Night four.
Rose was deep in thought about what happened the night before as she stared out the hole in the wall. Throughout the day, she had to keep reeling her thoughts back in, for they raced away from her uncontrollably. In the dreams, James had repaired her. What did that mean? Would their encounter help fix whatever residual hurt she felt from losing Ben? What would do the fixing—his words? His insight about her life? …or could it be something more personal? She tried to shake these thoughts as they progressed, but she could not escape her sudden worry for his wellbeing, and near infantile musings about perhaps her finding a means by which she and James could both get away. He had opened up to her, and she trusted that he was a good person…perhaps there was a way she could make a happy ending herself.
But then logic would once again fight its way to the front of her mind, and she would feel foolish and realize how erratic these feelings were. She drew her focus to the hole in the stone wall. If it was only slightly larger, she could escape, guaranteeing her safety, preventing any leaked information about Shipwreck Cove to the enemy, and protecting James once and for all. She found a nearby brick and started to pound away at the wall, trying to make the hole bigger. For hours she tried. Nothing budged. Before she knew it, the time had come for her to see James again, and she felt equal parts of both elation and dread at this fact.
Rose was being escorted to his room that night by Richards, the first disgusting guard she had encountered, when suddenly they entered a hallway she didn't recognize by sound or smell. It wasn't their normal jaunt across the courtyard. Instead, it was a different outdoor alcove, for she could feel rain from a nighttime shower as it poured down over her head.
"I hear you've taken quite a liking to the Admiral, Frenchie," Richards said over the pounding rain.
Rose remained silent as she usually did in these situations. It was better to silently receive their abuse than fight it.
"I hear he's taken quite a likin' to you too," he continued. "But that's not surprisin'. The Admiral would take a dog fer a mate after bein' passed up by the Governor's lass for a blacksmith." Her chest puffed with fury at this, but she could do nothing but stare straight ahead, blind to the aggression directed at her.
"Hear what I said, Frenchie?" Richards growled. "You're nothing but a mangy bitch!"
Rose didn't anticipate the first blow. She fell to the ground, completely disoriented. He delivered a swift kick to her stomach, which left her sprawled on the cold stone floor. She gasped for air as he pulled her back up by the hair and punched her about the head and chest. She flailed her arms wildly about, trying to find him to fight back, but it seemed as though his blows were coming from every direction at once.
She fell again, this time on her shoulder. She cried out for help, internally wishing for James. For Ben. For Jack. For her mother. But no one could hear her over the rain in this secluded part of the fort. Richards had been careful in his planning of this attack. When he had finally had enough, he grabbed her by the hair once more and dragged her up, forcing her to stand even though it was excruciating. She felt the sharp point of a blade poke her back, and she instantly began to walk forward across the sopping wet courtyard. Any time she let out even the slightest whimper in pain, he would prod her with the knife and grasp her tighter by the arm.
They arrived at the start of the corridor where James's office was. Rose could hear the conversing voices of several other guards down the hall, and she felt Richards release the blade at her back. A slight amount of relief fell over her at the thought that at least he wouldn't physically harm her any more tonight. However, he left her with a final threat when he leaned into her as she desperately gasped for air in anguish.
"This never 'appened, understood?"
She mumbled in faint agreement.
"Ye know they'll never believe ya, eh?"
Rose said nothing.
"You mention my name, to Norrington or anyone else, you and your lover are as good as dead. But never fear, Frenchie, at least you'll be hanged together," he wickedly whispered.
He then proceeded towards the office with her. As they were seen by the few other guards that stood by, Rose heard various exclamations at what she assumed was her mangled body.
"Bloody hell!"
"What happened here?"
"Did you find her like that?"
"Aye," replied Richards. "The wretch is clearly suicidal."
Rose fumed silently at the boldfaced lie, and listened to noises of pity emerge from the other guards.
One remained uncertain, however. "Is there a way one could inflict wounds like that upon themselves, though?"
