Broken Wings
A Pirates of the Caribbean story by Merrie
Disclaimer: I still don't see my name in the credits no matter how many times I watch them, so I guess that means they aren't mine. Damn.
Summary: Captain Jack has lost his ship, his crew, nearly his life, and now his sanity to a horrible new curse. Will this Sparrow be able soar again after his wings have been broken?
Characters: Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Commodore Norrington, and the hated voice that still remains mysterious.
Author's Note: I've given Elizabeth more insight into insanity that anyone from that time period would normally have for the sake of the story. It's more interesting this way, trust me.
Rating: This story is rated PG-13 and continues to be an all out angst fest. I make no apologies for it. Well, maybe a few.
Pairings: If some J/E moments come about in this story, don't blame me. Blame the wonderful author of the Deepest Circle, Halia. She corrupted me. ;-)
Chapter 9: Illness and Inopportune Moments
Will grunted in pain as one of the logs he carried in his arms loosened itself from his grip and dropped down on his foot. He didn't dare stop to pick it up however; he had to get back to the beach where he had left Norrington. He had had to pull the man to shore and by the way he had coughed louder and louder with every step, he knew he had to get the other man dry and warm as soon as possible or there was a real chance of developing pneumonia. And if that happened, God forbid it did, Will didn't know what he would do. He wasn't a doctor, he was a blacksmith.
He had never even really been around sick people in all his life. While his mother had died young, it wasn't from illness. She had been thrown from her horse and had broken her next upon hitting the ground. Will found it hard to remember her at times since it had been so long ago. He briefly sent up a prayer to her and asked her to watch over him and his friends. He would have prayed for Elizabeth chiefly, since he didn't know yet whether she lived still or had been lost to the sea, but if Norrington's health was ailing, he would need a good amount of prayer as well. And he couldn't forget about Jack. No, whatever had warned him of Jack's situation in the first place would definitely not let him forget about the pirate captain. Something in him told him that Jack was in more trouble now than he ever had been before, but yet he was curiously unworried. It was as if something or someone was now looking over Jack and had assured him that everything would be fine in the end.
He came upon Norrington lying on his side in the sand, his hacking cough sounding even worse than it had before. "How are you feeling, James?" Will asked softly, laying the small stack of what dry wood he could find after such a storm at his feet.
"I won't lie to you, Will. I've been better," the man wheezed and coughed again, the sound wet and deep in his chest. "I fear I may have swallowed some sea water and that is now what is causing these wretched coughs." As if to illustrate his point, Norrington once more broke into a series of deep rattling coughs that looked as if they would break the man in half from the force of them.
Will immediately rushed to the man's side and sat behind him, pulling Norrington up to lean against his chest. "Just keep concentrating on breathing in and out and you'll be all right, James," Will said loudly over the man's coughs. "I know it's difficult, but I can't have you stop breathing on me, now can I? You've already done it once, and that was one too many times in my book. So you just keep breathing and I'll try and start a fire to get us dry and warm, savvy?"
Norrington's coughs finally abated as he was able to breathe easier in the upright position Will held him in. He turned his head slightly to the right and spoke over his shoulder, "I swear I'll keep breathing as long as you never say that word again, Will," he said with a small smile that belied his serious tone.
"What word?" Will asked in an innocent tone. He then made a gasp as if Norrington had affronted his dignity. "I most certainly did not curse, you scoundrel!" he imitated the Governor as best as he could to affect the right tone of voice.
Norrington let out a short bark of laughter at this which was what Will had been aiming for all along. "You bloody well know which word I mean, Mr. Turner," he said sternly. "That Captain Sparrow is a bad influence on your vocabulary. Just what in the blazes does *savvy* mean anyway?"
"You know what, I'm not entirely sure. You'll have to ask Jack when we see him," Will refused to let his optimism die. He had no doubt whatsoever that they would see his pirate friend again soon, and that Norrington would be able to ask his question. "That is, if he doesn't keel over in either shock or laughter at hearing the word savvy out of your mouth," Will said with a smile.
"Indeed," was Norrington's only response.
"Do you think you can sit up without my help, or do you want me to lie you back down on the ground?" Will asked, turning their minds back to the situation at hand. Will still had his hands clasped firmly around the other man's chest, holding him upright when he couldn't manage the feat on his own.
"I'm not sure," Norrington finally admitted after a long pause. He hated admitting weakness in front of anyone. Even a friend, which he now considered Will to be without doubt.
"Alright. I'm going to push you up a little straighter, and we'll see if you can do the rest on your own. And don't worry, I'll be right behind you should you fall," Will said kindly and Norrington couldn't help a smile. What had he done to deserve such a loyal friend? More importantly, what had Sparrow done? It was a conversation he fully intended to have with the pirate captain the next time he saw him; hopefully soon for all their sakes.
Norrington managed to sit upright on his own, just. Once Will saw that he wasn't going to topple over backward onto the sand he moved away from him and went over to the large pile of logs he had collected. Norrington even noticed that most of them were pretty much dry, which was quite a feat considering the storm that had taken the Saviour and nearly all its crew. Will soon returned carrying a large log which he placed behind Norrington and instructed the military man to lean against.
