Hmmm. I had about the best possible dream ever last night. I was (take a wild guess) a pirate, and I was roaming around on the sea with Captain Jack Sparrow. There was this scary person with no face who was chasing us, and I got shot, and Jack got shot too, and I thought he was dead so I kissed him ( I remember the beard felt funny) but it turned out he wasn't dead after all, or something the dream has kind of faded since this morning. But I woke up feeling abandoned. And yet extremely, extremely happy.
In any case, yay! New chapter! And some much needed background information. Good on me! Read on!
Much lovey and squooshies to ThePenMage for her absolutely brilliant beta-ing. Mwah! :*
---------------
Chapter Two
Explanations and A Request
---------------
Three days later, on board the Deception
The captain stood on the upper deck of her ship. She grinned crazily, the wind and spray flinging her hair into long copper streamers. A single ruby glinted, set into her canine.
"Thatcher!" she cried, her voice lifting above the sounds of the ship. The helmsman looked up. "How long to Port Royal?"
Frowning as he thought, Thatcher answered after a few seconds. "I'd say, oh, 'bout a day, Cap'n Demon. Mayhap even less, with the wind bein' so 'elpful."
"Good," Demon muttered to herself. Suddenly she clapped her hands together like a child. "Oh, I can't wait!"
She spun and walked silently back into her cabin. The young man was still inside, sitting on a chair with his head in his hands.
"James," she whispered.
His head flew up, eyes open, and he looked wildly around before focusing on her.
"Tell it again, James," she commanded softly. "One more time."
James licked his lips. "Please, Captain," he said. "Some water would help."
Demon's face twisted. She launched herself at his chair and backhanded him across the mouth, her numerous rings leaving immediate red welts. "No, James," she said gently, sitting down on his lap. "You get water when I say you get water. You don't get to ask. Remember?"
James nodded powerlessly, a tear trickling out of his eye and mingling with the blood on his cheek. Demon touched a finger to the blood and brought it to her mouth, daintily licking it clean. "Tell me, James," she said. "Tell me again."
Closing his eyes before he began, the boy began to speak.
"Sixty years ago, the most fearsome pirates in the Caribbean sailed on the Crimson Shadow. Captained by the infamous Francis Mansfield, the Shadow made her berth on an unknown island, located somewhere in the Caribbean. They plundered and raided all over these islands, and stowed every last coin in their hidden lair. No one could catch them; they were a legend, a ghost story a shadow.
"They pillaged Port Royal but once, taking everything they could find. Raping and killing, burning and looting, leaving the city demolished behind them.
"But they made one mistake. Their one fatal mistake.
"One of the girls they raped and killed was the daughter of the captain of the Swift, a ship in the Royal Navy. The captain vowed revenge, and paid an oracle an unimaginable amount to enter a trance, find the island, and tell him where it was. With the location in hand, the captain gathered his finest men and went after the Shadow – and the oracle came with them.
"Upon reaching the island, they found a door in a cave – the entrance to the pirates' treasure. The captain slammed the door shut, and with the help of the oracle, cursed the pirates to remain trapped for eternity, alone with their gold and jewels. He left the island, abandoning the pirates to their fate.
"But the story does not end there.
"One pirate had been left behind in Port Royal, knocked unconscious after being hit by a falling piece of rock. He awoke and began gathering the wisps of rumor surrounding the rest of his crew. Appalled by what he found, he sought the same oracle, begging her to tell him how to break the curse. She wouldn't tell, or perhaps she didn't know. Just as the man was about to give up hope, the oracle entered into an abrupt and unplanned trance, saying only, 'Seek ye out the Kings of Port Royal.'
"For reasons unknown, the man didn't do as the oracle commanded. Instead, he stole a small boat and sailed back to the island, carving the words above the door. Perhaps there were more pirates that were left behind, or perhaps he didn't want to be the one to set his crew free, fearing their wrath. In any case, he was caught at sea on the return passage, and was consequently executed.
"For sixty years, the pirates in their stronghold have remained untouched, forgotten. Alone with their untold riches, they wait for eternity."
The boy finished, desperately licking his lips, seeking moisture that wasn't there.
Demon rose from his legs, preoccupied. "They don't wait for eternity, James," she said. "They wait for me."
She moved to the table. "I have a present for you, James."
He looked up warily but was unable to hide the hope in his eyes.
The captain picked something off the table and walked back to the boy. He shook his head slowly, helplessly. She pulled his mouth open without resistance, and poured the salt in until it covered his tongue.
Putting the salt down, she shoved his mouth closed and patted him on the head. "Be a good boy and stay," she said, and laughed like broken glass, splintered and beautiful and dangerous, and the door slammed shut.
***
Meanwhile, back in Port Royal
Elizabeth stood patiently, her arms held out, as a covey of seamstresses flitted around her, holding needles, thread, and other sewing oddments. Sighing, Elizabeth looked at her father in the mirror. "Must I really have lace on every inch of the hem?"
