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A/N: ALMOST 100 reviews!!!!!!! I'm going to faint…no, honestly, I am. And not Elizabeth-style, but serious fainting. You guys are awesome…thank you so much. But it must be warned: this is extremely gory. There is Will torture in here…so please don't continue without precaution. Enjoy…er, at least try to.
Pirates of the Caribbean: The Winds of Change
Guilt and Guidelines
It was only after he had been beaten to the brink of insanity that he realized he was going to die.
With every muscle in his body aching beyond his control, the wave of complete pain smacked into his skull, erupting with a sickening sensation churning in the pit of his stomach. Lights flashed before his eyes as a fist struck him in the left cheek, sending him reeling against the hull of the ship. He smacked onto the deck with a sickening thud, and forced himself to at least attempt to put up a fight, to at least try to act dignified. If he were going to die, he would die a pirate….he would die bloody and stubborn.
But as another punch hit him smack in the nose, he fell again, knowing damn well that he would not be able to recover from it. His nose cracked and he felt the warm release of blood trickle down his face. Flashes and streams of white light pierced his eyes like daggers as he let loose an agonized moan from his lips. He had never felt a pain like the one that engulfed his body. He had never known what it was to want to die, to want to fall into oblivion, to welcome the permanent darkness he had always wanted to avoid…
"Stand him up."
He felt two sets of coarse hands heave him to his feet, and he felt all of his pride leave him as he realized he could not stand on his own. The two men were holding him up by his arms, but he hardly noticed. Darkness was sweeping upon him ominously, and he only found himself wishing for it to consume him faster.
"Thought ye could avoid us, did ye?"
He could not open his eyes, nor could he speak. Another flourishing bout of pain exploded inside his head as he recognized the voice. He had meant to respond but all that emerged was a sputter. His mouth was filled with blood.
"You will respond to the captain!"
A punch to the stomach knocked all of the air from his lungs. He fell limp, only being suspended from falling upon the deck by the two men holding him. His insides squirmed and he gasped, desperately trying to grasp the salted air around him. Panting, his eyes still closed, he felt himself being heaved to stand completely upright.
"Ye will not touch him, ye lubber! He is not to be killed! Understood?"
A collective wave of grunts incomprehensible responses filled his ringing ears as a feeling of disappointment clutched at his chest.
If I won't be killed…then I'll be tortured…
"Do ye have anything to say to defend that pathetic little body of yourn?"
Will struggled to open his right eye, the one that wasn't swollen completely shut. He stared into the blurred face of Barbossa, and felt a cold, icy hatred well up inside of his gut that he had never felt before. But he would not let this undead, apple-obsessed, disgusting bloodthirsty hooligan get the best of him.
With the way he was tortured, he should have pleaded for mercy. He should have broken down, both emotionally and physically. He should have begged for death, pleaded for an end to the forsaken pain being executed upon him…
…Daft like Jack. He needed to be daft like Jack.
So he smiled.
Blood trickled through his grinning teeth, sliding down to his chin and dripping upon the deck of the ship. He sized Barbossa up and was almost gleeful to notice an outraged expression on the captain's face. If he were going to die, then he would make sure not to make it enjoyable for any of those bastards.
If he were going to die…
If he was going to die…he wouldn't see Elizabeth again. If he was going to die, he wouldn't hear her laughter, he wouldn't see her soft eyes, he wouldn't feel her soft touch upon him, he wouldn't taste her kisses, he wouldn't smell her perfume….he wouldn't ever be with her again…
Jack, he thought to himself, closing his eyes again. Jack, take care of her…
With those last pleas in mind, he felt the hilt of a sword crash down against his skull for the second time that day. As he struggled to breathe, choking on his own mouthful of blood, he found comfort in the memories that were long gone and forgotten, the people he had met, the places he had been…
…My place is here, between you and Jack.
~*~
Carrying Elizabeth back to his cabin for the second time that day, Jack prayed for rum. He needed it…how else in bloody hell was he going to cope with a fainting pregnant wife of a man who was now kidnapped by insane pirates who wanted them all damned to the fiery rims of hell?
"Bloody nuisance," he muttered, placing her gently down upon his bed. But he reminded himself that he had no crew to impress, no reputation to maintain. He no longer needed his daft-like comments, his sardonic attitude, nor did he need to quench his thirst for the confusable. He could be the man he had always been, hidden deeply under the scuffle of drunkenness and insanity.
He looked over her, gently studying her. She was beautiful, it was no doubt. But he found no lust in his soul for her, no inappropriate intentions had ever crossed his mind. She was a friend, a companion…no matter how much she burned his rum…
The mere thought made him wince.
Rum sounded good, but saving Will Turner's life sounded a wee bit better.