"Thank you, Will," Norrington said once he was as comfortable as was possible sitting on the hard wet sand and leaning against an equally hard if not as wet log.
"I'm sure you'd do the same for me," Will said with a smile in Norrington's direction. "Now, let's see if I can't get a fire started so we can both get dry, alright? I just want you to sit there and try and stay still. Can you breathe alright? You swallowed a bit of seawater, and I'm worried that it still might be in your lungs. You know what that would mean if it was, don't you?" Will asked quietly, stacking a few of the dryer logs into a small circle for a fire.
"It means that I could develop pneumonia if I'm not extremely lucky." Norrington ended his statement with another round of wrenching coughs that made both men wince; Norrington in pain, and Will in sympathy and worry. "I certainly don't sound very good, now do I?" Norrington asked, smiling wryly when the coughing had abated.
Will merely snorted and rolled his eyes at the other man's odd sense of timing in which to develop a sense of humor. Death could be knocking right now, God forbid, and the man was joking. The action of laughing in the face of death and danger reminded him so much of Jack that it made his chest ache in sorrow for his lost friend. But no, he wouldn't think on him right now. For if he did, his thoughts would soon lead to Elizabeth and he feared that once he fully thought of the fact that she may very well be lost to him forever, he would lose what little control he was hanging on to the moment and he couldn't afford that. Norrington couldn't afford that. So he would persevere. He would remain strong and in control until Norrington was out of danger and either Jack was rescued or it was discovered that he was looking after Elizabeth in the afterlife. It was only then that he would let himself mourn.
Will built up the fire he had created, hoping that the warm air Norrington inhaled would help dry out some of the water that surely remained in his lungs. Hope. That was all he had left at this point. He had to hope that everything would be alright. He had to fight the grim thought that Elizabeth was dead. She was strong, she would survive. He had to hold on to that hope or go mad.
***
Jack had gone mad. There was no easy way of saying it. Jack had gone utterly and completely, although hopefully not permanently mad. Fortunately for Elizabeth, he was sitting quietly in the sand save for a few mumbled exclamations of how he had gone to hell and dong everything she told him to do. She had cleaned as much blood off of his face as she could without water. The saltwater from the ocean would only inflame the gouge on his cheek and cause him more pain, and Elizabeth didn't think she could deal with that right now. But unless she got the wound as clean as possible, there was a real chance of it becoming infected. Fortunately for her and perhaps for Jack as well, when the bullet had shot along his cheek, the heat of it had cauterized the wound and stopped the bleeding.
"Just sit there still ok, Jack? I know this hurts, but I have to do it. It will be over soon, I promise," Elizabeth purposefully kept her voice even and calm, speaking to the pirate captain as if he were a small child. Speaking in this manner helped keep him calm and somewhat in control, but she hadn't even attempted to address the madness that currently gripped his mind. She thought it was best to deal with the situation one problem at a time, and right now the wound on Jack's cheek needed immediate attention. It needed stitches, and soon, and he would have an ugly scar there for the rest of his life. A permanent reminder of a time he would probably not choose to remember in the future. Elizabeth knew she wouldn't want to. That is, if he didn't try and kill himself again.
She cast a quick glance over the various weapon laden bodies and frowned. With Jack being mad, she would have to collect all the weapons and put them somewhere safe should he decide to either attempt suicide again, or equally horrible, come after her. Either way, the weapons would have to go. She would keep a sword and perhaps a pistol or two to defend herself, just in case, but she had to keep them out of Jack's hands. She would have to find a way to remove his own sword and pistol from him without upsetting him. She knew the task wouldn't be an easy one.
Casting a glance down to his waist where he kept his sword and pistol, Elizabeth frowned to see that they weren't there. His faded and tattered red and white sash was tied securely to his waist like always, but his weapons weren't there. Her glance shot back up to his face in a questioning glance and her eyes widened to see that his red sash wasn't around his head either and his hat seemed to have disappeared. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before. Jack's long black hair hung to its full length for the first time since she had known him, a wild tangled mane of braids and beads that only helped to make him seem even more insane. By God, it was even parted neatly down the middle. Elizabeth thought her jaw would fall to the ground forgotten in her shock.
"Jack, what happened to your red sash? The one you wear on your head?" Elizabeth couldn't stop herself from asking.
"Ana, it's Ana's.......she wanted it.......said I looked better without.......God Ana........she has it," Jack continued to mumbled on too quietly for Elizabeth to hear. It wasn't exactly coherent, but he still seemed to be somewhat lucid and in control as he had answered her question to the best of his current ability. She didn't want to press him further than his ability to answer at the moment, and she certainly didn't want to upset him any further with mentions of Ana, but she had to continue with her questions while he was somewhat able to answer them.
She knew she had to be oh so careful, though. She was walking barefoot on a sword's edge when it came to dealing with him. Jack was a man to fear when he was sane, well mostly sane anyway, but now that he was mad, without control and inhibitions, now he was dangerous.
