André watched Jack and James speak in low voices. He then looked at Mr. Gibbs, who appeared rather annoyed. A man who had just been in line wandered by him and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm part of Black Pearl's crew!" he announced drunkenly.

"Good for you," André said with a fake smile, thinking of how he desired to strangle the Pearl's captain.

"You ever wanted to sail? You should sign up!" The man left and continued boasting about his new position in Captain Sparrow's crew to others in the bar.

André watched James for a while, gazing rather absentmindedly at this man James had become. André had to save him somehow; there must be some way to help him escape from this hell, even though James himself had given up hope. Turning his gaze to Mr. Gibbs, a thought suddenly occurred to him. If the drunken pirate managed to sign up so easily for the Pearl's crew, why couldn't André?

True, joining Sparrow's crew would be dangerous and James would likely hate him for a time for taking such dramatic action. But perhaps André could find a way to help James and keep him from sinking lower than he already had. André smiled into his mug of rum as he finished it off. The line was gone now, and Mr. Gibbs was examining his empty bottle of rum, apparently attempting to ignore the two men next to him.

André glowered at Jack as the pirate's hand slid up James' thigh. But what really hurt André was that James, poor, ruined James, did not even seem to mind—until he glanced up through those damn long eyelashes of his and saw André watching. He flushed and turned away, moving his leg slightly away from Jack's hand, although Jack obliviously kept it there.

Putting down his mug of rum, André managed to catch James' eyes again with a sort of look he had never before considered giving him—a challenging one. He ambled over to the table and leaned down to talk to Mr. Gibbs, watching James carefully out of the corner of his eye, daring him to say something to keep André from signing up to join the Black Pearl.

"And what makes you think yourself worthy to crew the Black Pearl?" Mr. Gibbs asked him.

"I love the sea," André answered simply, relatively certain that it did not really matter what he said.

Mr. Gibbs seemed to consider him for a moment before nodding. "You're hired. Make your mark."

Glancing again at James, who was staring at him incredulously, André picked up the provided quill (with a slight flourish) and signed André at the bottom of the short list.

O O O

"That kid with the red hair—he's a good one. A hard worker. It's a pity I've sold his soul to the devil," Jack said with a sort of grimace.

James nodded silently, his mind filled with a good number of curses directed at André. What the hell did that man think he was doing, signing up for the Black Pearl and essentially selling his soul? Granted, he did not know the part about Davy Jones, but in this futile attempt to rescue James from his dishonor, he was dooming himself. Why didn't André realize that all hope was already lost for James?

"Jamie?"

James blinked and forced himself to focus on Jack. "Yes, captain?"

"Captain? Well, mister former Commodore…" James glared at Jack, who quickly amended his statement. "Jamie, is something bothering you, love?" he asked, placing his hand on James' knee. James bit his lip, the emotions raging inside him confusing and distracting him.

Despite his aversion to Jack Sparrow (he truly did not like the man—in fact, he was quite sure he hated him), James somehow loved him. He had to. Jack had discovered him, drunk and penniless in Tortuga, and had accepted him into his crew. Jack had also shown James something of life that James had never known before—freedom.

James hated what he had become, a pirate and his captain's pet. But he loved the freedom his new life brought. No restricting uniforms, fewer rules and regulations, no one but his captain telling him what to do…at times it felt like he was completely alone with his true love: the sea.

Jack lifted James' chin so James was gazing into those damn gorgeous dark eyes. "Talk to me, Jamie, love."

James shook his head slightly. "It's nothing, Jack."

Jack studied him for a few moments, trying to read him, before he leaned forward and met James in a slow, passionate kiss. James was struck with the thought of how this kiss was very different than usual; less possessive, more loving. Jack generally kissed by the same laws that he lived by: take what you can, give nothing back.

James ran his tongue over his lower lip as Jack pulled away, tasting the last remnants of rum from Jack's mouth. He always tasted of rum. "What was that for, Jack?"

"You seem to need it." Jack sat down beside James and wrapped his arms about him. "Something's wrong; I can feel it." James sighed heavily, but said nothing. "You don't care to tell me?" he said, nibbling at James' earlobe and sending a shiver through James' body. Jack cupped James' cheek, and James leaned into the touch, wishing that no one else was aboard the Black Pearl—but especially André.

James scowled slightly as he thought of the Lieutenant again. The man was being so foolish.

And yet…

James cared for André, much more than he cared for most, and though André's actions were rash, his intentions were good, and his motivations proved him sweet and loyal. And his behavior also pointed James toward feelings André may have toward him…feelings that James had never considered André having. Realizing how André might feel for him made James consider the reverse.

But André abruptly slipped from James' thoughts as Jack kissed him again, more possessively this time—more Jack-like. Jack's hand became entangled in James' dark, wavy hair as he pressed closer, his tongue requesting entrance into James' mouth, which James willingly provided as all his worries, for the moment, vanished.

Hands scrambled to remove their restricting clothing, and James gasped as Jack tweaked his nipple. "You're beautiful, Jamie," Jack murmured into his ear, reaching down and tugging at James' breeches as he moved to kiss the hollow of his throat.

"Thank you, Jack." For everything.

André sat on the steps near the captain's cabin, his fists clenched and his jaw set as he heard a moan from inside.

"You'll soon learn to ignore it," Mr. Gibbs said suddenly from behind him.

André looked up at the silhouette of Jack's first mate. "What is he? The captain's pet?"

"Seems that way, don't it?" Mr. Gibbs replied. "But not really. I don't understand it either—but their relationship works. Odd, seeing as they were once mortal enemies," Gibbs said with a slight chuckle. André flinched as he heard a muffled groan, and Mr. Gibbs studied him curiously before asking, "Why does it bother you so? It doesn't affect ye." He raised an eyebrow. "Does it?" André said nothing. "You don't happen to have a thing for the captain, do you?"

"Of course not!" André exclaimed, his eyes flashing. "I hate him. Now kindly leave me be."

Mr. Gibbs turned to leave, but glanced back and said, "Norrington hates him, too. But that don't mean he don't love him."

He doesn't love him, André thought. I know he doesn't. He can't.

But what if he did? What if James, for some unfathomable reason, actually loved Jack? No, surely he could not. James was a gentleman; Jack was a pirate. James was a member of the crew who had to take orders; Jack was the captain who took advantage of James and his position.

And again André swore, I am going to kill that man.