9. Press and Relax

Rose did not lose any time. Jack had drowned and it was her fault, she had insisted they save the sailors, but she would not let him die. The Captain of the Dutchman must not take him. There were ways to deal with drowned persons, she could do this!

First she must turn him belly down. While fighting to roll over the heavy body, Rose tried to recall more in detail the pamphlet she had received from the beach patrol in Atlantic City last year, when she and her mother had visited relatives there. There had been pictures of the lungs and heart, with descriptions of how it all worked and how breathing could be restored with the Prone-Pressure Method of Artificial Breathing. Always curious and interested to learn new things, Rose had memorized the simple steps.

"Move back!" she yelled over her shoulder. "Give me space!"

But to her surprise all the sailors had gone – she was not even in the small dinghy anymore, this was another boat, the deck was larger and had a different color. Here there were only her, Jack – and Captain Turner. And his crew, who had lined up behind him, respectfully holding their hats in their hands.

"You can't take him." She moved to straddle Jack's thighs. "He's not dead yet."

"His heart has stopped," said Turner.

But Rose did not listen. She placed her hands flat on Jack's back under his shirt, her thumbs meeting at his spine and her fingers spread out like eagle wings over his lower ribs. Then she moved her body forward and pressed down, using her own weight to give momentum to the action. A gush of water flowed out of his mouth, and she leaned back, relaxing the pressure to allow air to be sucked back into the now empty lung. Then she repeated it; press down – relax – press down – relax. Soon she had a good rhythm, this was easy! No more water came out, but still she saw no sign of breathing.

"Miss Dawson… This is pointless." The captain spoke in a sensible voice.

"Shush. You're distracting me. Go to the Barnacle, your wife wishes to see you about sword forging."

Press down – relax – press down – relax.

"Forging?" He sounded surprised, but thankfully he did what she asked and left. Good. She hated having an audience when she was busy.

Press down – relax. Why would Jack not move? He had not been down many minutes, how could he be so far gone in such a short time? She wanted to shake him, tell him to stop pretending. Press down – relax. Press down – relax. Just when she was beginning to like him, too. Even though he was dead (but he wasn't! Not yet!), he looked beautiful. He had such a finely chiseled face, almost aristocratic with that straight nose and jawline. Press down – relax. Press down – relax. The thick bump on his forehead disfigured it slightly though, the falling mast must have struck him. Was that why he had drowned? Was he unconscious because of the hit? She wished there was a doctor around to tell.

Press down – relax. Press down – relax.

Her arms felt like jelly. How long was one supposed to do this? The pamphlet had just said to keep it up until the person breathed on their own again. As if it were that simple.

Press down – relax. Press down – relax. Press down – relax.

What had he used on his eyelids to make them look so black? Whatever it was apparently did not smudge in water. Press down – relax. Maybe she could ask him for makeup advice when he woke up. Press down – relax. Press down – relax. For he would wake up.

"Shall I take over for a while?"

Rose nearly lost her rhythm before she recognized the voice. "Bill! I'm glad you're here." She pressed down and relaxed. "Yes, please do. I'm exhausted."

As Bill bent over the body and took over, Rose tiredly slumped down beside Jack's head. There was rose-tinted foam around his lips and she wiped it off with her sleeve.

"Wake up," she said. "You can do it." She stroked his wet hair behind his ear, noticing how hot his skin felt. "He's warm. He wouldn't be if he was dead, would he?"

"Don't ask me, I ain't the captain," panted Bill.

Rose lay her palm on Jack's forehead to check for a fever, and nearly jumped when he gasped, drawing a short breath.

"He's breathing! Stop pressing." She waved to Bill, her gaze intent on Jack's face. No movement. "Resume! He's stopped again." She bit her lip in concentration as she tried to find a pulse. Beneath her fingertip his jugular throbbed quickly, like the heart of a small animal. "His heart beats! No don't stop. Don't stop, he's still not breathing, but his heart is working, he's not dead!"

Remembering the last part of the life-saving instruction, Rose began to rub Jack's limbs, trying to massage his blood back towards the heart. He drew in air again, and new pink bubbles appeared on his blue lips. She wiped those off too, while Bill stilled his motion. Jack's eyes popped open and he drew more breaths, short, panicked gasps, and his hand came up to clasp Rose's arm painfully.

"It's okay, you are safe now," she soothed, trying to loosen his fingers. A bruise was already forming.

