Captain Jack Sparrow lay prone and motionless on a cot in a back room of a small house in Tortuga. Unmoving, save for the intense shivering that contradicted the heat radiating from his skin, the feverish pirate fought hard to remain present with the voices that floated around him.
God I got to stop bloody moving, his mind groaned pressing his head deeper into the pillow.
Pain racked his body at the uncontrollable trembling. Better to slip the bonds of conscious thought and rest. Yet, he wouldn't allow the release until he talked to her again.
Eyes closed and slack jawed, he appeared unconscious, but his mind lurked just below the surface. Below where the intense burning radiated but didn't consume. Where he could hear them talking and feel them moving around him. He longed, oh how he desperately longed to descend deeper, but greater was his desire to hear her voice once more. To be certain, once again, before he sank down to a deep dark oblivion that she would be there.
Voices drifted in and out of his sub-surfaced brain. He recognized many of them, but exhaustion prevented him from doing little else. He lay breathing shallowly as he listened while they floated around him and above him. Finally one voice edged its way into his subconscious.
"Get 'im t' the Pearl. That'd be best." A grizzled voice sounded.
Ah, Gibbs. Yes, his weary mind agreed. The Pearl. Get me t' The Pearl, away from this ruddy, retched pit. A pirate should meet his end at sea, on his ship. Never on dry land.
"As a doctor, I'm telling ya, 'e's not in any condition t' be moved." An unfamiliar voice retorted.
A bloody doctor? In bloody Tortuga?! His groggy mind vehemently objected. Bloody hell, get me outta 'ere Gibbs before 'e bloody kills me for sure. He struggled to rise. . .
"No. . . leave. . . t' Pearl. . ." his voice rasped. He grimaced at the sound he'd been capable of. Not at all how he'd planned to sound. In his mind it had been more forceful, more authoritative, more. . . captain-ish. What he heard was weak and feeble.
"Hush, Jack. Just rest easy, luv. You'll be a'right. We'll take care of everything. Just relax. . ."
"Ana. . .?" he sank back down into the scratchy mattress with a sigh.
That voice. That one. The one. Anamaria's soothing voice cradled his weary mind. Her hand gently stroked his jaw with a cooling touch. Struggling to open his eyes, he just managed to glimpse her, as a cool cloth wiped at the fire on his body. The cloth settled on the skin at the back of his neck. The ethereal image of his angel greeted him as the edges of his vision blurred and watered. God, she was so beautiful. With a deep sigh, he did as she requested and relaxed.
"Maybe we should listen to him Gibbs. He's all we have for a medical opinion at the moment."
No, Will! His mind screamed. Listen to Gibbs, Will Turner. His face scrunched up in confusion. Turner? God, he sounds so much like his father. Bootstrap. All those years ago when he should 'ave kept his mouth shut. He'd still be alive today, if he had. He could have known his son. He should have known his son. He should have. . .
That was his last barely conscious thought as he felt the deeper pits of sleep pulling him under. Sucking him down to a place where pain wasn't so pervasive. A place where he could elude the burning of his ripped flesh.
As the voices moved around him he finally succumbed to the bliss of thoughtlessness. Emptiness. Painlessness. His last thoughts echoed into the deep, dark, void. . . Maybe this was what it was like to die. . .
~*~*~*~*~* somewhere in the middle ~*~*~*~*~*
Lying content and relaxed, eyes closed, he could hear the ocean as frothy waves broke against white sand. Lulling him to remain still with his back pressed against the warm sand.
The sun. He could feel it penetrating his skin, deepening the pigment and warming him. The radiant heat, the lapping waves all combined to keep him under.
"Jack," a familiar voice called to him, "time to wake up."
Jack's brow pinched in consternation. He stubbornly willed his mind to pay it no heed.
"Come on, lad, time t' wake up for 'ole Bill. I know you don't wan' to, but we've things to talk about you 'an me."
"Leave m' be." He growled aloud. "Go 'way. I wanna sleep." His voice sounded better that time. More like what he'd intended earlier. More like the Captain of The Black Pearl. Where's Gibbs? I need to try that again. Show him I mean business. Get me away from that blood 'doctor'.
"No, Jack." The voice persisted loudly, breaking through his hazy mind. "I'm not goin' anywhere. Now, wake up ya scallywag, before I kick yer ruddy arse across this beach."
One coffee-brown eye opened to cast a speculative glance at the man sitting by him. "Blast ye, William Turner. Get outta my dream. Can't ya let a man get some sleep?"
