A/N: Well, here we are, another chapter. Jack now takes one on the chin for Elizabeth, who was supposed to be taking it for Will, who spazzes. Spazes. Spazs. However you spell it. Anyways…enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: the usual.

Chapter 6

Rain hissed and pounded on the deck, illuminated by lightning. Thunder rolled and boomed across the sky like some giant, restless sleeper on a bed of boulders. Waves crashed over the deck and threatened to sweep half the crew overboard. Elizabeth struggled to hear as Barbossa, hair plastered across his face, bellowed directions at her.

"Ye've got t' cut free the foreyard before it tears the mast down!" he shouted, handing her a knife. "Go quickly! Good luck!"

Elizabeth looked up at the storm. "I'll need it," she muttered to herself, struggling toward the mast.

The ship tossed and leaped like a toy boat. She grabbed onto a rope and bent her head against the wind.

Sliding the knife between her teeth, Elizabeth pulled herself into the rigging and started to climb. She could see Barbossa holding Will back by the back of the shirt. The younger man looked terrified, while the pirate was watching her with a grim calm.

Elizabeth battled her way through the wind and rain, finally reaching the foreyard. Her grip slipped a little; she hugged the mast tightly with one arm and used her free hand to grab the knife.

The sail collapsed over her for a minute, and then refilled with air, causing the whole mast to shudder. Her arm slipped a little further.

Trying not to fall as the foreyard billowed and snapped around her, Elizabeth reached out and went to work on the first of the taut ropes. It severed at the touch of the blade and caught her across her midriff. She gasped at the sting, then gritted her teeth and grasped another rope. This too snapped when Elizabeth brushed it with the knife, but this time she held it away from her body.

The sail collapsed again and refilled, pulling Elizabeth, still holding on to the rope, away from the mast. She screamed as she started to fall, the air rushing around her ears-

A hand caught on to her wrist. Not looking up to see who had caught her, Elizabeth gripped the other person's wrist and let go of the rope. The person heaved her up onto the trestletree. Elizabeth put her arm back around the mast, looked up to thank them, and stopped. It was Jack, rain running down his face, dripping from the ends of his dreadlocks, blurring his kohl.

"Get down! I'll take care of it!" he roared as the mast gave another violent shudder. Elizabeth hesitated. "GO!" Jack bellowed, pulling himself higher.

She quickly lowered herself to the deck, stumbling over to Will and Barbossa. Will was shouting angrily at the captain about sending Elizabeth into the rigging. "It's yer own bloody fault, idiot!" Barbossa was pointing out.

"Elizabeth!" Will exclaimed. "Go down and change-"

"Jack is still up there!" Elizabeth screamed, pointing.

"That man has been on a ship for at least twenty years, he will be absolutely fine!" Barbossa yelled.

At that moment, the foreyard flew free of the mast, twisting away into the storm-tossed night like an angry spirit. Thunder crashed, coinciding with a crack of lightning. A man toppled into the water. Will, Elizabeth, and Barbossa rushed to the railing. They could still see the man floating along over the waves.

Barbossa took off his hat, thrust it at Elizabeth, and dove into the water. Squinting as it flooded his eyes with salt, he kicked through the frothy waves.

At the rail, Will and Elizabeth watched as Barbossa's head bobbed up for air and went back down. A flicker of lightning lit up Will's stony face, some ten feet away from Elizabeth.

About a minute had passed, and still Barbossa had not come back up.

The storm was abating, seeming as though it realized what it had done. The thunder was not as loud, the lightning less violent and frequent, though the rain still lashed with a vengeance. The crew had gone back to their cabin, and the deck was empty save for Will and Elizabeth.

"Will…" Elizabeth said. Will looked over, his face expressionless. "Will, are they…?"

Will shook his head and turned back to the water. "They can't be."

"Will," said a hoarse, tired voice a minute later. "Elizabeth. Get 'im up."

"Captain Barbossa!" Elizabeth hurried over next to Will, smiling in relief. She took hold of Jack and pulled him up with Will while Barbossa hauled himself over the side, looking odd without his hat. He took said item from Elizabeth and put it on his head.

Kneeling next to Jack, Elizabeth swept her rain-soaked hair from her face. "Is he all right?" she asked.

"Mm-hm," Barbossa said, rubbing at one red eye with a finger. "Woke up while we were still out there and gave me a blast of water in the face. Just exactly what I needed."

Just then, Jack woke and coughed up water. He opened his eyes. "Christ," he muttered. "My 'ead." He coughed more water onto Barbossa's boots. "'Elp me up," he said in a scratchy voice.

"Ye're not t' be standin' quite yet," Barbossa said. "Oi, Will, get ahold of 'is boots."

"Bloody hell," Jack growled. "I'll stand meself then." He scrambled to his feet, only to sway dizzily and throw up more water before crumpling backwards. Will caught him neatly while Barbossa grabbed hold of his ankles.

"Captain, you're bleeding," Elizabeth told Barbossa.