"Where are your weapons Jack? Did Ana take those too?" Elizabeth asked as quietly and calmly as she could, trying with all her might to keep Jack as even-keeled as possible when it came to mentions of Ana. From what she had been able to figure out in his uttered mumblings, Ana had died in his arms. If that had happened to her, if she had had to hold Will in her arms as the life slipped away from him, helpless to do anything but watch.......she shuddered. She would have broken. The mere thought of such a thing happening threatened to break her, but to go through it for real.......the thought was sobering. That Jack retained even the smallest bit of himself after facing that was nearly unbelievable. Elizabeth's respect for the pirate captain grew tenfold.
Jack shifted his weight back and forth repeatedly like a child fidgeting under a parent's stern glare and looked up from where he was sitting cross- legged in the sand sheepishly. "Lost 'em," was all he had to say.
Elizabeth fought down the urge to groan. In the short time she had been dealing with him in this state, Jack gravitated between three personalities. The first was frightened and nearly incoherent. She had witnessed it when he talked about Ana and what had happened to him and his crew. The second was the child-like state he seemed to revert into whenever he couldn't deal with the memories thinking of Ana and his crew brought. From what she could figure out, it was like a shield he put up around him to shut out the outside world, and it made her heart ache to see him so. And the third.......the third she had only seen once, and she would be eternally grateful if that would remain the only time. In that third state he seemed to become suicidal and violent and it was all she could do to restrain him, try and talk him out of it, or just head for high water.
"Where did you lose them, Jack?" she asked sternly but gently and leaned away from his face and sat on her heels in the sand.
"In the dark place. Don't wanna go in there again. The voice is there waiting for me," Jack whispered as if he was afraid of being overheard.
A voice in the cave waiting for him? This was new. "What voice, Jack? What are you talking about?"
'Don't tell her, Jack. People who reveal secrets get punished," the voice whispered to him slowly.
"Not supposed to tell. He told me not to tell. Said I would get punished," Jack whispered, his eyes wide and even more childlike as the dark rings of kohl had been washed away with what looked like tears. "And he can punish, Miss Elizabeth. He has before," Jack continued even softer than before, and Elizabeth had to lean in close to him to catch the words.
What new hell had Jack found himself in now? He was hearing voices? Elizabeth briefly sent up a prayer for what small bit of sanity remained in Jack's shattered mind. "Wait, he's punished you? How has he punished you?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes widening. What had Jack done to himself now?
Jack cocked his head as if listening to someone and then pulled up the sleeve of his shirt on his left arm up past his elbow. Elizabeth gasped at what she saw there; the most beautiful and intricate tattoo she had ever seen. It started on Jack's middle and ring fingers and wound its way up his arm in a series of complicated and twisted knots, none of them looking messy and tangled like you would expect knots to be, but each one beautiful and mysteriously complicated. It didn't look new. Had Jack had it when she first met him? She knew he had the sparrow tattoo on his right forearm, the stories of him made sure to mention such a distinguishing mark, but why was there no mention of this? Especially when it was easily 10 times as distinguishing and striking as the sparrow tattoo was? How had no one noticed it?
"When did you get this, Jack? How come I've never seen it before?" Elizabeth asked, tracing a finger on the intricately woven black lines. Jack pulled his arm back with a hiss in pain between clenched teeth upon contact as if she had burned him. "What's wrong now, Jack?" Elizabeth asked, a bit startled at his reaction.
"This was my punishment. I was bad. The voice gave it to me. It gets bigger when he's inside. I don't like it when he's inside, Miss Elizabeth," she couldn't get him to stop calling her that while he was in this state but she had certainly not lacked in trying. "It hurts. He hurts me. And he can hurt you too. He hurt.......her," by her he meant Ana. He wouldn't say her name while he was like this either.
"What do you mean it gets bigger? It's a tattoo, Jack. It doesn't change. Not unless you're the one to change it," Elizabeth said calmly and slowly, once more too keep her voice as free from irritation as possible.
"It's not a tattoo, you daft bint!" Jack yelled, and Elizabeth gasped in shock. "I know what tattoos bloody well are, I have quite a few of them as you know. You being the expert on everything Jack Sparrow, isn't that right? You've read all about me. All about the things I've done the people I've killed. Do you know what it's like to kill a man, Elizabeth? Of course you don't. You're just a silly girl who's in way over her head." He got up from his seated position on his hands and knees and crawled over to where she was still kneeling, close enough for her to feel his hot breath on her cheek. "Let me tell you about it, Elizabeth. It's the most liberating experience I've ever felt before. The feeling as you watch the life slip out of another man's eyes after you've shot him or run him through, I prefer the second actually. I like to be up close like when I kill a man. Kind of how we are now. Did I ever tell you that? I like to hear man's last breath as he dies at my hand. I revel in it. That's who I am. That's the pirate I am. I know you're pretty little head is full of romantic notions of what a pirate is and does, but let me tell you, that's all they are; romantic notions. In reality, pirates are brutal, unfeeling monsters of men who would be as likely to kill you as to talk to you. Just, like, me."
