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No Heroes Amongst Thieves

A Novel

By: Roux

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Chapter Four:

No Bones About It

He rubbed his hands together and followed Caro as she meandered her way back to the bar, casually picking up forgotten mugs and hanging them by their handles on her fingers. His eyes narrowed a bit, however, as he saw her step into the shadows, moving out of the path of a smashed sailor mumbling in Chinese; she touched the side of her head and her brow knit together, and her lips moved almost voicelessly, but Jack thought he had caught a 'Shut up.' His expression became calculating, almost accusatory as the cogs in his brain wheeled around. There had been nobody there, and nobody had spoken to the girl. What was going on?

Jack's eyes scanned the room suspiciously. What was going on? he asked himself again. Ambush? Trap? He didn't want to take any chances, so he placed a hand loosely on his belt near his sword and picked his way around tables after Caro, seeing as she had started moving again. She turned and grinned at him over her shoulder and he grinned back, even more suspicious than before, but he followed her anyway and sat down beside Carlos, who looked up at Jack and then over at Caro, eyebrows raised. She shrugged and jerked a thumb at the captain, who sat up, eyebrows drawn and looking offended.

"Yet anudder one 'a Tempeste's conquests."

Carlos' mouth formed an 'o' and he smirked into his mug. Jack frowned.

"What's that supposed t'mean?"

Carlos screwed up his face. "What's what supposed to mean, señor?"

"The—" Jack puckered his own mouth into an 'o', mimicking Carlos' earlier face of understanding.

"Nada! It simply means that you signed your own death warrant, that's all, mi amigo."

"And you know this because…?" Jack's hands twirled.

"It means dat whenever somebody, man or woman, gets involved wit' Tempeste, dey usually end up changing their names or beggin' fo' mercy. It also means, m'sieu, that Carlos once tried to, how do you English say? Take 'er for a roll in the hay?" She smirked. "Dat girl, she live up to her name if t'ings don' go 'er way."

"And you…?" Again Jack's hands twirled, this time in Carlos' general direction.

"He laid her an' paid 'er, minus de payin'," offered Caro. She wiggled her fingers at Carlos who had originally opened his mouth to lie but was now using it to curse Caro in every possible Spanish way.

"Ah." Jack snorted. "Bad lad."

"Indeed," said Caro. "Couldn't sit on a horse for ages. Couldn't sit at all, for that matter," she added as an afterthought, tapping her chin with a finger.

"Did it hurt?" asked Jack curiously, glancing at Carlos' crotch for a fraction of a second.

"Did what hurt?" retorted Carlos sourly.

Jack made a pair of scissors with his fore and middle fingers. "Snip snip?"

Carlos' answer was indignant.

"'Course not! I'm not French! Spain births Men and they stay that way!"

"And you would know that because?" asked Caro suggestively. When she did not get an answer, she crowed. "What!? And you didn't invite me to the fais do-do? Ya mean I missed all de fun? Hybride." She sniffed imperiously and turned away from Carlos to study Jack, whose dark eyebrows lifted in question as she proceeded to stare him down. She blinked and slid to her feet, cat-like, and got up and walked away.

Jack looked at Carlos, who shrugged.

Caro returned with the pretty girl who had been attacked by the Portuguese. She still wore her ruined violet dress, but her becalmed demeanor and warm manner indicated she had recovered from her encounter. She leaned over and whispered something in Caro's ear, and then watched Caro smile slightly and nod her head.

"Jack," said Caro, moving forward, "this is Cosette. Cosette, Jacques." Caro made a slight bow and went to pester Luc for some food, eyeing a sandy-haired man as she passed.

"Enchanté, monsieur," smiled Cosette as Jack greeted her with a kiss on each cheek, as was French fashion; Jack could feel the stickiness of dried tears on her smooth skin, and couldn't help but feel a tinge of pity for the girl. For that's what she was, to put it simply: a girl. Seen and been through so much for one so young. Wasn't fair. Nothing was. Ah, well, might as well give her some good experiences for her to remember to block out the bad ones.

He smiled at her, a real smile this time, brought her into his empty lap and said, "The pleasure's all mine, love."

