Title: Bang Bang

Summary: When an immortal-hunting couple sets their sights on Jack and Barbossa, the two pirates are forced to reluctantly band together. Sort of. Temporarily.

Disclaimer: I make no money from this.

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It was a typical scene. A starry Friday night. A bustling coastal town. A couple newly hooked up at a bar fifteen minutes down the road now returned to the man's dwelling. A tipped over vase. A trail of accessories and apparel from the door to the nearest flat surface, coincidentally in this case a bedroom. A black button down shirt hanging limply from the door knob.

A combination of drink and lust contributes to nights like these. It helped to be a lieutenant in a mob, also. They formed a conspicuous group in a club: a gathering of five clustered in a smoky corner, mostly dressed in black. They usually formed the nucleus of the mob-related crew who orbited around them like flashy and trashy satellites.

The attractive little thing tangling limbs with him this night had been particularly forward. She had approached, brushed by the thug-lined perimeter, and slid onto his lap without a word. Transitioning from the door to the bedroom, she had admitted to doing it on a dare but certainly wasn't regretting it, especially not from the sounds of pleasure she now currently emitted.

Then his Motorola buzzed from the nightstand. The action stopped for a moment as he leaned over to check the caller ID. "What is it, Hector?" the girl, Michelle, asked, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind one ear.

Hector Barbossa (naturally) heaved a perturbed sigh. "Damn lackey." He flipped open the phone to answer. "What? Is it a problem? Then shoot his bloody ass! …Sorry, darlin'. Business."

"That's fine."

The phone returned to the nightstand, and activities resumed. But, of course, the phone just wouldn't stay silent. After the fourth time, Barbossa did his best to ignore it, but his business-minded tendencies had him reaching for the phone again. This time, Michelle held nothing back, just about as frustrated as Barbossa was. "Can't you just turn it off?"

"Missy, in this business, ye don't ignore a call from yer don," Barbossa replied but still wearing a look of extreme annoyance. He spoke the truth, but, as per his usual self, he had aspirations for the throne. And it wasn't the Don. It was the lackey again, Markus. Barbossa wasted no time in addressing the matter.

"Markus, I swear to the heavens above, if this is the same thing, I will come down there meself and see to it that ye never make yer wife happy again as long as ye both shall live."

But it was a stranger's voice that answered, not Markus. Or, rather, not a stranger.

"Markus? Oh, he's busy at the moment. …How's your evening going, Hector?"

"It was goin' mighty fine until now. Ye didn't kill 'im did ye?"

By 'him,' of course, Barbossa meant Markus. He heard Jack scoff lightly. "Just who do you take me for, Hector?" the other pirate replied incredulously. "You make it sound as if I make killing a habit. Why, that'd be a terrible thing t' do. I wouldn't want t' leave whatever ill-begotten spawn dear Markus has fathered, er…fatherless."

Barbossa deliberated for a moment. "Ye do make a point. Silly of me t' ferget how much of a lily-livered pansy ye are."

"Hector, your words wound me."

Barbossa was about to continue on with his verbal harassment, but Michelle was growing bored. Her breath hissed in his free ear as her miraculous hands massaged his shoulders. "What do ye want, Jack? I'm a little busy and have little time for games at the moment."

There was some rustling on the other end of the line. "Ah, right. Just a quick message. Good luck with a new job, and tell the Don Happy Thanksgiving for me, eh?"

"What?" It made about as much sense as Jack Sparrow usually did, which wasn't much, but as precedent had established, there was usually no lack of significance behind it.

"You'll see what I mean. Good night, Hector."

At that moment, a light tremor shook the building, and a fiery orange light blossomed into the room.

--

Standing out of range of the explosion, Jack Sparrow closed the cell phone with a snap. He wore a smug, content expression as he watched the Don's prized yacht go up in flames from the recent explosion. He wanted to see Barbossa work his way out of this one. The spot at the dock where the yacht was now sinking was Barbossa's reserved spot. Of late the Don had purchased a new yacht, which was bobbing happily on the water several spots down. He learned from Markus, now draped in a blunt trauma-induced coma over the dock railing, that Barbossa had offered the spot and insisted the Don use it due to it being out of the way and perfectly secure. Hah. Or so he had thought.

Whistling happily, Jack chucked the phone over one shoulder, paused to hear it plunk into the water, and then merrily set off to prepare for the next step of the plan. Which, spectacularly, was to wait. A rather simple plan, but as customary, dastardly in relation to Jack's arch nemesis for the past four hundred years.

He didn't have to wait long either.

