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A/N: To all you confused people out there, have faith.
In response to "Lala": I'd love to allay your fears, however you left no way for us to respond to you. If you send us a signed review or message we are both more than happy to discuss things. Hope you continue to read!
Chapter Eight
Will broodingly watched the waves roll by just as they had for the last two or so weeks since rescuing Jack. The only thing piercing the impenetrable monotony at the moment were his thoughts, which of late had included little but Elizabeth. Although many of his fears had been put to rest after she and Jack had returned from the Locker, there still seemed to be something slightly askew. Even though she had confided in him initially, lately she had become more and more reclusive. As much as he hated the thought of it, he couldn't help but think that something odd had occurred between Elizabeth and Jack in the Locker, for after the return they had habitually avoided each other. In fact, Will would have been surprised if they had exchanged more than one word since returning.
Again and again, Will's thoughts also turned to his father. He had promised Bootstrap that he would free him, and Will Turner was nothing if not a man of his word. The only problem, of course, was how.
"You have the look about you of a person who is entertaining all manners of thoughts, mate," an all too familiar voice suddenly interrupted. "In fact," Jack continued, "you remind me a little of my great-aunt Martha. She used to write poetry, you see, and she would look very much as you do at the moment just before she composed a sonnet. If not for the," he waved his hands dramatically, "well, subtle differences, I'd almost think I was seeing a ghost, mate."
Will scowled slightly, feeling in no mood for Jack's antics.
Jack regarded him knowingly, smiling that slightly wicked smile of his. "Ah, but of course. Would the reason for your present vexation be any other than your dear, bonnie lass, who is currently avoiding you as we speak?"
"She's avoiding you as well, and you her." Will countered, regarding the pirate captain closely.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jack said flippantly, nervously fingering his compass.
Will decided to let it pass. "Jack," he began, "I don't know if I've told you this since you've been back, but I really am glad we were able to bring you back from the Locker. It…hasn't been the same without you."
Jack nodded brusquely, clearly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. "Well, I hope you're not looking to kiss me, mate," he said, putting his hands in the air slightly in mock surrender.
Ignoring the last comment, Will continued. "What was in the Locker, Jack? I have to know. I want to be able to help Elizabeth."
Jack's features darkened imperceptibly. "And supposing I did tell you, what makes you so certain that the said information would in any way, shape, or form make you any more capable of helping," he put his fingers in quotation marks around the latter word, "your darling fiancé?"
It was at that moment that Will spotted Elizabeth walking across the deck.
"Oh bugger," Jack muttered, apparently having spotted her as well. Will rolled his eyes as Jack ducked behind him.
"She's gone," Will told him a moment later.
Brushing himself off slightly, Jack stood to his feet. "I don't know what you're talking about." At that, Jack sauntered off, swaying slightly as usual.
Will continued to brood long after Jack was out of sight. He wanted to help Elizabeth, yet she appeared to want no part in it. He wanted to help his father, and as much as his father had tried to hide the hope in his eyes, Will knew that he wanted to be helped.
The first course of action, logically, would be in getting Davy Jones' heart back. Possessing the heart would give him the leverage he needed to barter for his father's soul. But how would he go about doing so? The heart, to his knowledge, was in the possession of Beckett, and he could only assume it was heavily guarded. It would be one thing if he had the support of Jack, Barbossa, and the rest of the crew, but he honestly did not trust them to not want the heart for their own ends. And as confidant as he was in his own swordsmanship, he knew he was no match for several armed men.
The tentative workings of a plan suddenly sprung forth in his mind. If he was to use leverage on Davy Jones, first he must use leverage on Beckett. And the best leverage, he knew from experience, was what that person wanted most. He grimaced slightly, realizing something with a start.
He knew exactly what that leverage would have to be.
Barbossa and Jack sat on opposite sides of the table. Tia Dalma had seated herself on the end as to signify her role of instigator of this discussion as well as a referee of sorts between the two ornery pirate captains. Barbossa, back straight as a board, seemed thoroughly irate at having to be there. On his ship a woman of all things was ordering him around. If not for his indebtedness to Tia Dalma, no such meeting would be occurring. Jack, on the other hand, looked extremely pleased. His feet propped lazily on the table top, arms crossed loosely, and a half smirk on his features, he was the picture of contentment.
"I am assuming ye know why we be here right now," Tia Dalma started out, glancing between the two of them. Barbossa's frown deepened.
His expression claiming innocence, Jack piped in. "I, for one, have no clue at all. I mean, honestly, for what possible purpose could you have called me and my good friend Barbossa here, together for?" Jack widened his eyes and leaned a bit closer to Barbossa. "Oh, and by the way, mate," he stage-whispered, "sorry 'bout that whole shooting you business. Didn't want to upset dear William you see. You really should hear how high his voice can get when he cries!" he finished, pointing backwards with his thumb.
Barbossa rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Why don't you remind us then?" he directed to Tia Dalma, his voice ostensibly sweet.
"We be here to decide who get to play captain for da rest of our journey."
"Play captain?" Jack interjected. "Doesn't that imply that whomever does the aforementioned action, obviously Barbossa or myself, will be in fact pretending to be captain? If that's the case, then I definitely vote for Barbossa. He's the best fake captain I've ever met."
"Oh, will ye shut up," Barbossa growled. "Seeing as I've been captain longer, and started out captain of this little venture, I be seein' no point in this argument."
"There's your problem, you see, Barbossa. You never see the point." Jack languidly crossed his legs in the other direction. "If you could really see a point in an argument, I mean, discussion of a slightly disagreeable sort, then we wouldn't he having that discussion in the first place. See my point?"
Somehow able to completely ignore their banter, Tia Dalma continued as if they'd said nothing. "The decision had already been made."
"By who?" they both spoke at once. Tia Dalma smiled a sugary smile, though her blackened teeth spoke of having perhaps too much of such in her lifetime.
"By me," she replied. "And my decision be Captain Barbossa."
Feet plopping loudly to the wooden planks, Jack sputtered, "But- well- that's just not fair at all, is it?"
"She spoke her word," Barbossa sneered. "There will be no more discussion. See my point?"
With a slight grimace, Jack continued, "I have no idea what you're talking about, mate. And besides, I've been here longer. I know more about it."
Barbossa countered, "And that whole time ye have been dead. Not chartin' the waters."
"So?"
Tia Dalma raised her hands and they both silenced immediately. "You can leave now, Captain Barbossa." With a satisfied expression, Barbossa stood and sauntered out, closing the door firmly behind him. She turned back to Jack. "Jack Sparrow, ye have betta tings to be doin' dan captain a ship."
"Like lie in a hammock and drink rum? That'd be nice except for one minuscule problem. We're not currently in possession of a hammock and rum."
She raised an eyebrow pointedly. "Ye know of what I speak."
Jack's expression darkened slightly and he absently rubbed his wrists. "Such unpleasantries shouldn't invade one's second life. Can't you just go poof or something?"
"No, and neider can you. If you ever want your Pearl back, you will be needin' a good plan."
This time Jack's smile was genuine. "Whoever said I use plans?" he spread his arms wide.
"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, love."
