Disclaimer: Not mine, but like pirates, I steals things! Pirate Cat

۞

"Don't move, Jack... just lie still..."

Whose voice was that? Who... where... he tried to open his eyes, but they were swelled shut... no doubt from a very thorough beating, his throbbing head thought. Was he lying on his side? His mouth felt as if it had been stuffed full of cotton... and he could not feel his left arm.

He felt a hand gently lift his head, albeit a bit awkwardly, and could feel wetness at his parched lips. Water... thirstily, he tried to drink more than he was truly able to, and he choked... pain wracked his body and he cried out... a very embarrassing action for the great Captain Jack Sparrow.

He could hear a patient sigh... only one man could sound patient and impatient at the same time, Jack pondered through the haze that was stubbornly hanging on to his thoughts... Jack finally stopped choking, and struggled to whisper, "Bill?"

"Aye, lad, 'tis me." Jack felt a cold, wet cloth washing his face, as he wished desperately that he could open his eyes.

"Stop struggling, Jack... just lie quiet-like. I know what yer thinkin', boy, so jus' let me tell ye where ye are, an' what happened..."

Jack knew what had happened... "Beckett..."

Bill was silent... "Aye. Beckett."

"'E branded me, Bill. 'E sank me beautiful ship, an' 'e bloody BRANDED ME!" The words were now flowing freely from the young man's mouth, as the water had moistened his tongue, loosening it once again to the swearing and the utter fury that Bill had heard spewing forth from Jack's fevered rambling since they had found him in the brig of the EITC victim of the pirate ship that Bill had signed up with for the while, the Witches' Moon.

"Jus' rest, Jack... please... yer on a pirate ship tha' has a good cap'n, an' he's lettin' me take care o' ye, lad...

Jack did become quiet... but disturbingly so, as he set his mouth in a firm line, and clenched his teeth... oh... the pain... the pain finally overcame him again, and in the presence of a man who at one time had almost raised him, the rage was set aside, and furious, helpless tears began to flow, quietly... his back was slashed open by a cat o'nine, his left arm was broken, and the underside nearly burned clean of skin, and his face was blackened by the fists of Mr. Mercer as the slight, slender young man had been held between two sailors who were much larger in stature than himself.

But the injury that pained him the most... that made him shake with utter contempt and anger that he was sure would fester for the rest of his days, was the "P" shaped burn that had nearly been ground to the bone on his right wrist... damn it... damn it... damn it!

Jack sank into unconsciousness, but Bill could not help but see that the young man's jaw was clenched...hard. There was a great deal that Jack Sparrow was dealing with... and one of those things was that he had finally been pushed, hard, into the pirate life of his own fearsome father... a life that Jack had never wanted.

۞

The pirate crew of the Witches' Moon had laughed at the pompous little ass that confronted them with such cool contempt, even as they had put him off in a longboat with his trained monkey, Mercer, staring at them with burning hatred. Such an embarrassment that was for the EITC, as the captain of the Witches' Moon had narrowly escaped a branding at the hands of Cutler Beckett, himself, one time, and this strike was certainly a strike for justice, as far as he was concerned... Beckett had never been known to use that branding iron more than merely threaten with it, but it was enough to piss many a good man off, and Beckett had done a fair share of just that.

Bootstrap Bill Turner has boarded the conquered ship with the rest of his mates, and once they knew that it was Lord Beckett's vessel, they knew that there would be much there of value to take away with them, including good food and fine bottles of drink down in the hold... Bill took it upon himself, as he went below. to take stock of the supplies that would take away the gnawing of a pirate's hungry stomach. What he found turned his stomach.

In the brig was a man... a small man who was lying face down in the dirty straw, his shirt missing, and his back raw and bloody. Already there were flies buzzing about the wounds, and when Bill got closer, he recoiled in horror at the burns that were evident on the man's slender arms... He was motionless, and as Bill's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see long, trinketed black braids, and the tails of a bright red bandanna sticking to the man's bloody back, and instantly Bill was on one knee, looking through the bars, trying to see the young man's face... even beaten purple, Bill recognized him, and with his pistol, he blew the lock to smithereens and gathered his young friend into his arms.

Jack had always had a tenuous hold on reality, he knew, and before he came up to consciousness fighting with everything that his crippled arms could muster, Bill carried him above, and promptly went for help.

۞

"There's worse things, Jack..."

'Worse than this swill tha' yer forcin' me t' eat?" Jack growled, as Bill held out yet another spoon full of the broth that he had brought out to his friend from the galley... in Bill' opinion, it wasn't bad, but Jack's opinion differed with his, and who could blame him?

Jack was laying in a hammock on the deck of the Witches' Moon... the hold was much too hot in the Caribbean summer, and so the captain determined that the young man would convalesce in a hammock strung on the main deck, off to one side and with a piece of sail canvas strung over him to shelter him from the sun... even two weeks later, Jack was looking like he had been pulled through a knothole, backwards, Bill thought.

Jack's face was healed to the point that his expressive dark eyes were open, but they had lost much of the sparkle and life that had been a part of him for his entire life... Jack was naturally of a sunny nature, but in being so ill with fever and nearly losing his left arm to what might have been gangrene, and not having the full use of his right hand until the last few days certainly dampened his spirit.

Bill put the bowl of broth down, and pulled up a chair. Determined to cheer Jack up, Bill leaned forward and said, "We be headin' for Tortuga, Jack...we visited there, before, when you were just a young pup... remember th' first time ye got drunk? An' the brawl tha' we got into at th' place called th' Faithful Bride?"