A silver Audi appeared, screaming to a halt in the dock parking lot. Before the engine even turned off completely, Barbossa had kicked his way out of the driver's seat, pulling the hammer back on a 9mm as he strode furiously down the dock. The gun wasn't much use in permanently fixing the problem, but it did leave a bit of a sting.

"While I do applaud ye for opening up an opportunity fer me, Jack Sparrow, you are a'gonna be hurtin'," Barbossa announced, his low quarters rapping sharply on the dock as he approached.

Jack merely grinned, holding back a laugh at the sight. Poor Barbossa looked all askew; his hair, typically pulled back in a tight tail, was loose and astray. That black button down shirt was only half buttoned from the bottom, and the white of a wife-beater showed through. Heck, the man's belt wasn't even buckled.

"So you were busy, eh? I've been in that state of affairs far too many times t' know just how busy you were, mate," Jack declared with a knowing smile.

"Envious, mate?" Barbossa returned. "I know ye've been living the transient life of late. I imagine that makes it a touch difficult." By this time, there was about ten feet between them. Jack remained smiling.

"Got a plan to fix all that." He didn't give Barbossa time to reply.

--

Barbossa had to admit it; Jack's next move totally took him off guard. It was an amazing feat to dive tackle somebody from thirteen feet away.

The 9 went off and bucked itself out of his hand as they hit the dock with a thud. The weapon skittered over the wood and dropped over the side, echoing the mournful plunk Markus' cell phone had made not too long before.

Barbossa had to admit this also; Jack was quick. Several blows buffeted his face before he recovered enough to throw the smaller pirate off and scramble to his feet.

It took him about three minutes to come up with Jack's plan, or what he deduced it to be. The Don or another lieutenant was probably en route to destroy whoever decided to have some fun with explosives on the Don's new yacht. Jack was probably planning on framing Barbossa. Of course, the whole situation was just fast forwarding Barbossa's own coup plans, but since this was Jack, it made it personal.

From a distance, it was probably an interesting if not amusing scene. The silhouettes of two men fist fighting against a merry, fiery back-drop. Unfortunately for Jack and Barbossa though, it would attract the interest of the wrong people.

Gradually, a well-placed blow knocked Barbossa backwards off the dock. But, not before he successfully grabbed the collar of Jack's shirt on the way down. The pair of them toppled into the water.

It only ended up being about chest high, the water, so the fight continued on albeit somewhat hindered by low tide. Jack may have been the worse swordsman, but he was a better fist fighter. He had Barbossa's head underwater when the sirens appeared. In a split second, Jack knew that his plan had been foiled by fate. The Don or any associated with him would never appear with cops about.

Being the inherent scallywags and shirkers of the law that they were, both pirates ceased their fight and scrambled frantically about in the water to hide. They dove underneath the dock, feet sinking into the mud below the water just as the pound of feet went by over head followed by the hiss of a firetruck hose being drug behind.

Jack frowned at the failure of his plan.

Barbossa swore as he realized the unlocked Audi was still sitting up in the parking lot.

--

One month later…

A voice full of faux-cheer announced the last call for boarders on flight 2713 bound for London. Jack shifted the bag on his shoulder a little, and glanced at a nearby clock; he was early. He pulled a small flask out of his pocket and meandered to the nearest bench to wait for his flight.

He sat down next to a man reading a copy of the local newspaper. Jack took a swig from the flask and settled to people watching. The airport wasn't very busy yet, but the early Christmas travelers and college kids starting winter break leisurely wandered to their respective gates to home. There was a small family of four, the youngest child wearing a Santa Claus hat. There was a balding, middle-aged man running late to his flight who hadn't even paused to put his shoes and belt back on from security.

A young woman in a cashmere sweater and lugging a small wheeled suitcase walked by talking on her phone complaining about the cold. Another small family clustered with 'Welcome Home' signs around a man in a military uniform as he walked into the terminal. Jack chuckled lightly, and drank from his flask.

"How's your afternoon going, Jack?"

Delighted somebody wanted to hear about his afternoon, Jack turned to the speaker, the man next to him with the newspaper. "It is going just pea—Oh. …It's you."

The man reading the newspaper aimed an unpleasant smile at Jack over the top of the Opinion section. "Jaaaack, come now. Ye act as if we're not friends," Barbossa said.

"We've never been friends."

"That's because ye don't have a positive outlook on life, mate."

Jack's brow furrowed. "Who are you, and what have you done with Hector Barbossa?"

Barbossa made a face at him. "Don't get yer hopes up," he replied, snapping the paper back up in front of his face. He was back to regular Hector now; stuffy, cynical, snide. "I just like messin' with ye." Jack made a face in return as he replaced the cap of his flask.

