Disclaimer: I only own the little one who is attempting to drive away what remains of Jack's sanity . . .
AN: Having to choose what to do for senior pics is scary . . .organizing freshman orientation is fun when it turns into a free-for-all reminiscence party between you and your three closest friends . . .parents can be incredibly stupid and obnoxious, even when they're just hurting each other and not you, forcing you to watch from the sidelines and saying that what they do is none of your business when my family and friends and, more recently, my fiction is what keeps me sane and grounded in some form of reality. Sometimes I hate them, and then I feel bad for hating them when I know that things are hard on them as well. I'm making myself feel bad now. Enough. Write story, get reviews, feel happy.
AN2: D, if you find and read this one, don't try to make me talk about this. I can barely write about it, and writing is my most intense form of communication. All other people can ignore this note.
Trust Me Still
Part 8
Jack leaned his chair against the wall of his cabin on two legs, shifting his weight so that he didn't fall over every time a wave caught the ship. It was a trick he had learned a long time ago, one that he had perfected to the point where he could manage it even after passing the line from drinking to drunk.
He thought he had passed that line about a half-hour ago, but he wasn't entirely certain anymore.
The day had been hectic, to say the least. He had set the ship on her course and guided her for the first eight hours or so before handing her over to a competent crewman.
He couldn't exactly remember who that was at the moment, but he was sure that it was someone competent. Even when he was drunk he would never turn his ship over to an incompetent or to someone he didn't trust, and he knew that he hadn't been drunk at the time.
No, the drinking had come afterwards, after supper, after seeing Elizabeth and the demon that Will had perversely named after the pirate captain to Ana-Maria's cabin for the night.
He was vaguely aware that this was one of a handful of times when he had gotten seriously drunk alone. Even after the disaster on the Deadlock, he had gotten drunk with Ana-Maria.
He was distinctly sure of that fact, given that she had pried the rum out of his hand and wrestled him into bed against his loud protests, insisting that she wasn't going to stand by and let him drink himself to death over an accident.
Considering what had happened a month after, he sometimes wondered if it wouldn't have been kinder for all involved if she had simply allowed him to finish himself off then. At least he would have died doing something he liked, though he had to admit it wasn't quite so dashing an end to his tale as dying in a raid or going down with his ship or even hanging.
Today, though, today he was getting seriously drunk alone. There was no danger that he would drink himself to death, no, not this time . . .
This time he had a duty to perform.
Will Turner. The man had come into Jack's life quickly and within a matter of days turned it upside down . . .
Or maybe right side up. Will had helped him reclaim the Pearl, after all, and his ship was his life. True, the boy's naivety had been . . .annoying, to say the least, but it had worn off quickly, and there was a good man beneath the constraints of honor and nobility. A good man, the son of a friend . . .and a friend in his own right.
Will and Elizabeth had saved not only the pirate's life, but his sanity, and perhaps whatever ragged remains he had of a soul when they took him in after the run-in with Almorte. It was a heavy debt, and one that Jack had never fully thought he'd be able to repay.
Now, though, Ana-Maria had forced him to see that he might, indeed, have a chance to repay the lad in full. He had carefully avoided thinking of what the raiders might have done to the lad, or, God protect her, the girl, in the five days it would take the Pearl to finally catch up to them.
Ye can't e'en think of them by name, can you? Coward . . .
Jack quickly downed the rest of the rum in the bottle, drowning out the voices in the dark peace of forgetfulness.
Now he remembered why he didn't drink alone except after he had been dying of thirst on deserted islands . . .
It was so much harder to take philosophizing when it turned inwards.
A tentative knock at the door caused him to send the chair back onto four legs with a crash that nearly sent him tumbling to the floor.
He had a bad feeling about this. The crew wouldn't interrupt him unless something was wrong with his ship, and he thought that he would have felt any significant difference, even as drunk as he was.
Ana-Maria usually didn't knockâshe would just open the door, laugh at him, and send him to bed as though he were a naughty child.
The child didn't knock when he came to destroy the carefully organized chaos that filled Jack's cabin.
Jack belatedly realized that whoever it was must be waiting for a response.
"Come in."
The door opened quickly and Elizabeth stepped in, wearing trousers beneath her white cotton nightgown. She had quickly realized that to have full run of the ship, she needed to wear clothes that the male members of Jack's crew, sometimes, she thought, including Jack himself, could not 'accidentally' look up.
