Okay, so I promised the next chapter on Saturday, and I aim to please. Even if it's on the late side...

Snowhelm: I found myself reading a lot of poetry in the academy (that's a high school for everyone who didn't know that) and when I was writing this chapter I wanted Sparrow to get another power and my brain storming is literally what you see in the chapter. I dunno, fire and ice just kinda clicked for me. Yeah, I wanted to punish myself with the rats, because since I mentioned Corvo Attano (the protagonist of Dishonoured) my heads just been kind of trying to push more Dishonoured in there but I've shut it out seeing as how they're two very different worlds.

SonRyu: It's in the mail.

So yes, I think that's everything. Yes? Uh huh, we sure? I feel as though I'm forgetting something...

Oh yes...

Captured by an Unseen foe, betrayed by those around him, alone and weaponless Sparrow must work to uncover who wants him dead, and why? Join us...

Right now.

Scoundrel 14: Oh Captain, My Captain

I come to groggily, slowly pulling myself to my unsteady feet. My limbs aches as I stretch and I hiss quietly. The world spins for a few seconds but as I take deep breaths, my dizziness eases and I stop swaying. I blink in the darkness, smacking my lips at the dryness in my mouth. I gaze around in confusion, eyes narrowed as I come to terms with my surroundings.

So... that hasn't happened in a while. Passing out I mean. Guess it makes sense. New power... and a lot of juice as well, if the ice covering every surface is any indication. I look over to the rats and see they're still frozen solid. I must've not been out long then, at least. Doesn't look like anything's begun to thaw. Though, as the room has given me the feeling of being in a freezer, I don't hold onto that thought.

I slip around to the door, my unsteadiness exacerbated by the icy floor. I struggle with the door, as the handle is frozen, before a hearty shove knocks it off the hinges. I sprawl on top of it and groan, the frozen wood chilling me more than I already was. I pick myself up shakily and start slowly shuffling along the hall, looking for an exit.

I'd forgotten how disorientating it was to use a new power. It's like I've been on a medieval rack, and every joint and muscle has been stretched to new lengths. My head feels like I've been drinking, numbed slightly and unfocused, though that wears off soon if I recall correctly. But it's still a few minutes before I'm strong enough to stop staggering around.

The thought occurs to me that whoever wants me dead might be in this building with me, but I shrug it off. My Will powers aren't exactly subtle. If anyone was here, they would have already heard me and investigated.

And besides, if anyone is here, I don't need a blade for a weapon. I doubt I'd be strong enough to even hold one.

I leave the hallway and come to some stairs. I climb them and enter a room, stopping to get my bearings. This looks like a shop. I look around and frown. This is a shop, it has the same feel.

On one side of the room is the door, with display windows and shelves on either side. There's old plates left sitting there, dusty and unattended for years maybe. On the other side is an L-shaped counter, with more display shelves, scales and hanging on the wall is an assortment of knives. Not weapons, carving knife, butcher knife... I think I'm in a Butcher's, if the distinct smell of rotting meat is any suggestion.

I brush it off quickly. From the smell of things, along with the thick coating of dust I'd say this place has been out of business for years. The Captain probably had me brought here to keep me out of the way.

Or, perhaps, the Dread Wolf did for the same reason. If that is the case, then things are... problematic. I look to the floor and squint, making out a slight trail through the dust. Looks like something large was dragged through here. The trail starts at the door and ends at the entrance to the staircase I just climbed up. My brow arches and I look at my arse, seeing dust and dirt marks all over my back and legs. So, I was drugged and dragged eh? Adaia must be stronger than she looks.

Deciding that the only way to find out who it is that's kept me captive, I sit in a chair behind the counter and wait for whoever to turn up. It's day outside, so I have a feeling that nothing will happen until night fall.

Clandestine dealings usually do.

And I'm right. An hour or so after the market closes and it starts to get dark, a figure enters the butchers. I'm still behind the counter, but it's shrouded in shadow. The figure doesn't see me and quickly locks the door behind them. Taking off their cloak (which really, is the heavy hint that they're involved in some shady business) they throw it over the counter, towards me, sending up waves of dust that I nearly choke on.

