Disclaimer: If I owned Jack, I think he'd want to kill me right about now . . .
AN: I'm alive. I've stopped hoping for anything more from life at the moment. I'm really, really sorry, but I don't have the time to type in the results of my survey or answer reviews after this chapter if you guys want it before next week (which I'm assuming you do) but I give my solemn word three times that both will be with part 16.
To Love and Protect
Part 15
"And this one? What's this one for?" The boy fumbled with the silver trinket, squinting his eyes to see the engravings better in the rapidly dimming light.
"That one's for strength, protection against the evil spirits. I found that one in India, a long time ago."
The screams had mercifully stopped roughly ten minutes ago, and the pirate captain had managed to regain most of equilibrium, though his thoughts were still with Ana-Maria. He couldn't help her, though, couldn't even know if she was still alive or if the cessation of the cries meant . . .meant . . .
Oh, damn. He wasn't going to think about that. He had the boy in front of him, in hand, in need of him, and he forced himself to concentrate on that, only that, pushing everything else out of his mind.
They hadn't taken the pouch that held his rings and the other souvenirs from his years of travel, and using them seemed a good way to distract the child.
That, and the fact that if he was going to die, Jack Sparrow would rather die looking the part of the legend.
"Why do you wear them in your hair?"
"Why not?" The answer seemed to satisfy the boy, and he turned his full attention back to the circular trinket, running his fingers along the edges, sniffling slightly.
Jack dropped his hands from their work at braiding a series of beads back into his own hair and snatched the trinket from the lad's uncertain hands. The boy jumped back, fear showing in his eyes.
"Hey, now, don' ye go doin' that on me, Jack. Ye know I wouldn't hurt ye. Come here."
The boy moved forward slowly, a blush tingeing his well-tanned skin. The pirate captain reached down and with deft fingers twisted the trinket into the boy's hair, smiling slightly as the lad shook his head, his eyes cutting to the side at the unfamiliar weight bouncing against the right side of his skull.
"Now you're protected."
"What about you? Don't you need protection?"
"I make my own protection." The pirate captain dropped his hand into the small pile again, pulling out a ring with a wide silver band and a small green gem. "Here. Try this on."
The boy slipped the ring onto his right hand, his gaze darkening as the metal band promptly turned upside-down, hiding the gem, and attempted to slip off his finger.
"No problem." The pirate captain grinned as he grabbed the ring and tied it into the boy's hair just behind and above his left ear.
The small pile diminished rapidly as the boy alternated his attention between helping the pirate braid the keepsakes into his hair and selecting a few for his own hair. Jack grinned again as he watched the boy spin around, fascinated by the strange sensation of weights in his hair.
The opening of the wooden door that separated the brig from the outside world sent the boy careening back into Jack's arms, his momentum nearly knocking the pirate over.
His first thought as the door swung open was that it meant Ana-Maria was alive.
The second one was whether or not she would wish to stay that way.
Two redcoats held Ana-Maria upright, and Jack studied them first, refusing to let his gaze wander to her until he had determined what he could from their faces. Both men seemed ill at ease, at least slightly nauseated.
Jack memorized both their faces. They really wouldn't want to meet him when he had his sword and pistol.
Steeling himself, Jack finally cut his eyes down to Ana-Maria, prepared for the worst. He fought the urge to sigh in relief at the lack of bloodstains on her clothing, reminding himself that there were myriad ways to injure someone without drawing blood. The way she was holding her right arm as tight against her body as she could and the way her head was hanging told him, if the earlier screams hadn't, that something was definitely wrong.
"Amusing, Sparrow. I wonder what his father would say if he saw what you were doing to his son."
Jack lurched unsteadily to his feet, staying upright through sheer force of will as the world tilted randomly a few times before finally steadying out. He knew what Will would say about his caring for the boy. After all, the blacksmith was the one who had insisted that the boy not be left alone to face the nightmares.
He snarled at Michael as the two redcoats unceremoniously unlocked Ana-Maria's cell and shoved her inside. The female pirate stood unsteadily for a moment before collapsing to her knees, her breathing harsh and rapid.