"Nope, not here I can't, Jack Sparrow. Here's a dreadful bad place t' be sleepin', lad. Here's not so much a dream as it is. . . a middle ground." The older man said with a wide grin.
With a sigh of indignation, Jack propped himself up on his elbows. His insipid stare fixed on the azure blue of what he assumed was the Caribbean ocean. Clouds moved lazily, seemingly connecting with the horizon. The sky, beyond the clouds, was a brilliant turquoise blue and the sun shone a funny glittering gold. The whole place gleamed brightly and the colors seemed. . . odd.
"Huh. Well, dare I ask just what or where 'here' is?" inquired the pirate captain, not taking his eyes off the undulating waves.
"What? Doesn't it look familiar?"
Dread widened his eyes and he swiveled his head to regard his companion. His head continued to turn beyond his friend as his body followed suit. Twisted around to lie on his stomach, his gaze completely took in his surroundings. Where once gently swaying palm trees bent softly into the Caribbean breezes, now stood charred sticks of the former.
Realization dawned and he groaned in dismay. Shaking his head in denial, he dropped his face in the sand with a grunt. He mumbled unintelligibly with his voice muffled by the sand while he continued shaking his head in refutation.
"No. . . no. . . no. . . Not this bloody, God-forsaken-spit-o'-land, again." He stilled for a few minutes then lifted his head. Pausing momentarily, he spat out sand then, with a sigh said, "I'm in bleedin' hell."
A barely contained rumbling that soon became an undeniable chuckle, reached Sparrow's ears. Turning, Jack glared at the other man, which seemed to make him chortle all the harder. Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, the elder man fell back on the sand in a fit of uncontrollable mirth.
"I'm sorry. . . Jack. . . really. . ." laughter overtook him rendering him speechless. As his chortling subsided, he sat up and looked at his friend.
Smirking in disdain, Jack looked away and spoke petulantly, "Don't know what's so bleedin' funny, Turner. Lest ye forget, you're in this purgatory with me ya know. 'An not a bloody drop to drink, thanks to ruddy, rum-burnin' females," he said nodding in the direction of the burned palm trees.
"Aye," his voice stabled. "Elizabeth seems t' lack tolerance fer the finer needs in a man's life. 'An I'm not worried at all 'bout being here. Ya see, I'm here, and not here as often, or as seldom as I like. You, dear boy, are my guest."
"Guest, huh?" Gazing warily at his companion, "I thought we were friends."
"We are, Jack." William continued with a warm smile. "In fact, that's precisely the reason ya are here."
Contemplating what the older man had just said, Jack continued. "Huh. So, this isn't hell?"
"No." Bill said as he stood, looking down at his friend still lying on the beach.
Looking at the patient smile on his friend's face, Jack grimaced, "Well, it sure ain't heaven, 'less you're the ugliest angel this side of hell. 'An besides, my heaven would have rum. Here, the rum's gone." He indicated once again with a nod.
"Aye the rum's gone." Turner said following Jack's stare. Looking back to the pirate in the sand, he continued, "But, seein' as you're a bit off kilter 'round that drink, the lack maybe due to my needin' ya to pay attention to me for a bit. Aye?" He extended his hand toward the prone figure in the sand. "Let's take a walk Jack." He added with a grin.
Gazing skeptically at the offered hand, the pirate cast it a speculative look. He lifted one hand and it wavered uncertainly, before finally accepting the offer. Shock rocked him as he was hauled to his feet, the warm strong grasp sent a gentle flowing ripple coursing through his body. Once upright, he swayed until he felt a hand grasp his shoulder.
"Easy son, it's a bit of a jolt at first, I know." The older man soothed.
Leaning back slightly, Jack stared with bewildered eyes at his own hand, the one that had felt the odd sensation. "So this isn't a dream." Looking at William he finished. "That's interesting. Then what is it?"
Without answering his question, Bill inclined his head and moved off slowly, "Let's take a walk Jack."
"Are ye a ghost William Turner?" Jack questioned, not moving from his spot.
Silence. No answer. Turner, his one time crewman just continued to walk slowly down the beach.
"I'm not going anywhere with you until you answer me!" Jack shouted to his retreating friend. Crossing his arms over his chest he huffed and looked away.
"You can be a real stubborn fool, Jack Sparrow."
Jack yelped in surprise. The voice had come from very close by. . . He turned his startled face toward that of William's, which was now, a mere inches from his own. But only moments ago that man had been very far away. How could he have covered that much distance without the pirate having seen him?
Stumbling, Jack started to loose his footing and again Bootstrap was there to stable him. Shooting his friend a curious look, the pirate captain was startled at the deep concern he read in the other's eyes.