I hear them breathe in excitement before they move off towards my cell. I lean back in the chair, sighing quietly. The figure wasn't short enough to be Adaia, and the ears weren't knife-like. Human. Male.

I hear a roar of anger and the man comes thundering back to the front. He's about to leave when I click my fingers, the candle in front of me lighting. The man freezes, and I see greying black hair. Gelled back. Well, not gel. Maybe grease? Unclean, unwashed. Matted.

"So," I say in a vaguely hoarse voice. I don't bother clearing it. I'm too tired. And to be honest, I think that the gruffness suits the situation. "I hear you want a word with me."

"That I do, Jack Sparrow," the man answers quietly, his otherwise calm voice shaking slightly with rage or fear, I can't tell which. Either would be appropriate. Something about his voice, as filled with anger as it is, reminds me of someone. Or maybe because it's filled with emotion.

"And why is that? How have you come to know of me?" I lean forward, waiting for my would-be killer to turn and show himself. "Who are you?" I ask finally.

And with that he turns and it makes sense.

He's older, his face much more lined since I last saw him. The wrinkles show he's spent the past year scowling. Hair is receding as well. A scraggy salt and pepper beard has popped up, unshaven and dirty looking. Must have been quite a few months. His mouth is tight, lips pursed in rage and his grey eyes glare at me. The candle silhouettes his crooked nose, and I remember the incident which broke it.

The Captain. The man with a grudge against me. The man who hates me enough to hire the Crows to have me killed. The man who I've hurt more than anyone I've ever come across. The man who likes the thought of people being in pain. I smile bitterly. "Ah," I say quietly and the Captain's eyes blaze in anger. "Well that explains things."

I lean back at my chair while my nemesis just glares at me. Hatred such as that cannot be conveyed in words. But the eyes are a window into the soul, and through them I am almost cowed by his loathing. "You know, when I first thought of the people that could've called a hit on me, your name did come up. But I didn't think you'd risk everything just to settle some score with me."

His eye begins to twitch as I continue. "I guess it just never occurred to me how much you were willing to pour into that hatred Captain," I say tiredly as I look at him.

"Reginald, Alexander, Lorcan," he hisses out from gritted teeth. I stare at him blankly, unaware what he means.

"Excuse me?" I ask after a few moments pass and he offers no explanation. His face becomes a mask of fury and he tenses. I bring my hands up to defend myself and he freezes, eyeing my hands as though there's nothing he'd love more than to cut them off. Which, he probably would, having seen what they could do.

"Reginald was our cook, he would tell us all stories of his time fighting under Loghain and Maric during the war with Orlais. Lorcan was his nephew, who hung onto his every word. Alexander was my lieutenant and ran off to meet you. But he never got that far," He says quietly, rage and sorrow accenting every word. I look at him, shame and sadness covering my face like rain.

"What do you want Captain?" I ask him guiltily. I'd never learned their names. I preferred it that way. Now I can put names to the faces that haunt my dreams.

"I want Vengeance," he shouts at me, spittle flying. "I want you punished for the murder of three good men. I want you hanged for piracy. I want you dead for everything you've done to me!"

"You can't have it," I say wearily as I look at him. My face is apologetic now, and I look at him with regret. I know what he means. I'd feel the same in his shoes. "I'm a Grey Warden." I almost spit the words, feeling their bitter taste clogging my mouth. My wonderful get out of jail free card.

"Grey Warden's be damned," he says as he stamps his foot like a child. "You're a pirate and a murderer and you should be treated as such. The Grey Wardens are a relic of a bygone time, Maric should never have allowed them back into Ferelden! They are useless and unneeded criminals and murderers who think themselves above the law."

"No, they aren't," I argue quietly. "A Blight is coming to Ferelden, soon."

"Bollocks," the Captain curses. "Those are just stories. There'll never be a Blight during our time."

"There will," I say with a weary voice as I look at him. "Four years in fact, give or take a few months."

He looks at me, unsure in thee face of my conviction. "You're lying," he says simply, a tremble of fear in his voice.

"I wish that were so," I answer. Oh god, how I wish that were so. Then there wouldn't be this weight on my shoulders day and night, gnawing at me.

"How can you know such things?"

