Disclaimer: Only the plot, only the plot, only the plot…
A/N: I AM SO SORRY!!!!!!!! Please forgive me? Please? I TRIED to post on Friday, but I had to go to my boyfriend's soccer game, and then there was an after party, and then I had to go to a swim meet Saturday, and then I babysat Saturday night, and then Sunday I had a birthday party to go to all day, and Sunday night I did homework, and then Monday I went to school and then straight to work…now, it's Tuesday, and I'm going to write a chapter. Sorry about that…I didn't forget about you! **Glomp** And now…chapter twenty.
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Pirates of the Caribbean: The Winds of Change
Grudges and Vengeance
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"Aye? Wha's the matter?" Gibbs asked, thoroughly alarmed.
Elizabeth let out a soft moan, hugging her stomach with her arms. She had been having terrible pains…awful pains, in fact…for perhaps two hours. They came in waves, first a piercing hotness that originated right above her bellybutton, followed by another wave of small pinpricks that plucked across her entire abdomen.
She sat in the far right corner of the cell, crouching, rocking back and forth, her eyes tightly closed. She felt sick, and she had no idea why…could she have the flu? Could she be seasick? Looking up into Gibbs's slightly porky face, Elizabeth winced once more, a grimace of pain showing itself along her lips. She saw Gibbs's eyes grow so wide that they almost bulged out of his sockets as he exclaimed, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…you ain't…you ain't…" He seemed unable to finish his sentence.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes in exasperation as she realized what he was referring to. "MISTER GIBBS, I am hardly a month pregnant, I am NOT, under ANY circumstance, going to give birth at this moment!" she exclaimed, thoroughly annoyed. Did this man have NO common sense?
"No need to be sour, miss," grumbled Gibbs, still eyeing Elizabeth with slight apprehension.
"Well I am extremely sorry, Mister Gibbs, if you were unaware that a woman must go through nine hellish months of carrying around a baby before she gave birth.," she snapped.
"Beggin' yer pardon, miss," growled Gibbs, "but I wouldn't know, as I have never given birth meself."
Sighing in contempt and in no mood to bicker, Elizabeth felt a flood of relief as she realized the pains were gone. She knew they were of no significance…they were merely just morning sickness due to her condition. However, it still did not change the fact that she felt completely ill and disoriented, not to mention worried sick about Will and Jack. She wondered where they were, and she silently prayed that they would be able to somehow correct this forsaken mess that they had, for a second time, gotten themselves into.
Early morning light began to shaft in through the cracks in the brig, sending an ethereal and eerie glow about the cell. Lifting her eyes from the puddle-strewn floor, Elizabeth's eyes rested on Gibbs, who, to her surprise, looked completely shocked, if not a little fearful.
"Mr. Gibbs…"
"Shh!" His eyes were narrowed in concentration, his mouth slightly open. He looked as though he were straining to hear something in the far distance, so Elizabeth consciously made an effort to be as quiet as possible. Soon, all there was to hear was the creaking of the ship and the splashing of the waves striking the hull of the ship.
"Dear Lord," he murmured after a good five minutes of silence. He leaned against the bars of the cell. She noticed his face seemed to have slackened and there was an undeniable dankness in his eyes…a hopeless dullness that alarmed her greatly.
"What?" she asked, standing up. She felt slightly nauseous and wavered a little upon the change in positions, but nevertheless kept a firm grasp upon the wall, preventing her from toppling over. "What is it?" she asked again when Gibbs didn't respond.
He looked to her somberly, as if he didn't know where to start. Scratching the back of his neck and cringing with insurmountable discomfort, Gibbs finally spoke. "It's the token…Jack's token. It's callin' to us, lass."
Horror struck, Elizabeth put her hands over her mouth. Gibbs merely nodded and added sulkily, "Should only be a matter o' time before Barbossa finds the token, along with Jack. And then," he paused, looking uneasily over his shoulder. "Then, miss, we're all in a world o' hurt."
~*~
"BLOODY HELL! CAN I NOT GET A DECENT NIGHT'S REST AROUND HERE?!" he screamed, sitting up in bed. In a fit of rage, he knocked over a candle in its holder, sending the hot wax flying across his hand. Growling in anger and annoyance, he rolled his eyes and wiped the back of his hand on his shirt, muttering, "Goddamn ships…I bloody hate sailing."
In the silence that followed that slight crisis, Jack heard it again. The slow, mournful (yet enticing) call. It filled him with a desire to go to it, to make it his, to become the rightful owner. Happiness dwelled within the very coin, and if he found it, if he just located it, everything would be wonderful, his heart would be content and worry-free…
Blinking, Jack vigorously shook his head. What was he thinking?
Don't think, Jack. Just go to it…go to the coin.
