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

A/N: Back on track, I think.

Wait For No Man

Chapter 9

"How many did you say there were?"

The false Jack Sparrow bowed slightly. "Four. We saw only the four."

His employer stood silhouetted in high relief against the darkened window, beyond which lay the abandoned fields of the Tortugan plantation. Beyond that, a high cliff which had been carved into the soft land by the restless waters of the Caribbean. "Turner, Sparrow, Norrington… and the fourth?"

"Word down the docks is that Bootstrap Bill Turner's come back from the grave." The pirate shifted uneasily, looking around the room as he spoke. Cobwebs and dust infested the mildewed walls and rotted furniture; in the eerie moonlit half-light it was sepulchral. The pirate shivered.

"In… deed. Young William's father, back from the dead." There was a quick flash of teeth as the speaker chuckled. "Well. I wonder if that's a trick he can do more than once." Another chuckle, low and full and polluted with hate. The pirate took an inadvertent step back.

He gave a halfhearted laugh, more out of deference than anything else. "I can find out for ye."

"No." The response was short, bitten off. "You will bring them to me. And find the child." A nonchalant hand fluttered in the air. "You may do what you wish with the nurse, as long as I am not subjected to the no doubt disgusting details."

The pirate bobbed in another bow, shuffling backward out of the room.

"And… 'Jack'?" The speaker's voice was silky and filled with mirth, causing a horrible ripple of uneasiness deep in the pirate's belly.

"Aye?"

"If this time you come to me with a tale of having killed against my orders, you will take the dead man's place." Again that low, terrifying chuckle. "Savvy?"

The pirate swallowed. "Aye." This time he made it out of the room, wiping a shaking hand over his mouth and whiskers as mounting laughter followed him down the hall.

~*~

"This is a bloody useless exercise." Will slammed down his pint with a frown. "Every minute, nay, every second that slips by takes my Lizbet farther away from me." He made as if to get up from the bench, but Bill put a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Think a minute, boy," he said, not unkindly. "The ransom demand tells us they don't mean t' harm the wee lass, even if they don't intend t' collect. If they was out t' murder, the child'd be in the arms of Heaven by now, and the note'd be of no use. They either mean t' collect the ransom, or stall us off fer a bit. Either way there's no reason t' think they've any notion we've got this far in finding the dog who's taken Jack's name. Blind luck, that were; but then Jack's had the luck of ol' Scratch 'imself, 's long 's I've knowed him." Bill took a judicious swig. "You watch, now. Jack's put out the word. There're still some in Tortuga loyal t' Jack Sparrow. Something'll turn up."

The door of the Cochon D'Or swung open to admit a youngish woman, dark skinned and doe eyed, her long black hair wild as if from running.

Will blinked. "Something's turned up all right." The woman scanned the crowd and caught sight of the blacksmith, weaving easily through the crowded room to seat herself next to him. Will sighed, dreading telling the lady pirate about her cousin's predicament. Best to get it overwith. "I've got bad news, Ana – "

She laid two fingers across his mouth. "Hush, boy. I know." Ana looked around uneasily. "There's trouble in the wind tonight, Will. We should go quickly." She gave Bill a suspicious look.

"My father," was Will's cursory introduction. "Go where, Ana?"

She leaned forward; both Turners did the same. Ana's voice was barely audible. "I've found something that belongs to you."

Will felt his skin go hot, then cold, then hot again. "Are you – is she – ?" He bit his lip to keep from shrieking his daughter's name aloud. Ana nodded at him, the look in her dark eyes sympathetic. "Thank God," he breathed. His hands were shaking, so he gripped them tightly together. "Where?"

"I'll take you." She scanned the room again, frowning. "We should go now, Will, before—"

This time the door slammed off its hinges, causing the more sober patrons of the Cochon to scatter. In the doorway stood a pirate.

Not just any pirate. The pirate.

Will stared. Had he not known for certain that Jack sat next to Edmund a short distance away… the beads, the hat, the scarf, the forked beard, the dark-rimmed eyes, it was all there.

"Uh oh," muttered Bill.

Will swiveled in his seat; and there was the real Jack, snarling, unsheathing his blade, kicking over a table to clear his way. Behind the 'Jack' at the door were suddenly a dozen or more rogues, filthy and mean. Edmund removed a pink-clad tart from his lap and got to his feet as well, drawing his sword. Instinctively Will reached for his own sword; his father's hand stopped him.

"Get 'ee to the child, Will." Bill pulled free his lethal-looking cutlass. "This be a matter for pirates." With that he took the bottle that sat between them and smashed it on the edge of the table, brandishing the glittering shard left in his other hand.

Jack leveled his blade at the imposter. "You scabrous, filthy son-of-a-whore! Draw your weapon! NOW!"

The false Jack grinned, looking over 'Lord John Finch' insolently. "Now, now, me fine ponce. Ye sure ye want to be doin' that, challengin' Jack Sparrow?"

Jack bared his teeth. "That's CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow!" he howled, and leapt to the attack.

