A/N: Thank you to lady angst, karen, meowbooks, Manwathiel, and jedipati for your reviews! And thank you to jedipati for betaing.
Disclaimer: POTC belongs to Disney
He'd hardly seen Jack leap over the side. His thoughts were with Elizabeth in the water below, and on the distance between the Pearl and the island. Was her gown dragging her down? Would she be able to swim so far? Would Jack help her?
There was a flash of white some ways off, a flash with laboring arms and dark hair. She was swimming for land. He was relieved.
But what did it matter? How would she end up dying? Why, when every centimeter of him screamed to go to her aid, it made no difference? Would she go mad like Jack? Will was going insane himself.
Eventually Barbossa tired of watching his victims struggle toward their personal hell, and when he did, his crew did as well. They followed their captain's smirk to Will and a rumble of cruel amusement rose into tattered sails.
Barbossa approached Will. Gorge rose in Will's throat, riding on a rocky wave of hatred and he looked into those pale blue eyes, straining against his captors.
"'The best laid plans of mice an' men,' aye, Mr. Turner?" Barbossa glanced over at the tiny dots that were Elizabeth and Jack. "No Turner's ever gotten the best a' anyone. Ye all got too much heat in yer blood. Which," he produced the medallion with a grin, "be lucky fer those a' us who want it."
Everyone else chuckled, edging closer. Barbossa pressed the medallion to the tanned skin of Will's chest and it took all of Will's determination not to recoil. "Looks right, don't it boys?"
There was a murmur of agreement. Will barely heard it; he was trying to fathom what Barbossa was implying with his comment about Turners. It was the medallion, though, and how cold it felt against his chest, which drew his gaze to Barbossa's again. He felt his insides shrink as the combination of both lifeless medallion and merciless eyes brought home how he could be nothing but a victim now. This man would kill him.
Abruptly Barbossa snapped the medallion back. "Get these bilge rats into the brig! This one, he gets a cell to hisself."
The prisoners were hustled down into a hatch. Will was dragged after. By the time he arrived, the Interceptor's surviving twenty or so crew members was being stuffed into a cell barely six feet by six feet. Even the parrot was in there, flapping its wings and squawking in distress. They wouldn't be able to sit or relieve themselves. Breathing alone would be a miracle.
When he saw an empty cell across the small room, a new wave of outrage washed over Will. He almost said something but Grapple whipped the gag from his teeth and literally hurled him into the empty cage, slamming him into the wall.
The pirates taunted him and locked the door. For a full moment, Will could not find the strength to turn from the dripping wall. At least it didn't mock him in his pain.
When he finally did turn, he twisted his head just in time to catch Grapple's parting leer. He turned back to the wall.
Grumbling jolted Will into awareness. From where he slumped in the back corner of his cell, he could see Pintel and Ragetti come into view and thump down full wood buckets. Griping, they dipped slimy mops into the buckets and began smearing the filth on the floor around.
Will blinked, thought back to his memory, and wondered how he could experience something from twenty-four hours earlier so vividly, without going to sleep. It had to be the heat giving him semi-hallucinations. He hadn't had water or food; his clothing clung to his damp skin, and the air was so thick and foul it slid through his nose and into his lungs like a gross snake.
Will's thoughts returned to Barbossa's words; they wouldn't let him be. Questions always made him restless, so he stiffly rose to his feet and looked across the way. The Interceptor's pirates just as before, faces shiny and strained, eyes glazed as they followed Pintel and Ragetti's useless motions.
Will sighed and began to pace. Suddenly from Mr. Cotton's shoulder, Parrot exclaimed, "Shiver me timbers!"
Gibbs glanced at the bird and his mouth quirked. "Cotton here says you missed a bit." Pintel snarled and hit the bars with his mop, spraying everyone with brown water.
Will leaned on the bars of his cell. "You knew William Turner?"
From beneath his brows Pintel took in their prize's tortured brown eyes. " Ol' Bootstrap Bill? We knew 'im." He glanced at Ragetti, then back. The Turner boy had pressed his face closer to the bars. "Never sat well with Bootstrap, what we did t'Jack Sparrow. The mutiny an' all. 'e said it wasn't right wit' the Code. That's why he sent off a piece a' the treasure t'you, as it were. He said we deserved t'be cursed. An' remain cursed."
"Stupid blighter," Ragetti muttered.
"Good man," Gibbs cut in firmly.
Pintel raised the mop threateningly, and then turned back to Will. "Well, as you can imagine, that didn't sit too well wit' the Captain."
Ragetti chuckled as he sidled up. "That didn't sit too well with the captain atall. Tell 'im what Barbossa did."
