Disclaimer: Jack and Mr. Gibbs belong to Disney. As for the other three, I don't know of anyone who'd try to claim owning them.
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AN: This kicked and fussed in my headearly this morning 'til I got up, put on coffee, fed my cat, and picked up my pen to gave it free reign with the notepad lying conveniently open on the nightstand. Honestly, the only thing I watched intriguing last night was Stargate Atlantis!!
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Summary: The dice of chance will be tossed between this beloved woman and this pessimistic man while the darkest of figures watches with great interest from the surrounding shadows.
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WHEN SPARROW IS IN THE GAME
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"Toss the dice! He's almost out of time!"
"As he should be, my dear lady L. This redcoat has mettle and he's a decent shot."
"True, but I see the broken mast dangling in the lines above him. With one touch of a strong breeze, good, Mr. F."
"Really, that hardly seems a worthwhile effort even for you. Have you nothing more subtle to offer?"
A soft, half-resigned sigh. "Subtlety in the middle of a sea battle? Suffice it that he's put his own life at risk again to save his friend, and we both know that jamming a marine's musket has been done far too many times in the past for this one."
"Very well. The broken mast is in. But if you lose, lady L., our dreary friend back there will certainly have him this time."
"Agreed! Now toss the dice!"
"Yes, please do," urged a chillingly grave-cold voice from the deep shadows, bones clattering as he rubbed his hands together eagerly. "It's always such a pleasure to sit and observe when Sparrow is in the game."
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"Jack!?" Gibbs scrambled to his feet, dazed, and shaking his head in disbelief at the brash pirate's leap from the rail behind. "What the blazes were ya tryin' ta do?" He dropped anxiously to one knee by his stricken captain. "Oh, no... did he shoot you?"
Half-propped against the ship's rail, Sparrow blinked and cautiously raised his head from his chest to meet Gibb's stunned look. "I... don't think so." With visible reluctance, his fingertips probed the front of his damp, rumpled shirt, and then a relieved smile won over the lingering the shock and trepidation. "No real damage... what I can see."
"Jack..."
Unwillingly, Sparrow followed the older sailor's grim gaze. He'd heard the sharp, echoing crack of the musket as he had jumped, and he'd felt the entire ship shudder with a grinding wrench when he fell. He already knew that a wind had suddenly come up and freed the splintered mast from the rigging. The deck had shook under him as the spar had toppled and crashed heavily onto the marine just as he'd fired.
"I know."
And he did. That was how they always seemed to like to play the game of his life.
He also knew that when the fair lady lost a toss to fate, as she had when that foul beastie had devoured his ship with him in it, Jack's luck would have no choice but to abandon him.
But as he tried to straighten out his legs, a painful twinge in his left ankle consoled Jack with the certainty that today the only price he'd pay for fate's loss was a badly wrenched limb.
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AN: You guessed it, right? The players are Lady Luck and Mr. Fate. While it's doubtful. I suspect, that Mr. Clatter Bones needs any introduction.