Jack drawled out the last statement, coming even closer to her than before, and she couldn't help but be drawn into the dark obsidian pools of his eyes. This was it. This was what madness looked like. Elizabeth couldn't fathom what she had done to set him off like this. One minute he was calling her Miss Elizabeth and for all the world acting like a small child, and now this.......whatever it was. She had never once been afraid of him, not until now. She fell backwards off of her heels, wincing as her tailbone hit the sand hard.
"What's wrong, Elizabeth? Do I make you nervous? But isn't this how you've always wanted to see me? Mad Jack Sparrow, the ruthless pirate captain from your fairy tales? Well you've got your wish. Here I am," he spread his hands wide and smiled broadly, the image looking horrid with the deep burnt gouge in his right cheek. "And you know what; this is rather like a fairy tale. We've got a heroine, a villain, a shipwreck, and loads of dramatic tension. But there's no happily ever after in sight is there? At least, not for you," Jack moved in closer to her.
Elizabeth knew she had to do something, and soon. This had gone far enough. She was beyond frightened of Jack at this point. No, whoever this person was in front of her saying these awful things was not Jack. If she could be certain of anything at this point in time, it was that. Of course, that didn't help her any. Even if it wasn't Jack doing these things, that didn't stop them from being done. Jack was gone, and she was forced to deal with whoever was left behind. And she didn't trust the man left behind as far as she could throw him.
Quickly turning to her side and climbing to her feet, narrowly avoiding Jack's hand trying to grab her ankle, she ran and grabbed the closest pistol she could find, and pointed it at him. "Just stop right there. Stop what you're doing right now," Elizabeth said, her hand wavering a bit under the weight of the pistol.
"Or what? You'll shoot me?" Jack questioned mockingly. "I don't believe you, Miss Elizabeth. In your heart you're a coward, relying on others to protect you. Me, Will, Commodore Norrington. You couldn't do anything to protect yourself if your life depended on it. Which unfortunately for you, does this time. I'm dreadfully sorry, Miss Elizabeth," Jack said with a wicked smirk.
Before Jack could comment again, Elizabeth flipped the pistol in her hand so that she was holding the barrel tightly in a clenched fist. She then raised her hand high above her head and cracked Jack soundly on the temple with the butt of the pistol. He dropped to the sand as if she had removed all the bones from his body.
Upon seeing his still body hit the sand, the side of his head a bloody mess where she had hit it, the pistol fell loosely from her grip and bounced on the sand at her feet, but she paid it no notice. She fell to her knees and retched her last meal onto the sand in front of her face. When she was finished she wiped a dirty hand across her mouth and felt that her face was wet with tears. "Oh God, Jack I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't be dead, I'm sorry," she knelt over Jack's prone body and shook it roughly. He didn't move. "Oh God, please wake up, Jack. I'm sorry. Don't leave me alone in this place. I'll help you, I won't ever try and hurt you again if you just wake up and talk to me, I promise," Elizabeth pleaded.
Her replies were in vain however, if not for the somewhat shallow rise and fall of his chest to signify that he did indeed still live; Jack might as well have been a corpse.
***
'This has got to be hell,' Norrington thought unhappily. 'No other place than that could let me survive after every one of these God forsaken coughs. That is, if I am surviving. It certainly doesn't feel like it.' Norrington didn't want Will to find out, didn't want him fuss over something he couldn't control, but Norrington feel himself getting worse. With each passing breath it became harder and harder to breathe in again. As it was, his breathing was shallow and painful and only becoming more so as time went by. And he wouldn't be able to hide this fact from Will for much longer which angered him to no end. The man had enough on his plate without having to deal with sick naval commodores. Not that he was necessarily going to remain a commodore after this was all over. That was a risk he was well aware of when he had agreed to help Will find Jack Sparrow, and he had no regrets about that decision now. No, his only regret was that they hadn't taken more men with them to sea. If they had.......if they had Elizabeth might still be alive and the Saviour might still be afloat.
Will might be willing to keep the hope alive that Elizabeth was still alive out there somewhere and waiting for the two of them, but Norrington had always been more of a realistic man than a hopeful dreamer like Will Turner. The two of them had barely survived together, and if Will hadn't been conscious to pull him out of the water, he would most likely have drowned. It occurred to him that he had never fully thanked the young blacksmith for that. Well, if he survived this little adventure, he would certainly have to. But even so, the two of them managed to survive only relying on the other. With Elizabeth out by herself in the raging ocean.......chances weren't good that she had made it. He didn't want to give up hope, he would give anything to be as cheerfully optimistic as Will was right now, but he found he hadn't the energy. One thing was for certain however, if Elizabeth had somehow survived the storm and had washed up on an island like they had, she was much better off.
TBC
A/N: Angsty, I know. I'm not going to try and soften any blows here, the next chapter is going to be even more so, and I'll have to up the rating a notch. I hope you'll all still be interested to see what I've come up with. Until then, please send me your reviews. Thanks a bunch!!