Hot. Jack suddenly realized, bloody hot. At the unexpected rush of heat scorching his skin, Jack pressed his eyes closed and reached with a shaky hand to wipe sweat from his brow.
"Yer perspirin'. The fever." Turner said as a statement. Tilting his head back he yelled. "NO! NOT YET! I NEED MORE TIME!"
"What?" Dragging his eyes open, Jack stared at his long time friend. His eyes followed to the hand keeping him balanced and a sudden rush, like the one from earlier, pulsed through him. Energy coursed through his veins and he felt the weariness melt away.
"How did you do tha'?" he asked as the older man withdrew his hand.
Closing his eyes William muttered a soft 'thanks' to no one in particular. Jack looked up and quickly twisted around to find the recipient of the 'thanks'. Seeing no one, frustration overtook the pirate as nothing else had and he decided he'd had enough.
"Bloody hell," Jack fumed stepping back and away from his friend. He flapped his arms at his side in annoyance. "At least answer me one bleedin' question."
"If I do, then you'll listen to me?"
"Aye." Jack growled.
"Fair enough."
"You say this ain't heaven and it ain't hell, then--" Jack stopped abruptly. Pain lanced through his head and it doubled him over dropping him to the sand on his knees. Eyes closed to his spinning vision, he clutched tightly at the sides of his head. Ever so gradually, the agony subsided.
Opening his eyes slowly, he saw the worried frown of his friend who had apparently knelt in front of him. A weak smile passed over Jack's face, only to be replaced by a grimace. A dull ache replaced the pain from before. Lowering his head, his tattooed hands rubbed at his throbbing temples.
"Pain." William said in a whisper. "We don't have much time. You're already starting to feel it. Quick, what's your question, son?"
At his former crewman's cryptic words, the captain lifted his head slowly. When the pounding subsided, Jack's obsidian eyes locked on his friend's anxious face. "Feel what?"
With a grin, the former pirate cut his head to the side, "You sure that's your question, boy?"
"No-- I mean yes-- I mean. . ." Closing his eyes, Jack took a deep steadying breath before continuing. "Are ye dead, William?"
"Ah, well, t' be honest son, I'm not exactly sure." At Jack's look of consternation Bootstrap continued. "After Barbossa tied that cannon to me and sent me rushing down to the crushing depths of Davy Jones Locker, I woke up here. I remembered, vaguely, having my flesh nibbled away by every sea creature known to man, on a daily basis. But after that, it's a blur of things. Since coming here, I found— well, lets just say, I found reason enough t' decide to stay."
"On this bloody spit o' land? How could ya want— ." Will held up a hand and Jack's retort died instantly.
"Not exactly here. I'm only here as often or as seldom as I want to be. This," the older pirate lifted his hands to indicate the scenery around them. "is undoubtedly their idea of a joke. This here is merely a meeting place, I believe, somewhere b'twixt 'an b'tween. You're taking a step back so ya can move forward, ya might say."
"They, there, them. . . you're talking in riddles. I'm not understanding this place at all."
"And it's not important that you do because here is not where you're meant to be."
"S' not? You say you're only here when you want to be. Well, what if I want to stay with you, wherever you go after here?"
With a patient smile William shook his head, "Ya can't stay Jack. Not even if ya wanted to."
"Why not?" the petulant pirate asked. Waving a finger between them both, he continued, "You 'an me mate, ours is a dyin' breed. The old days of pirating are fadin', 'an maybe going back just ain't worth it. Maybe this," he replied mimicking his cohert's earlier gesture to his surroundings. "this. . . hell-not-hell, this betwixt 'an between, is precisely what I deserve."
"What you deserve? No Jack, this isn't it. I got more reason t' stay 'an you got more reasons t' go back. The best reason being Anamaria. Ever give a thought about what does she deserve?" Bootstrap asked softly.
"Aye, she deserves better 'an me, that's for certain.." Jack said absently. Bringing his head up suddenly he locked eyes with his friend. "'Ow'd you know about Anamaria?"
In answer, Bootstrap quirked on eyebrow at the younger man, and the pirate captain rolled his eyes, muttering, "never mind."
"You may think that Ana deserves better, but I think she's already made her choice. Hear me this, boy, you dyin' t'would be far worse for her. You'd be gone and she'd be left to live with the pain, one that would echoed with every beat of her heart. You ever seen a woman so grief-stricken that she would cry 'erself until there was naught left?"
Jack stared questioningly for a moment before his eyes focused in realization. William's wife. "Sophia. William, I'm sorry, I forgot--."