"I'm telling the story!" Pintel bellowed, making everyone jump. Ragetti acted properly cowed, and Pintel was satisfied. "So. What the Captain did. He strapped a cannon to Bootstrap's bootstraps."
"Bootstrap's bootstraps," Ragetti echoed gleefully.
"The last we saw of ol' Bill Turner," Pintel said cruelly, "he was sinkin' inta the crushin' black oblivion of Davy Jones' locker." He frowned thoughtfully. "'Course, it was only after that we learned we needed his blood to lift the curse."
"That's what you call ironic," Ragetti said slowly.
Pintel turned angrily, and then his face slowly brightened into a smile of agreement. He nodded, and the two giggled together.
Will was resting his head on his arms, sickened. He did not see how the Interceptor's pirates looked on him with silent compassion.
Thud.
Pintel and Ragetti fell silent and everyone turned to the entrance. Barbossa, flanked by the bosun and Grapple, trapped the lowly swabbers with one of his unpleasant half-smiles. "Bring him." He threw a large key ring at Ragetti's face; the wood-eyed pirate caught it just before it could give him a bruised nose.
Jack was wondering something.
Turner had finagled everything around so that Swann could be saved. Then Turner traded places with Swann. Now Swann had finagled everything around so Turner could be saved. It followed that Turner and Swann should trade places once again. Did that mean that Jack would be coming here a third time, to save Swann? If his Secret Agenda came through, he would be strongly against the idea, love-struck hearts at stake or no.
I'll just be sure t'complete my business, and if bloody William comes botherin' me to save the she-devil, I'll shoot 'im.
"Keel to starboard!" someone shouted.
Jack suppressed a yawn as the Dauntless slowly turned. The Dauntless was not his kind of ship; it was too fat. Now Jack went still. He listened in the perfect quiet and heard something only he could. The Isla de Muerta was right in front of them. He nodded to one of the lantern-bearing lookouts. "Your commodore can give th'order t'weigh anchor now, if he likes."
The order was given and all lanterns were doused except for the aft ones. In the cold mist, Jack sauntered down the dim blue stairs and paused at the main deck rail to consider his options. Mists slid between the sails above him.
The Commodore could be manipulated because he had no idea what awaited him. Jack basically had control over the British. How he wished he had a diary so he could write this down to rankle British posterity.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, was a loose cannon. It was bad enough that she was resourceful and conniving and shrewish and rum-intolerant. But she was in love, too.
And, oh yes, she hated Jack Sparrow. She needed some careful handling indeed. It would be excellent if he could just get her completely out of the picture, but that was nigh impossible with her father and fiancé hovering around.
On the other hand, all she wanted was to save the fanatic she loved. She had shown that yesterday with her guiltless manipulation of a poor British officer who loved her and didn't realize she was a weasel with nice hair. Jack had not observed such a priceless scene in a long time.
It might be good to have a loose cannon running around once everything got started, especially since the curse was making everything so much more difficult. She'd be a good distraction to Barbossa and to put it honestly, Jack would be outnumbered and he needed every body he could get.
He just needed to find a way to get her into the caves.
He thought of an idea just as Elizabeth joined him at the rail, trailing a hand as she halted a good five feet away, close enough to be heard but not obvious.
She was dressed in a Marine's uniform, the coat hanging limply off her slender frame. She certainly was not ugly in it, with her wavy hair pulled back and her legs revealed by the breeches, but Jack couldn't find it in him to admire her right now: the masculine clothing only revealed how dangerous she was; how willing to rise above risks.
He watched her slender fingers continue to play nervously over the wood. Then he looked out into the blank dark, hands folded behind his back.
"You didn't tell him about the curse," she finally said.
"I noticed neither did you. For the same reason, I imagine."
She looked down, and then lifted her chin, stretching her neck. It looked like she was trying to wring away tears. "He wouldn't've risked it."
"Could've gotten him drunk," Jack said. She faced him for the first time, her startled eyes stark in her face. He grinned. "Don't get me wrong, love. I admire a person who's willing to do whatever is necessary."
She eyed him archly for a moment. "You're a smart man, Jack."
That's more like it.
"But I don't entirely trust you."
That's even more like it. Jack closed the distance between them, leaning close. "Peas in a pod, darling," he murmured, gesturing between them. She stared up at him and he noticed her eyes were red-rimmed, but her lashes were still lush as before. It was so sad she was being wasted on the fanatic...
Her gaze flicked past his shoulder and she scooted away. Jack turned and almost clipped his nose on Norrington's lapels.
The look Norrington gave him was blistering. He threw Jack's compass to him, hard. "With me, Sparrow."
Norrington knew this: he could be manipulated because he had no idea what awaited him. The endlessly maddening Jack Sparrow basically had control over the British. He probably was wishing, Norrington thought venomously, that he had a diary so he could write this down to rankle British posterity.