Metal clanged on metal as the two Jacks met. Three of the other toughs rushed Edmund abreast; the Governor propelled the bench he'd lately occupied with one strong shove of his foot, and the bench slid hard into the knees of the three, toppling them like so many tenpins.

Bill leapt over two drunks and a chair to land at the Governor's side, and the two instinctively went back-to-back as the rest of the pirates ran at them, hollering all the way. A blade came down at Bill's head; he caught it neatly with the broken bottle and made a slash with his cutlass across his opponent's midsection. That pirate leapt back barely in time to avoid being cloven in twain.

At Bill's back, Edmund dodged a strike from his attacker and immediately trapped the man's sword with his own, holding it to the ground while with the other hand he produced a fine and resounding left cross to the face. Will heard the crack as the brigand's head snapped back, hard, and the rogue staggered a few steps backward, clutching at the place where his nose had turned to a red and soaking sponge. Another pirate leapt into his place.

Bill planted a foot in another assailant's face and shouted to his son over the reeling body. "GO!"

Anamaria tugged hard on Will's arm, and he reluctantly followed her into a back room. She dove through the single window there, Will on her heels, and together they ran hard for the wooded end of the road.

Neither of them saw the figure that detached itself from the shadows and loped after them.

~*~

The Cochon was clearing out, even the drunks realizing that this was no place to be. The fighting skills of Captain Jack Sparrow were legendary; but Jack Sparrow in a towering fury was nigh mythical.

And a fury he was in, no doubt about that. Bill had only ever seen him this angry once, as the Pearl left her captain stranded on a deserted beach sixteen years ago; and even from that distance the sight had been impressive.

Cold metal whistled past his ear; surprised, Bill spun and struck out with the bottle, hitting the pirate across the face and throat. His quarry staggered back with a rattling scream, trying vainly to keep the blood in his body with clutching hands.

Best keep yer thoughts on yer own hide, Bill me boy. Ye're not immortal no more. A pair of arms grasped him from behind, lifting him off the floor; Bill snapped his head back, skull meeting bone with a satisfying crunch. His attacker dropped him with a roar, and Bill landed catlike on his feet, turning to slash at the thug.

Bill looked about wildly for Edmund, finding the Governor a distance away, not far from the door, fighting off several rogues by himself. Bill cursed and ran at the group but was stopped by a pair of cutthroats who leapt in his way, blades agleam in the flickering pub light. With a snarl, he brought the cutlass through underhand, aggressively blocking both blows. As he forced their blades up and away, he followed through with the bottle, raking both pirates with the sharp glass shards.

The two Jacks had made their way to the top of the bar, slipping and sliding in spilled rum as they fought, teeth bared, black hair flying. Jack made a vicious parry and lunge, forcing the false Jack to slam into the wall at the end of the bar. The wall shuddered; a lantern fell to the bar, igniting the rum pooling there. Jack jumped back, feet over head, landing hard but true as not only the false Jack but several of his compatriots ran forward to engage him anew.

And then there was a shout. "Oy! Captain! Look 'ee what Oi has here!"

A deafening silence fell. Bill looked around: Jack had frozen in place, staring toawrd the door. Bewildered, Bill followed Jack's gimlet gaze, his confusion followed hard by horror.

Edmund stood captive in the doorway of the pub, a brigand's knife held close to his throat; so close, Bill could see a thin line of red already staining the blade. Bill realized with growing dread that the governor's arms were trapped, cruelly twisted up behind his back, by the owner of the blade.

"So, mate," panted the false Jack, resting the tip of his blade at the center of Jack's collarbone. "Do we kill 'im, or do ye surrender?"

Jack's sword clattered to the ground as Edmund bared his teeth in a snarl. Bill hesitated; the pirate holding Edmund pressed the blade closer, and a trickle of blood ran smoothly down the Governor's neck.

"Bill!" barked Jack, his gaze never wavering from the captive.

"Aye, Jack," said Bill heavily, and he dropped the cutlass. Immediately his arms were jerked behind him, trussed there like a Sunday turkey. Jack was already tied securely, the false Jack chuckling in glee.

The pirates at Bill's side hustled him forward a step or two, and then Bill caught something out of the corner of his eye: the faintest gleam of pink behind the captive Governor.

There was a loud crash from the doorway. With a roar Bill bowled himself into his captors as the pirate holding Edmund summarily disappeared, replaced by the surprised and frightened countenance of the crumpet in rose who'd taken a fancy to the Governor, a broken rum bottle in her hand. And then she jerked Edmund away into the darkness.

"Get him!" cried the false Jack Sparrow. "Stop hi—" But the rest of his orders were drowned in a howl of pain as Jack planted a booted foot firmly in his manhood.

Bill exchanged a look with his captain, and the two began to fight as well as they could, requiring all of the false Jack's resources to keep them captive. Bill took a hard fist in the gullet for his trouble, and another across his face; but he smiled though the blood. His son was free, and the Governor. They still had a chance.