Governor Swann answered firmly. "Elizabeth, this is Founder's Day. The day we celebrate the colonizing of our fair island. As the governor's daughter, you will be in full public view, down to every inch of the hem. Therefore, it is essential that you look your best."
"Father," Elizabeth began, rolling her eyes. "No one will be looking at me. In fact, after about eleven 'o clock, no one will be paying attention to much of anything. You know the taverns serve half-price drinks on Founder's Day."
"You will not charm yourself out of this. Your gown must be one of the best in Port Royal, with no exceptions." Swann pointed to something on the gown that Elizabeth couldn't see from her fixed position. "See if you can't fix that, and add in another ribbon," he directed the seamstresses.
Shaking her head with a resigned air, Elizabeth stared at herself in the mirror. The gown was one of the finest she had ever possessed, and yet she refused to enjoy it. All she wanted to do was visit Will, whom she hadn't seen in three days, due to her father. He made sure she was invited to every social party in Port Royal, which kept her running from place to place — or rather, riding elegantly in a carriage from gathering to gathering.
"How long until the fitting is over?" she asked thoughtfully.
"Another quarter-hour or so, miss," answered one of the seamstresses.
Elizabeth began to plan her escape.
***
Elsewhere in the town
At the moment, the object of Elizabeth's thoughts was immersed in the finishing touches of the final sword. Rubbing the handle with a soft cloth, Will smiled, satisfied with a job well done. The handle seemed to glow in the half-light of the forge, and the blade nearly quivered with suppressed motion.
Placing the sword gently inside its case, Will laid it next to nine others, each an exact copy. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, sighing deeply. Finally, he thought. The governor's job is done. And just in time, what with Founder's Day being tomorrow!
The door swung violently open, banging into the wall. Will looked up sharply, straining to see against the brilliant midday sunlight. With the light scorching his corneas, all Will could see was a dark figure standing in the doorway.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm just closing," he said, wiping his streaming eyes.
"Aye, but I'm not wantin' a sword, mate," answered the figure.
Will froze. I know that voice. Still squinting against the sun, he hastened forward, pulling the man inside before shutting and bolting the door.
"Have you gone mad?" Will hissed. "Do you realize how many people in this city would see you to the gallows?"
Captain Jack Sparrow grinned widely, gold teeth glinting. "When 'ave you ever known me to be sane?"
"You have a point," Will admitted angrily. "I guess a better question would be, have you gone completely mad?"
"I'd 'ave to be mad not to come," Jack said, leaning in conspiratorially. "D'you realize there'll be half-price drinks at all the taverns in town tomorrow?"
Shaking his head disgustedly, Will moved away and sat down. "Of course. I should have guessed."
"That's not the only reason I'm here, of course," Jack continued. "I wanted to check up on ickle William, make sure he's growin' up into a nice, big boy "
"But why did you come now?" Will asked desperately.
"I told you. Half-price drinks." Jack cocked his head to the side, peering at Will. "At any rate, why are you so worried?"
"All the ships that sail out of Port Royal will be back here tonight and tomorrow, and all the soldiers they carry walking the streets. And here you come, strolling around in plain sight, the most hunted pirate in the Caribbean!"
"One of the most hunted, actually – there are worse pirates than myself out there." Jack paused. "Or better, dependin' on how you look at it."
Will shook his head again. "No matter. Most of the army has seen your face, or have you forgotten you faced the gallows the last time you graced Port Royal with your presence?"
"I absolutely have not."
"Then you know that those men will arrest you as soon as look at you! This is a disaster," Will groaned.
"I'll repeat my earlier question. At any rate, why are you so worried?"
"Because," Will said, looking straight at Jack. "I may not agree with your lifestyle, or your personal hygienic habits, and I may not like you all the time, or even most of the time, or even–"
"I understand. Finish your thought."
"–but you are my friend. And I try to avoid watching my friends hang." Will paused. "A second time."
"Well, you can rest assured I can take care of meself," Jack told him. "And I'll be here but a day or so." He walked to one of the many sconces in the room and pulled out a sword. "Nice weight. The balance is a bit off, though."
"Put it down."
"Just tryin' to be helpful, mate."
"I still don't understand how you can show up now, after eight months and continued pillaging of both ships and ports, and expect me to be happy to see you," Will remarked. "Or did you think I hadn't heard what you've been up to?"
"It's not just your reaction I was lookin' forward to, mate – or did you think you were the only one I intended to see? I'm also goin' to stop by and see–"
Knocks sounded on the door; someone rattled the handle. "Will?" Elizabeth's voice rang from the doorstep. Will shot upright in his chair. She knocked again. "Why is the door locked?"
"Speak of the devil!" Jack exclaimed, clearly impressed. Will hurtled from his seat. "The lovely Miss Swann!" Will's hand covered Jack's mouth a moment too late.