He felt his mind become light, his body become comfortingly warm and secure. If he just found the coin, if he just made it his…
"No," he told himself firmly. "No way in bloody hell am I getting that coin."
The coin.
"The coin!" he yelled, standing up so violently that he nearly toppled over. The coin was calling to him…that's what it was! He could easily locate the coin and prevent Barbossa from reaching it before he did…
"So that's what it is…it's the curse that's still conversing with me," he mumbled, pacing back and forth. "But Barbossa's going to get there too…he hears it calling too…is it a trap?" he wondered out loud, rubbing his chin. "Is he just trying to get me there? No, he's not that smart…yet again, he did manage to maroon me THREE TIMES," he grumbled grudgingly.
"Er…who you talking to, reckon?"
Jack whirled around to see Dolan leaning in the doorway. Jack noticed he hadn't seemed to have aged a day since the last time he saw him twelve years ago. He looked to be the same young, strikingly handsome, roguish rum-runner that he had been when he helped Jack off of that island. But now, his clothes were shabbier, some of his jewelry gone, and there was a genuine happiness that had disappeared from his eyes. This was probably due to the breakdown of the Rum Ring, Jack figured.
Slightly embarrassed, Jack mumbled, "Er…ah…no one, actually."
Dolan grinned childishly. "Oh, good. Just making sure it was you who was crazy, not me."
"As if you didn't know I was bloody mad," Jack countered, still somewhat distracted. He needed to figure out what to do about the token…if he knew Barbossa, he'd already be going after it at full speed.
"So what are you thinking so hard about?" Dolan asked, frowning slightly. "I've never seen you think so hard in my life."
"Neither have I, now that you mention it."
"Seriously, Jack, what goes?"
Jack looked to Dolan for a moment and then answered, "The token…MY missing token. It's calling out to us…"
For a moment, Dolan looked completely confused, if not somewhat cautious. In disbelief, he opened his mouth to comment, and then shut it quickly. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw Dolan study him very closely, looking him up and down, as if he would be able to tell just by looking at Jack if he were fibbing, telling the truth, completely mad, or all three. Jack knew Dolan was a good man…he was one of the few who he would trust his life to. But he knew that the rum runner had suspicions, and looking back on the situation, Jack didn't blame him in the slightest.
"So," Dolan spoke, clearing his throat, "where might this token of yourn be?"
Jack turned to look at the man, astounded. He believed him…he believed him? "You believe me, then?" Jack asked incredulously before he could stop himself.
"Aye, so don't go giving me any reason not to," grunted Dolan, standing up straight and adjusting his belt over his waist. "Now…where is it?"
"I don't rightly know," he murmured, listening to the constant drone of the token in his ears. "But what I DO know is that we should be going in…that direction," he added, pointing west.
Dolan nodded, rubbing his left arm. "Aye…then we leave at once," he said swiftly. Before Jack could thank him, Dolan left the door and strode out of sight, presumably onto the deck to inform the crew. Jack gathered his effects and was about to follow when he almost walked into a man standing where Dolan had been barely thirty seconds before.
"Commodore," Jack breathed.
Norrington stood…no, he leaned against the doorway. His skin had a green tinge to it, a sickly pallid sweat forming at his brow. His eyes were slightly closed and unfocused, his wig gone, his once-regal Navy uniform now torn and tattered, an old blanket placed about his shoulders to keep him warm. His shoulder-length brown hair hung loosely in frizzed strands about his neck. He was barely recognizable as the former Commodore Norrington of the British Royal Navy. Now, standing before Jack, he looked more like a pauper.
Nevertheless, as Norrington spoke, he spoke with precision and politic. "Jack," he began in his dignified voice, forcing himself to straighten up as he walked a few feet into the room. "I just wanted to…thank you…for…for saving my life."
"Oh, don't mention it," Jack nodded, averting his eyes to the floor. Was he imagining things, or was the commodore THANKING a pirate?
"No, I really appreciate it. It was very…noble of you, and I am grateful for your bravery, Captain Sparrow."
Jack felt as if he had been punched in the stomach…but in a pleasant sort of way.
CAPTAIN Sparrow? Unbelievable, Jack thought, staring at the commodore. Did he just call me CAPTAIN Sparrow? The man who wanted to kill me barely two years before, the man who wanted to see me hang by my neck at the gallows, the man who hated pirates and all they stood for, was now thanking me and addressing me as a CAPTAIN?
Jack opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Norrington was a proud man, and Jack knew it must take a great deal of humbleness to thank and befriend a pirate. Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, Jack grinned and said, "Sorry for the confusion, mate. But Jack will do."
Norrington narrowed his eyes, but Jack could see his lip twitch in an attempted smile. Still looking quite pale and ill, the commodore asked, "Why, pray tell, do you now decide to have me call you Jack for good?"
He grinned, placing his hat on his head ever so dramatically. "Because, commodore, its what my friends call me."