"Could another prisoner be attacking her through the bars?" another asked.
Rose could feel Richards growing anxious at the speculation from his comrades. "For all we know, it's the Admiral," he said, voice tense and high.
"Do you think he would do something like that?" the first skeptic asked.
"I wouldn't put it past him. The Admiral's been though a lot. He's a hard man to read."
This answer seemed to be enough to qualm the remaining of the already limited few concerns the men had towards Rose's fate, and she next heard one of them knock at the door.
"My god!" James exclaimed upon seeing her. Furious, he looked to his men. "What is the meaning of this?"
Richards, feigning innocence, exclaimed, "No way of knowin', sir. I found her like that this evening, sir."
"Likely," growled James sarcastically. Rose felt the warmth of his hand touch her arm as he asked, "Rose?"
She could almost feel Richards' eyes pore into her like lightning. She swallowed her pride, pain, and fury, simply replying, "I'm fine."
James put his hand on her back and led her inside, slamming the door behind him and causing Rose to start. This surprise quickly was surpassed by another surprising sight—James himself. She could see him clearly tonight.
He set her on the bed and rushed for water. Sitting at her side, he began to clean the blood out of her hair and off her face.
"Tell me what happened immediately!" His voice was elevated with rage.
"I..." she struggled. "I can see you...how?"
He gave a concerned smile. "More lamps. I wanted you to be able to see tonight."
Rose looked around the room. Every nook, ledge, and available flat space contained a lit candle or oil lamp. She weakly laughed. "Thank you."
"Rose, you must tell me who did this!"
"Does it matter?" she muttered. "You know who is responsible; those who want you gone."
His eyes were sorrowful. "If I would have known, I wouldn't have sent for you. You know that, don't you?"
"Of course," Rose whispered. "I...I tried to escape today."
He gave her a skeptical look. "You promised me that this wouldn't happen. You went back on your word!"
Rose closed her eyes, sighing. "I thought it was the safest way. Then you wouldn't be responsible."
"I'll be responsible no matter what happens. I allowed for you to live, and therefore, escape." He continued to clean up her hopelessly damaged face, cursing the men responsible. Even though a part of her wanted to, Rose wouldn't tell him it was Richards who acted alone, lest he get himself into more trouble by killing him while she was asleep. Better to let him think he was outnumbered and save his life for one more night. Plus, there was Richards' threat looming over her head that he would find a means of killing them both if she did. No matter how much she wanted to see the bastard suffer for what he did, it was ultimately unwise to pick this one minor fight.
Finally, James said softly, "I have news of my own." Rose opened her eyes eagerly, hoping that perhaps he had a plan of escape. "Beckett called me into his quarters today. I am to take command of the Flying Dutchman. I depart tomorrow."
She deflated. "So the guards told him about me then."
He silently affirmed her concern. "Their intent is twofold. They put an official in charge of Jones, and while I'm gone, they will kill you." James looked at her to gauge her response to this news, but Rose was unsurprised at this development. She knew that certain doom loomed over every possible avenue of escape. James continued, "And I don't honestly see much of a future in it. There's a reason why Beckett's handing this task over to me. If Jones and his crew retaliate, and it would make perfect sense that they would, I am the most expendable."
Rose swallowed any apprehension and had a moment of courage as she boldly suggested, "You can come with me."
He didn't skip a beat. "No," he said firmly. "They will find me. They will find you. And they will make our lives hell."
Rose smiled. "Our lives are already hell. They cannot possibly make it any worse."
He smiled back, not looking at her, but focused on his work. "Tell me," he said. "Why this sudden bout of hope after you wished yourself dead not but a few days ago?"
"You've given me the hope I lacked." Rose grabbed his hand to stop his progress. She struggled to sit up to address him. "There was no one left for me. I had driven them all away or lost them somehow. You accepted me without question. And that was particularly unlikely knowing my past and yours." She looked earnestly at him. "I did nothing but doubt that the Pearl would return from the dead with Jack and Elizabeth and the rest of the crew," she said. "But now I question my doubts. Their odds are very good. They always were."