"Te juro que te mataré, traidor. Reza por una muerte rápida." The child was scared enough, and it was unlikely that the redcoats would speak Spanish fluently enough to understand the half-growled words. Jack had had enough bad experiences with guards, and caution dictated that he not bring unnecessary trials down on his head at the moment. After all, he couldn't care for either Ana-Maria or Will's child if he wasn't conscious, and he doubted it would take many more knocks to the head to send him under for a very long time.
"Keep a civil tongue in your head, Sparrow, or I'll be forced to cut it out. Or mayhap I could take the boy's instead, and let you listen to him scream, as well. I don't think you're in any position to be threatening to kill anyone, least of all me." The mercenary stepped closer to the bars of Jack's cell, and the pirate captain returned the movement, staring hard at the other man.
"Je declaré je vous tuerai, traître. Priez pair une marte rapidé." The mercenary again stepped closer to the bars, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Jack again returned the gesture, vaguely aware of the child gripping the back of his shirt with both hands.
"Hallson got what he needed from the woman, Sparrow. He doesn't need you anymore. As for praying, that would imply that I believed in a God. The only God there is is death."
Jack had never seen Michael speaking anything but English. The fact that he knew at least the rudiments of Spanish and French was interesting . . .very interesting.
Then again, a mercenary had to understand what his employers were ordering.
Jack took a step closer, breathing the words practically into the mercenary's ear, separated only by the bars and an inch of air on both sides. Three times was apparently the magic number, and he might as well give himself the best luck that he could in the matter. "I swear I'll kill you, traitor. Pray for a quick death."
The pirate captain jumped back as the mercenary's sword was suddenly free of its scabbard and thrusting through the bars of his cell. The pirate grinned at the fury on the man's face on realizing that the same bars that held Jack prisoner also protected him from harm.
"I still win, Sparrow. Remember that. I've still won. No sound will ever be as sweet as the sound of your neck breaking . . .assuming it breaks, of course, and you don't strangle slowly. That would be almost more amusing." Michael carefully re-sheathed his sword, and Jack noted how the mercenary took great pains to ensure that his fingers never came into contact with the blade.
"Still fighting with a poisoned sword, coward?"
Michael smiled as he turned away, striding swiftly out of the brig, his two guards following, flashing uncertain glances back towards the pirates and the child.
Jack waited until the echoes of the locks being set had died away before moving to kneel in front of the bars separating his and Ana-Maria's cell, grateful as the residual spinning in his head decreased with the change in altitude.
"Ana-Maria . . .love . . ." The female pirate didn't answer, doubled over with her right arm carefully shielded by her body.
"Love, you need to come over here . . .Ana-Maria . . ." There was still no response. If looks could melt metal, the entire brig would be a heap of slag within minutes.
"Aunt Ana-Maria?" The boy's voice was soft and frightened . . .and it brought Ana-Maria's head up slightly.
"Ana, it's Jack. I need you to help me, Ana. Ana-Maria, please, come help me, love." The pirate captain purposefully pitched his voice low, allowing pain and fear to enter it. One part of his heart rebelled at the ruse, but if it could bring a reaction . . .
"Jack . . ." Her voice was a raspy, uncertain ghost as she turned to face him.
"Love, please come here . . ." There was no deception in the pain, fear and need lacing his tones now.
The female pirate moved forward slowly, using her left arm to steady herself as she crawled but keeping her right tight to her stomach. She stopped in front of him, simply staring at him, no emotion evident on her face.
"Oh, love . . ." Jack lifted one hand and brought it slowly up to her cheek, gently brushing dark hairs away from her eyes, anticipating her reaction as his tender touch shattered the shell she had erected to protect herself. He was ready when she closed her eyes, her breathing suddenly more unsteady and faster, ready when the tears started falling, ready as she pressed forward, drawing him as close to her as she could with only one hand and bars in the way.
"Ana-Maria . . .everything's goin' t' be all right, love . . .calm down now. Ana-Maria, I need you to tell me what they did, where they hurt ye." Jack felt her trembling increase, but the female pirate didn't speak or move.
"Love, let me see your arm."
Jack allowed Ana-Maria to keep a tight hold on his right shoulder, ignoring the pain that crawled along his back as her grasping fingers stretched the scab on the partially healed slash that Michael had given him. The pirate captain had given up on having it heal properly, anyway. Whispering all the time to distract her attention, Jack gently pulled her arm away from her chest, his mind telling him immediately what the wet but not bloody sleeve and the smell of charred meat meant, though he refused to accept it.