A Pirates of the Caribbean story by Merrie
Disclaimer: I still don't see my name in the credits no matter how many times I watch them, so I guess that means they aren't mine. Damn.
Summary: Captain Jack has lost his ship, his crew, nearly his life, and now his sanity to a horrible new curse. Will this Sparrow be able soar again after his wings have been broken?
Characters: Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Commodore Norrington, and the hated voice that still remains mysterious.
Author's Note: I've given Elizabeth more insight into insanity that anyone from that time period would normally have for the sake of the story. It's more interesting this way, trust me.
Rating: This story is rated PG-13 and continues to be an all out angst fest. I make no apologies for it. Well, maybe a few.
Pairings: If some J/E moments come about in this story, don't blame me. Blame the wonderful author of the Deepest Circle, Halia. She corrupted me. ;-)
Chapter 9: Illness and Inopportune Moments
Will grunted in pain as one of the logs he carried in his arms loosened itself from his grip and dropped down on his foot. He didn't dare stop to pick it up however; he had to get back to the beach where he had left Norrington. He had had to pull the man to shore and by the way he had coughed louder and louder with every step, he knew he had to get the other man dry and warm as soon as possible or there was a real chance of developing pneumonia. And if that happened, God forbid it did, Will didn't know what he would do. He wasn't a doctor, he was a blacksmith.
He had never even really been around sick people in all his life. While his mother had died young, it wasn't from illness. She had been thrown from her horse and had broken her next upon hitting the ground. Will found it hard to remember her at times since it had been so long ago. He briefly sent up a prayer to her and asked her to watch over him and his friends. He would have prayed for Elizabeth chiefly, since he didn't know yet whether she lived still or had been lost to the sea, but if Norrington's health was ailing, he would need a good amount of prayer as well. And he couldn't forget about Jack. No, whatever had warned him of Jack's situation in the first place would definitely not let him forget about the pirate captain. Something in him told him that Jack was in more trouble now than he ever had been before, but yet he was curiously unworried. It was as if something or someone was now looking over Jack and had assured him that everything would be fine in the end.
He came upon Norrington lying on his side in the sand, his hacking cough sounding even worse than it had before. "How are you feeling, James?" Will asked softly, laying the small stack of what dry wood he could find after such a storm at his feet.
"I won't lie to you, Will. I've been better," the man wheezed and coughed again, the sound wet and deep in his chest. "I fear I may have swallowed some sea water and that is now what is causing these wretched coughs." As if to illustrate his point, Norrington once more broke into a series of deep rattling coughs that looked as if they would break the man in half from the force of them.
Will immediately rushed to the man's side and sat behind him, pulling Norrington up to lean against his chest. "Just keep concentrating on breathing in and out and you'll be all right, James," Will said loudly over the man's coughs. "I know it's difficult, but I can't have you stop breathing on me, now can I? You've already done it once, and that was one too many times in my book. So you just keep breathing and I'll try and start a fire to get us dry and warm, savvy?"
Norrington's coughs finally abated as he was able to breathe easier in the upright position Will held him in. He turned his head slightly to the right and spoke over his shoulder, "I swear I'll keep breathing as long as you never say that word again, Will," he said with a small smile that belied his serious tone.
"What word?" Will asked in an innocent tone. He then made a gasp as if Norrington had affronted his dignity. "I most certainly did not curse, you scoundrel!" he imitated the Governor as best as he could to affect the right tone of voice.
Norrington let out a short bark of laughter at this which was what Will had been aiming for all along. "You bloody well know which word I mean, Mr. Turner," he said sternly. "That Captain Sparrow is a bad influence on your vocabulary. Just what in the blazes does *savvy* mean anyway?"
"You know what, I'm not entirely sure. You'll have to ask Jack when we see him," Will refused to let his optimism die. He had no doubt whatsoever that they would see his pirate friend again soon, and that Norrington would be able to ask his question. "That is, if he doesn't keel over in either shock or laughter at hearing the word savvy out of your mouth," Will said with a smile.
"Indeed," was Norrington's only response.
"Do you think you can sit up without my help, or do you want me to lie you back down on the ground?" Will asked, turning their minds back to the situation at hand. Will still had his hands clasped firmly around the other man's chest, holding him upright when he couldn't manage the feat on his own.
"I'm not sure," Norrington finally admitted after a long pause. He hated admitting weakness in front of anyone. Even a friend, which he now considered Will to be without doubt.
"Alright. I'm going to push you up a little straighter, and we'll see if you can do the rest on your own. And don't worry, I'll be right behind you should you fall," Will said kindly and Norrington couldn't help a smile. What had he done to deserve such a loyal friend? More importantly, what had Sparrow done? It was a conversation he fully intended to have with the pirate captain the next time he saw him; hopefully soon for all their sakes.
Norrington managed to sit upright on his own, just. Once Will saw that he wasn't going to topple over backward onto the sand he moved away from him and went over to the large pile of logs he had collected. Norrington even noticed that most of them were pretty much dry, which was quite a feat considering the storm that had taken the Saviour and nearly all its crew. Will soon returned carrying a large log which he placed behind Norrington and instructed the military man to lean against.