Striding back out to the deck, he took out his defective compass and gazed up at the sky. The winds were picking up, and had changed directions…it was strange, he noticed, that the winds now blew west, when merely an hour before they had blown east…
Narrowing his eyes, he took hold of the wheel and spun it gently to the left. It was a beautiful sunset, the giant orb of gold burning hotly directly in front of him, growing ever smaller as it sunk into the sea, its warmth disintegrating as the winds whipped around him.
Without warning, a sudden feeling of helplessness engulfed Jack. He realized he had no idea what to do. Go save Will?…well, that was just dandy, ignoring the fact that he had Elizabeth and the baby to consider…
Bloody Christ, he rolled his eyes. I feel like I'm married...how unpleasant. How Bill managed a wife and kid while parading around the Caribbean with me is nothing short of a miracle…
But Bill and Jack could not be compared. They were polar opposites, North and South, hot and cold, wind and calm. They never thought the same way nor acted alike. They never agreed with one another about pirating nor did they ever share the same ideals…or lack thereof. They did, however, share a love for the ocean and a companionship that went far beyond friendship. It was brotherhood.
And now Jack found himself commandeering a ship, heading for an unknown destination, sailing under unkind winds, thinking about Bill's son who, as far as he knew, was under the complete control of the curse…
…but he wasn't dead.
He knew he wasn't dead. The moon now rose, taunting the tides like a playful child, hushing the once-violent winds that now were mere whispers upon the rigging. He looked at his skeleton-morphed hand and felt a calm reassurance assuage his urge to advance on a whim of luck in order to save Will.
The Pirates' Code was an hour-long writ to learn but a lifelong struggle to obey. According to the Code, he should have abandoned any chance to save Will. He should be sailing back to Port Royal to drop off the lass and the child she carried. After all, why try to rescue one life by possibly bartering four? Simple logic, that's all it was.
Logic. What a fine commodity.
It was a commodity that Jack had learned not to portray. He had it down pat…he knew how to manipulate logic so it became illogical, how to writhe lies into complete truths. He found ways to cheat but be honest, steal but remain just, and scheme but remain true.
But now, as he looked at the useless moonlight that shone down on him, he felt vulnerable and alone. The moonlight showed him for what he truly was, and his true self Jack had never let on to anyone. His daft like manner abandoned and his drunken expressions swept aside, he swung the boat in the opposite direction, causing it to roll suddenly and violently. He grabbed onto the wheel to keep himself standing, and only minutes after the ship had successfully avoided capsizing, he heard his cabin doors swing open.
"WHAT are you doing?" came the baffled cry.
He turned around to see Elizabeth walking shakily towards him. He smiled and noticed that she was handling herself much more delicately than before she had fainted with the news of her childbearing status.
"We're going to back to Port Royal."
Elizabeth stared at the captain for a good minute before she responded. "You're not going to save Will?"
Jack shook his head, not wanting to think about it. The simple fact that he was abandoning his friend made him loathe himself more deeply than he had ever loathed anyone or anything before.
"You're going to drop me at Port Royal and go look for him yourself."
Jack avoided her eyes.
"You don't want the baby and I to be hurt, do you?"
He blinked.
"Jack – we have to go save him. Without Will I have nothing…I am nothing. I won't allow my baby to grow up without a father. I refuse to, Jack."
He looked back at her reluctantly, and saw her doing something he would've never expected.
She was crying.
Angry with himself Jack whirled from the wheel to his quarters, oblivious to the fact he was being followed. He saw his arms turn fleshy once more as he flung open a scroll upon the unmade bed. He squinted, trying desperately to read it, tracing his heavily-ringed fingers along swerving lines, muttering to himself. Elizabeth stood in the doorway, unconsciously rubbing her belly.
"There."
She jumped at his sudden comment as he repeated himself. "There."
"What?"
"That's where they're taking him." He looked up at her and felt a strange tenderness creep into his heart. He cared for her, he truly did…she was a faithful friend and a blindly loyal companion. He couldn't do this to her…
"And that's where we're going."
With a swoosh of a dress and the poignant smell of perfume, Jack found himself entangled with long brown hair, two arms, and a cloak. He looked up from under his skewed hat and grinned slyly. "Now, lass, we can't. You're pregnant."
Jack winced in reflex to the expectation of being slapped. To his surprise it never came.
"I thought we have to obey the Code," she answered, looking up into his chocolate eyes.
"Aye." Jack nodded solemnly, adjusting his hat. "The Code…"
Shrugging, Elizabeth turned to walk out to the deck. "Forget the bloody code. They're more like guidelines, anyway."
Jack hated to admit it…but she was right.
~*~
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