A/N: This is kinda long, which explains the delay. It's something of a quiet B/E-ish chapter. Apologies if that's not your cup of tea, but I promise, everything has a purpose (mostly!). Next chapter is pretty actiony. Very, actually, so enjoy the fluff while it's here...
Elizabeth was annoyed that she had wasted her moment alone with Barbossa flirting, when in fact she should have been discussing what she had done to Jack. Not that Barbossa would ordinarily be her first choice of external conscience, of course, but she wasn't too keen to confess her near-murder to Will, and the rest of the Pearl's crew these days seemed entirely composed of ugly and loutish young men who were far too drunk to be of any assistance to her whatsoever.
But after that one day, for some reason or another she could never catch the captain at a good time - he always seemed busy or distracted or unusually crabby. She wondered if she was imagining it.
Jack noticed too, and he knew he wasn't imagining it, but years of experience had taught him that asking would only get him a growly warning to mind his own business. Someone without as sharp a sense of self-preservation would undoubtedly step up to sort it all out...
"Captain?"
Hand in his coat, Barbossa spun around so fast that Willie's first thought was that he was going to be shot-
But the captain was just going for his flask. "Here's hopin it be important - whatever it is," he growled, and took a drink.
Willie pretended not to notice how bloodshot his eyes were and how unsteady his hands. "Actually, I was hoping it wasn't important. I wanted to know what's wrong the last few days, that's all."
"Did you now." Barbossa's eyes narrowed. "If I wanted a wife, boy, I'd have married your mother. Or Jack," he added as an afterthought, remembering Jack's oblique but repeated suggestions of beauty rest and a cheering stop in Singapore. Jack might not have dared to actually physically ask him about his bad mood this time, but that didn't mean he had entirely kept his nose out of it. "Did he put you up to this?"
"No." But then Willie thought about it, and realized that all those offhand comments Jack had been making probably added up to something deliberate. He shrugged. "Not directly, anyway."
Barbossa read him loud and clear. "Figures. Well you can stop worryin," he said, "Because everything's fine. And also because if you start askin me too many questions, we might find you're still not too old for a good hidin."
Willie grinned. Growling or not, this was the captain at his most affectionate, so if there was ever going to be a time... "All right - but may I ask just one more question first?" He took a second to get up the nerve. "Can I see the design Jack put on your shoulder?"
"Can ye what!?"
Hands raised just in case, Willie shrieked "I swear I have a really good reason!" so fast his voice cracked.
Barbossa relaxed, just a little. "Which be?" He put his hand to his buttons and waited.
"Please don't tell my parents," Willie said quickly. He looked around to be sure they weren't watching, then explained, "I was thinking of getting one myself. Before I ask you or Captain Sparrow to cut and ink me, I want to see who would do it better. I saw what you wrote on him, and truth be told, sir, it was a little sloppy."
Barbossa chuckled, wondering where on earth he had gotten the idea that the kid was short on backbone. "All right. But feel priviledged," he added as he undid a few buttons and pulled his collar aside. "You'll be the only one asides the artist himself to ever see this mark. It's gettin carved out soon's I get a minute."
The wound was still healing, but even through the angry red swelling Willie could tell, "Wow."
"Aye. Jack does good work - even on his own shoulder where he can't barely see. He'd probably do yours even better." He hissed as Willie touched it, waved off the apology, and then closed up his shirt again. "Listen here: do it if you like, but if you let your father think I had somethin to do with it, and he so much as opens his mouth to me, it'll be one time too many and I may throw him overboard."
Willie went off with a laugh. Considering he was fifteen and thinking of ways to sneak a tattoo past his parents, it was only natural that figuring out what was wrong with the captain had entirely slipped his mind.
And so for a while, as they passed off the edges of the map into the uncharted waters that everyone uneasily suspected lead nowhere, Barbossa did such a passable imitation of his usual behavior that nobody else asked him questions.