"Pressure," he replied. "So's Jack."

"What? How?" Elizabeth asked.

"Caught me 'ead on the yardarm," Jack murmured as they laid him on a bed.

"Let's see, then," Barbossa said. "Will, out."

"It's my fault this happened, isn't it?" Will said bitterly.

"We don't need ye goin' into any more drunken rages, Mister Turner, so I suggest ye don't lose any sleep over it," Barbossa said evasively. "Now out."

Will left, shutting the door quietly behind himself.

"Take a look at Jack's head, Elizabeth, would ye? I've still salt in me eye," Barbossa said, rubbing one bloodshot, watery eye.

Elizabeth nodded and moved over to Jack. Blood was running down the right side of his face and staining the pillow. She knelt beside the bed and parted the hair around the wound. "It's bleeding a lot," she said worriedly, looking up.

"Well praises be, it's a normal head wound," Barbossa said in mock relief. "Is it deep? Are there any splinters in it? Does it need to be cleaned?"

Elizabeth looked again, provoking a soft growl from Jack. "It's not too deep," she announced. "I can't tell if there are any splinters for the blood…. It definitely needs cleaning."

"Right," Barbossa said, looking a fright with blood running from his nose into his beard. "We'll need two bottles of rum, rags, and a bucket of water."

By the time Elizabeth returned with the items he had asked for, his sleeves were rolled up and his fingertips stained red as he examined the cut. "Deeper than I though, but not bad. Give Jack one of the bottles of rum. Helps to settle the pain a bit. Now clean it with rum first…. Disinfects it a bit before we clean it with water."

Elizabeth wet one of the rags with rum and passed it gently through the cut, wiping away the blood. Jack shifted. "Bloody hell," he snarled. He pushed Elizabeth's hand away, grimacing.

Barbossa held out his hand for the rum-soaked rag and briskly rubbed the cut down with it. Clenching his teeth, Jack took a hasty gulp of rum and relaxed slightly. He winced again as Barbossa took out a splinter. "Clean it with water," Barbossa ordered. "Jack, get as completely blitherin' drunk as ye can get, I've got t' stitch it."

"My specialty," Jack hissed through his teeth as Elizabeth started to clean the cut with water. This done, Barbossa looked at him.

"Ready?"

Jack gave him a bleary-eyed, drunken stare. "Eh?"

"Good. Elizabeth, I'll need ye t' wipe up the blood."

Elizabeth took up position next to the bed.

Jack started to breathe harder as Barbossa made his second stitch, and his eyes closed tighter.

"Blood."

Elizabeth quickly wiped away an escaping streak of scarlet.

As Barbossa made the fourth stitch, Jack let out a harsh breath, but didn't move. "Hurry it up," he whispered.

"Blood."

Another trickle wiped away. Elizabeth remembered how, in her dream, Jack had been unable to move for pain as he lay stiff in the bed and panicked slightly. "Captain, I can't do this," she pleaded.

"Ye'll be fine, there's only one t' go," Barbossa said dismissively. "I don't care what ye remember, just help 'im now. Blood."

Shaking, Elizabeth drew the rag over Jack's cheek again.

Barbossa finished off the final stitch and broke the thread with his teeth. Then he took a rag, padded the cut with another piece of folded up cloth, and bound it deftly around Jack's head. Jack let out a sigh and finished off the rum. "Me father 'n' I can't be 'round each oth'r w'thou' end'n' up bell'win' at each oth'r, ye kn'w," he slurred, completely oblivious to what he was saying.

Elizabeth rose and left.

"Ye can take off yer charade, Jack, she's gone," Barbossa said, sighing at the younger man's immaturity.

"Eh? Oh. Well it is true," Jack said defensively.

"Why should I care?" Barbossa said.

"I dunno…. What was she supposed to be remembering?" Jack asked.

Barbossa hesitated. "Ye need t' change into dry clothes."

Jack looked at him through narrow eyes. "So d'you. I don't believe that was the answer to my question."

Barbossa smiled and gave Jack a sideways look. "I don't believe I care," he said cheerfully. "I'll find ye some clothes then go change myself. Then I'll come back and check on ye."

"You know I only put on that little show so Elizabeth would leave," Jack said solemnly, sitting up. "I'm not that badly hurt."

Barbossa, who was searching a small closet inside the cabin for clothes, paused and looked over his shoulder. "I don't believe ye're tellin' the truth," he said, raising his eyebrows. Jack raised one eyebrow in return.

"I don't believe I care."

Shaking his head, Barbossa turned back to the small closet. "That's just too bloody bad then, isn't it?" He threw a shirt and breeches on the chair next to the bed and realized that the only shirt left that would fit him was light blue. "Damn."

"If you don't mind my saying so, that is one ugly shirt," Jack remarked from the bed.

Barbossa made an attempt to ignore him and felt into the very back corners, where he found a wine-colored shirt. "Better'n nothin'," he muttered, and left the cabin.