"Thank you, Will," Norrington said once he was as comfortable as was possible sitting on the hard wet sand and leaning against an equally hard if not as wet log.
"I'm sure you'd do the same for me," Will said with a smile in Norrington's direction. "Now, let's see if I can't get a fire started so we can both get dry, alright? I just want you to sit there and try and stay still. Can you breathe alright? You swallowed a bit of seawater, and I'm worried that it still might be in your lungs. You know what that would mean if it was, don't you?" Will asked quietly, stacking a few of the dryer logs into a small circle for a fire.
"It means that I could develop pneumonia if I'm not extremely lucky." Norrington ended his statement with another round of wrenching coughs that made both men wince; Norrington in pain, and Will in sympathy and worry. "I certainly don't sound very good, now do I?" Norrington asked, smiling wryly when the coughing had abated.
Will merely snorted and rolled his eyes at the other man's odd sense of timing in which to develop a sense of humor. Death could be knocking right now, God forbid, and the man was joking. The action of laughing in the face of death and danger reminded him so much of Jack that it made his chest ache in sorrow for his lost friend. But no, he wouldn't think on him right now. For if he did, his thoughts would soon lead to Elizabeth and he feared that once he fully thought of the fact that she may very well be lost to him forever, he would lose what little control he was hanging on to the moment and he couldn't afford that. Norrington couldn't afford that. So he would persevere. He would remain strong and in control until Norrington was out of danger and either Jack was rescued or it was discovered that he was looking after Elizabeth in the afterlife. It was only then that he would let himself mourn.
Will built up the fire he had created, hoping that the warm air Norrington inhaled would help dry out some of the water that surely remained in his lungs. Hope. That was all he had left at this point. He had to hope that everything would be alright. He had to fight the grim thought that Elizabeth was dead. She was strong, she would survive. He had to hold on to that hope or go mad.
***
Jack had gone mad. There was no easy way of saying it. Jack had gone utterly and completely, although hopefully not permanently mad. Fortunately for Elizabeth, he was sitting quietly in the sand save for a few mumbled exclamations of how he had gone to hell and dong everything she told him to do. She had cleaned as much blood off of his face as she could without water. The saltwater from the ocean would only inflame the gouge on his cheek and cause him more pain, and Elizabeth didn't think she could deal with that right now. But unless she got the wound as clean as possible, there was a real chance of it becoming infected. Fortunately for her and perhaps for Jack as well, when the bullet had shot along his cheek, the heat of it had cauterized the wound and stopped the bleeding.
"Just sit there still ok, Jack? I know this hurts, but I have to do it. It will be over soon, I promise," Elizabeth purposefully kept her voice even and calm, speaking to the pirate captain as if he were a small child. Speaking in this manner helped keep him calm and somewhat in control, but she hadn't even attempted to address the madness that currently gripped his mind. She thought it was best to deal with the situation one problem at a time, and right now the wound on Jack's cheek needed immediate attention. It needed stitches, and soon, and he would have an ugly scar there for the rest of his life. A permanent reminder of a time he would probably not choose to remember in the future. Elizabeth knew she wouldn't want to. That is, if he didn't try and kill himself again.
She cast a quick glance over the various weapon laden bodies and frowned. With Jack being mad, she would have to collect all the weapons and put them somewhere safe should he decide to either attempt suicide again, or equally horrible, come after her. Either way, the weapons would have to go. She would keep a sword and perhaps a pistol or two to defend herself, just in case, but she had to keep them out of Jack's hands. She would have to find a way to remove his own sword and pistol from him without upsetting him. She knew the task wouldn't be an easy one.
Casting a glance down to his waist where he kept his sword and pistol, Elizabeth frowned to see that they weren't there. His faded and tattered red and white sash was tied securely to his waist like always, but his weapons weren't there. Her glance shot back up to his face in a questioning glance and her eyes widened to see that his red sash wasn't around his head either and his hat seemed to have disappeared. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before. Jack's long black hair hung to its full length for the first time since she had known him, a wild tangled mane of braids and beads that only helped to make him seem even more insane. By God, it was even parted neatly down the middle. Elizabeth thought her jaw would fall to the ground forgotten in her shock.
"Jack, what happened to your red sash? The one you wear on your head?" Elizabeth couldn't stop herself from asking.
"Ana, it's Ana's.......she wanted it.......said I looked better without.......God Ana........she has it," Jack continued to mumbled on too quietly for Elizabeth to hear. It wasn't exactly coherent, but he still seemed to be somewhat lucid and in control as he had answered her question to the best of his current ability. She didn't want to press him further than his ability to answer at the moment, and she certainly didn't want to upset him any further with mentions of Ana, but she had to continue with her questions while he was somewhat able to answer them.
She knew she had to be oh so careful, though. She was walking barefoot on a sword's edge when it came to dealing with him. Jack was a man to fear when he was sane, well mostly sane anyway, but now that he was mad, without control and inhibitions, now he was dangerous.