~*~
Now standing out on deck, Jack breathed in the fresh air, surveying the boundless ocean surrounding him. The waves gently propelled the ship forward, the masts full of the gentle night air. If only this bloody vessel would move faster, Jack brooded with a heavy feeling in his stomach. Only hope that bastard Barbossa isn't there yet…
" - ALL YOUR FAULT!"
"DON'T BLAME ME FOR THE FACT THAT YOU'RE AN OUTLAW!"
"AT LEAST I HAVE HONOR IN MY JOB!"
"YES, ILLEGAL RUM TRADING IS A REWARDING AND PRINCIPLED JOB, TO BE SURE!"
"Oh Christ," grumbled Jack, heading off in the direction of the screaming. Looks as if Norrington and Dolan have met at last, he thought grumpily.
Walking into the mess area, Jack was greeted by a china cup flying past his ear, missing him by milliseconds. Wide-eyed, he stared across the room to where Johnson, Barley, and McCollough were restraining Dolan from pouncing on Norrington, who stood valiantly, his sword drawn, with young Will Turner in front of him.
"Aye, ye bloody bastard!" screamed a voice to his right. He looked to see Ingrid plow past Dolan, holding a rolling pin threateningly above her head. "Putting us out of business! We 'ave no money left, thanks to ye! Broke, left for nothing!"
"Ma'am…no, Ingrid!" Will protested, grabbing her wrist and wrenching the rolling pin out of her hand. "Stop it!" he protested to her as he tried to prevent her from attacking Norrington with her bare hands. Will turned to look at him, and called, "JACK! Come here and help me!"
Unable to suppress a haughty grin, Jack strode over to Ingrid, grabbed her around her plump waist, and held on to her. "INGRID!" he yelled over Dolan's screams, Norrington's retorts, and Ingrid's own screeching. "INGRID! Calm down, lass, calm down." Jack's words seemed to have a calming effect, for Ingrid ceased in her mission to kill Norrington, but still wore the look of someone who, if provoked, would pounce at a moments notice. The commodore lowered his sword ever so slightly. But Dolan was as furious as ever, and still required the three men to work as restraints.
"BLOODY COWARD, THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE! THINK YOU'RE HIGH AND MIGHTY, DO YE? DO NOTHING BUT WEAR YOUR FANCY WIGS AND YOUR FANCY UNIFORM, RECKON."
"Dolan, shh!" commanded Jack, putting a finger to his lips. Needless to say, that didn't work.
"FEEL PROUD, DO YE? PROUD OF WHAT YOU DID TO MY BROTHER, YOU BLOODY BASTARD?"
Jack immediately fell silent. He had forgotten about Jonathan, Dolan's younger brother. He had spoken to Jonathan perhaps twice on the voyage from the island, but never became close with him as he had become close to Dolan. Jonathan had been quiet, reserved…Jack had the distinct impression that he was highly intelligent, but never let on to it.
Jack looked to Norrington, who had completely lowered his sword. He stood, gaping slightly at Dolan, understanding encompassing his tired face. He was standing slightly hunched as if defeated, the loathsome look all but vanished from his expression. It was replaced by a more defined emotion…Jack thought, for a moment, it was guilt.
There was a deafening silence following Dolan's words, and Jack saw Will look at him questioningly. Shaking his head slightly, Jack walked forward in between the two men and said, softly, "I think it best we get our sleep, lads. We'll be to the coin any time soon."
Jack looked at Norrington who still stood staring at Dolan. Walking over to the commodore, he said, "Come here…commodore, let's go," he added, taking him by the arm and leading him out of the mess hall. He escorted him to his room and followed him in, shutting the door behind him. Norrington simply sat down on his bed, placed his face in his hands and muttered softly, "I'd like to be alone."
Nodding respectfully, Jack turned and left the room, closing the door gently behind him. His curiosity still not quenched, he went back to the mess hall where he found Will and Johnson picking up the broken pieces of glassware off of the floor. Ingrid stood behind Dolan whispering in his ear, and the rest of the crew stood in small groups around the room, talking in hushed voices.
Jack walked directly over to Dolan, pulled up a chair to face him directly, and said, without preamble, "What in bloody hell was that about, Dolan?"
"Don't feel like talking about it, reckon," he mumbled, taking a swig from a cup.
"You owe Jack an explanation," protested Will from across the room. "You were about to kill Norrington!"
"And what if I was," Dolan shot back, standing up. "Mind yer own business, Turner."
"This IS my business," Will countered, his jaw clenching and his body stiffening. "My expecting wife is out there in the hands of a lunatic pirate, and Norrington is a skilled fighter and an expert soldier. I'm not about to let you endanger her life further because of your stupid grudges."