Still gasping for air, Jack scrambled onto his feet, his eyes wide and frightened. Then he leaned over the railing and threw up, more pink froth and yellow bile. Slowly his breathing calmed, but he kept dry heaving a long while.

Rising from the railing, he unsteadily turned to Rose.

"Horribl'," he croaked accusingly. "Dun' make me drown ag'n."

Her eyes filled with happy tears. "Ungrateful bastard." She threw her arms around him but at his groan of pain she quickly backed off.

"Oh, sorry. You may have broken a few ribs… it's a side effect of artificial breathing."

"Violent woman." His voice was still not more than a hoarse whisper, but his lips had quirked up slightly and he actually did look grateful.

"Well, seeing as he's not dead anymore, I'd better take you two back to that fishing boat," decided Bill.

Just like that, they found themselves aboard a much smaller vessel crowded with foreign sailors, and against its mast, Captain Turner and Elizabeth were clinging on one another like grapevines.

They reluctantly came apart upon noticing the new arrivals, and Turner raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Jack? But… Your heart had stopped."

"I started it again," said Rose proudly. "With modern science."

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm really glad to see you, Jack," said Elizabeth and moved to hug him.

"Don't!" Rose stopped her. "His ribs are cracked. I think he needs to rest below deck."

"Stop fussing," croaked Jack with a scowl at her, and beckoned impatiently to the crate where they kept the silver. "Forging. Tell'im."

"Oh. Right." Elizabeth quickly explained to her husband how they had struggled to find a silver sword, and how they now needed his help to make one.

"One can't forge swords aboard a ship, and as you know, I can't go ashore." He threw out his hands.

"I know, but we planned to forge it on the shore. You could stand in the water and do it."

"Complicated, but I guess it might work…" He sounded hesitant. "But do you have blacksmith tools? A hammer, an anvil, tongs, chisels? And a forge oven?"

"Well, we did not know exactly what you needed... we thought we could buy it."

"I don't have time for that." He looked pained. "You know I can't linger."

"I know…" Her shoulders slumped.

"Why don't we get all the tools, and then we meet up somewhere?" Gibbs suggested. He was standing behind the wheel, keeping the Barnacle still. The wind had calmed but the waves were still high. "Let's say, in two weeks time, on a suitable island."

Will Turner nodded. "Works for me."

"Great!" Elizabeth pulled him in for an enthusiastic kiss just to show how pleased she was.

When she finally released him, he described in detail what he needed for the forging, and then they decided on an island they all knew of. Apparently Elizabeth and Jack had been marooned there on a previous occasion.

"Of course it must be that one," Jack rasped. He was busily drinking his fill from a dark bottle. How come he always found rum, no matter how grave the situation?

The two unlucky lovers said their farewells, a little less drawn out than last time since they would meet again relatively soon, and then Captain Turner disappeared along with his bleak ship.

"What shall we do with them?" Gibbs indicated the bedraggled sailors who huddled together in the stern.

"Let's drop them off at the nearest port," Elizabeth decided. "We can't communicate with them anyway, better get rid of them as soon as possible."

Rose meanwhile turned her focus back to Jack. He was slumping, supporting himself heavily against the railing, and his forehead had become moist with sweat.

"You really must lie down," she insisted, and this time he did not protest. She led him below deck and helped him stretch out in his rope hammock, still clutching his bottle protectively.

His face was flushed and when she felt his cheek it was burning hot. Her worry returned. She had thought he would be safe once he started breathing, but now she was not so sure anymore.

"I will try to cool you off. If it's alright I'm fussing."

"By all means, fuss," he murmured, closing his eyes. His voice sounded less hoarse now, at least that was an improvement.

Rose fetched a bucket of sea water and soaked a cloth, placing it over his forehead.

"I thought you said not to fuss," she said, unbuttoning his shirt and folding it up. Talking nonsense made her think less about how concerned she was.

"There was no time then – there is now." His lips twitched. "I'm not the kind of noble fellow who would rather die than be coddled with."

"You like being coddled? Actually, that doesn't surprise me at all." She soaked another two cloths and placed one in each of his armpits. "Feeling cooler?"

"A little."

"After I've gone through all this trouble to save you, you'd better survive."

"I will." He sounded so certain she almost got convinced. Perhaps he would. Was he not the famous Captain Jack Sparrow?

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

"I'm dying," groaned Jack. "Gimme more rum, there's a good girl."

"You had almost the entire bottle, you're not getting more tonight. Get back to sleep."

