James had run through several options, then finally stopped at sending Rose to a cell. Before she knew it, she was being whisked away to a stony prison. Rose spent the afternoon there, and eventually warmed up to the dank place. True, half her day was spent in total darkness, but she did appreciate the view when daylight did grace her vision. There was a small hole in the corner of the wall made by cannon fire, which let in enough air during the day to ward off the humid heat of the island. The noise of the gallows's crank was still in her head though. She wondered who was being executed at that moment, as she sat in safety in her cell overlooking the ocean. That horrid memory kept her constantly on edge and in constant hesitancy to trust her relief at the help James was offering her, however mysterious and underdeveloped it was. There was still so much she did not understand about him.
Halfway through the day, she received a delivery. A plate of food with a note which read, "I'll send for you tonight."
That night, as promised, she was sent for in the form of an oafish official. Rose of course couldn't see him, but she could deduce by his wet cough and scuffling feet that grace and poise were not his strong-suits. This man was Richards, the same guard who had brought her to James in the first place.
"Come on then!" he barked in a cockney accent. Rose stood and walked a few paces slowly in his direction before he finally lost his patience and yanked her out of the cell. As they made our way across what was the courtyard square where she had nearly been executed that morning, he decided to strike up a conversation that ended up being very one-sided, as he threw obscenities and vulgarities at her the entire trip over. She said nothing, and took all of the verbal abuse silently and with grace.
They came to a stop, and she heard the door open. The light on the inside of the room was so dim that her eyes were still blind to her surroundings. She heard James thank Richards, close the door and listen for a few seconds behind it. When he decided that Richards had posted himself far enough away, he joined her where she stood staring at nothing.
Rose heard him move in front of her. "My apologies," he said. "It occurred to me upon sending the food and the note that you might not be able to read." He waited for some sort of response from her, but she said nothing. Finally, he tried again, "It said—"
"I can read!" Rose barked.
"Very well, very well," he surrendered. "Not many of you can. That's all."
She didn't know what else he wanted from her, so she merely stop there silently, unable to see anything. Finally, he grew annoyed and asked, "What in the world is so interesting on my wall that you can't be bothered to look away?" he finally asked.
Rose was still so on edge, she had forgotten that James truly knew nothing about her except the fact that she was Jack's half-sister. "Oh. I have neglected to tell you about my blindness."
"You're blind?"
"Only in darkness. Ever since I can remember."
"My word," he said. "Well, I can get more light in here if it would help—"
"The room would have to be practically on fire for me to see anything at all."
"Ah," he said. "Well that still explains a lot. Here," he led her across the room and helped her sit on what felt like a makeshift bed.
"The good news about being my figurative mistress," he said, "Is that you get to spend the night somewhere other than a cell." Rose felt around the bed with her hands, and helped herself down as he returned to his desk, which seemed to be but a few paces off.
After a few more silent moments, Rose asked, "Commod—I mean, James?"
"Mm?"
"I've been thinking about it, and I cannot quite comprehend why you are doing this. Bringing me here? Keeping me alive for this long?"
He sounded closer to her when he asked again, "Where is it?"
Rose couldn't help but feel a bit infuriated. "Where is what?" she asked, although she plainly knew to what he was referring.
"Where are they meeting?"
Rose tried to keep herself calm as she replied placidly, "I've already told you. I don't know."
"I don't believe that," he replied, sending chills running through her. "You're the daughter of the Keeper of the Code. You're bound to at least have a name."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" she snapped. "Just because I am the unfortunate offspring of someone important doesn't mean I am simply graced with his knowledge on secret information! I haven't seen Teague since I was a little girl!"
James replied calmly to her outburst, as though nothing had transpired. Quietly, he countered, "You seem to think it is foreign to me that pirates do not make good parents."
"That's an unfair statement," Rose fumed.
"Oh is it?" said he. "I've seen them. Unwanted children coming here in droves. Left at Church doorsteps, handed off to clergy or orphanages. Accidental products of promiscuity."
"Not all pirates are like that!"
"Name one."
Now that Rose considered it, she couldn't name a single pirate who was a model parent. Not even her own mother. The most responsible, loving figures she bore witness to in the past were outsiders, like Desiree, Tia Dalma, and Bootstrap, who were an extension of family.
James snorted, taking her silence as a response proving his point. "I will admit," he said, "It isn't just pirates who make poor examples of parental guidance." He took a large intake of air and moved on to another thought. "That doesn't mean you don't know even the slightest bit of information as to where the pirate lords are meeting. That infernal song has already graced us with its presence here at the barracks."
Rose turned her head away from the direction of his voice, saying harshly, "Oh I know it has." She knew from his icy silence that there was no way that Rose could trust James. He had already deceived Jack, Elizabeth, and Will for his own good. There was no other reason why she was being kept alive.
He tried, "Or perhaps you know someone else who could tell me something?"
"Everyone I ever knew is gone," she instantly replied in monotone.
He stopped speaking for a time after that. She heard the creak of his chair, and she had supposed that he had leaned back, deep in thought over what move to make next. Rose so desperately wished that she could see him. Was he watching her, calculating whether or not she was telling the truth? Writing out her orders of execution? What?
Silence fell between them for several minutes, until Rose blurted, "I understand if the guards come for me tomorrow. You did the best you could. It seems that I have outgrown my usefulness to you."
"Oh you're usefulness has yet to be extracted," James growled. "I will find out what secrets you keep, Teague."
"Hexfury!" Rose spat through gritted teeth.
James snorted. "Not sure why I expected anything less from your family. Sparrow? Hexfury? You think that some ridiculous surname will separate you from your past. You really don't wish to be associated with your father, do you? Either of you! What did he do to you two?"
