Chapter Twenty-Nine ~*~

--

Hamlyn stared me down for a second or two, and then tucked the small box under his hat. "No, I won't," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Mr. Hamlyn," I started firmly, "I need that for my patient…"

"Y'ain't gettin' it," he said stubbornly.

"Fine then," I said, picking my skirt up and turning to leave. "We'll just see about who ends up with that saffron."

I should have left well enough alone, and made due without the saffron, for although I found myself quickly in possession of the small box, thanks to my intimidating paramour, I also found myself with full responsibility for galley duty for the next week, as Hamlyn found himself occupying the cell across from Jack Sparrow in the brig. I'm fairly certain that Barbossa was more interested in seeing to it that he'd be eating my cooking, rather than Hamlyn's, more than he was looking to punish the ship's current cook for harassing me.

--

It was fortunate that the Black Pearl's crew often ate in watches, except for those infrequent occasions when a ship had been plundered and celebrations were in order, for it made preparing such large quantities of food a bit easier by doing it in two shifts.

I had finished for the evening with my duties in the galley, and tired, sweaty and infused yet again with the smell of onions, I nevertheless had one more thing I felt I needed to do. Knowing that Gibbs was busing discussing the status of supplies and repairs with Turk and Barbossa, I took it upon myself to put aside two helpings of dinner: one for Jack, and despite the fact that the man irritated me to no end, one for Hamlyn.

I carried the tray with two bowls and two mugs of grog down to the level of the brig, and set the whole thing down on top of a barrel in the corner.

"Well, if it isn't the little kitchen scullion," Hamlyn said sarcastically.

I ignored his comment, and brought him dinner while Jack climbed to his feet in the opposite cell and leaned on the bars with curiosity.

"Here," I said, trying to hand the bowl through to Hamlyn, who refused to take it.

"Not interested," he said, and he promptly folded his arms across his chest and ignored what I offered him.

"Fine," I said, and I knelt and tucked both the bowl and mug through the lower bars and set them on the floor in a corner. "I'll just leave them there in case you change your mind."

"Not hungry," he said stubbornly.

I turned and brought the other bowl to Jack's cell, where he'd been watching me interact with Hamlyn.

"Dinner," I said, passing the bowl through to him.

His dark eyes met mine as he took it. "Many thanks, Gwen," he said with a tiny smirk, and he then took the mug I offered him and sat down cross-legged on the floor to begin eating. "You make this?" he asked with his mouth full, after taking a bite.

"Yes," I said, about to turn away to leave the brig.

"This is quite good," he said, contemplating the food in his lap as he ate.

Hamlyn snorted derisively from the cell behind me. "Huh."

Jack eyed him for a minute and then turned his gaze back to me. "Barbossa's a lucky man to have you aboard the ship," he said.

"His ship," I said, finding myself teasing a little.

Jack gave me a brief scowl, and then looked thoughtful as he chewed the next bite for a moment. "So, tell me, Maddie, what exactly is it that you see in that old seadog, anyway?"

"Barbossa?" I asked, caught off guard by his question.

"Aye," he said, watching me as he ate. He watched me struggle with whether or not I should answer him, and then whether or not I had an answer for him. "I mean, look at you...you're smart, cultured, educated...not terribly hard to look at, I might add," he said with a roguish grin. "I imagine there are any number of men that would find that sort of combination appealing...so why a rogue like Barbossa?"

I found it curious that I was actually feeling the need to justify my feelings about Barbossa to the man in front of me, but he spoke again before I could say anything.

Jack dropped his voice a little and smiled knowingly. "Or maybe it's the fact that he is a rogue that appeals to you," he said slyly. "Maybe you like that he's unfettered by society's rules...that he does as he pleases with no apology. Maybe the notion of pirating actually appeals to you on some level, ay?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I said.

"Bet you've never broken a rule in your life, now have you?" Jack asked, polishing off the remains of his dinner. "Miss proper straight-laced doctor."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I said, a bit defensive for some reason.

"No," he said softly, "but don't you get tired of worrying about what everyone else thinks?"

"Who says I do?" I asked, perplexed as to why Jack was making me feel so defensive.

Jack shrugged, and then glanced across at Hamlyn's untouched dinner. "You going to eat that, mate?" he asked, gesturing with his fork. Hamlyn merely grumbled wordlessly from where he had his back turned, and Jack shrugged again and turned his attention back to me.

"I've broken more rules than I care to admit," I said softly with a sigh. "I'm quite sure what I've done would land me in jail...or worse." I knew that just the offense of saving Barbossa from the gallows was enough to earn myself a spot next to him if we were ever caught.

"You mean like saving your inamorato from the gallows," he said, seeming as if he were reading my thoughts.