Jack thought about it, and for the first time in weeks, a smile danced at his lips... he winced as he moved onto his side... the splint on his left arm was itching terrible, but the burned brand on his right arm seemed to be responding to the salve that Bill applied to it... "Aye... Tortuga... " he said, his husky voice chuckling a bit. "Pirate haven, then... " His face fell, "Like I 'ave choices, now."

Bill said, "Jack, pirating is in your blood, boy, jus' like it's in mine... me own father was a pirate, though I barely knew 'im... yer a self educated man, Jack, an' yer smart, an' there's worse things tha' ye can do with yer life than be a pirate...ye could be the best pirate tha' ever live, if ye put yer stubborn, addled mind to it... "

Bill looked at his dark young friend, earnestly, and said, quietly, "There's revenge t' be had, lad, if yer patient. I know you, Jack, and I know tha' ye'll get yours, someday. It might take years, but ye'll get yer chance, boy..."

Jack laid in his hammock, now marked for life as a criminal, simply for sticking to his principals to not transport captive human beings, and looked at his tall companion. Bill was estranged from his wife and his young son, and he was sure that Mary Turner blamed Jack for much of it... there was no telling what rot she was giving the boy, and yet here was Bill, trying to make him look at the good side of pirating...

"We'll give that one some thought, Bill..." Jack said, as he felt the rocking of the ship as she cut through the blue waters toward Tortuga... "... there's worse things, aye... "

۞

The ship was moored at the docks of Tortuga City, and it was probably somewhere around 2:00AM... Jack had been left alone on the ship with the watchman and the captain, a man who was good enough to him as long as he knew that the brash young Sparrow would not be on the ship for long. It was already apparent to the captain of the Witches' Moon that this young pup might have been a captain too young, but the young man's bragging ways were better than his anger had been only two weeks ago. There was, however, a rumbling among the crew that there was something about Sparrow that was just... not quite right. He was given to wild eyed bouts of talking to himself, and it was more than just a bit unnerving.

Jack struggled out of his hammock, and slowly made his way over to the railing, to look at the torchlit streets below... he was still not well, but well enough to lean against the railing and watch the comings and goings down on the docks... his mind began to wander, and his thoughts went back to Lord Beckett. He almost felt himself become sick with rage, again, but suddenly, Bill's words of the afternoon before came to him...

"Jack, pirating is in your blood, boy, jus' like it's in mine... me own father was a pirate, though I barely knew 'im... yer a self educated man, Jack, an' yer smart, an' there's worse things tha' ye can do with yer life than be a pirate...There's revenge t' be had, lad, if yer patient. I know you, Jack, and I know tha' ye'll get yours, someday. It might take years, but ye'll get yer chance, boy..."

Turning away from the railing, Jack painfully made his way across the deck... he stopped once, and looked up at the tall masts above his head... the captain's colours were up there, and he could see them waving proudly in the soft tropical breeze... he pondered it all...

And as he slowly went to the starboard railing, he took in the harbour that narrowly opened out onto the wide expanse of the open sea... the moon was shining beautifully, and for the first time in some weeks, Jack smiled fully at the sight... the salt air was filling his lungs, and he felt a fine tingling sensation in his left arm... it was going to be alright, he thought. Looking down at his fingers, as they stuck out of the splint, he wiggled them... it was as if he were waving at his bare toes, and he began to laugh.

As he looked down, he spotted a book that had been left for him to read, if he wished, a gesture that he thought was considerate of the captain..

"Aye", he thought, "I've been a proper pain in th' arse, but he loans me a fine leather bound copy o' 'MacBeth'... only a good man would do tha'," Jack began to reason out loud, and it was then that something struck him like lightning had traveled right down the mast and hit him in his concussion prone head!

Carefully reaching down and picking up the book, he said, to no one, "Bill remembered tha' I like Shakespeare... so was it chance tha' 'e brought me a copy o' 'MacBeth'?

Going back to his hammock, young Jack Sparrow stretched out and listened to the night sounds of Tortuga, but his mind had begun to spin with plans, to the point that he nearly wanted to attempt to dress himself and leave the ship...

"Ahhh, MacBeth!" he began to chortle to himself, as he reached a toe over the side of the hammock and began to push himself back and forth to the rhythm of his own husky voice... "Th' story o' lust fer power... o' betrayal... "

He rocked himself harder and his eyes grew wide, "A story o' violence.. o' witchcraft... o' deciet an' finally..." Jack paused, oblivious to the noise from the streets below, oblivious to his own body's pain... it was so plain to him that he nearly fell out of the hammock.

Sitting straight up, he stared at the book in his hand... and he suddenly felt like a brand new man... for the story of MacBeth ended, of course, in the defeat of the King...

He sat in stunned silence for a long while, and then stared back up at the colours of the pirate captain, a good man... aye, he thought, it was possible. for pirates were merely men to start with, and most of them good ones, even to the end... yet those who held power of another sort could be brought down, he thought, grimly.

"I will have my day, then, Cutler Beckett," Jack murmured to himself, as his dark gypsy eyes gazed back down at the volume that he held, now laying open with it's pages rippling in the night breeze... "I wonder if you have ever read 'MacBeth'?"

Resignation... nay, acceptance, welled up inside of him, and he took a deep breath... "...alright, then, a pirate's life fer me...''

But even in the pitch black of night, Jack Sparrow's eyes narrowed with anticipating glee at the possibilities, and he said to the stars, through clenched teeth, "... but fer Cutler Beckett... ahhhh... t' quote Shakespeare...'something wicked, this... way... comes...'"

His voice lowered to a low pitched growl, as he whispered, "He has no idea just how wicked..."

His hand snapped the book shut.