"You want me to die. You hate me. They all hate me."

"I don't hate you." Rose tiredly rubbed her forehead.

"Then give me rum." He coughed weakly.

"Just shush!"

It was the third sleepless night and Jack was really beginning to get on her nerves. Soon after his near-drowning he had caught pneumonia, and had been feverish ever since. The two of them were now alone below deck, nobody else wanted to hear his whining so the others slept outside. He simply was a horrible patient and Rose hated being his designated nurse.

She had just drifted back to sleep when he started again.

"Roose… Roose," he moaned.

"What now?!"

"Need to pee… Get me the bucket."

"You were right," she growled. "I do hate you."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Thankfully Jack steadily got better, and after another couple of days of driving Rose to the verge of madness, he was finally on his feet again, looking no worse for wear except for his still tender ribs.

"Give me the rum." Jack was laying back on the deck, resting his head on his hands. They had returned to Tortuga yesterday, and today Elizabeth and Gibbs had gone to buy the blacksmith items while Rose and Jack guarded the boat.

"Fetch it yourself. I'm tired of being your beck and call." She was leaning against the railing beside his outstretched body, her eyes closed against the evening sun.

"I'm still very weak, you know," he complained.

"Then do without the rum. You drink too much anyway."

"I know."

The concession surprised Rose, she had expected him to object and keep nagging her to bring the bottle. She turned her head to look at him and found his eyes were on her.

"Thank you for saving my life." He reached out and pressed her hand, looking absolutely serious for the first time since she had met him.

"Well, that came out of nowhere." She stared at him in disbelief. Then, collecting herself, she added: "Don't mention it. You shot that pirate for me before, and saved those foreign sailors – it's what good people do."

"I'm not good." He withdrew his hand. "But you are right. Guess this makes us square." His usual sardonic smile had returned.

Rose sighed, closing her eyes again. She wished Jack would show more of his real self, if that was what she had just glimpsed. She was heartily tired of his drunk-and-ridiculos act.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

The clang of metal against metal rang over the barren beach, where a rather strange scene unfolded. A square brick oven had been built on raised stones in the shallow water, and next to it, Gibbs worked the bellows to make the fire inside burn hot enough while Captain Turner busily hammered out a piece of flat silver on an anvil.

Turner had removed his shirt in the heat, or maybe it was to impress his wife; despite his recent change of occupation he had a blacksmith's arm muscles and Rose found herself enjoying the view as well.

"Come," came Jack's voice from behind her.

"Why?" Rose did not turn her gaze away.

"I need your help to carry something important."

Sighing theatrically Rose stood and followed the pirate. "Make it quick then, I want to see him finishing the sword. It was interesting to watch."

"I bet it was." Jack gave her a knowing look, mingled with… annoyance? Was he jealous? Somehow Rose found that highly amusing.

"If you strip, I can watch you too," she offered.

He gave her another look that she could not quite interpret, but said nothing.

They walked towards the center of the small island where a cluster of burned palms showed evidence of an old fire. Near the black trunks, Jack counted the steps to a certain point and began to scoop away sand until he uncovered a trapdoor. Rose helped him open it and peered down. When she saw what it was, she groaned.

"Rum! You brought me here to carry rum. Bastard."

He gave her a toothy grin. "It's for the summoning. It is important."

"So, I guess we soon got all we need," said Rose as she carried the last crate of bottles up the ladder and placed it in Jack's waiting hands. "Feeling ready to summon her? I'm thinking it must be rather scary." Even more so for herself, who would be sent to the afterlife in the process.

"No, I'm not ready." Jack sat down next to the crates, catching his breath after their labor.

"No?"

"I got something to do first." He glanced at her. "And I need you to come with me."

"Explain." She sat beside him, burying her fingers in the warm sand.

"It's something I always do this time of year. Finding the sword has taken too long so now I must do this other thing first, it can't wait." He picked up a rum bottle and looked at his distorted reflection in its dark glass.

"Well, like Liz says, you don't have to come to the summoning. It will probably be sad and boring anyway, what with me dying and all that." But when she said it, she realized she wanted him to come. Despite the fact that he would probably be there for the wrong reasons, with some hidden agenda, she did not want to part with him yet.

"Do you want to die?" He was still peering into the bottle, adjusting his mustache and rubbing at some imagined smudge on his cheek.

She looked at him. Was he being serious again? He had appeared less like his usual eccentric persona ever since he recovered from the fever.

