Disclaimer:  Once again, if I owned them, they'd all be much the worse for wear, especially a certain pirate captain . . .

AN:  Muse is having minor breakdown.  Trying to work around that.  Hope you enjoy.  Still many thanks for reviews.  Also, don't be confused, there is a minor time differential between the last chapter and this one—this one occurs before the last one ends.

AN2:  In response to the naming of a certain female pirate, I apologize profusely, but I honestly couldn't remember exactly what her name was.  I am utterly horrible with names (don't ask the number of times I had to go back in this story to find the names I gave the young redcoat and the assassin.=() and if I remember correctly she was only named once during the movie, but my muse was determined that she must be the one to come ashore . . .I will fix it in later chapters and go back and fix it in the earlier ones once I've finally finished the story.

A Taste of Misery

Part 13

"Mr. Sparrow . . .I thought you might like this."  Jack started awake as the young redcoat hesitantly shoved a mug through the bars of the cell.  He had either changed uniforms or cleaned the blood off the one he had been wearing earlier.  Jack was surprised that the lad had the courage to return.

He was more surprised when he discovered the contents of the mug weren't water.

Turning back to the lad, he grinned slowly.  "It's Captain Jack Sparrow, lad, and I thank ye for the drink."

"I think something's happening, Mr. . . .Captain Sparrow.  The Commodore summoned Mr. Silverfirth and Mr. Alsworn to his office."

The lad waited, apparently for a response, but Jack couldn't think of one and he wasn't really in the mood to stress his mind trying, though something about the second man's name seemed familiar.

"The rumor is that he went to see the Governor and got a stay of execution."

That got Jack's attention.

Was it possible that, not even a day after he had finally given up on living, he would get a reprieve?

"Why would he do that?"  Jack stared hard at the young redcoat, trying to discern if he was being completely truthful.

"I don't know, but the rumors also say that he was with the Turner's and a servant."

Jack rested his head against the cell wall.

False hope, then.  He had seen the loathing in Will's eyes.  If Will had gone to see the governor, it was more likely to push the time of his death forward rather than backward.

"Don't worry about it too much.  Even if they decide to investigate Jade, Norrington will hang me for everything else.  He's been waiting for three years."

The young man frowned.  "The Commodore is a good man.  You could try to work something out with him."

"Aye, and ye could try to work something out with your bloody companions, lad.  The world has an order, and it seems that it's finally decided my time's up."

"I don't understand you.  I've been asking the other's about you, and once they get around the incident at Jade most of what you've done has been amusing or brilliant or a combination of the two.  You care about your crew, you care about your friends, yet you don't seem to care that you've got another chance!"  Frustration filled Brian's voice, and Jack closed his eyes and sighed wearily.

"Things change, lad.  People change."  This was worse than any conversation he had sat through with Will.

Then again, when he was suffering through Will's idealistic moments, he had been sound in body, mind and soul.

Looking up to meet the lad's gaze, he managed a small version of his grin.

"When the Commodore comes to tell me that I won't hang—or be shot or drawn and quartered or beaten to death or any other form of dying—then I promise to care.  Caring based on rumors and tales is dangerous.  It's already lost me one friend.  Savvy?"

"But—"

Whatever the lad was going to say, he never got a chance to finish the thought, as the patter of feet coming down the steps reached both men.  The lad stood hastily and spun towards the stairway, one hand automatically groping for his sword hilt.

"John!  Thomas!  What are you doing here?"

So the two roughs did have names.

"Go on and scamper out of here and keep a watch for the Commodore, lad."  The first man spoke kindly, if firmly.

"What?  Thomas, you can't be planning on . . .haven't you heard the rumors?"  The lad stood uncertainly in front of Jack's cell, whether purposefully or accidentally blocking the way to the door.

"Aye, we've heard the rumors.  What would you have us do, let a bloody murdering pirate get off scot-free?"  The second man stepped forward, holding his rifle in front of him.

"But . . .but that would be murder!"  Jack almost laughed at the expression of mixed disbelief and disgust on the young man's face.

"Just get out of the way, Brian.  You've no part in this, lad."  Thomas placed a restraining hand on John's shoulder.

The lad glanced around, as though noticing that he truly was in the way, before speaking again.  "I've no part in this?  You want me to ignore the fact that you're planning a cold-blooded murder?"

Remember your place, Will Turner.

I know my place.  It's right here, between you and Jack.

Jack Sparrow was not going to allow another idealistic young fool to stand between him and his fate.  Death bonds hurt far too much when they broke.  "Stand aside, lad.  Ye truly don' have a place in this."

"Shut the bloody hell up, you fool!  I don't know why you want to die, but I cannot just stand here and let them kill you!  This is not justice!"  Jack stepped back, the feral snarl tugging at his lips again.  The lad had no idea what he was talking about.  Jack didn't want to die, but death certainly seemed to want him.

"He deserves to die, Brian!  You weren't here when they called up people to transfer to Jade!  Mallory, Pensky, Johnson, Holland!  They were my friends!"  Thomas released his hold on John's arm, moving forward a half step.

"This is not justice, and I will not stand by and allow it to happen!"

"Stand aside, Brian."  John's voice was a low half-growl as he moved towards the young redcoat.

"You will do this over my dead body."

The skirmish was brief and one-sided.  Before the young redcoat had even cleared his sword from its scabbard, the rifle butt had smashed into the side of his face, the force of the blow slamming him into the rock wall, where he slid down slowly, leaving a bloody trail as he collapsed to the ground, where he lay, immobile.

For an instant, a perfect stillness reigned in the small brig.

"No!  You filthy, bloodthirsty bastards, he was one of your own!  It's me you wanted!  You didn't have to do that!  He was one of your bloody own!"  Oh, lad, why'd you have to do that?  I'm not worth it, lad.  "It's me you want!  Come on!"

"Shut up, damn you!"  The pirate ignored the command, forcing the two redcoats to speak over him.  Thomas's face was an ashen gray.  "John, what the hell have you done?"

"He's the one that forced it to this, Thomas."

"He's barely old enough to be here, let alone to die here!"

"Aye, and I don't kill children for bloody fun, unlike that demon the lad was defending!"  The redcoat stopped speaking, his hands shaking slightly on the bloody rifle.  "We've started this, Tom, we have to finish it.  Come on, Alsworth is waiting."

"Oh, yes, just come on!"  Thomas gestured towards the pirate captain, whose vocal barrage had degenerated into snarls and barely-intelligible threats and insults, adrenaline giving him a strength he shouldn't have had.

John stared at the cell in perplexity.

"I'll 'come on' as soon as you explain to me how we're removing that from the cell and binding him, as we're supposed to bring him alive!"

The redcoat opened his mouth to reply, reached up to touch his still-swollen nose, and closed it again without uttering a sound.