I nodded.

"Huh," he said, appearing thoughtful again. "Well, that would make two of us."

I frowned as I contemplated his words for a moment. "What do you mean; you saved Barbossa from the gallows?"

"Aye, maybe an hour or two before they would've stretched his neck," Jack said. "Sprang him from the jail in St. Kitts, at great peril to me own hide, I might add."

"St. Kitts - you met up with him there before the mutiny," I said, starting to put pieces together. "Are you saying the he was nearly hung a few weeks after he left me?"

Jack nodded. "Found himself in a cold, dark cell not long after the Rogue was destroyed," he said.

I had all I could do to keep my mouth from dropping open. "I never..."

"So, he's not told you?" Jack asked, sounding amused.

I shook my head.

"Huh," Jack snorted. "Typical."

"What is?"

"That Barbossa would leave out a tiny little detail like me saving his mangy old arse," Jack said.

I stood there lost in thought, wondering if Barbossa had neglected to tell me because he knew I would fret about the danger he'd been in, or if he didn't want me to know that he had owed that debt to Jack at one time. There were few things that Barbossa did without reason, and I decided that it was probably both.

I knelt down in on the floor in front of Jack's cell. "Tell me what happened," I said, making myself more comfortable for the story.

Jack looked like he was debating if he could obtain something to benefit himself out of the deal for a moment.

"I did bring you dinner," I reminded him.

He nodded. "That you did, love," he said. "Alright, I'll tell you. It was a lucky thing I happened to get wind of the fact that the authorities had captured the notorious pirate, Hector Barbossa. Probably the only thing that truly saved him was the fact that they delayed hanging him for a day or two because Charles Beckett insisted they wait until he could be present...couldn't pass up the chance to gloat at Barbossa's fate, I'll bet."

Jack's words were like a slap in the face to me. While I knew that Charles had been responsible in a large part for Barbossa being labeled as a pirate before he'd quite traveled down that road, years before, and had constantly gone out of his way to hunt him down and increase the price on his head, I hadn't realized that he'd nearly killed the man I'd fallen in love with perhaps a month before.

"What?" Jack asked, seeing the look on my face at that moment.

"Charles," I said, feeling angry and protective of Barbossa. "I remember he left Port Royal quickly about three weeks after I got home, and when he returned he was clearly vexed by something. Thats about the time he started..." I paused, reluctant to go into more detail about Charles' advances toward me.

"What?" Jack asked curiously.

"He began courting my favor not long after that," I explained, "and he's persisted intermittently for years."

"He doesn't seem like your type," Jack said wryly.

"You know him?" I asked.

"Aye, I'm familiar with all the Becketts, well enough...although there's one fewer of the rotten bastards now," he said, his voice hardening a little.

"I know...I...I had to identify Cutler's remains," I said, and Jack and I were both quiet for a moment as we considered how it was that the younger of the two Beckett brothers had met his fate.

"Can't say as I wouldn't like to see his brother end up the same way," Jack said casually, his hand unconsciously rubbing his right forearm.

I met his eyes with a question in mine, and he sighed and drew back his sleeve. "Compliments of the younger," he said, displaying the old scar.

It wasn't a conscious thing I did when I gasped and reached through the bars to grasp Jack's wrist, pulling it gently across the short distance between us to examine the old mark. I find that there are many times where my inner clinician just takes over, and I scrutinized the injury Jack had sustained at Beckett's hands.

"This is very old," I said, running a finger over the surface of the paler 'P' that shone on his otherwise tanned skin. "It must have been awful."

"It was," he said softly, looking up from where he'd been watching me examine his brand mark.

"Hmm." I let go of his hand. "Something you two actually have in common," I said.

Jack quirked an eyebrow up at my statement.

"You and Hector," I said, causing his brow to climb further.

"And what could we possibly..."

"Both of you were made pirates by someone else's doing," I said.

Jack wasn't ready to admit that he had much in common with his rival. "Barbossa was flirting with it anyway, sailing with Morgan like he did."

I smirked. "Oh, like you wouldn't have eventually crossed the line, Jack, what with your father being Edward Teague and you being familiar with infamous pirates since you could walk."

Jack took on a defensive air. "Would not...I'd planned to have a distinguished career as a respectable merchant captain for the grand old EITC," he said, more than a touch of derision in his voice.

"I find that hard to believe," I said, amused at his argument. "You seem to like being a pirate too much, Jack."

Jack focused his dark eyes on mine. "Will you turn pirate?" he asked.

My brow furrowed deeply as I answered him. "Certainly not. While I might find myself aboard the Black Pearl and bound to her captain, that does not mean..."