"It's a'right, Jack. Just know, my choice t' leave killed 'er just as surely as if I'd driven a knife through 'er heart. But Sofia's forgiven me, kind soul tha' she is. Mine's in the past, no changing things. But you, you hear me good, boy, you leaving Anamaria now, would only finish everything Granger started on his ship."
Jack's face fell suddenly, becoming hooded and brooding, at the mention of his old enemy's name.
Catching a change in his friend, William continued quickly, "An' that's where the heart of this matter lays Jack. You thinkin' that just because you killed a few o' Granger's men on that ruddy ship of his, that you deserve nothin' better."
Jack looked up, surprise and pain etched on his face. Memories and emotion, turmoil and trembling, assaulted him all at once. Remembering the man he was, the man he could have been…"But I. . . it's not just that. When Barbossa was my First Mate. . .Before you came along. . ."
"Belay that thought, Jack. Just listen and listen good, 'cause we've not much time left." Turner said as he pointed to the bloodstains slowly appearing and starting to spread over the pirates once white shirt.
Jack looked down at the spreading stain and winced. Looking back up at his companion his vision unhinged and without warning, the ground rose up to meet him. Opening his eyes he found William's strong arms arm's holding him by the shoulders, keeping him erect. He felt the energy renew itself, but not as strong as before.
"Do you remember when we met, Jack? You found me in that shanty tavern in England? You offered me a position on The Pearl?"
"I remember." He replied nodding slowly. Righting himself he regained control before his wobbly legs weakened and he staggered back. A scorching itch start creeping up his back. "What's 'appenin' t' me?" he asked thickly.
"It'll pass, before the rest that is. Quickly Jack, do you know why I went with you on The Pearl that day?"
"You know I've often wondered that m'self, mate. You were a good man William. Why you'd wanted t' hang your hammock with my blood-thirsty, black-hearted lot, was beyond me. Guess I thought you were doing whatever's necessary."
"Aye, that's what I thought at first. It wasn't until later, when we sacked Nassau without firing a shot, that I really knew."
"Why?"
A warm smile spread over his face as he replied succinctly, "You Jack, you're a good man, Jack Sparrow."
With a hiss of denial, the pirate captain dropped his head and reeled backward. Turning away, he stumbled hastily from the words in repudiation of their subsistence. He remembered all to well the man he was back then. He remembered the thirst for vengeance and the greed of his heart for nothing but treasure. He'd engaged in a one-man battle against the world and against all authority. Rules be damned and damn any man who interfered. It was that commonality that united him and Barbossa.
"Right," he bit back loudly, sarcastically, "'an I suppose a good man kills a dozen men without blinking. Or maybe, a good man allies himself with the likes of the devil like Barbossa. Oh, 'an lest we forget, a good man nearly gets the one woman he can care for, nearly killed, twice."
"You called me a good man too, to my son." Jack stumbled to a stop as his friend appeared seemingly from no where right in front of him. "Do you remember that?"
"I'm tired o' yer games William Turner." Swallowing convulsively the pirate made to walk around the man. "Now, get outta my way."
"And where would ya go Jack?" The pirate captain swayed and his old friend grabbed him.
Feeling the hand on his shoulder, Jack opened his eyes and stared. The weathered fingers gripping his flesh made him hesitate. Flesh? Blood trickled from his shoulder and more streamed down his back. He could feel it. And with sickening awareness, he could feel it all.
"I seem to 'ave lost my shirt," he said as he lifted confused eyes to meet William's.
All at once, the island was awhirl with strong gusts of wind and sound. Whispers echoed in Jack's mind. He sagged forward and closed his eyes tightly willing the world to stop spiraling. Even the darkness seemed to spin lifting the trinkets in the pirate's dark hair to click softly on the breeze.
He opened his eyes slowly and looked at his friend. William's remained untouched and unmoving. The elements seemed not to notice him. Interesting.
"Jack, ya call me a good man and yet, I let Barbossa and the crew maroon ya. I watched them force you off the plank, and I said nothin'. Nay, I waited four months before I could work up the courage to speak agin' 'em. Took me years to come to terms with the guilt I felt over not saying anything."
"You 'ad a wife 'an child in England waitin' fer ya. I didn't want ya t' say anthin'. 'S how I wanted it, William. Didn't want ya doing anything. . . stupid. But just like you're son, you don't listen." Jack shouted above the voices, above the wind.