"Where are your weapons Jack? Did Ana take those too?" Elizabeth asked as quietly and calmly as she could, trying with all her might to keep Jack as even-keeled as possible when it came to mentions of Ana. From what she had been able to figure out in his uttered mumblings, Ana had died in his arms. If that had happened to her, if she had had to hold Will in her arms as the life slipped away from him, helpless to do anything but watch.......she shuddered. She would have broken. The mere thought of such a thing happening threatened to break her, but to go through it for real.......the thought was sobering. That Jack retained even the smallest bit of himself after facing that was nearly unbelievable. Elizabeth's respect for the pirate captain grew tenfold.
Jack shifted his weight back and forth repeatedly like a child fidgeting under a parent's stern glare and looked up from where he was sitting cross- legged in the sand sheepishly. "Lost 'em," was all he had to say.
Elizabeth fought down the urge to groan. In the short time she had been dealing with him in this state, Jack gravitated between three personalities. The first was frightened and nearly incoherent. She had witnessed it when he talked about Ana and what had happened to him and his crew. The second was the child-like state he seemed to revert into whenever he couldn't deal with the memories thinking of Ana and his crew brought. From what she could figure out, it was like a shield he put up around him to shut out the outside world, and it made her heart ache to see him so. And the third.......the third she had only seen once, and she would be eternally grateful if that would remain the only time. In that third state he seemed to become suicidal and violent and it was all she could do to restrain him, try and talk him out of it, or just head for high water.
"Where did you lose them, Jack?" she asked sternly but gently and leaned away from his face and sat on her heels in the sand.
"In the dark place. Don't wanna go in there again. The voice is there waiting for me," Jack whispered as if he was afraid of being overheard.
A voice in the cave waiting for him? This was new. "What voice, Jack? What are you talking about?"
'Don't tell her, Jack. People who reveal secrets get punished," the voice whispered to him slowly.
"Not supposed to tell. He told me not to tell. Said I would get punished," Jack whispered, his eyes wide and even more childlike as the dark rings of kohl had been washed away with what looked like tears. "And he can punish, Miss Elizabeth. He has before," Jack continued even softer than before, and Elizabeth had to lean in close to him to catch the words.
What new hell had Jack found himself in now? He was hearing voices? Elizabeth briefly sent up a prayer for what small bit of sanity remained in Jack's shattered mind. "Wait, he's punished you? How has he punished you?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes widening. What had Jack done to himself now?
Jack cocked his head as if listening to someone and then pulled up the sleeve of his shirt on his left arm up past his elbow. Elizabeth gasped at what she saw there; the most beautiful and intricate tattoo she had ever seen. It started on Jack's middle and ring fingers and wound its way up his arm in a series of complicated and twisted knots, none of them looking messy and tangled like you would expect knots to be, but each one beautiful and mysteriously complicated. It didn't look new. Had Jack had it when she first met him? She knew he had the sparrow tattoo on his right forearm, the stories of him made sure to mention such a distinguishing mark, but why was there no mention of this? Especially when it was easily 10 times as distinguishing and striking as the sparrow tattoo was? How had no one noticed it?
"When did you get this, Jack? How come I've never seen it before?" Elizabeth asked, tracing a finger on the intricately woven black lines. Jack pulled his arm back with a hiss in pain between clenched teeth upon contact as if she had burned him. "What's wrong now, Jack?" Elizabeth asked, a bit startled at his reaction.
"This was my punishment. I was bad. The voice gave it to me. It gets bigger when he's inside. I don't like it when he's inside, Miss Elizabeth," she couldn't get him to stop calling her that while he was in this state but she had certainly not lacked in trying. "It hurts. He hurts me. And he can hurt you too. He hurt.......her," by her he meant Ana. He wouldn't say her name while he was like this either.
"What do you mean it gets bigger? It's a tattoo, Jack. It doesn't change. Not unless you're the one to change it," Elizabeth said calmly and slowly, once more too keep her voice as free from irritation as possible.
"It's not a tattoo, you daft bint!" Jack yelled, and Elizabeth gasped in shock. "I know what tattoos bloody well are, I have quite a few of them as you know. You being the expert on everything Jack Sparrow, isn't that right? You've read all about me. All about the things I've done the people I've killed. Do you know what it's like to kill a man, Elizabeth? Of course you don't. You're just a silly girl who's in way over her head." He got up from his seated position on his hands and knees and crawled over to where she was still kneeling, close enough for her to feel his hot breath on her cheek. "Let me tell you about it, Elizabeth. It's the most liberating experience I've ever felt before. The feeling as you watch the life slip out of another man's eyes after you've shot him or run him through, I prefer the second actually. I like to be up close like when I kill a man. Kind of how we are now. Did I ever tell you that? I like to hear man's last breath as he dies at my hand. I revel in it. That's who I am. That's the pirate I am. I know you're pretty little head is full of romantic notions of what a pirate is and does, but let me tell you, that's all they are; romantic notions. In reality, pirates are brutal, unfeeling monsters of men who would be as likely to kill you as to talk to you. Just, like, me."