It got harder and harder though as the dreams got worse. Originally he had been waking up in a cold sweat to the sound of the Pearl breaking; now, he saw the disaster all the way through - hull smashed to pieces, mast cracked and toppling, people screaming, jumping overboard so as not to get pulled under as she sank. Jack fighting the wheel, as if there were anything he could possibly do, Elizabeth tossed off into the bloody water, people bashed open against sharp rocks... And Will Turner next to him, saying, "This is your fault. Your fault, Hector - I warned you." In the dream he made a dive for somebody - Jack, Elizabeth, sometimes even her kid - and woke up as he hit the water. Sweating, shaking, cursing up a storm because he never remembered his dreams.
The fact that this one was so vivid had to mean something, he thought... Perhaps they should turn back. On the other hand, he knew he would look foolish if he suggested giving up based on a dream... on the other hand, how terrible would it be if he doomed the ship, when he knew better, just to avoid looking foolish... on the other-other hand, he knew that of all the bad feelings he'd had over the years, none had ever actually preceded a real disaster... on the other other-other hand, perhaps that was because he had always averted the potential disasters, by following whatever bizarre course of action his sixth sense suggested to him.
And this time, it was suggesting that he put that glow-in-the-dark bird to his rudder because this trip would not end well at all.
One night he woke up on the floor barely an hour after he had gone to bed - a new record. He doubted he would be able to get back to sleep, and lying still to listen with growing jealousy as Jack snored and mumbled in his sleep about billowing rum pies (whatever they were) was just making him feel worse.
So he stumbled out on deck in his pants and shirtsleeves - no coat or hat or vest or shoes, which was rare... And unarmed, which was rarer still.
It turned out to be a good thing, though, because while he was standing brooding in the moonlight, somebody crept up behind him and cleared their throat. Barbossa was startled so badly he probably would have shot them if he'd had his pistol. Instead he just flinched, swore, wiped his forehead (again), and then turned to face the visitor.
"Attemptin to scare the captain to death, missie, treads awful close to mutiny in my opinion," he growled breathlessly.
"I'll bet." Elizabeth advanced a step and peered into his face to confirm her guess. "And how about attempting to comfort the captain after a nightmare?"
"That would be practically a death sentence," he agreed evenly.
"I'm willing to risk it." She put her hands on his hips tentatively and cocked her head at him. "What hap-" she couldn't finish the question because he pulled her in and squeezed her half to death, hiding his face in her hair. She kept quiet and just hugged him back.
A few minutes later, when they were sitting back to back staring up at the stars, each with their own bottle of booze, he was finally able to explain: "Of course I don't mind the dreamin, it's just I think... well... y'know, that perhaps it might come true. And it's... bad. Don't ask what it is. I'm not tellin, or you'll be havin nightmares, too."
He had carefully avoided using the word afraid but she heard it anyway. "Rubbish," she told him firmly, crossing her arms with conviction even though he couldn't see her. "Dreams aren't real and it's completely absurd to think they mean anything." She figured he wouldn't mind her taking a tone with him just this once. "I forbid you to think about it anymore, Captain - you have to sleep. Or else soon Willie will be able to beat you in a swordfight. So will I, for that matter; you look terrible. Rest your head a moment, would you? Think of something nice. There's nothing to worry about."
She turned and settled him into her lap, meaning just to soothe him until he felt he could go back to bed, but as soon as she started petting him he dropped right off to sleep.
If he did have the dream again that night, he didn't remember it.
She woke up with the first rays of light in the morning. Her legs had fallen asleep and her neck was killing her. People would be getting up soon, and though she hated to cut short a rest the captain so clearly needed, she guessed he would prefer that the crew not see him snoring on the floor like a bum. "Captain?" He didn't move, and she leaned a little closer. "Pssst. Barbossa." She shook him. Still nothing, so she put her lips directly against his ear and whispered, "I know you're awake. If you don't sit up, I'll pour water on you."
He laughed and sat up, squinting against the light. "Arrr. Mornin."
