging him. He gave her a challenging look right back.
"You physically can not disobey. Sooner or later the ship will make you work."
Christian scoffed.
"I'm serious." He said, giving her a meaningful look. Then he turned to a crate beside him, knowing what it contained, and lifted the cover. He pulled out a pair of breeches and a shirt.
"You'll be needing these." He smiled, shoving them into her arms. She grudgingly accepted them.
"Till' tomorrow, then." He said, heading for the door.
"Wait!" Christian called, moving after him. "I can't wear these!"
"It's not that hard, Miss Casey. They're extremely practical. My wife wears them all the time."
"Well I don't! And are you setting sail for Barbados or not? Please tell me you are at least trying to help me!"
Will turned around to face her.
"I'm doing my best. But as I've told you before, I absolutely can NOT abandon my duties, especially just for you. And as for the clothes...well, you'll just have to get used to them. Good night Miss Casey. I'll be expecting you on deck in the morning."
"Urgh!" Christian yelled, as Will shut the door behind him.
He was walking away when he heard something crash to the ground in the cabin behind him. He didn't bother going back to see what it was.