Jack drawled out the last statement, coming even closer to her than before, and she couldn't help but be drawn into the dark obsidian pools of his eyes. This was it. This was what madness looked like. Elizabeth couldn't fathom what she had done to set him off like this. One minute he was calling her Miss Elizabeth and for all the world acting like a small child, and now this.......whatever it was. She had never once been afraid of him, not until now. She fell backwards off of her heels, wincing as her tailbone hit the sand hard.
"What's wrong, Elizabeth? Do I make you nervous? But isn't this how you've always wanted to see me? Mad Jack Sparrow, the ruthless pirate captain from your fairy tales? Well you've got your wish. Here I am," he spread his hands wide and smiled broadly, the image looking horrid with the deep burnt gouge in his right cheek. "And you know what; this is rather like a fairy tale. We've got a heroine, a villain, a shipwreck, and loads of dramatic tension. But there's no happily ever after in sight is there? At least, not for you," Jack moved in closer to her.
Elizabeth knew she had to do something, and soon. This had gone far enough. She was beyond frightened of Jack at this point. No, whoever this person was in front of her saying these awful things was not Jack. If she could be certain of anything at this point in time, it was that. Of course, that didn't help her any. Even if it wasn't Jack doing these things, that didn't stop them from being done. Jack was gone, and she was forced to deal with whoever was left behind. And she didn't trust the man left behind as far as she could throw him.
Quickly turning to her side and climbing to her feet, narrowly avoiding Jack's hand trying to grab her ankle, she ran and grabbed the closest pistol she could find, and pointed it at him. "Just stop right there. Stop what you're doing right now," Elizabeth said, her hand wavering a bit under the weight of the pistol.
"Or what? You'll shoot me?" Jack questioned mockingly. "I don't believe you, Miss Elizabeth. In your heart you're a coward, relying on others to protect you. Me, Will, Commodore Norrington. You couldn't do anything to protect yourself if your life depended on it. Which unfortunately for you, does this time. I'm dreadfully sorry, Miss Elizabeth," Jack said with a wicked smirk.
Before Jack could comment again, Elizabeth flipped the pistol in her hand so that she was holding the barrel tightly in a clenched fist. She then raised her hand high above her head and cracked Jack soundly on the temple with the butt of the pistol. He dropped to the sand as if she had removed all the bones from his body.
Upon seeing his still body hit the sand, the side of his head a bloody mess where she had hit it, the pistol fell loosely from her grip and bounced on the sand at her feet, but she paid it no notice. She fell to her knees and retched her last meal onto the sand in front of her face. When she was finished she wiped a dirty hand across her mouth and felt that her face was wet with tears. "Oh God, Jack I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't be dead, I'm sorry," she knelt over Jack's prone body and shook it roughly. He didn't move. "Oh God, please wake up, Jack. I'm sorry. Don't leave me alone in this place. I'll help you, I won't ever try and hurt you again if you just wake up and talk to me, I promise," Elizabeth pleaded.
Her replies were in vain however, if not for the somewhat shallow rise and fall of his chest to signify that he did indeed still live; Jack might as well have been a corpse.
***
'This has got to be hell,' Norrington thought unhappily. 'No other place than that could let me survive after every one of these God forsaken coughs. That is, if I am surviving. It certainly doesn't feel like it.' Norrington didn't want Will to find out, didn't want him fuss over something he couldn't control, but Norrington feel himself getting worse. With each passing breath it became harder and harder to breathe in again. As it was, his breathing was shallow and painful and only becoming more so as time went by. And he wouldn't be able to hide this fact from Will for much longer which angered him to no end. The man had enough on his plate without having to deal with sick naval commodores. Not that he was necessarily going to remain a commodore after this was all over. That was a risk he was well aware of when he had agreed to help Will find Jack Sparrow, and he had no regrets about that decision now. No, his only regret was that they hadn't taken more men with them to sea. If they had.......if they had Elizabeth might still be alive and the Saviour might still be afloat.
Will might be willing to keep the hope alive that Elizabeth was still alive out there somewhere and waiting for the two of them, but Norrington had always been more of a realistic man than a hopeful dreamer like Will Turner. The two of them had barely survived together, and if Will hadn't been conscious to pull him out of the water, he would most likely have drowned. It occurred to him that he had never fully thanked the young blacksmith for that. Well, if he survived this little adventure, he would certainly have to. But even so, the two of them managed to survive only relying on the other. With Elizabeth out by herself in the raging ocean.......chances weren't good that she had made it. He didn't want to give up hope, he would give anything to be as cheerfully optimistic as Will was right now, but he found he hadn't the energy. One thing was for certain however, if Elizabeth had somehow survived the storm and had washed up on an island like they had, she was much better off.
TBC
A/N: Angsty, I know. I'm not going to try and soften any blows here, the next chapter is going to be even more so, and I'll have to up the rating a notch. I hope you'll all still be interested to see what I've come up with. Until then, please send me your reviews. Thanks a bunch!!