"I've seen it," I say with a small laugh. I tap my head. "It's all in here."

The Captain sneers, fear dissipating. "I always took you for a mad man, this simply proves it. Regardless, lunacy or no, that does not make you exempt from the law."

I sigh before moving the candle to the side as the flame was preventing me from looking at my foe without my eyes being blinded. "True," I say as I cross my arms. "But do you realise why the Grey Wardens is an alternative to death? No? Allow me to explain. I have a life expectancy of, at most, fourty years. That's if I die of old age now, and that's optimistic. It's much more likely I will die in one of the wars that's coming. A blade to my back, a bolt through my throat, burnt to ash by some mage or demon... Maybe I'll last long enough for the Archdemon itself to end my life! And until that point, I will be in constant fear, constant pain, constant anguish. I will not die peacefully Captain. I will die alone, terrified and in pain. I will die screaming."

"Good," he mutters darkly. I smile bitterly. Yes, he would see the attraction of my suffering.

He likes suffering.

"Yes, I thought you'd like that. But here's where we start to have a problem," I say as I finally muster up the energy to clear my throat. "I have things I need to do, things to ensure the survival of this world before I die. I need to make sure that Ferelden does not fall because if it does... Thedas will fall with it." I look up at the Captain fiercely. "I will not stand idle and watch as the world turns to ashes around me. I will fight for what I believe in. When we first met, I had no purpose. I was simply trying to survive, and doing badly at that. But now I do. I'll fight for this world. I'll die for it, if needs must. And if it falls before I do, you can be damn sure that I'll avenge it.

"I have all this power," I say quietly, looking at my hands, still not entirely sure of the power they can wield. Still uncertain, still wary. I make a fist and look up. "And I could use it to become a king, bring all under my heel. Potentially." I smile for a moment, and then shake my head. "But that's not me. That's not the man I want to be. I want to earn the name Hero."

"You'll never be a Hero to me Sparrow," the Captain spits venomously. I smile at him sadly.

"I won't be a Hero to a lot of people. I'm a Grey Warden, Captain. I will have to do a great many things that I won't be proud of. Things that will give me nightmares every night to accompany the one's I already have. But I'll do the evil things in the dark, so people like you don't have to. I'll give up everything to save you people."

There's a few moments of silence between us. The candle has burnt down halfway. "Why? Why would you do this? Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I can. Because it's a better to die a Hero, than to live as a villian. Because I can't do anything with the Crows breathing down my neck." I look up to him and my expression - soft and regretful before - hardens. "You're going to call off the assassins, and you're going to forget about me. You're going to forget you ever heard the name Jack bloody Sparrow and you're going to move on." I command him, staring at his rapidly narrowing eyes.

"I will do no such thing," the Captain growls from within his beard. "You WILL be held accountable and you WILL be punished for what you have done."

I sigh quietly. "Let's come to an agreement then. You want your revenge, and I have things to do before I die. Give me five years," I say, getting to my feet slowly to lean on the counter. "Five years is a very short time to wait for vengeance."

"Not short enough," the Captain says as his hands slips to his belt slowly. I pretend not to notice. Just this once. Just once I want to avoid the fight. Especially when he's right.

"The Blight is coming in four years Captain!" I say angrily. "I may have a chance to prevent it, or at least postpone it for a while, but I need time to do that. Five years without a Blight, and I'll gladly impale myself on your sword."

My nemesis glares at me. He looks up and around, taking in the room around us. "This was my father's shop," he says, much more calmly than he has been all night. His expression is one very familiar to me. The sad smile as his memories take over reality, if only just for a few seconds. Lost in a sad past. Just like me. "before he died. Thieves broke in, trying to steal his wares. He tried to defend himself, defend his livelihood, but they killed him." Under different circumstances, my heart would go out to the Captain, if things were different. His eyes harden and he looks at me with determination. "If he taught me one thing, it's that you hold on to what's important to you and you fight if anyone tries to take it."

I cock my head and look at him, really look at him. The scruffy appearance, the shabby clothes. The golden hilted sword at his waist is the only thing that looks like it's worth anything, and even that is dull, unpolished. Certainly not the weapon of a Captain. He's a shadow of the man I met all those months ago. A husk. What could have changed him this much?