"A shame. Though I do like beating around the bush, I really must ask what exactly prompted you to approach." He paused and gestured to Barbossa's nose, upon which a pair of obnoxiously large sunglass perched. "And why you're wearin' sunglasses indoors."

The other pirate glanced around over the rims of the sunglasses and the Opinion section. When he spoke, he did it in a hushed tone. "In spite of meself and our troubled pasts, I felt 'twas fit t' warn ye. "

"About what?"

Barbossa was about to reply when he froze and dove behind the paper. Jack automatically made himself inconspicuous, a skill he had cultivated and refined over the past 400 years. A trim, fit-looking woman with brown hair walked by disinterestedly before Barbossa reappeared. "That," he hissed, nodding in the woman's direction.

"What'd you do? Forget t' pay 'er?" The sunglasses came off. "Oh…How 'bout that." One eye was swollen almost shut, and the bridge of Barbossa's nose was split.

"Followed me on me way home, ambushed me. Some sort of hunter, as I came to understand."

"Hunter of…?"

"Us. The forever-livin'."

"Ah." Now that was interesting. Like vampires had slayers, immortals had hunters. Not that Jack believed in vampires. It was always possible, of course, but perhaps about as improbable as immortals. "I wonder just how you kill one of us."

"Beats me," Barbossa replied, replacing his glasses. He pulled back his collar to reveal several long but shallow cuts. "Had her nearly take me head off a couple times and then try some sort of syringe shooting contraption. Should see my apartment, or what's left of it."

"What motivation does she 'ave, I wonder. Religion perhaps?"

"Perhaps."

Sitting unnoticed behind them, a bespectacled senior lady wore a dumbfounded expression of near-horror. Having been eavesdropping – accents nearly always catch the unfamiliar ear – the entire conversation came across as quite odd. The venerable dame crossed herself and speedily left to find another seat.

"…anyway you see it, it may be advantageous of us to split up," Jack finished, rising from the seat. Barbossa nodded.

"Even I would acquiesce with that. Best of luck to ye, Jack," he replied, folding up his paper and getting up as well.

"And to you."

With that, they turned and went opposite directions. But not for long.

Jack walked a few steps only to have his path blocked by a tall light-haired man. Barbossa looked up to find the brunette woman standing in front of him. The strange pair advanced on the other strange pair until Jack and Barbossa found themselves back to back.

Jack went with a gut feeling that the blond man was with the woman Barbossa had pointed out. A quick glance spotted the wedding band on the man's left hand, a match to the one he'd seen on the woman's. Jack spoke over his shoulder. "Way to go, Hector, you led 'em to us." Barbossa shot him a glare.

The blond man spoke first. "We can do this the easy way…or the hard way." Both Jack and Barbossa smothered groans.

"Hardly much of a choice, mate," Jack replied. The blond man smiled apologetically.

"Forgive me, I assumed you knew what was about to occur," he said. The woman laughed a little, a smile crossing her face.

"I'm sure your friend here knows," she threw in, tilting her head in Barbossa's direction. Barbossa curled a lip at her.

"We're not friends."

Jack leaned back a little to address him. "I take it they mean to…kill us?" he whispered.

"Aye… in a manner of speaking."

"Oh." Jack looked back at the blond man. "Do we get your names first before heading off to our decidedly grim fate?"

"Of course," the blond man replied brightly. For his job, the man was a touch too light-hearted. "I am Adrian." Adrian fit the picture of the stereotypical heart-throb – handsome, blond hair, broad shouldered, and tall. He spoke easily and eloquently, his accent refined.

"And I am Joan." Adrian's wife was as attractive as her husband. Her brunette hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail leaving a chunk of styled bangs hanging over her forehead. Both of them looked nothing more than a well-dressed couple on the way home from vacation. They moved a couple of steps in a quarter circle to stand side by side as Barbossa and Jack turned to mirror them.

"A pleasure," Jack said after the introduction.

"Unfortunately, the pleasure is lost on me," Barbossa added, still sneering a bit at Joan smirking across from him. Adrian only smiled.

"It's a shame we have to do this," he said with a touch of sadness that didn't quite reach his eyes. "What history you must have seen."

"Indeed, my coifed friend," Jack replied with a smile of his own. "However…" Next to him, he felt Barbossa tense up. "If you actually knew anything at all important about us, then you'd know that we don't usually take the easy way out."

Both pirates moved simultaneously, and it was plain the two hunters had anticipated something like this. They reached for something in their coats once Jack and Barbossa took the first step, but they were too slow. Joan took an elbow to the face and Adrian was tackled to the ground. Before they could recover, Jack and Barbossa were scrambling away and off sprinting through the terminal.

And the chase was on.