Cutesy little one-shot that takes place during CotBP.
This turned out to be sort of a prolog to Your Bloody Friend Norrington… Which I am going to rewrite at some point, now that I've actually learned how to string sentences together. Anyhow… Enjoy.
"You will then spend the remainder of the voyage contemplating all possible meanings of the phrase, 'silent as the grave'. Do I make myself clear?" I stared at him hard, willing him to understand. Disgusted as I was at my own cowardice, it was the clearest warning I dared give.
His answer, "Inescapably clear," could have been just a result of Sparrow's natural impudence, but the glance he shot me gave me hope. I think he understood. I hoped so – I had chosen my words so very carefully: I did not want to hear a word about Elizabeth and Turner, or any other words from him for that matter. I did, however, want him to remember that he was under sentence of death, and that by the end of the voyage, he must have worked out a plan of escape.
Of course he knew better than to look to me for help, but I hoped my warning – as well as the significant fact that I neither locked him away nor chained him – would let him know that he need not expect resistance on my part, either. If he could get himself out of my reach, I would declare it a waste of time to follow such a poor excuse for a pirate, and he would be free.
And why did I care? I cared because unlike Elizabeth and Turner, I have the ability to read between the lines of people's conduct, and despite the brevity of our acquaintance and all the filth in his hair I could already tell that Jack Sparrow was a good man. Besides, he was witty, perceptive, resourceful, and – how can I say this about a pirate – sweet. I admit that my instinct when first we met had been to shoot him, but I soon recognized the very violence of that desire for what it was: jealousy. He is the man I dreamed of being in my youth. I can't help but hate him a little for it.
As Sparrow was led up to the wheel, his eyes moved slyly over the ship. Others would ignore this entirely, if indeed they even noticed it at all, but I knew what he was up to: already looking for a way out, so that when the time came he would be ready. It was all I could do not to sigh with relief.
Elizabeth was in her cabin dressing and the sea was calm. We had our heading. There was, I told myself, honestly nothing else I had to do. Besides, should Jack Sparrow really be left unsupervised? Of course not. Justifying my decision to go stand beside him was quite easy.
I dismissed the other sailors so that we were alone, but old habits died hard and I still couldn't bring myself to speak plainly.
Looking for a way to open a conversation, I happened to notice that Sparrow was bleeding rather badly. "Mr. Sparrow." He did not turn around. "Mr. Sp-" Suddenly I realized the problem, and corrected myself, "Captain Sparrow, you appear to have sprung a leak, sir. You're smearing blood all over my ship, and I don't appreciate it."
He turned to me with a sunny smile, then looked down at his feet. "Apologies, Commodore. The shells were a bit jagged, you know. Elizabeth has one, too, but it's not as bad as this and we dressed it."
His tone was all easy familiarity, his eyes clear and guileless, but I knew better. He wanted to bring Elizabeth into the conversation, and I could think of no acceptable reason why he should.
"Ah. She does? I shall see about it myself, then. I shudder to think what sort of… of pirate first-aid you've subjected her to. She's probably worse off than before you started." I was calm and proud of it. I told myself I would not rise to the bait, firmly convinced that he was trying to make me suspect things that no decent- "Mr. Sparrow, might I ask you something?" I asked suddenly, before I could stop myself. Apparently I was not as calm as I had thought – all of a sudden my composure had vanished and my voice had wound up tight.
He nodded, and (somewhat surprised that he didn't take me to task for forgetting the Captain bit again) I pressed on. "I noticed that Miss Swann's dress was somewhat…dirty. As though she had… come into contact with…" I looked him up and down deliberately and curled my lip. "…with something filthy. Do you have any idea how that came about, Sparrow?"
At that, he laughed in my face and put an arm around me. It must have looked to everyone else as though he were only being friendly, but he was holding me so tight that there was no way to escape his scraggly clutches even if I had tried.
"Why not go the whole hog, then?" he countered. "Why not ask about all of it? Why do we both smell like rum, eh? Why's there only one campfire to sleep at, not two? And why on earth can't she even look at me without blushing?" It was only when he grinned at me that I realized I was seething visibly and pathetically. As a matter of fact, I was so angry that I only half-heard his explanation, which went something like, "We helped ourselves to a few bottles each and sang some pirate songs and judging by the aches I woke up with, she used me as a pillow, too."
He turned back to his steering, and I watched the sea over his shoulder. Then after a little while when I had calmed down but still could think of nothing to say… "It's not me you want to watch out for, you know," he added softly.
"Mr. Sparrow." I didn't want to hear this, not from him. My suspicions were ill-founded and I wanted to dismiss them, not hear them confirmed by somebody who was, after all, probably a decent judge of character.
He didn't press the matter, at least directly. "Did you know, when I was a lad I wanted to train horses," he said instead. "I'd have sold my soul for a black thoroughbred with those soft animal eyes… Horses were my first true love. Or so I thought then." He chuckled. "Lucky I came to me senses and discovered what I'm really cut out for, eh? Me and the sea…now that is a match."
That was a bit more reassuring. Before I could stop myself I sighed, "Thank you."
Sparrow whipped around so fast he almost put his own eye out with his hair decorations. "Thank you?" he repeated. "I wouldn't have expected you to give up so easy."
"Give up?" My turn to stupidly repeat what had just been said. "That is… what did you mean? I assume you're suggesting that Miss Swann will eventually outgrow her childish…" I couldn't even bring myself to finish; there was a difference between optimism and blindness.
"Miss Swann? You think I mean dear little Elizabeth will outgrow her puppy love and find her true calling in the exciting and terribly seductive title of Mrs. Commodore? Not at all, son." He let go the wheel and came over to me with one bright skipping step. He clapped me on the shoulder and chucked my chin in a manner that would have felt completely appropriate coming from my grandfather. Coming from him it seemed almost lecherous. "To be perfectly honest it's not her I'm holding my breath for."
The End.
And no, I didn't mean it in a slashy way. Although I'm sure Norrie is wondering.
Review for me!!