Me? Did I really do all of this?

I look at him and mentally slap myself. "They kicked you out didn't they?" I say slowly, not really a question. His flinch answers me. "After what I did, they kicked you out of the navy didn't they."

"My ship was crippled by pirates, half of my crew slaughtered and the one pirate that we brought to the gallows managed to worm his way to freedom. My KING granted him FREEDOM after he murdered my men, MEN WHO FOUGHT FOR HIM?! I was a laughing stock, demoted to second lieutenant, all the while the laughter of my shipmates was drowned out by the screams of the dead! I wasn't even given leave to seek vengeance against the monsters who had murdered my men!" the Captain , the man who's life I ruined, the monster without a purpose, screeches, apoplectic with rage. "No, I left of my own accord pirate!"

Taking me by surprise, I only manage to get to my feet as he launches himself across the counter, crashing into me and sending us both into the wall. The knives shake behind us and I try to grab one. He grabs my arm but I tear him off, punching him heavily. He drags me down to the floor with him. He goes to punch my face, but I drive a knee into his groin, winding him as he rolls away in pain and I get to my feet. He does the same and charges me with a roar, but I sidestep him and, grabbing his shoulders, slam him into the wall. He slams against it heavily, but rises to his feet with a punch that sends me sprawling against the counter. He grabs my head and slams it against the counter. Before he can adjust his grip and snap my neck I drive my elbow into his face and turn with a punch. He's staggered but maintains his footing. Seeing this, I pull my leg back and kick him.

He crashes through the door of the counter, falling into the opposite wall and cracking his head. He pants there for a second, glaring at me as spit and blood dribbles from his mouth. I hop over the counter after grabbing a knife from behind the counter and feel the heat in my limbs, the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

The adrenaline is the only thing keeping me on my feet right now. I won't be able to fight for long, but I can fight for long enough. Hopefully.

I feel blood running down my forehead and wipe it away, keeping my eyes on him the whole time as he slowly picks himself up. He pulls out his own curved dagger, the same one I remember plunging into my shoulder. My scar burns at the memory and my eyes narrow. Not only does that bring up some bad memories, I was also never taught how to knife fight.

At least, not without being tied together. And that was with spoons... Ahh, those days with my brother, how I miss them.

"Don't suppose you'll avoid the face, eh old bean?" I say with a posh English accent, he squints in confusion and I use the distraction to leap forwards and stab at him. He manages to deflect my knife before twisting and stabbing with his own, but I manage to pull myself away. Regardless, he leaves a cut on my arm. I keep my eyes on him as I hold my off hand to the wound, ready if he makes a move.

We circle for a moment before he takes a step forward. Seeing it as a feint, I dart forward as he starts to step back. His eyes widen as I move closer, against his suspicious that I would back down. I slap outwards with my bloodied hand, sending droplets of my blood right at him, he holds up a hand to stop himself being blinded, and ends up doing my job for me. I twist, spinning, intent on slashing his throat but his arm darts up with frightening speed. I come to a sudden, unsteady halt and stare at him with surprise. I see the victory in his eyes as his body tenses, ready to deliver the killing blow.

Sensing my end is near, I pull on the arm that the Captain still holds on to, knocking him off balance and diverting his blade. The strength of my pull sends him staggering and as he releases me I over extend and before I can right myself the Captain's turned and he's smiling and SHIITT!

Luckily, I manage to twist my body so that the blade doesn't cut me. Unluckily, I don't manage to miss it all and the blade rakes across my body, slicing me deeply from hip to chest. I skip away and crash into the wall, hugging myself close as I stop from crying in pain. If memory serves, it crosses where Isabella slashed me during the training session last year.

X marks the spot to kill the Sparrow.

He throws himself at me. I try to block with my knife but he bashes at my wrist, causing my hand to spasm and drop the weapon. Fucker forgets I have two hands, and I show him his mistake as I back hand him. I don't give him any time to recover and throw myself onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck tightly. I lean back as he begins stabbing wildly over his shoulders, before he slices at my arms. I howl as he drags the blade across the skin of my arms as hard as he can. Moving without thinking, my legs wrap around his arm at the shoulder before squeezing tightly. From this angle, he can't stab at me so I exert more force to his neck. If the bastard doesn't choke out, his fucking neck'll snap. The knife drops from his hand and my mouth curls in anticipation. Any second, and he's mine.