"Morning. Did you sleep well?"
"Aye. Best I've had in I don't know how long. Thank ye, Elizabeth."
All of a sudden her eyes shot to something up over his shoulder. He winced at the look on her face. "Husband?" he guessed without turning. She nodded. "Armed?" Another nod.
Barbossa didn't mind too much; fighting for one's life was a very exciting way to wake up in the morning, and besides, the only weapon within reach was the dagger down Elizabeth's shirt. He chuckled "Pardon, miss," as he went for it, and turned to face the attacker...
He was almost disappointed when Will just swung his sword through the air in frustration and then put it away. "God! Why?" Will hissed. "Why do you people have to do this?" He looked to Elizabeth. "Go on and say it before I do something."
She was getting to her feet. "Will, nothing happened," she recited dutifully, smiling a little.
He glared daggers at them each in turn. "Good. And I would much appreciate it if the two of you didn't take such pains to convince me otherwise." He turned away, shaking his head and snarling, "Best I've had, Elizabeth. Hmph!" under his breath.
That afternoon they came upon a very unhealthy-looking piece of water that boasted not just one whirlpool, or two or even half a dozen, but a massive spread of them stretching as far as the glass could see in either direction. "Impossible," Barbossa breathed.
"Now, we've been through this," Jack reminded patiently. "You can't say impossible for something that's already true, right? So not impossible. How about... impleasant? Imnatural?" He glanced towards Will and added, "Impotent?"
Not in the mood for games, Barbossa just growled deep in his throat.
Their guide, of course, being a bird, could fly straight over a field of imnatural whirlpools. When they saw for sure that they were actually supposed to sail straight into it, Jack and Barbossa exchanged glances. "We can go back, or we could try and go through," Jack murmured.
"Forward or back, hmm? Why, thank ye, Jack - I'd forgotten how travellin works," Barbossa snarled at him. He bit his lip. "What think ye?"
"Me? Well," Jack began, "Call me optimistic, mate, but really, I think we can do it. I do. I mean, those things are no joke - if we get too close they'll suck us right down - but there's plenty of room to sail between and around and all... I think..."
"I..." It's absurd to think it means anything, Barbossa reminded himself. Dream or no dream, he knew he could pilot through the mess. Especially if he didn't lose his bloody confidence over nothing!
"Aye?" Jack repeated. "Good, thought so. Now, I'd say we'll be stuck in this for at least a couple of days... how do you want to do it?"
"I'll get us started," Barbossa volunteered at once. "And ye'll take over come nightfall - you see better in the dark. Til then, go get some sleep." Even thinking about leaving their safety in Jack's hands made him edgy, so he added, "And Jack, if you're not at your sharpest tonight, so help me..."
"If we're not both at our sharpest, mate, so help us all, eh?" Not liking how the deck was already rocking a little less smoothly, Jack ordered, "At least one of you Williams is to stick right by his side and do whatever he tells you."
"I'll do it," Willie said at once. "And then Father, you come on at night with Captain Sparrow... and Mother..."
Terrified of losing the good-luck charm that let him sleep, Barbossa jumped in with the first reason that popped into his head: "Wench can't be on deck the same shifts as Turner - they get distracted worryin about each other."
He put his hat in his teeth and retied his bandana - the wind was starting to whip his hair across his face - and then limped over to the wheel, already barking orders.
Will did go off without giving his usual If anything happens to Elizabeth speech, but the effort nearly killed him.
TBC.
As I said, sorry for the slow. Upcoming is flurries of danger n action n pirates n Norrie n evil witchery.
I think I want to try and finish this story before AWE comes out, which means it will end up being good deal shorter than the other ones. Maybe 20-30 chapters instead of like 40+, we'll see. I think I can settle everything in that time...
Leave me love!
And if you're getting ready to complain that the title was misleading, it's not! At first Barbossa couldn't get to sleep, he finally gets to sleep, and he's with Elizabeth when he does. So there!