"I felt just as adamant then, as you do now," he said softly, sounding quite sincere.

"Oh." I wasn't sure I liked where the conversation was taking us, and I opted to change topics. "You were going to tell me of St. Kitts," I said.

"So I was," Jack said. "Well, it's like this, Maddie; the jail at St. Kitts is a veritable fortress, and getting in even proves to be tricky."

--

Jack scrutinized the fortress in the distance through his spyglass, frowning to himself as he made note of the number of marines that seemed to be bustling about on the King's Navy's business at such an early hour.

"It's like a bloody hornet's nest down there," he said to no one in particular, frustrated that he couldn't see a route that looked promising for a way in. It was just after dawn, and he knew he was running out of time if he hoped to get into the fort as he'd planned.

Trying desperately to come up with some sort of alternative, and pacing back and forth along the grassy knoll he stood on, he soon became aware of the sound of someone humming. Jack halted in his tracks and retraced his steps to a point where he could see the path that led up and over the hill he was standing on, and then off into the distance toward the fort. There, walking along with a book tucked under one elbow, was a man of indeterminate age, wearing the mundane brown robe and cowl that signified a humble man of the cloth.

"A priest," Jack said out loud, no longer quite as concerned about being seen. Not that he'd likely be in trouble unless anyone thought to look under his right sleeve, but still, a priest was less likely to be suspicious and judgmental than most.

"Morning, Padre," Jack said pleasantly as the monk neared where he was standing.

"Good morning, my son," came the voice from within the robe.

Jack could see that the man was probably twice his age now that they were so close.

"Out for a stroll to start the day, are you?" Jack asked, making conversation while he still mulled over attaining admittance to the fort in the distance.

"And to do God's work," came the serene reply. "I go to confess those in need before they must face His judgment."

"A worthy endeavor, for certain," Jack said back softly. "May God have mercy on their souls, Padre."

"And on yours, my son," the priest said, speaking again in Latin and making the sign of the cross over Jack.

Jack nodded at the man before he passed, thankful for the blessing and thinking he was going to need all the help he could...

"Oh, Padre?" Jack called to the man who was now beyond him on the path to the fort.

"Yes?" the monk asked, turning back toward Jack.

"You wouldn't, by any chance, be heading to the fort?"

"Why, yes," the robed man answered. "There are several who will go to the gallows at midday that I must tend to."

Jack appeared to be deep in thought. "Uh huh, I see," he said absently. "Well, don't let me keep you, Padre. You're obviously on an important mission."

The priest turned away with a wave once again, and headed down the path.

--

A quarter mile later, all that could be seen of the priest were his feet, as his unconscious form was dragged into the bushes.

"My sincerest apologies, Padre," Jack said, slipping the monk's robe over his own head and drawing up the hood, "but think of it this way...while you're up here having a lovely little nap, I'll be the one providing the salvation that prisoner needs most."

--

I laughed a little, interrupting Jack's telling of his story. "A priest? Come now, surely you're making this up?"

"S' all true," he said, smiling but sounding sincere. "Just ask Barbossa."

"I may," I said, thinking that I might actually ask him about the hanging he'd avoided and omitted from anything he'd told me about what had happened since we were last in each other's company. "So, you went to the fort as a priest; did they actually let you in?"

"Of course," said Jack with mock indignation, "I make a very convincing priest...even performed a few marriages meself, come to think on it."

"Oh, not you too," I said, amused at the thought of anyone being married by one of the two Pirate Lords on the ship.

Jack's expression changed for an instant, becoming something that I swore radiated disappointment, and then it was gone, replaced by a subtle smirk. "Shall I go on?"

"Please," I said, wondering what had prompted his brief, yet pained look.

"Thankfully, a priest arriving to confess the pirates and other vagabonds in the prison was a regular occurrence, and the officer in charge of the watch immediately sent a guard to accompany me to the dungeon."

"The dungeon?" I asked, not pleased at all to think of Barbossa stuck someplace so unpleasant. "They put him in the dungeon?'

Jack nodded. "Aye, in a cell by himself with nothing but the rats for company, and a single candle to burn through the night," he replied. "No food, no water...great humanitarians they are, your gallant Navy officers."

Jack's comment hit home, as I grew even more upset at what Barbossa must have endured for what was almost the last night of his life. While it was true he had actually died, and at Jack's hand, his end had been sudden and unexpected...and of course, he'd been brought back by Calypso. But waiting to die for an entire agonizing night alone must have been horrible.

Overwhelmed to a degree with the flood of emotion that Jack's story had elicited from me, I stood up, unable to say anything. Jack stood as well, watching me struggle with my feelings.

"So," I said after a long minute, "you got him out."

