Disclaimer: No mouse ears for me. No profit made, just a little fun.

A/N: Something of a rollercoaster, this one. Keep your hands and arms inside the ride, please.

Wait For No Man

Chapter 5

"No…"

Jack had wrestled himself out of the arms of the bathing wenches when he heard the stable door fly open. He heard Will's question and Weston's answer; but the worst was Will's anguished denial. The blacksmith's broken voice was more poignant than a howl of grief. Jack's imagination went into overdrive and his heart cracked at the thought of the terrified Lizbet, snatched in the night from the bosom of those who loved her so dearly.

He cursed and struggled his wet body into the shirt and breeches Weston had brought him, listening sharply as Will ran into the night, Bootstrap Bill hard on his heels. "Leave it, girl," he hissed at the wench who was combing the last of the mats from his wet and streaming hair. "Leave it!" He struggled into his boots, groping for his cutlass. Jack tore the curtain from its moorings and nodded at the prone body of Weston. "Take care of him," Jack said shortly to the two frightened women as he leapt over the undersecretary and sprinted after Will.

The blacksmith was like a man possessed, running flat out to the top of the hill, bursting into the mansion, taking the stairs four at a time to get to the room his daughter customarily shared with her nanny. Jack caught up with him at the door to the gaily decorated chamber to find the blacksmith tearing apart the bedclothes, ripping through the wardrobe, his breath coming in short gasps. Finally Will sank to his knees, his face as terrible and empty of life as Jack had ever seen. The blacksmith pounded his fists once on the floor, then raised them to the sky, a roar of rage and supplication and despair torn from his lungs.

Black fury solidified in the region of Jack's heart.

He'd find the ones who had done this. And he would kill them.

~*~

"Search the grounds, men. The scoundrel Sparrow may still be about. Look lively!"

Soldiers by the dozen milled about in the mansion hallway below; Jack drew back instinctively from the risk of discovery, finding Bill at his back. "Tread careful, Jack, an' ye've nothin' to fear," his old friend said quietly. "Keep 'em from my boy, will ye? He's near daft with grief an' as like to kill one of the fools as not. They'll not know ye now."

Jack looked at the onetime pirate questioningly; Bill jerked his thumb in the direction of an ornate mirror. Intrigued, Jack stepped closer.

The man staring back at him was a nob, a gent, an aristocrat who had dressed somewhat hastily, perhaps pulled from his bed in the middle of the night. Though his black hair streamed over his shoulders, gone were the beads and plaits; his face was clean and free of kohl; his beard was trimmed short, his cheeks shaven. Provided he kept his pirate's brand hidden and played the part… Jack smiled grimly, raised his chin haughtily and marched down the stairs.

"May one ask what you intend to do about this outrage?" Jack used his plummiest tones, doing a creditable impersonation of Norrington at his stiffest.

The soldier in charge, one Lieutenant Gillespie, the same Lieutenant Gillespie who had escorted Jack to his cell only the day before, spun on his heel and started at the sight of Jack. The pirate folded his arms across his chest and pursed his lips, cocking a dark eyebrow in the approved upper class manner.

"And you are…?" Gillespie paused suspiciously, waiting for a name.

"John Finch," said a voice from above. "Lord John Finch," Edmund clarified, white-faced and leaning heavily on Bill's shoulder as the older man helped him down the stairs. Jack gave the nonplussed lieutenant a lordly nod as Edmund reached his side.

"I don't recall seeing that name on any passenger list," Gillespie began.

"And I don't recall submitting one," said Edmund contemptuously. "You forget your place, Gillespie, in questioning my guest when my goddaughter has gone missing and my home and person attacked. What are you doing to find her?"

"We are searching the grounds, my lord," Gillespie said defensively. "You may not be aware that the scoundrel Jack Sparrow escaped from gaol tonight – apparently this is his repayment for your good offices on his behalf."

Jack opened his mouth to reply hotly when Edmund trod on his foot. "Nonsense," the Governor replied. "What makes you think Sparrow had anything to do with this?"

"We found this," said Gillespie, producing a piece of paper. "Stuck to my lord's front door with a dagger."

Edmund took the missive, read it, and handed it to Jack wordlessly. Jack scanned it, his mouth drawing down in a scowl. It was a ransom demand… from Jack himself. "The girl will be returned to you safely upon receipt of one thousand gold pieces. If not, on your own head be her fate. Sparow."