Rose pursed her lips. She had already revealed too much to Norrington by admitting her relationship with Jack in the first place. She was not about to just give up personal life details. "I am not obliged to say anything to you as your mistress, James."
"But you are obliged as my prisoner."
Suddenly, a thought occurred to Rose. "Hold on a moment, why didn't you tell the guards I was an affiliate of Jack's when you rescued me? Why lie about my being your liaison at all?"
She could hear the creak of his chair again as James leaned in closer to her. "Would you prefer that cell be without food? Or perhaps brutal interrogations by officials not nearly as merciful as I? If this would more suit your fancy, I could easily make those arrangements! By your leave, Ms. Hexfury!"
Rose sneered, "Do it, then! I have nothing more to tell you." Her fury began to build as the words poured out of her mouth like molten rock. "Have them beat it out of me. See if I care! Everyone and everything I love is gone and probably will never return, realistically speaking. What else could you possibly do to me? Get the guards! End it now!"
When she heard no response, no movement, but still could tangibly feel the heat from his presence near her, she yelled out again, "End it!"
After a sigh, she heard him quietly shift positions, approaching their impasse from a new angle. "Listen to me," he said intently, "I will tell you exactly why I gave the guards our lie if you make me a few promises. Can you do that?"
Rose considered this, then gave a slight nod once she convinced herself that pirates could always break a promise if need be.
"First," James said, "Each night, when I send for you, you are always to come to maintain the illusion. Each day, you are not to speak a word to the guards. Anything you reveal can be used against you here. Understood?" When Rose grunted a yes, he proceeded with, "Next, if you don't wish to sleep on cold stone floors, you must agree to stay in here without killing me, maiming me, or making an escape attempt. I have guards posted right outside that door. They will instantly catch you. Although it's not like you could get very far with your eyesight condition. If it's even real."
"Oh I assure you, it is," Rose hissed.
"Regardless," James countered, "Your attempts to best me will be futile. Take the opportunity I am offering you to rest and heal here. Do I make myself clear?"
"I promise not to attack you unless you attack me," Rose stated plainly.
"Fair enough," James replied. "Rest now," he then said. "We've run our course tonight."
Rose gulped, slowly lowering herself onto the cot and turning towards the wall so that her back was to him. She heard him settle back into his chair, and for awhile they were quiet. But then she couldn't help but give one final jab, "You picked the wrong person."
"Did I?" he said in monotone.
"Aye," she said, turning her head back towards him. "You could have saved anyone out there. Every minute of every blasted day on this wretched island you hear them: the crank of the gallows, the snapping of seven necks at once. Seven lives. You could have saved one, just one who might have told you where this supposed meeting place is. Just one who would have cared if they saw another day." She turned back to the wall. "You have gotten neither person with me. You wasted your chance."
She heard him sigh, then say slowly, deliberately, "Don't think for a moment that I approve of what's going on out there."
She sat up, yelling, "So stop it, then!"
"IF I COULD, I WOULD," he shouted back. Then, quieter, he explained, "It is no longer in my ability to implement change as it once was. I'm the Navy. They're the Company. They own everything, even our King." He took another moment, as though it had never occurred to him just how terrifying this truth really was until just then. He then added, "I chose you because when I saw you, I saw someone from my past and I could not bear to let the Company abuse you until they got information from you, then just send you off to the gallows again. I could not abide it."
So Norrington does possess a soul… Rose thought to herself, somewhat impressed by this surprise change in character.
"Rest," he said again, and this time she obeyed. She had said all she needed to say.
He, however, hadn't. "Perhaps tomorrow you will have a change of heart and will correctly decide to tell me all that you know."
Rose gulped, closing her eyes as if she was in another one of her nightmares. James's voice cut through the silence one final time. "Hopefully this change of heart comes soon, because I could perhaps arrange some sort of leverage. Otherwise, I'm afraid you'll be taken out of my charge by the Company themselves, and this will all have been for nothing."
Although her heart pounded at this dilemma and certain death sentence, sleep came easy to her. Her body needed time to recuperate from the stress of the day, though the rest was uneasy. Her mind raced with the knowledge that she could not afford to trust Norrington in the slightest. This was not going to end well.
The next day, she was stirred by two armed guards. It was light inside the room, and Rose noticed that James was gone, most likely on a call to any number of duties on the island. She was led back to her cell, lit only by a beam of light beating down hot and solitary.
As the day went on and Rose was able to marinate in her thoughts in isolation, she grew to become surprisingly at ease about her impending execution. She no longer wished for anything else. She had accepted the fact that Jack and the Pearl crew were all gone forever, and soon all of pirate-kind would follow suit. The East India Trading Company controlled Jones, and soon all of the seas would be regulated as a commodity. Rose could at least live with the fact that she was not responsible for giving away the location of Shipwreck Cove to the enemy, perhaps offering her brethren a few months to make a decent escape.
The only thing Rose feared was the uncertainty of when she could expect her own death. After a few hours on her own, the thought of someone else taking her life with a simple flick of a trigger began to sound less and less appealing. If Rose was going to die today, she would die by her own means.
The gap in the wall was large enough and jagged enough to do the trick. She had calculated it so that she could repeatedly beat her head against the sharpest edge. She could probably bleed out while she was unconscious. Problem solved.
Rose neared the edge and took a shallow breath. She closed her eyes and felt her heart beat for the final time. Leaning her temple against the sharp crevasse, she allowed her eyes to open and gaze out across the open ocean. She had wished for so much more.
I'll see you soon, Jack, she thought, as she leaned her body away from the edge, just to hurl it at top speed into contact with the piercing rock face.