Though they had known each other but a few days, she was ready to give everything up for his sake. It was a curious thing, but she began to feel something close to the care she felt for Ben not that long ago. The affection she felt she could never trust because Ben himself did not share it. James was from a different world than she, but this did not deter her from her feelings. She leaned her head closer to his and said quietly, "I am not certain that you understand," He looked up into her eyes, and she searched his. "I want you to come with me. We'll protect you."
"I..." he began. His eyes looked distant and uncertain. Rose put her hand over his comfortingly.
"I am begging you," she said. "Remember how you said you couldn't live with yourself knowing that you were free while you handed me over to be killed? I'm now in the same position. The only way for either of us to be satisfied is if we give the chance for us to both stay alive or both die. I know this!"
Her hand was still over his when she leaned in for the kiss. It was pure, but uninspired, as though James was not returning the affection. No different than Ben after all. She pulled away slowly, but just as she did, he leaned in for another, which utterly confused her. But when that had finished, they looked at each other for a moment, and he placed an unsteady hand on her cheek.
Rose laughed through a smile, and she leaned in closer toward him. Her face fell solemn when she decided at once to tell this man the truth, thereby revealing what he had wanted from the start. If this was to be their decided fate, their escape plan had to begin with their destination, and Rose couldn't afford to keep it concealed any longer. "I do know where the pirates will be going."
He cocked his head. "Where?"
"You mean, you wish to go with me?" she asked.
"As soon as we can!" he murmured.
"You really mean it?" Rose beamed.
He nodded. "You said you know where the pirates are fleeing? Where is that?"
She answered without hesitation. "It's called Shipwreck Cove. It's a pirate fortress. There are people there who can help us. You said you had heard the rallying song, aye?"
"Aye," he replied.
"As the song has been sung, the pirate lords are convening. Which is why Jack must be saved. He is the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean."
"And how will we get there?"
"Barter with pirates. I grew up not far from there, but I'm not certain how to get back. It's uncharted territory, but every pirate captain worth his weight is sure to know the way."
James leaned away from Rose, and nodded solemnly. Then, he cried out toward the door, "Guards!"
"What?" Rose said. But less than a second later, six officials spilled into the room. James had stood, hands behind his back placidly. Two of them grabbed Rose by her forearms and hoisted her to her feet, while the rest were poised with bayonets, ready to strike.
Rose felt as though Richards had delivered another blow to her chest. "No!" she said. "This cannot be!"
James seemed to be looking right through her, completely ignoring her protests. "McCormick!" he called to one of the men. "Inform Lord Beckett that we have the name of the pirate fortress, and that our prisoner shall be executed with the rest tomorrow afternoon."
"But sir," the man known as McCormick protested, "Tomorrow's Sunday. No hangin's on Sunday."
"Quite right," replied James with a disturbing sense of calm. "First thing Monday then."
Rose writhed to get at him. The betrayal she felt was more than she could bear. "James, I trusted you!"
She felt a bayonet prod her in her side. "You shall address him as Admiral Norrington!" a nondescript voice barked.
She glared back at Norrington, furious tears spilling down her cheeks. Finally, he dared look at her, but his eyes were cold, distant, calculating. "Rose..." he began.
"How could you do this?" she spat.
He straightened up, brow furrowed. Turning away, he said curtly, "Take her away."
"No!" Rose cried, as the men began to drag her out, back into the rain. "NO!" she shouted. She planted her feet, and yelled to the back of his head, "Congratulations, Admiral. You just became the villain!" They pulled her from the room, where she continued screaming curses at him all the way back to her dungeon.
James had been called many things by many people throughout his life, and most of them were negative. Coward, foolish, defeated, incapable… None of them hurt him nearly as much as these words from Rose: Congratulations, Admiral. You just became the villain.