*~*~*

Caro stood in the back room, back to the door, shoulders hunched. On her face was a look crossed between pain and hate, and suddenly her hands snapped up to clutch her head.

"Go away," she hissed, "go away!"

Laughing. All she heard was laughing.

Caro nearly dropped to the ground in agony, but resolutely stood her ground and attempted to block the familiar sound out of her head. She managed to reduce the loud laughter to a muted hum, but yet it remained.

Composure regained, Caro strolled resolutely out of the back room to get herself stinking drunk. Too much was coming back. Too much…

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"You," scoffed Caro drunkenly, "a priest?"

"Wot? Ye don't believe me?" Jack swung his mug about crossly, beer sloshing over the sides and onto the wooden table. He stopped and stared at it confusedly. "How'd tha' get there?"

"I don't trust you's far as I can t'row ya, Sparrow!" Caro poked his chest twice with her forefinger, examined it with a true curiosity, and then dipped it in the spilled beer and sucked it, savoring the bitterly sweet taste. "Dunno…. still tastes good…" She paused.

"Where did Carlos go? Hope he isn't running into any more Tempestes; we'd get bits o' him sent t'us in a matchbox." Her tone was slightly worried, and the sandy-haired sailor, Tom, on whose lap she was sitting, kissed her neck soothingly. She turned her head to catch his lips and Jack's eyebrows rose as he tipped Caro's chin up and kissed her.

Jack felt a slight twinge between his legs as he saw a flash of slick, pink tongue exchanged between the two, and he squeezed Cosette's hips instinctively. She smiled softly and reached down, squeezing back.

"I still can not believe that nobody would notice you weren't a priest…" Caro pulled away with a smack of lips and continued as if nothing had happened. "You're the exact opposite of what a holy man should look like…you look like…a…an…un-holy man…" She bobbed her head concretely and rewarded her sharp wit with another sip of ale.

"Aye," Jack agreed, "but I was in a cloak and 'ood, wasn't I? Th' good Brother Jonathan, that's me!"

"And people wonder why da Church ain't in power any mo'. Dey stupid, is what. Dey don't know t' difference between a prim, paunchy friar and a smug, oversexed pirate…bah." She shook her head and stopped, the motion making her dizzy. It also could have been because the back of her head had careened into Tom's nose, but Caro was much too drunk to really get into the details, and so she continued as said body part was assuaged. "I mean, dese are the people dat are 'choosing'"—Jack could hear the quotation marks—" wheddah or not we're goin' ta get our 'sorry' souls saved…Well, 'cept fo' me. I know I'm goin' ta Hell, but I'm takin' a few down wit' me! I'll bring bread and cheese for a toast; might as well make use of the, uh, scorching climate, no?" Here she laughed a loud, amused laugh, and Jack couldn't help but chuckle with her. Her whole outlook on life seemed very much like his own: fuck it all and live life to the fullest. Who gave a damn what others think?

Jack wasn't sure if he wanted to admit it, being the enigmatic man that he was and that he wanted people to believe he was, but…. he rather liked the girl. In a totally platonic sort of fashion, naturally, physicality need not be involved. Not that Sparrow would ever turn a girl down, of course. Tempeste was one of few exceptions, reason being she was rather fanatical, and Jack already had enough trouble being the Legendary Captain Jack Sparrow; he needn't have a wench who'd rat on him as soon as look at him. If that girl had known who he really was, Jack would have been in a shiteload of trouble; knee deep in the proverbial privy-hole that, at some time in their lives, every man finds himself mired in.

"Me," slurred Jack, shite-hole forgotten for the time being, "I'm never goin' t'Hell. Because," he continued, ignoring Caro's attempt to make a comment, "I'm goin' ter live forever!" He toasted the notion with his ale sloppily, splashing more onto the floor than into his mouth; he grew a bit frustrated with this fact and attempted to elaborate on the whole 'immortality' subject. "Problem is, izzat I dunno quite 'ow ta do this…don' never want ta see living dead pirates that don't die ever 'gain."

"Wha?" Caro's tone was probing, and Jack didn't like it, his guard raising its hackles defensively

"Well—", he started, and was prepared to beat quite willingly about the bush, but a high-pitched, accented voice cut through his intentions as a hot knife through butter.