That was why Norrington took the pirate with him when he surveyed the situation, most of his troops in boats behind. He made sure Jack sat behind him.
Upon finding a proper lurking place behind a boulder, Norrington opened his spyglass and directed it toward what seemed to be a huge opening in the rock.
Then he turned it to the Black Pearl, which sat silent in the water. His middle tingled with unease. "I don't care for the situation," he announced. "Any attempt to storm the caves could turn out to be an ambush."
Suddenly Jack Sparrow's wrist was resting casually on Norrington's shoulder. "Not if you're the one doing the ambushing. I go in an'convince Barbossa to send his men out in their little boats. You an' your mates return to the Dauntless and blast the bejesus outta them wit' your little cannons, aye? What d'you have to lose?"
"Not anything I'd lament being rid of," Norrington said pointedly, and pushed Jack's wrist off with his spyglass. He turned his attention back to the Pearl, wondering why Elizabeth truly wanted him here, compromising with a dirty scalawag.
"Now," Sparrow continued to prattle, "t'be quite honest wit' you, there's still a slight risk to those aboard the Dauntless, which includes the future Mrs. Commodore."
"Penny for your thoughts."
You'd best keep it and spare yourself another headache, Father. Elizabeth sighed as Governor Swann joined her at the forecastle rail. She'd been staring at the island she couldn't see, mind leaping between outright panic and furious, unachievable plans.
She had to get in there before they cut Will's throat.
"A terrible business, this," Swann said, "but some good has come of it, no?"
He was seeing the marriage in her future. She glimpsed it and her heart stung. To respond as her father expected was a task so cosmic she barely tried. Luckily, the scouting party appeared in the glow of the aft lamps. "They're back!"
Norrington came aboard and immediately began to give orders to Gillette. Elizabeth had no trouble hearing. Jack Sparrow was to have his own boat, and would head alone into the caves. The British would stay behind and wait for the pirate to trick the miscreants out of the caves, and then the British would blow them to kingdom come. Elizabeth sighed with relief. This plan would keep the troops safe from the immortals.
Elizabeth thought she saw Jack darting through the crowd. The desire to sneak out with him crashed to her shoulders like a boulder and she tensed, breath quaking. But all of a sudden, Jack was sliding back over the rail, giving the Commodore an exaggerated salute. Marines from below were still ascending the ladder beside his, but he didn't seem to mind. In an instant he was gone.
The 'No!' in Elizabeth's mouth was stillborn. She clattered down the steps, but was forced to halt by a wall of red uniforms: the main deck was packed with Marines. She turned and looked over the rail. It was hard to see anything but moving red uniforms in the mist.
Before tears could close her throat, Jack appeared directly below her. His face, made small by the distance, was turned up toward her. Incredibly, their eyes met. He gestured to a longboat beside his and she realized that he held its rope. Then he pointed aft. Elizabeth frowned, puzzled.
Someone grabbed her arm. "I thought you were going to leap over the side!" Swann exclaimed.
She could only give him a helpless look. His eyes softened. "You may not be able to see this, Elizabeth, but you're beginning to behave so irrationally, you're going to hurt yourself. Please do not make me take measures that would upset you further. This is difficult enough as it is."
"All right," she said slowly. "All right."
He surveyed her. Then a Marine almost brained him with a musket, and that snapped him out of it. "I'm for belowdecks; I need some quiet." She nodded, squeezed his hand, and he urged Marines out of his way. They obeyed and he was soon gone.
Elizabeth woodenly climbed the steps to the forecastle and drooped at the rail, cursing Jack Sparrow for being so cryptic.
Slow steps came up the stairs. Elizabeth looked up. It was Norrington, followed by Gillette. It was not hard to catch his eye. "How is it?" she asked.
"We'll get through this," he said grimly, "but in our own way."
"What?" Elizabeth asked, heart dropping.
He looked out over the deck. "Sixteenth company! To the boats!"
Confused, Elizabeth watched the Marines stream back down the side of the Dauntless and into the boats. More eagerly emerged from the hatchways, bayonets flickering. She was suddenly afraid for every one of them. "But I heard the plan," she said. "It wasn't–"
"Elizabeth, your wonderfully inquiring mind delighted me from the first, but now is not the time!" Norrington gave her a stern glance, and then turned to Gillette. "We'll wait just outside the caves and shoot each rat as he shows his face. There is no way I am going to wait for them to get in range of the Dauntless's guns. Too much risk."
You didn't tell him about the curse. The lives of a hundred men came to rest on Elizabeth's shoulders, and she couldn't breathe. They were all doomed, but to tell them was to condemn Will to death, because Norrington would not attack a foe he couldn't defeat. It simply wasn't smart.