But before I can pop the champagne, the Captain starts running backwards. I frown, not understanding, before the wall connects with my back. Hard. My grip loosens for a second and I hear the Captain gasp painfully. Not good. He reaches with his other hand and grabs me by the hair before diving onto the counter, using me to cushion his fall. I feel something snap in my chest as my body curves around the hard wood, and my strength leaves me as the Captain crawls away, wheezing, coughing and gasping. We both pant from opposite ends of the room.

I'm in bad shape, much worse than him. He'll wake up tomorrow with a mild headache and some light bruising. A sore throat, stiff neck. Me on the other hand. If I wake up at all, which isn't looking like a possibility, I'll have slashed arms and chest, broken ribs, concussion, heavy bruising and maybe a sprained wrist. If I don't end this fight as soon as possible, the blood loss will make me dizzy, weaker. I'm be an easy target. I drag myself to my feet painfully as I see the Captain rising to his. Time for Plan B.

He launches himself at me again and when I try to catch him he manages to overpower me, tackling me into the wall and forcing the air from my lungs. I'm dazed for a second before a fist crashes into my chest and my kidney squeals. I feel more blood gushing from my chest wound. That's bad. I bring my arms up to defend myself just as another blow strikes my other side. I spread my arms to send the Captains away from me, before crashing my head into his face. He staggers backwards and I drive my right fist into his chest. I bring my left up to hit his face but he blocks and sends a blind haymaker. It connects, bringing me off my feet and sending me falling backwards. I land against one of the display windows which, unable to support me, shatters. I fall into the street, shards of glass and wood digging into my back.

The Captain leaps out of the hole I've made, brandishing his bloody dagger. He jumps on top of me and raises his arms high. I'm winded but my arms reach out to grab his arms as they plummets towards my face. I manage to stop him from stabbing me, but my breathing is out of control, the energy I've spent the past few hours accumulating is all but gone.

I'm not winning this.

I watch with horror as the knife comes closer and closer to my face. After a few seconds it's pressing against my cheek and I howl in pain as he drags it deeply across my face, blood spurting as he grins with glee. It slips off my face and he sits up, wrenching himself from my grasp. My arms go limp and I lie there, panting heavily and bleeding heavier. The Captain chuckles and twirls his knife. It's over. I've got no more fight to give.

"And now here we are again Sparrow, alone together," He says with that old psychotic grin I remember from all those days we spent together. Those days I was helpless, at his utter mercy as he cut away at my body. At my soul.

But those days are gone.

"Captain..." I grunt as he dangles the knife above my face, spinning it in slow circles, bringing it closer and closer. Mocking me. "What..." I grimace from all the pain I'm going through and he laughs heartily.

"What are you saying pirate? Come now, even pathetic wretches such as yourself deserve last words," he says with a chuckle as he bends down to listen to me.

"What... makes you think... I'm alone," I whisper weakly. He sits back up and frowns at me, before his attention is caught by noise of swords being drawn to his left. Looking, we turn to see Duncan and several members of the Guard. All of them look pissed off.

"No," the Captain whispers in horror. "You couldn't have."

"I did," I grimace as I punch him in the wrist, mimicking his move from earlier that caused me to drop my knife. He reacts similarly, dropping the dagger. He looks at me and his pain and shock turn to rage and he starts punching my face. He only gets a few shots in before the guards drag him off, but I feel the full force of every one of them and know that I'll feel that tomorrow.

It's a much more likely event now.

"I'll kill you Jack Sparrow! I swear to Andraste, I will have my vengeance," he shouts as they drag him away before one clubs him over the head and he falls limp.

I lay on the glass covered ground as they take him away, vaguely daze and confused. Every part of me burns, either from exertion or knife wounds. I cough up a globule of blood as a hand comes into view.

Duncan.

I grab him and grunt as I pull myself up. He slips my arm over my shoulders and holds my chest, as I hold my cheek wound. I feel the blood leaking from in between my fingers already, but I keep pressure on my wound. "Took you long enough to get here," I say flippantly to the Commander. It probably comes out more pained. Duncan arches an eyebrow at me before casting his gaze on the retreating form of the Captain.