Jack staggered quickly to his feet, grabbing his hat and placing it rather crookedly over his red bandana.
"Oh, good lor', the demon's gotten up into the riggin' again, ha'n't he?"
Jack had decided that the boy was more monkey than human. During the last day, Jack had been forced to pull him down out of the rigging twice. The second time he had told the boy that he would leave him up there forever, but he could only stand a little over ten minutes of Elizabeth gasping and his own heart skipping a beat every time the boy did something that should have gotten him killed but didn't.
The crew had been much more careful after that about watching young Jack when he was on deck, and the boy had eventually given up and retired below decks to wreak havoc. Jack had carefully avoided anyone who might be bearing more complaints.
"No, Jack, he's . . ."
"Fallen overboard? Killed one of the crew? Put a hole in the ship?"
"No, Jack, this isn't about . . .Jack." Jack sighed in relief and sank down into his chair again . . .or where his chair should have been. He crawled backwards and hauled himself onto the seat, trying to salvage what dignity he could.
"You're drunk, aren't you, Jack Sparrow?"
Jack opened his mouth to protest and decided against it. The lady was too smart, and lying in this instance could be deemed hazardous to his health.
"It doesn't matter, Jack. I know that you'll be ready when we need you. I just thought . . .Never mind." Elizabeth turned to leave.
Jack stared at her in blatant surprise. Normally Elizabeth would have given him a good tongue-lashing about the evils of rum and drinking. Today she was complimenting him and leaving.
No, leaving wouldn't do. She had to have come for a reason.
"Wait, Elizabeth. What did you want to see me about?"
"It doesn't matter, Jack."
"It has to, if you waited until the monster fell asleep and then came to find me."
"I just . . .Jack, what if Will isn't . . .I don't have any home left to return to, any family left, and women without family, Jack, they don't have any chance, any choices . . ." Elizabeth seemed to be on the verge of crying.
Jack staggered upright and pulled her awkwardly into a hug. "You and yours are welcome on the Pearl for as long as y' need a home, love. You should know that."
"I'm not sure the rest of your crew agrees, Jack." Her voice was muffled as she returned the embrace, burying her face in his shoulder.
Jack thought for a moment and grinned. "I didn't say what part of the ship, now did I?"
Elizabeth looked up and grinned slightly. "You would really lock Will's son in the brig?"
"It's better than making him walk the plank."
The grin faded. "Jack, I honestly don't know what to do. I've never been so afraid of losing someone. I love him, Jack, with all my heart, and my child, Jack . . ."
"C'mon, love, I'll bring him back to ye, and no matter what they did, he'll heal. He's a strong man, a stubborn man. Just have faith and patience."
Elizabeth stepped back to stare at the pirate.
He needs time, Will, but he'll work it out. Jack's a strong man, a stubborn man.
Jack was speaking nearly the same words to her about Will that she had spoken to Will about Jack five years earlier. A small smile played at her lips.
Will's doubts had at least been based on the pirate captain lying mute and unresponsive on a cot in their house.
Hers were based on fear . . .and loneliness.
"I trust you, Jack."
"Good." The pirate disengaged himself from the embrace and staggered back to the table where he picked up his rum bottle, only to stare at it in disappointment when it proved just as empty now as it had been minutes before.
"Jack, don't you think that you've had enough?" Elizabeth pulled the bottle from his hand and gave him a small shove towards the bed.
"This is my last chance, love. Can't drink tomorrow . . .the Pearl will be at their little port either tomorrow night or early the next morning. Being drunk while facing unkillable-save-by-chopping-off-their-heads men is not a suggested course for survival."
"If you want to be able to captain your ship tomorrow, drinking more is not a suggested course of action." Elizabeth pulled him around the table and gave him a gentle shove towards his bed. "Go to sleep, Captain."
"Alone?" Jack did his best impression of a whipped dog.
Elizabeth laughed. "Yes, Jack, alone. I've been taken for a long time, not to mention the fact that if the little demon wakes up and I'm gone you and your ship are going to pay for it."
Jack sat down, still fully clothed, no longer feeling quite capable of rolling with the motion of the ship.
"Two women on board, and both of them are constantly sending me to bed alone. A man could get to feeling decidedly unwanted here."
"Oh, poor Captain. Don't worry, Jack, we do love you . . .just not like that. I'll see you in the morning."
Jack watched her leave before blowing out the lamp and surrendering himself to a blessedly dreamless sleep.