Fate Intervenes


Chapter Seven: Storms and Seduction

The Silver Dagger's black sails whipped in the sudden wind, clouds sweeping down upon the unsuspecting ships as night fell. The sunset had betrayed them; the beauty had blinded them to the tempest brewing. The pink, benevolent clouds suddenly swirled with a fury, raining upon the ship and spattering the crew with cold, cruel droplets. The wind tore at the sails with an ethereal groan, ripping lanyards and tossing anything that was not tied down into the crashing waves.

Barbossa stood in the midst of it, having discarded his hat, and was helping Gibbs and Ragetti hold down the cannon. Ragetti pushed it into a corner, tying it down so it wouldn't recoil, wiping sweat from his brow. A gust of wind blew suddenly, and all heads jerked round as they heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the hull.

Barbossa reached for his pistol, half-cocked it, and peered over the gunwale. He shouted down, his voice barely carrying over the wind, " Is there someone in the water?"

A faint voice called, " Hector, if you don't send a lad down with a rope right now I'm going to cut you throat to gizzard."

Barbossa's gray eyes widened. " Jack." He spun round, looking frantically for Elizabeth. " Where is she? What happened?"

She was standing on the deck, her red hair falling onto her shoulders, emerald eyes dancing. She stood on tiptoe on the quarterdeck, dancing lightly, her pale white feet barely touching the deck. She smiled, her laugh sounding of warm afternoons and hot chamomile tea. She smiled at him, pink lips perfect.

" Hector! Look at the sea from here!"

He turned, his short, dark hair catching the sun's rays. His gray eyes and thin face were lit with happiness as he watched her twirl, her pale blue dress shimmering. " You look lovely, darling. I prefer this view much better." He sheathed his cutlass and sat on the deck, arranging the purple and black plumes of his hat.

She cried, laughing," Oh, do put that silly thing away! Come with me!" She ran to the edge of the quarterdeck and was suddenly gone.

He lifted his head. " Where is she? What happened?" His heart pounded in his chest, fists clamoring against a rusty prison cage, unheard voices desperately crying out. " Noelle!" His voice cracked. " Noelle!" He dropped his hat and ran to the ladder, climbing up onto the deck, a cold sweat prickling on his neck and down the middle of his chest.

Her fiery eyes peeked up at him from behind the helm.

" There you are, love…I thought I'd lost you." He grinned with relief. She simply kissed him.

Elizabeth opened the door to her cabin, tying her hair back with an ivory ribbon hastily. " Captain?" She held up a lantern before her, sending a patch of yellow light onto the deck.

Barbossa sniffed, wiping water from his eyes, as well as the memory from his mind. Not now. " We've recovered someone."

Elizabeth stormed from her cabin, holding her skirts above her ankles, running barefoot onto the deck. She nearly threw herself overboard in an attempt to see the shadowy, sputtering figure in the waves. " Jack!"

He called up to her, " Send me a pulley, love, I'm freezing."

Gasping with joy, hot tears tracing her pale face, Elizabeth ran to Barbossa, her eyes eager. " Bring him up! Send him something, quickly!"

Barbossa's heart leapt into his throat. He swallowed his pride, his desire. He thought of Jack, trapped in the waves, his weakened body slammed against the unyielding hull repeatedly with every salty crest. " I'll send a boat down, but only one. We can't afford to lose any." He ordered three crew members to lower a boat, watching them with a shrewd gaze as it struggled to hit the waves.

Jack heaved his body over the edge, dropping the telescope and his dagger, as well as his hat, which had managed to remain on his head. He gazed up at the deck, ignoring Barbossa's scared visage, the crumpled sails, the sea spray…all he saw was her.

" Elizabeth."

--

The boat drew closer, and before it had reached the level of the deck he had sprung up, leaving his effects in the boat. He fell onto the deck, gasping for air. Raindrops fell into his mouth, wetting his parched lips, sliding down his throat.

Elizabeth ran to him, falling to her knees and gathering him in her arms. " Oh, Jack…" She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall onto his exposed neck. She kissed the soft skin of his neck, the side of his jaw, the gentle curve of his ear; she traced her hands along his chest, laying her head upon it and feeling it rise and fall with his labored breathing, inhaling the salt and rum and sweat of his clothes. His heart beat in her left ear, a constant reminder that he was alive, here, with her.

She felt his hand press into the small of her back, drawing her closer. She looked deeply into his eyes, smiling wanly. " You've come back," she whispered. She kissed his lips, allowing herself to relax, the muscles in her back, once tight and rigid, melting at his touch.

He drew back slowly, blinking and staring up at the tumultuous skies. Elizabeth curled her fingers around his, whispering, " Let's get you inside, Jack, it's far too cold to be on deck."