Fury surged through Jack's veins at the cavalier use of his name, and at the implication that he'd ever hurt a child, this child in particular. They'd even misspelled his ruddy name, not that it made a flaming whit of difference to them that would accuse him. Engorged with rage, Jack stalked a distance away, half-listening to Edmund verbally flay the luckless Gillespie. "Whoever this rogue is, he may be sailing into the blue with my goddaughter even as we speak, and you waste time searching my property?" the Governor thundered. "If anything happens to that child from your delay and carelessness, Lieutenant, the King himself will hear from me! Do I make myself clear?"

The soldiers departed posthaste, a good-sized flea in the Lieutenant's ear; Norrington sat heavily on the single chair that remained upright among the mess that had been his foyer, clutching his head in his hands. Jack moved to his side and squatted to look into the Governor's face. "You all right, mate?"

Edmund gave a humorless chuckle. "It sounds like Jack, but it doesn't look like him. Weston did an excellent job. I would have had trouble knowing you myself."

Jack nodded. "Aye, he did. Hope the poor bastard's still alive."

"What?" Norrington jerked his head up to look at the pirate captain, then winced as his head presumably objected. "What did you do to the man?"

Jack gave him a black frown. His reputation had suffered enough this night. "I'm not the type to kill a man over a bath, Edmund."

Edmund nodded, more slowly this time. "Of course not. Are you saying the miscreants who took Lizbet attacked Weston?"

"Aye. Stabbed, seems like. I left your wenches to care for the man. Capable women, whores. Usually." Jack kept watching the top of the stairs, distracted.

Edmund reached for him and the pirate helped the governor get to his feet. "Come, Jack. I must see Will."

~*~

They found him seated on the edge of Lizbet's bed, dry-eyed, clutching a pillow to his chest as though to stanch the bleeding inside. Bill hovered nearby, clearly unsure of what to do. Edmund knew how he felt. How could he comfort Will when his own heart was shattered?

Jack deposited Edmund on the bed Belle would have taken and went to the younger man, raising himself yet a further notch in Norrington's estimation. Will had been right all those years ago: Jack Sparrow was a good man.

Jack knelt in front of Will, gently prying the pillow away. Will stared at him, hollow-eyed; and then he clutched the pirate's shirtfront and buried his face against Jack's chest, keening like a wounded animal. Jack wrapped his arms around the younger man, hard, rocking them back and forth. "Hush, lad. 'Twill be well. We'll get the lass back, I swear."

Will wasn't weeping, not in the conventional sense; to Edmund it sounded like something between gasping and retching. Edmund waited until Will had subsided to hiccups, feeling like sobbing himself. "They said they were part of your crew, Jack," he began softly, catching the attention of the other three. "They came bursting in here not two hours ago and made straight for Lizbet's room. I tried to get between them, but one of them had what I believe you term a cosh, and made good use of it." Edmund rubbed the back of his head. "I was trying to get to the child; one of them came at me with a sword, but another said…" his voice drifted as he remembered the scene so vividly imprinted on his mind. "He said not to kill me, that I was part of the plan."

"What does that mean?" Bill wanted to know, his gaze narrowing suspiciously on Norrington.

"I've no idea," said Edmund, his temper getting the better of him, "but you surely don't think I would have mentioned it if it meant what you seem to be implying!"

"Edmund is above suspicion, Father." Will's voice was flat. "He'd no more hurt Lizbet than you would."

"Not much of a recommendation, if you ask me," Norrington said angrily. "It's bloody convenient that you showed up tonight, Barnacle Bill or whatever they call you!"

Bill fisted both hands. "Now ye listen to me, ye pansy milksop, I've swabbed the deck with better men than ye! I came to Port Royal to stop Jack hangin', nothin' more nor less. 'Twas in Tortuga I were when they brought him low, an' hang me if it's not God's truth, I stowed away on the very ship that brought him here."

"And we should believe that?"

"Gents," said Jack, interposing himself neatly between the two furious men, "I suggest you murder each other another time. Just now we've a lass to retrieve." He went back to Will, helping the younger man to his feet. "We need to get to the Pearl."

"Which is where?" Edmund asked.

"Tortuga," Jack grinned. "I told Gibbs to hold her there 'till I got back.

Edmund looked at him. "You were for the gibbet, Jack. What do you mean, until you got back?"

"You forget one thing, Governor." Jack chuckled. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Savvy?" That got a weak smile out of Will, as Edmund was sure Jack intended.

Edmund snorted. "As of right now you're Lord John Finch, unless you want to keep that dawn appointment."