"Well, eventually, I do," she said. "But someone once told me I would die an old lady in my bed, so I had kind of hoped I would stay around a bit longer." With a pang of grief and not a little bad conscience Rose realized just how long it had been since she had thought about her Jack.

Jack Sparrow opened the rum bottle and swallowed a few mouthfuls before passing it to her. As she declined, he took another swig. He looked gloomy. Was it because of her impending death? His character was so impossible to read, one moment he would be a demanding, selfish, full-of-himself pirate, but at other times he appeared to be a decent man who cared about his friends. Who actually had friends.

"Why do you want me to come with you on this errand?" she asked.

"So I can get you into my bed." His lips quirked up impishly.

"Be serious!" She gave his shoulder a shove.

"Serious is boring." He shrugged, and took another long pull of rum. "And I do want you in my bed. Admit the thought has crossed your mind too."

"I am admitting no such thing." She turned her face away in case it would betray her. Damn the man!

He chuckled. "Still in denial, huh?" Then he was silent for a while. When he spoke again he sounded earnest. "I want you to come with me, because you must be present when we do the summoning – and I don't want them to do it without me, because I need to speak with Calypso. Savvy?"

"Speak about what?"

He sighed. "It's about my ship, if you must know."

"The Black Pearl?"

"Aye. I want her back."

"And you think Calypso would be so grateful for the Heart, that she would help you?"

"She might."

Rose peered closely at him. She still had a feeling he did not say everything, but maybe she was overanalyzing. For Jack to help them on the prospect of recovering his boat seemed likely, and the plan might have worked too, if the necklace had not already been designated for other purposes.

She wiggled her toes in her too large boot and felt the Heart of the Ocean, still safe in its hiding place, while pondering whether to tell him this. She decided it was only fair – after all, he had been honest with her for once, and she ought to return the courtesy.

"Elizabeth and I are going to use the Heart to negotiate for her husband's life. To free him of the curse."

"You what?" He stared at her incredulously. "That's ridiculous. Wasting the power of the necklace on that! The Dutchman must have a captain, it won't work."

"It's their only chance."

Jack jumped to his feet and began to pace to and fro angrily. "Calypso hates being ordered about, you will only annoy her. Stupid plan."

She tried to calm him. "You want your ship, I get that. But isn't their happiness important too?"

Jack did not reply. Still scowling, he collected the rum crates and stomped back to the others.

Sighing, Rose picked up the rest of the rum and followed him. He was clearly overreacting. To reclaim a stolen boat must be so much easier than lifting a curse, and it could probably be done in so many other ways. It was he that wanted to waste the necklace's power, not she.

Back at the beach, Captain Turner had nearly finished making the silver sword and was sharpening it with a whetstone in quick, practiced motions. It was beautiful. Long as his arm and unbelievably smooth, gleaming dazzlingly from the handle to its narrow tip.

He held it out to Elizabeth. "There, it's the best I can do under the circumstances."

"It's perfect!" She wrapped her arms around him, stroking his still bare back with her free hand.

"I must go now." Reluctantly he released her.

"Before you go… I have been meaning to tell you something." She beckoned for everyone else to move farther away, and then pulled down her husband's head to whisper in his ear.

"You sure?" His eyes had gone wide and a boyish smile played on his lips.

"Positive." Her face was almost glowing with happiness.

Rose had a strong suspicion as to the nature of the news. Seeing the couple before her now, sharing another long, passionate kiss, her determination to help them increased tenfold. She and Elizabeth would free Will Turner, and Jack and his stupid Pearl could go screw themselves.

A/N:

The method Rose uses to save Jack – the Prone-pressure method – is not to be recommended. It was what they did in her time (early 1900), but today the most effective way to save a person with no heartbeat is rescue breaths combined with chest compressions (30 compressions - 2 rescue breaths - repeat).

The Prone-pressure method probably did save lives though, as it forced water out of the lung and air into it, and the heart was compressed slightly, helping the blood circulate the oxygen and increasing the chance it started beating again. But since this method is not nearly as effective as the modern one, survival was low back then (and even now, survival rates of drowned victims are only around 7% if the heart has stopped, and complications such as pneumonia and hyperthermia (overheating) are common).

However, as we all know, Jack Sparrow is one very lucky bastard. Of course he is of the few percent who would survive such an ordeal! ;)

Thanks for reviewing, Martha, 8Ball3 and Winstance!