Jack's expression stayed quite solemn while he saw me still fighting back tears, and he nodded.

"How long did he have?" I asked hoarsely.

Jack shrugged. "An hour...maybe two...loads of time, really," he continued, trying to make light of the situation.

It bothered me to no end that such a short time after I'd said goodbye to Barbossa, all those years ago, that he'd come so close to dying. I wondered if Calypso would have brought him back then. "He must have sent the letter after," I said.

"What letter?" Jack asked curiously.

"He sent me a letter; he told me he'd signed onto the Black Pearl and was picking up a crew in Tortuga," I said. "I never knew that you..."

I didn't finish what I started to say, and I think that I surprised both Jack and myself when I reached through the bars to take his hand again. He wore a puzzled frown as he looked at where my fingers enclosed his.

"Thank you," I said very softly, and then I let go and turned away quickly to head for the stairs.

"Madeline," he called to me, causing me to stop on the second stair and look back. "You're welcome," he said, looking as if he was surprised to hear his own words, and then I climbed the rest of the way to the deck.

--

Barbossa was alone in the cabin when I entered after knocking, seated and pouring over some navigational charts. He glanced up briefly when I came in, muttering a greeting and then returning to his work.

I watched him thinking for a long minute, and then went to stand next to his chair and rested my hand on his shoulder. My grip tightening after a moment caused him to look up, and seeing the strained look I must have been wearing, he frowned a bit and spoke.

"What is it, lass?" he asked.

It took me a minute to speak. "You never told me you were nearly hanged," I said in a hoarse whisper. I could tell by the look that crossed his face that he hadn't been expecting what I'd said.

"Where did yeh hear that?" he asked.

"Jack," I said.

"Ye've been down to talk to him again?" Barbossa asked, irritated and obviously making an attempt to redirect the conversation. I didn't let him.

"Don't change the subject," I said quietly. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Knowing by that point that I wasn't giving up without an answer, he sat back in his chair heavily with a sigh. "What might be the point of me tellin' yeh, Madeline? 'Twould have only upset yeh..the way ye be at the moment."

"Jack Sparrow rescued you." It wasn't a question, and he didn't like that I knew; I could tell by the way his gaze frosted over.

"Aye," he said, "and what of it?" His tone was becoming defensive, and it hadn't been my intent to be confrontational.

"Nothing," I said quietly. "I just wish you had told me."

"Why?" he asked coolly.

I was surprised by the magnitude of the sigh I released. "I want to know about you," I said, meeting the icy stare. "We missed out on years, Hector. I want to know everything that I missed."

"Everythin', huh?" he said, and while his voice was still stern, I could see that his stare was thawing.

"Yes," I said, "everything. I know there will be things I won't like, but it doesn't matter. I need you to tell me." Neither of us said anything for a moment. "Are you afraid I'll think less of you because of the things I might learn?" I finally asked him, ever so gently.

His expression was difficult to read as he answered me in a guarded way. "Aye," was all he said, and then he looked away.

"Hector," I said softly, reaching to touch his face and coax him back around to face me, "it doesn't matter." I moved to settle myself in his lap, and he slipped an arm around me. I snuggled in close and leaned my forehead against his as I whispered. "I know what you are."

"Do yeh now?" he asked back in the same way.

"Aye," I said. "Rogue," I whispered and I planted a tiny kiss on his cheek, "but I love you."

"Yeh might have just said that as prettily to me as ye did that horse of yers," he said, his voice soft with wry humor.

I smiled a little, and laid my head upon his shoulder, nestling in close, but I wasn't going to let him redirect things he seemed uncomfortable with. "Do you believe me?" I asked.

"Aye," he said, tightening his embrace a little.

"Do you trust me?" I asked.

"Aye," he started, but I cut him off gently as I placed my hand over his heart.

"With this?" I asked.

It took him a long moment to answer, and he did so in an unsteady whisper. "Aye, lass."

"Well, isn't this just the coziest little moment."

Both of us were startled by someone else in the cabin doorway speaking to us, and when we looked up suddenly, Jack was standing there smirking.

--

--

A/N: The scenario in the flashback Jack tells Madeline is based upon the story by Barbossa'sMonkey called, Of Priests and Pirates. If you haven't read it, you should. She writes a lovely Barbossa and she should be writing more. Oh, and we both realize that Jack was accused of impersonating a cleric of the Church of England in CotBP, but I'd be willing to believe that it wasn't the only time Jack has done such a thing. :D

You'll notice that our timeframes differ slightly, and that she references some of the happenings in NBHP, but I have always thought that Barbossa was made a Pirate Lord before sailing on the Black Pearl with Jack, and I loved her reasoning as to how he ended up submitting himself to be first mate. Check it out! :D