"Oh, so you call hating the one who murdered your brother a stupid grudge, do ye?" Dolan asked. Jack could tell he was struggling to keep his anger in check. "Is it stupid that ye hate Barbossa for killin' yer father?"
"YOU LEAVE MY FATHER OUT OF THIS!" Will yelled, walking towards Dolan who, in turn, began to approach Will.
"OH BLEEDIN' CHRIST!" Jack screamed, grabbing a hold of Dolan's shirt and throwing him down upon the chair. He then reached for Will's shirt, grabbed, it and threw him against the wall of the cabin. He then stood in between the two men and said, "The crew and I would greatly appreciate it if ye didn't act like such bloody children." Both men still looked possessed, so Jack said, "If ye two want to kill each other, that's your own business. But, quite frankly, I'm going to need you two to help rescue Elizabeth." He saw Will's face slacken slightly. "So unless you don't want your wife back, Will, and unless you want me to throw you overboard, Dolan, I suggest you both act your ages and start behavin' like grown pirates."
Dolan and Will said nothing, and Jack graciously accepted the silence. Then, he spoke. "Dolan…what happened to Jonathan?" he asked quietly.
He saw the rum runner wince at the mention of the name, thrown out of his raging trance. He suddenly looked nostalgic, his eyes mournful. He set looked blankly down at the floor and began, "It was Norrington who caught us in our last rum run of the season." Jack nodded, and Dolan continued. "I was on the Victoria Anne, and Jonathan was on the Rachel Faith. He had all of the shipments of rum, and I was the decoy. We knew Norrington would be patrolling these waters. Heard it from other runners, reckon." He paused for a long while, staring out into space. His eyes twitched every now and then as if he were reliving the moment, watching it unfold in front of him. His breathing was shallow and nondescript. Then, he continued. "Norrington caught the Rachel Faith. He boarded it and rounded up the crew. The punishment for illegal rum trading was death by hanging…of course, my brother knew that. And he wasn't about to be hanged in front of a crowd, disgraced and stripped of all dignity, reckon.
"So he did the noble thing. He attacked Norrington's men. Fought to the death, he did…fought until he had no more men left, until it was just him. He knew it was over…he attacked Norrington…but Norrington didn't want to do the noble job. He subdued Johnny…knocked him out cold. Took him back to Port Royal and…and hung 'im in front of a jeering crowd. He mocked my brother's death, that bastard…he disgraced my brother's memory."
A strange ringing sounded in Jack's ears, until he said, "How do you know all of this?"
Dolan nodded to a heavy sailor in the corner. "Barley over there…the only one to survive. Found him floatin' on his back in the ocean some two days later…he told us all about it, reckon." Jack looked up to Barley who stood staring back at him, a strange expression on his face. "So that's why I want him dead," Dolan said, looking up at Will. "And that's why you've got no business telling me not to."
Jack looked over to Will, who was hanging his head in what appeared to be guilt and sadness. Will knew what it was like to lose someone close, and Jack knew the boy felt Dolan's pain. Without another word, young Turner turned and walked out of the mess hall, throwing down the broken plate he was holding in anger and mixed emotion. It smashed on the floor, the sharp debris spreading across the floor.
Jack looked up at Dolan again, who still sat there, staring into space. He looked up at Ingrid whose eyes were red and bloodshot, silent tears streaming down her face. It took a lot to make that lady cry…but losing a nephew was, undoubtedly, tough on the poor mum.
Signing, Jack stood up, putting a hand on Dolan's shoulder and squeezing it comfortingly. "Aye…we've got no business telling you not to kill Norrington," commented Jack, nodding. "But lad…he's changed. He let me free…almost got hung by my onesie in Port Royal. But he's had a change of heart, mate."
Dolan shook his head, merely muttering, "I want his head on a plate, reckon."
Surveying the surrounding debris of broken plates and glasses, Jack commented, "You've got no plates left."
Dolan looked up into Jack's eyes, and Jack could see a new sparkle of life where there was none previous to his joke. "You're the most disrespectin' pirate I know of," he resonded gruffly.
"Aye," said Jack. "But I know what it's like losin' a brother too."
"You had a brother?" Dolan asked.
"Aye…by the name of William Turner." He saw Dolan nod in comprehension, and Jack added, "You know what I'm about, then. Barbossa killed my brother…why don't you help me kill Barbossa?"
The rum runner looked, for a moment, as if he were about to decline in Jack's request. But instead, he stood up and nodded vaguely. "Good," Jack grinned. "What do you say we find the token, rescue the lass, and save millions of souls from being damned…savvy?"
"On one condition."
Jack raised his eyebrows. "What might that be?"
Dolan grinned ever so slightly and sat back down on his chair, taking a big swig of rum. "First, you tell us about that infamous night with Scarlet."
~*~
That was long, just because I love you.
Action, adventure, and bloodshed in next chapter, reckon? J