Jack got to his feet, hauling Will with him. "The only appointment we've got right now is in Tortuga, with the fastest ship in the Spanish Main. Someone in Tortuga will know where our bird's flown to."

"My lord?" Weston was at the door, a wench under either arm, swaying slightly. "Thank God, my lord, I thought you were dead."

Edmund looked at his secretary with relief. "The feeling is mutual, Weston, I assure you. And now… to plan."

"Can ye commandeer a ship?" Bill wanted to know. "Bein' governor's got to be good fer somethin'."

Edmund shrugged. "I can, if you want to answer a thousand questions and take along a garrison of troops."

"In that case…" said Jack with a cocky grin…

~*~

The fast clipper they needed, HMS Makara, sat anchored a short distance from the Port Royal pier. Norrington, in full gubernatorial rig, haughtily invited a young Navy ensign to row him out to the ship on "surprise inspection". Awed by the coat, the wig, and all the foofaraw, the young man did as he was bid.

The ship was manned by sailors, mostly, with a single officer on duty. Edmund put on his most intimidating sneer. "So, this is the newest pride of his Majesty's Royal Navy, is it? We shall see."

The officer was sleepy-eyed and bewildered. "'Tis late, my lord, and we are ill-prepared for an inspection –"

"Exactly why I chose to come tonight!" thundered Edmund. Generally speaking, in his experience the louder one shouted the more one could obscure the issue. "Do you think, then, that pirates will wait to attack until you are at the ready, man?"

"P-pirates?" The officer was truly on the ropes now. "We've had no reports of pirates in the vicini—"

"I see." Edmund allowed his voice to go deadly quiet. "Well, we must hope that they check in with you prior to sacking the city." He made as if to leave. "I shall be only too happy to make my report in the morning – "

"No – wait – please, my lord Governor," the agitated officer said, wringing his hands.

Norrington turned on the hapless man a glare that would reduce a better man to a quivering heap of blancmange. "Well?"

"Look alive, there, you salts! Make ready to sail!" the officer called to his skeleton crew.

Edmund began mentally to count backward. The faintest glint of gold on top of the fo'c'sle caught his eye. 4, 3, 2, 1…

At his feet was a large bucket of soapy water. Norrington kicked it over, sending suds toward the center of the deck. "Good Lord, I'm sorry, man," he said loudly to the officer, who stared at the spreading bubbles in dismay. Edmund blustered. "Damned thing shouldn't have been there in the first place… OOP!" He slipped forward, threw his arms around the officer and tossed him overboard. "Damme, my apologies, son," he leaned over the gunwale and hollered to the officer as he surfaced, spluttering. "Dangerous things to have around, buckets!"

Three masked men leapt lightly to the deck from the fo'c'sle; the sailors began to muster. "Now then, gents, we're taking this ship, and the Governor with us!"

"No!" cried Edmund in an excess of fear. "They'll not take me! You there, boy, take my place!" He whipped off his long, curly wig, plopping it on the young sailor's head backward. "Look out!" Edmund cried, grasping the man's breeches at the small of his back and flipping him over the gunwale.

The three masked pirates, for surely that was what they were, began meanwhile to clear the deck at swordpoint. "Jump, son," said the tallest of the three gently to a particularly fearful sailor, quaking in his striped hose. The sailor nodded and jumped.

Two would-be Navy heroes ran forward and skidded wildly in the bubbles, their arms pinwheeling wildly before they collided and were helped overboard by the quietest pirate.

One sailor left. "Oy!" shouted Edmund to the last pirate. "You must be that scoundrel Jack Sparrow!"

The pirate faced him, fists on hips. "I only wish I were as clever, as dashing, as handsome and as daring as the famous Captain Jack Sparrow!" he shouted back, tossing his head and presenting his profile to its best advantage.

Edmund rolled his eyes. "So then you're not Captain Jack Sparrow?" he hollered back, just to be clear.

"No!" the pirate yelled. "Much good that information will do you, Governor!" The largest of the pirates tossed the last man overboard.

"Oh help!" cried Edmund to the heads bobbing in the water as the sails filled and the clipper began to move. "I am being abducted against my will by this brigand who is clearly not Captain Jack Sparrow!"

The quiet pirate tugged his mask off. "Aren't you overdoing it a bit, Edmund?" Will asked.

"You forget, I was in the Navy," the Governor responded. "It's impossible to be too obvious with them."

Jack, for his part, had disposed of his mask and was twirling the wheel with exquisite skill, while Bill handled the sheets. "Now," he said, "for Tortuga and the Pearl."