"Gastroenteritis." The doctor pronounced turning away from Teague's paling face.

"hang-over?" Asked Jack hopefully,

"Cancer?" Teague whispered, dread in his voice,

"More like a stomach bug." The doctor said causing Teague to sigh in relief and Jack to curse under his breath, "It's not fatal, but you could probably do with some bed rest for a week and you need to cut down on the Alcohol!"

"C-c-c-cut d-d-d-down?" Teague stammered, the concept was new to him, "But I need a new personal best!"

"NO! You need to look after your health."

"B-b-but I can have some now...right?" he practically begged.

"No. That would be bad for your health and...you're weight..." he trailed off.

"ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT!" Teague roared, then broke into a coughing fit.

"Yes...you're getting a beer belly!" The doctor observed.

"GUARDS!" Teague shouted as Jack collapsed on the floor laughing.

"FAT OLD MAN!" He pointed at Teague,

"TAKE THIS DOCTOR AWAY AND HANG HIM!" Teague bellowed, He reached for a drink to soothe his throat.

"NO!" The doctor cried as the guards grabbed his arms, "NO VODKA, NO SPIRITS, NO WINE, NO ALE, NO BEER, NO WHISKEY..." the door slammed in his face,

"Good...so I can still have rum. Son!" Teague to Jack, "Wheel my sick bed to the rum cupboard!" he said triumphantly,

"As much as I'd love to push you down three flights of stairs, I'm not sure I could manage you're a bit..." Jack stopped looking for the word "...heavy." he finished.

"WHY YOU LITTLE!" Teague said rising from his pit, Jack stepped backwards, just as the door flung open and a fat, balding, ulcered, stinking, blood-stained, filthy, pile of germs stepped into the room.

"I was told you needed a new doctor, I'm Derek!" He said reaching out a disgusting hand out for Teague to shake, suddenly though from the corner of the room Jack shouted, "NO! You could catch a hundred different diseases from under his fingernails alone!" Then cupping his hands to his mouth he shouted, "PLAGUE! PLAGUE! SAVE US! IT'S THE PLAGUE! GUARDS!" Jack cried in vain, then covered his mouth and noise so he wouldn't breath in the death-bringers stench, Derek looked bemused, he took one glance at Teague and made his decision ,

"Medicinal sherry, three shots an hour!"

"Now that's more like it!" Teague cried happily, "You're hired! My new doctor, bringer of sherry and alcohols, guardian of the anus!"

Derek looked proud. Jack looked sicker than Teague.

"I will see you in ten minutes' time for my first shot of sherry!" Teague pronounced.

Derek bowed and walked out of the room backwards. As soon as he was gone, Jack rushed to the windows, flung them open, stuck his head out and breathed deeply.

"Jackie, ye don't look so good. How about ye go to bed yerself?"

"I don't look well! You look like the Dead Conquistador Cortez! Believe me, I've met him!" Jack said proudly, "All that's wrong with me is that I haven't been breathing for several minutes because of your new doctor, who must have every illness known to mankind AND THEN SOME!"

Teague shook his head, "I think he's a charming man; sensible and very clever. Just because he smells a bit..."

"A bit?" Jack asked, "I think the illness must have deadened your sense of smell!"

"Alright, Jackie. I need to talk to ye seriously."

Jack gulped.

"This is about the worst time for me to be bedridden for a week. The Pirate Lords are all arriving tomorrow and I can't exactly entertain them in my sick room, can I?"

Jack imagined the disdainful looks on the faces of the greatest pirates on the seven seas. Teague would be a laughing stock.

"So I need someone trustworthy to take over my duties for a week, as Pirate Lord as well as Keeper of the Code."

Jack racked his brain. Gibbs? No. Not Renegade Robbie... Mabeltrude or McFleming? Please not Valerie-

"You, Jackie. You." Said Teague.

"Me what, sorry?" Jack asked, broken away from his reverie.

"Keeper of the Code. Just for the week. Please?" Teague pleaded, "For yer old dad?"

Jack tried to look dubious, "Oh, I don't know... I'd have to miss school, I'd have to get up early... What's in it for me?" he cut to the point.

"Helping yer old dad? Protecting the family name?" asked Teague.

"What's in it for me?" Jack repeated.

Teague sighed, too tired and sick to argue, "What do ye want? Money?"

"No..." Jack said, looking around him. He pondered. Whatever he asked for, Teague couldn't say no, "Your new hat."

"No." Teague said, straight away.

"Yes. Or you're going to be shown up in front of all the Pirate Lords tomorrow."

Teague looked torn but, slowly, he took it from his head. He clutched it to his chest possessively, "Why do you want it anyway?"

"The hat," Jack explained, "Commands respect. It says Captain. The bandana... well, that's just any old sweaty crew member. And, your hat has a feather."

Teague nodded. He understood all too well. Slowly, not wanting to look, he held out the hat. Jack snatched it and rammed it on his head. He rushed to the mirror, grabbing one of Teague's brown trench coats on the way.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," Jack smiled, twirling around and admiring himself, "My, what a handsome brute. I quite understand what all the wenches rave about now. Why, you're enough to make me turn."

"Ahem." Teague cleared his throat, "Before you start having sex with yourself, I'd like to tell you your duties."

"Nu-uh-uuuuuh!" Jack said, shaking a finger, "I haven't agreed yet." Looking around, he picked up Teague's sword and tried a few moves. He balanced the hilt on his fingertip. "Perfectly balanced..." he muttered.

"Yes," Teague growled, "And mine."

"Not any more, my friend." Jack patted Teague comfortingly, "I want this. For good."

"Oh!" cried Teague, furious, "Take my pistol too, why don't you? Have the dog as well, while you're at it. What about the ship? I'm sure you'd like that. You need a ship, don't you, Captain Jack Sparrow?" Teague raved madly.

"I'll have the lot." Jack smiled.

Teague gasped, "No, no!"

Jack laughed, "You can keep the ship." He said mercifully, "It's not really up to my standards."

Teague looked as if he would protest but then thought better of it, "The dog?" he begged.

"When you get better. I don't want to look after the mangy mongrel. So, deal?"

"Ugh, deal." Teague spat, hating himself and Jack.

Jack collected his wares, the hat, sword and pistol, and then swept out of the room, stopping only to be handed the Keeper of the Code's keys.

"Get well soon." He smiled sweetly.

As soon as Jack had closed the door behind him, he did a victory dance, waving his new hat and pistol in the air and firing off shots.

"YES!" he cried, "YES! YES! YES!" He looked down at the keys. Only one mattered to him. He was the happiest he had ever felt, "Yes."

Hearing Jack's triumphant cries through the door, Teague felt a sudden dread, "No... No, no, no, no, no! Jack!" he cried, his voice a hoarse whisper, "You are not allowed in the rum cellar!"

"I can't hear you!" Jack shouted, running downstairs and out of the door.