"Well we had to wait until we were sure he was the one who hired the assassins. Besides, this was your plan to start with. Get captured by the assassin and have them lead us to their employer," Duncan says with a warm smile as he pats my back. "You did well Sparrow. You did very well indeed. Who was that man?" Duncan inquires as we begin to walk away. Duncan moves slowly, and as for someone who is beyond sore and tired, I'm thankful.

"Reynolds. Captain Reynolds," I say quietly and Duncan turns to me with shock. "That was my reaction," I say with a pained smile. "But it makes sense I suppose. I ruined his life Duncan. In one act, I completely tore everything apart. I wasn't even thinking of that at the time, I just wanted to make my Captain trust me again."

Duncan sighs heavily, his age showing. "We do a great many foolish things for those we love Sparrow," he speaks quietly, looking at me in the eyes. "And many people get hurt when we are blind to the things around us. When we focus on one thing, and one thing only, there will always be casualties."

"That's my darkness Duncan. The single most evil thing I've done. Destroyed a man's life, tore it apart from the foundations without a second thought. Without even meaning to," I say with regret, feeling my eyes begin to cloud with tears. Every action has a consequence and this is mine. I always wanted to be an artist, but that was never in my blood. No, the only thing that I'm capable of is destruction. With a single act, I killed the man Captain Reynolds used to be.

"I did the same thing to Guinevere," he says solemnly. We stand for a few moments, stoic and brooding. We've both taken lives and destroyed them. I'm not sure about Duncan, but I don't know which I find worse. When you kill someone, you kill everything they are, or ever will become. What I did to Reynolds... that was hardly a kindness compared. I set his world on fire and held his eyes open as it crumbled to ashes in front of him.

"So what's your advice then Chief," I say with a smile to stop myself from bursting into tears. "Learn to forgive myself?"

"No," he says quietly. Sadly. "Hope that one day they forgive you." He sniffs and looks around. "Come on Sparrow, we'll get those wounds looked tended to at the Barracks."

"Yeah, right," I say as I look behind us, look at the sign for Reynolds and Son Butchers. I deep pang of guilt hits me. "Did she ever?" I ask quietly, almost a whisper. Duncan and I turn to one another. "Guinevere I mean. Did she ever forgive you?"

"I don't know," Duncan says, looking straight ahead as he bobs his head slightly, as though nodding at someone. "But I like to think so." He begins to move off but I linger for a few more moments.

"What happens now?" I ask, my aches and pains becoming more relevant as the adrenaline starts to wear off. They were stinging like bitches before, but now they're really starting to nip.

"Well, the Dread Wolf has fulfilled her contract so she should no longer be hunting you. Reynolds will be tried for this, and either imprisoned or hung. You should be safe now," He says with a small smile. A spring breeze blows by us and I close my eyes at the warmth, long lost during these past dark months. I always enjoyed the cold, but that breath of life fills me with a sense of peace. I look back at Duncan who's eyes have turned grim. "Winter is at an end Sparrow," he says quietly and it takes a moment for me to realise what he means. The Joining...

By this time he's already walking us both away. I take one last look at the Butchers over my shoulder.

I will suffer Reynolds, I think to myself. Of that I can assure you. My only hope is that the thought satisfies you.

"You'll always remember this day as the day you almost killed Jack Sparrow," I whisper with a half hearted smile. Not feeling it, my smile turns into a grimace as my facial muscles scream in pain.

And with no more words left to say, we leave behind the broken ruin that I've left in my wake. Unfortunately, I can't leave this black pit of despair at my actions. That will haunt me for a while to come.

This chapter took a lot to write, with dozens of edits and re-edits and I believe it's up to a good standard for you guys. However, if you disagree, review or PM me to let me know. To my knowledge, this is my first attempt at a fight of that scale and I'm curious as to what you guys think of the flow?

So yes, this is the closing of the case file, as I've referred to it. Soon, we'll be heading for Flemeth's but there is still a long journey between here and there. Stay tuned, Same Sparrow Channel, Same Sparrow hour!