"Ya see, Jack, that's what I'm talking about! It's that very attitude that proves m' point. Boy, ya care more for those you consider friends, than ya do yourself. It's like I said Jack, you are a good man. Always was, always will be."
"No," Jack said shaking his head vehemently, "it was you that made me see piratin' didn't mean killin'. It was you that gave me the courage t' look deeper. If ya hadn't been there--"
"You'd have parted with Barbossa, no matter what. Jack, I just hastened that time a bit." William smiled as he spoke. "You were always a good man, Jack Sparrow, even before you met me. You never could stomach the killin'. I was just there to guide you a little."
"But all those men on Granger's ship. . ."
"Got what they deserved, and ye should bear no shame in what ya did. You didn't care what they did to ya, it was what they done to Ana that started ya. Then, they took the fight to ya, boy. It was them or you, and you done the only thing you could. You fought. Ya fought for the ones ya loved. And, might I add, ya nearly died fer it."
Jack felt something strong begin to pull on him. Careening back he looked around, enraptured, as the island seemed to come to life. The breezes became stronger and the remaining palm trees snapped in their wake. The ocean bubbled and the sky turned an almost purple hue. He staggered back further, unable to remain rooted to one spot. Further he moved back and his worried gaze locked onto his friend.
From the distance between them, the elder man called out. "It's time fer ye t' go, Jack. I've said m' peace. They've given us all the time they will allow."
Louder the voices became; swirling through the mists they seemed to cyclone around him. Wincing at the pain they evoked, Jack looked around him searching out the source. He continued moving back, trying to, but unable to stop. Looking now at his friend who still stood on the beach, unmoving, unaffected, shrinking into the distance.
The voices in his head began to reverberate, louder, more insistent. Jack opened his mouth to call again to his friend when one voice sliced through the others. . . a familiar voice. . .
"Jack? Jack, come back to me. . ." the voice sobbed.
"Ana?!" He shouted looking around. The voice, it sounded so close, so sad. His confused eyes came to rest on the two forms shrinking into the distance. William Turner, and. . . Recognition rocked him and his eyes widened in shock.
"Go back to her, Jack." Sophia called from her place next to William. She took Turner's hand in her's and smiled as she looked at him. "I got my pirate back. Now, go get yours."
"Oh," William added, "'an if ye don't mind, check up on Will and that wife of his every now and then? He's a lucky man to 'ave a friend like you. He's turned into a bit of a stick it seems."
"Aye," Jack smiled. "I'll do that."
With a grin Jack realized what it was that kept William here, between heaven and hell. He had made peace with his past and found solace with the one who held his heart. Could he, Jack Sparrow, do no less? He suddenly felt happiness overwhelm him, even as sensations not all together pleasant seemed to pick him up and pull him away. He felt his body shake and spin until dizziness engulfed his last sight of William "Bootstrap Bill" Turner and his loving wife. Standing on the beach together they shrank from his vision.
He closed his eyes and let the waves carry him back. Back to the voice that persisted, that called, that pulled him back. Anamaria, his reason for wanting to return and his heart's desire.
~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*
Part II will post…..soon. Relative to my definition, that is.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Actually, this is the last chapter, just not the last post to it. Thanks to my persistent, tangent-prone, muse, Ich, it deviated a little from the outline and got so blasted long, it will be in two parts. I've nearly finished the second part and will post it very soon. At the end of the 2nd part, author thanks will follow. Thanks for all your wonderful reviews and if you aren't writing yet, please give it a whirl. If I can do it, well, you can probably do it 10 times better. ;)
I haven't recommended any reading in a while, so please do me a favor and take a look at these-
Haunted by Wolfgazer325: She had the nerve to tell me that she couldn't write angst/drama, only humor. HAH! I challenged her to try it and, well, I've created a monster! It's a Jack/Ana story, yet in her latest post, chapter 3, it ended on a dreadful cliffhanger…. Ana stabs Jack!!! CRIPES!! Your reviews would really help to get her writing faster! It's a really good story, I promise.
Caveat Emptor by Rat: It's a murder mystery with Jack/Ana and Will/Elizabeth and she's bringing in Norrington to spice things up a bit. The Turner's maid is this screeching ninny and VERY funny! Also, a touch of Jack/Angst to keep you on your toes. Rat desperately needs to get updating that story PRONTO.. it's bloody good! Jack got cut so badly that he nearly died and …. AHHH.. go read!!!
PotC: Come What May by AhiFlame: A really good Jack/Ana story that has me guessing by the end of each chapter what's going to happen! AH!! She's driving me mad with this one, but in a good way. You'll love it. She is a talented young writer that is really coming into her own.