Jack swallowed, shaking his head. " Let me, ah, walk it off." He struggled to sit up, coughing. Barbossa stood over him, arms crossed over his chest. Jack peered up at him, blinking the rain away. " Thanks for the boat, mate. I don't know how much longer I would have lasted." He took his hat off and began wringing the water droplets out of it.

Barbossa said quietly, " Find some suitable clothes in me quarters and get some rest, Jack. We sail for Port Royal in the morning."

Jack sputtered, " You can't go back, mate." Barbossa's lips curled. " Hector," Jack said with emphasis. " Davy's going to realize I'm missing and it won't take long for him to hoist anchor and follow this…" He looked around dubiously. " Sloop."

Barbossa growled, " So not only have ye come upon me ship, uninvited…" He took a slow step forward. " But ye've compromised the safety of me cargo and crew."

Jack spread his hands. " It was that or death, mate." He looked at Elizabeth, whose face was pale, her lips tinged slightly purple. "Love, you're freezing." He held her hand between two of his, her fingers clammy and cold to the touch.

Barbossa was fuming. " We were about ter find ye, Jack. We were mere leagues away, then yer sorry carcass had to arrive on me hull. Yer like a barnacle a good careening can't scrape off." He turned round and stalked into his quarters, slamming the door. The lantern outside rattled, sputtered, and went out.

Elizabeth slid her arm under Jack's shoulders, attempting to lift him from the deck. " Come, Jack. Now isn't the time to experiment with valor. You'll catch your death out here."

Jack worked his lips. " Death's already caught me, love. It just forgot to swallow."

--

Tortuga's night air was filled with the scent of roasting meets and peppers, and Will Turner stood atop a table, downing a large flagon of ale. A flautist and a mandolin-player struck up a jig, and with less reserve than usual, Will began to dance the steps. His head felt light and yet stuffed at the same time, full of dried cotton. His mouth reveled in the ale and stale bread, and sweat drenched his body from head to toe. He felt nauseous and elated all at once.

He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten properly, or slept in anything that resembled a bed. How he had come here, to a buccaneer market at midnight, was quite beyond him. He had worn the same clothes for days, which had slowly accumulated a fine layer of grime and flecks of pond frond. He had sold his jacket for spare pocket coins, for whatever pints he felt like indulging in, or other pleasures.

He had soon discovered that living with pirates, on an island run and inhabited by them, was not as horrid as he imagined. The stench of the curing meats, the process which had earned the buccaneers their title, had soon worn off, as had the shock of seeing dozens of men covered in blood. It had become part of the natural landscape, like the sand and the waves.

He missed a step and slipped, falling onto the oily surface of the dingy table, his back slamming against the wood. He blinked, his mouth forming words he didn't know existed. He gasped in shock as two large, beautiful blue eyes loomed above him.

" Will? Will Turner?"

Will sat up, then fell back again. His shirt was rapidly being untied from the top, his belt loosened. He tried to grapple with these new pieces of information. The last time he had checked, his hands were on the table…He slowly lolled his head to the side. Yes. There they were indeed.

" Wha…you…my…?" he asked, dazed. He tried to remember her face. Bright eyes, full red lips…who was she? " Who?" he sputtered.

" Jeanette," she said softly into his ear, sliding a hand down his back. His back arched involuntarily and he choked for air as she kissed him fiercely. She drew back, her eyes wide and mournful. " Oh, I'm sorry. Is this a bad time?"

Will shook his head, taking another enormous swig of ale. " Nohh…noht at all," he slurred. He had never felt so drunk in his entire life. He peered into his flagon, then up at her, disheartened. " It'sss empty."

Jeanette smiled slowly. Her mouth swam in and out of focus. Will parted his lips, closing his eyes. " Won't that woman you were with mind?" she teased sweetly, though there were hidden, sugar-coated barbs in her tone.

The music around them seemed to grow louder, the pulsing drums driving nails into Will's skull, the flutes' high, piercing notes slicing through the palm trees.

Dancers twirled around him, brightly colored scarves flitting like parrots through the night, bells around their ankles jingling. The spices of the island were penetrating his senses, burned into his brain. He wanted to find someone, anyone, and--

Jeanette whispered, " Drink this…it will make you feel better." She handed him a hastily carved wooden cup. He lifted it to his lips, drinking the thick foamy white liquid, which tasted vaguely of coconut. His eyelids fluttered. It felt as if Jeanette's lovely curls had settled onto his chest, into his soul, her lips kissing every inch of his face…

He jerked his eyes open, with effort. She was.

Will's mind darkened as he fell into unconsciousness. Elizabeth was the farthest thing from his mind.