"What did you say?" Elizabeth sounded uncertain. "Is someone in there with you, Will?"
"If you speak again, I swear you will miss your favorite body part come tomorrow morning," Will hissed in Jack's ear. He raised his voice and answered Elizabeth. "Ahh no, Elizabeth, not, uh really just, um give me a moment," he called vaguely, looking frantically around.
"Why?" The door handle rattled again. "What's going on, Will?"
Will hustled Jack into his back room. "Do not speak," he warned once more.
"You'd better hurry, mate — she sounds a bit testy," Jack remarked, looking faintly amused.
"Let me in!" There was a loud bang on the door.
Striding to the door, Will lifted the bolt and pulled it open. "Good day, Elizabeth," he said, forcing a smile.
Elizabeth put one of her hands on his chest and backed him into the shop. "William Turner, you will tell me what's going on, right now, or God save you" She let the sentence hang in the air.
"Nothing," Will answered, straight-faced. "Nothing is going on. I was just finishing the last sword of your father's order."
"I don't believe you for one minute!" she accused, but her suspicion was ebbing, and it was almost mock-serious. "You forget, Mr. Turner, that I've known you for years. I can tell when you're hiding something."
Will shrugged. "You must be mistaken."
"Mmm-hmm," she said, moving closer to him looking up into his eyes. "Well, in that case, I believe it's been three days since I've last seen you?"
Smiling, Will moved his face towards hers.
"Oh, so you are still together, then?" Captain Sparrow pushed off from the doorframe where he had been watching them. "That's good to 'ear."
"I knew it!" Elizabeth cried triumphantly, stepping away from Will, who buried his face in his hands. "I knew someone was here!" She paused, scrutinizing Jack. "I didn't know it was you, though. What are you doing here?"
"My lady," Jack said gallantly, avoiding having to answer by sweeping off his hat and bowing low. Elizabeth curtseyed in return, eyeing him. "Wonderful to see you again."
"The feeling is mutual," she returned suspiciously.
There was an awkward silence.
"Now, why are you here?" Elizabeth inquired.
"As I've been informing Will 'ere, there are half-price drinks–"
"Ah, yes," Elizabeth cut in. "I should have anticipated your arrival." She paused. "You do realize you're putting yourself in danger?" Elizabeth stated carefully. "Every soldier knows what you look like. And what of your crew? And the Pearl? You would have all of them forfeit so you can get cheaper drinks." It was not a question.
"Yes, I'm aware of all of that. But the Pearl is anchored off Point Granite, and the crew with orders not to approach the town, so they should be fine." He paused. "All right. Here's the deal, mate," Jack began. "I need a place to spend the night. I was countin' on havin' some friends 'ere in town that'd let me stay with them, but they seem to 'ave become fairly angry with me in my absence. So if you find me a place to stay, I promise I won't venture out tomorrow until midday, by which time everyone will 'ave sufficiently drunk enough not to notice me. Savvy?"
Will and Elizabeth exchanged glances.
"Fine," Will answered, his voice taut. "You can stay here."
Jack put his hands together in the familiar gratified prayer gesture.
"But you sleep in the shop," Will added quickly.
"Of course," Jack agreed.
"Will, may I speak with you?" Elizabeth asked. "Privately," she specified, glancing at Jack, who raised his eyebrows innocently. At Will's nod, she led him into the adjoining room and shut the door.
"Do you really think it's smart to let Jack sleep in the shop?" she asked in a low whisper.
"It keeps him off the streets and away from the soldiers. And like he said, everyone will be too drunk to notice him tomorrow. And he'll be gone by tomorrow night." Will shrugged. "It seems the most sensible thing at the moment."
"I suppose," Elizabeth said doubtfully. "In any case, I think I should be returning. I'll have been missed by now." She turned to go, but Will grabbed her hand.
"So quickly? You just arrived!" he protested softly.
"I know. I'm sorry," she said. They exchanged a quick kiss before she opened the door and returned to the shop, sparing one last glance before departing. Jack Sparrow looked on with interest.
As soon as the door closed behind her, he looked at Will expectantly. "When's the wedding?"
Will groaned inwardly. It was going to be a long night.
***
Well, there you have it. Chapter Two.
It seems to me that Will is just a tad bit out of character, but I'm having problems keeping him true to the movie. Hopefully, it didn't bother you too much, and rest assured that I will keep working on it in future installments.
On the other hand, yay for Captain Jack Sparrow! I hope I did a decent job with him, because I wouldn't want to screw him up
A magnificent amount of thanks go out to everyone who reviewed: EnchantedDreamer1, two lovely anonymous readers, ErinRua, To Heaven, and Krizta. Reviews keep me motivated to write! If you want more, review!
I'll try to write faster, but it's hard, what with school and everything. Know that I have not abandoned my fic!
Also, yay for life in general! I just got back from Pirates of the Caribbean! for the sixth time. My friends call me obsessed; I like to think of it as devoted.
—Lydia