She stood silently, eyes burning, as Norrington finished conferring with Gillette and marched off to join his men. "Be careful," she called, but her voice was so choked, he couldn't have heard her.
And yet he turned, gave her the slightest smile. Then he was gone in a cloud of hurried command. Elizabeth listened to the fading clanking and slapping of oars and then breathed in the silence, wondering how she could get away. She'd swim if she had to. What had Jack been trying to say before?
Then she realized Gillette still stood some feet away. She turned and caught him eyeing her body with that ever-present smirk of his, and in a moment of raw anger, she raised her hand as if to strike him. He quirked a disdainful eyebrow, then made his leisurely way past her and toward the steps. He paused at the top. "Oh, yes. Miss Swann, I'm afraid the Commodore left me to convey a personal order to you."
She wouldn't face him.
"He orders you to his cabin. Where you will stay until all this is over."
"I do not believe you." He began to shrug and speak, but she interrupted him. "Why wouldn't he tell me himself?"
"He knew you'd cause a scene." Gillette leaned on the rail. "He didn't need that extra impediment, on top of everything else."
Her cheeks burned. "If you think that–"
"He's quite in your spell, you see, and your safety is his first priority. He gave me permission to get you bodily into that room by whatever means necessary."
She shrank back, speechless and he smiled. "Don't worry, Miss Swann, it won't be me grappling with you if you choose to resist. It will be young street rats from London who haven't touched a woman in months."
Elizabeth decided to throw all secrecy to the wind. "Please, you don't understand. There's something I didn't tell the Commodore. Neither did Jack. I have to tell–"
"You have lamentable timing. No more feminine chatter, Miss Swann." He moved closer, face set. "Will you go willingly or will you not?"
"Lives hang in the balance. I cannot!"
"Very well." He had the gall to look pleased as he motioned two Marines up the steps. "These men will help you."
Elizabeth backed away from the approaching Marines. Both were young and looked terribly uncomfortable. "Please come with us, Miss," one managed.
"I can't," she warbled. "You don't understand. I can't!"
Her back struck the rail just as the Marines' faces hardened. They lunged; she ducked too slowly. One of her arms was caught and an instant later the second was as well. They pulled her toward the stairs, one on each arm. She dug in her heels, twisting her arms wildly, but she knew she had no chance of escaping. Her feet never even touched the stairs; they held her up and clattered awkwardly down.
They hauled her down the main deck and she saw Gillette waiting near the open doors to the captain's quarters. She knew she had the attention of everyone on deck but she was beyond embarrassment. "No! You can't do this!"
"Sorry, but it's for your own safety!" was the response from her right.
Her eyes met Gillette's as she passed. "I don't care what the Commodore ordered! I have to tell him! The pirates!" Mustering all her strength, she twisted back toward him, legs straining. "They're cursed; they can't be killed!"
Then she was careening into the candlelit quarters, released. She caught her balance and lunged for the doorway, only to halt as Gillette blocked her way, holding the edges of the doors close to his sides. He sneered at her.
"Don't worry, Miss, he's already informed of that! A little mermaid flopped up on deck and told him the whole story." He chuckled and withdrew, swiftly barring the doors behind him.
She threw herself against the panes of warped glass, hitting them with her fists. "It's Jack Sparrow's doing!" When there was no response she pressed her back to the doors and gazed sightlessly over the opulent room, her chest heaving with fury.
They tied Will's hands behind his back. They fastened the medallion around his neck and then took them to their temple.
The black journey to the caves was one long train of physical abuse and Will had no thought to spare for an escape. He had never been treated so roughly before, not even by Mr. Brown. He was determined to maintain his silence and façade of bravery, but it was hard. He hadn't expected to face death so soon.
He still hadn't come to terms with it when he was grappled into the familiar treasure cavern. It almost made him laugh hysterically. At least it wasn't Elizabeth headed for death this time. He wondered if she was headed to Port Royal, and if she was crying for him, or just being melancholy. There was a difference. Perhaps what had passed between them on the Interceptor had all been a dream…
Oddly, he caught Barbossa smugly tossing a green apple as he strode toward the mountain of loot. Then a pirate called Pintel was shoving his grimy face into Will's. Another emaciated pirate with a wood eye hovered near.
"No reason to fret," Pintel's foul breath filled Will's nose; "just a prick a' d'finger, a few drops a' blood..." Before Will could register this a hand slammed to his shoulder and Twigg's nose came within inches of his cheek.
"No mistakes this time," he snarled. "He's only 'alf Turner. We spill it all!" He savagely shoved Will on, followed by Khoeler, who grunted fiercely at Ragetti as he brushed between the two companions.
"Guess there is reason to fret," Pintel said to Ragetti. Ragetti laughed.
Thanks for reading!