"Is it immortality you seek, boy? Ah, that was what He sought, too. Whether He got it, however…. Eu não sei. But the Water He did drink."

There was a pause.

"Hey, there, I t'ink he's drunker den I am...."

"No! If it is eternal life that you seek, then listen to me, ye daft sonuvabitch!"

Caro looked as if she wanted to laugh, but swallowed her smile down and nestled into her sailor's embrace.

Jack rested his chin on Cosette's slender shoulder, forehead wrinkled and curiosity piqued. "What're ye talkin' about, old man?"

The old man merely appraised Jack in that way that all the elderly examine the young, dropped a small doeskin pouch on the table, and walked away. Jack stared at the pouch solemnly as Caro watched the old man go. "Well?"

Caro's attention reverted back to Jack. "Well what?"

"What's it do?" He prodded it, half expecting it to prod back.

Caro looked at the pouch. "May I?" she said, pointing at it and looking at Sparrow with a drunken glaze over her eyes. He nodded his assent and Tom's grip on her lessened as she leant forward and snatched up the little bag.

Caro immediately recognized it and 'ahhh-ed'. She handed the bag to Jack and ordered him to dump its contents. When he questioned her, she replied with a "just do it, homme!" Jack scowled and proceeded to loosen the drawstrings on the worn satchel and empty whatever it was onto the table.

A gathering of assorted bones fell lightly to the wooden tabletop. Jack was mildly annoyed. "There I was, all interested, and all we get are dead animal bits. Brilliant. What are you doing?"

"Shh. Wait a moment." Caro studied the bones and moved them about a bit until she was satisfied. Finally, after a few more minutes, she looked up. "D'ya wanna know what all dis be about?"

"All what?"

"Immortality. De bones. All o' it. Getting' ta live f'revah. Y'wanna know?"

Jack didn't hesitate in his answer. "'Course I do! That ole raisin gave it to me! 'Course I want ta know! Besides, The Immortal Captain Jack Sparrow has a bit of a ring to it, if I do say so meself."

"Fine. Meet me here tomorrow. Around supper. I'll take you."

"Take me where?"

The sandy-haired sailor stood up with a slightly giddy Caro in his arms. "I'll take you," laughed Caro. "Boyo, will I take you." And she kissed Tom as he strode up the stairwell and out into the Crescent City.

Jack scowled and Cosette shifted to face him and massage his shoulders.

"Has she always been like that?" slurred Jack.

"Ever since I've known her Jacques, which is a while."

"Poor you, then."

Cosette laughed. "It's not all that bad. She likes you."

"Really? Does it show?" His tone was dripping with sarcasm.

"Ma chere, if she hadn't of liked you, you'd probably be with Tempeste, and for the rest of your life."

Jack considered this.

"Is she really that bad? Honestly?" asked Jack after a moment's pause. Cosette inclined her head meaningfully at a table at the far side of the room. At it hovered a man, muttering to himself and downing the remnants of abandoned ales.

"That was Señor Vasquez."

"Was?"

"Oui. Was." Cosette didn't elaborate, but Jack got the general idea.

"So," he drawled, "fancy that, 'ow do we English say?"— he mimicked Caro's accent—"a roll in de hay?" He caressed Cosette's face suggestively, but gently, and was pleased with her more than willing response, which was to throw her arms about his neck and kiss him, tasting the rum on his lips and in his mouth. He, too, as Tom had done, took his Woman Du Jour into his arms and proceeded to escort her to his room, accepting her touches and kisses with uninhibited enthusiasm, stopping here and there to press the dear girl into a wall or against the door merely so that they could touch each other.

As Jack fell back into his room, he grinned as Cosette sucked his neck in response to the hands at her chest.

"I'll take that as a most definite yes."

(AN) Yay! Fourth chapter! Sorry for the wait, but between gazillions of projects, loads of homework, going on vacation and having no computer access, writer's block, Jack's being mad at me (but not enough to get him out of my bed) and being sick, I just haven't had time to, well, write. I might actually post the fifth chapter tonight or tomorrow, but we'll see how it goes.

Thanks for all the encouragement guys! More reviews, if you please! I've never had so many before. Sniff sniff sniff…I feel so…LOVED!!!

Roux