He wouldn't. Michael wouldn't dare.
Jack slowly peeled her sleeve away from her wrist, his lips pulling back from his teeth and his breath hissing through his teeth, not even bothering with curses. He could feel Will in the back of his mind, the lad retreating before the white-hot rage that filled the pirate captain.
"Oh, love, I'm sorry . . .he didn't have any right, love, no right at all . . ." Jack's fingers passed back and forth, hovering just above the A so callously branded into Ana-Maria's right arm.
The female pirate laughed, the sound somewhere between a sob and hysteria, and Jack quickly dropped her hand, embracing her as best he could.
"Gave himself the right . . .maybe . . .tried to . . .don't know . . ."
Gave himself the right . . .gave himself the right . . .gave himself the right . . .
It took all of Jack's self-control to stay on his knees as the words rang again and again through his mind. The bastard wouldn't have . . .couldn't have . . .
"Ana-Maria, did he . . ." Jack's tongue stumbled over the words. The British Navy didn't do things like that. Torture they might use, if the crime was heinous enough and the need for a confession strong enough, but they didn't rape their prisoners. They didn't.
"I don't know!" The pirate captain tightened his hold on Ana-Maria as she stiffened.
How could someone not know . . .?
"Love, did he cut you? Make you drink or eat something? Love?"
The female pirate tilted her head to one side and slowly nodded, drawing her sleeve away from her left arm, displaying a cross carved into her forearm.
"Made me drink . . .something. Hard to remember . . .kept telling me . . .things . . .you and Will and Brian and the kids and . . .I don't know, Jack, I don't know what he did to me . . .but I think . . .I think I gave them Brian . . ."
"It doesn't matter, Ana-Maria. Brian can take care of himself. How are ye doing now? The world isn't spinning? Not hearing voices or anything?"
"Just yers . . ."
"That's good, love. Did he use his sword when he cut ye?"
"No . . .dagger. I'm sorry, Jack."
"Ye've got nothin' t' be sorry for, Ana-Maria, nothin' at all, love. Michael's the one that's going to be sorry. I swear I'll kill him for what he's done."
Ana-Maria nodded slowly, sitting still in his arms for a few minutes before turning around and leaning her back against the bars, tucking her right arm protectively to her chest again.
"When's it stop hurting?"
"It'll dim down in a few hours. It won't completely go away for a couple days, longer if it gets a fever in it. I'm sorry, love. This shouldn't have happened."
"Nothin' t' be sorry for, Jack. Not your fault. I'm quartermaster . . .could o' said somethin' if I thought somethin' was off, but I didn' think anythin' was. Michael's . . .damn good actor."
"Better than me?"
"Maybe . . ." Ana-Maria smiled slightly as Jack muttered something indistinct into her hair. As if of its own accord, her left hand moved around to grab his right and turn it over, pushing back the sleeve until she could trace the well-known path of his own brand.
"We don't even get to match, Jack." The pirate captain didn't answer, simply returning his hand to its original position.
Silence stretched and eddied in the near-dark of their cells, only slightly disturbed by the small steps of an uncertain ten-year-old as he moved to lean against the pirate captain's shoulder.
It was the dead of night before Jack woke both Ana-Maria and the boy who was using him as a pillow.
"Love . . .are you going to be able to run?"
Ana-Maria tensed. "Why?"
"Because that stupid thing the lad was thinking about doing . . .I think he's doing it now."
* * *
"Captain, I'm really sorry, sir, but our orders were not to let you through!"
"And whose orders were those, might I ask?" Brian's tone was icy as he stalked around the younger redcoat, who turned in place in an attempt to keep his wary eyes on the officer.
"The Commodore's, sir."
"And why would the commodore wish to keep me from seeing them? What possible purpose could there be in keeping me away from them?"
Oh, this was not good. Any answer that the young redcoat made to this question was going to be wrong. If he told the captain the reasons why the commodore didn't want him to be admitted to see the prisoners, the captain was going to fillet him. If he didn't, the captain would more than likely find a way around whatever false reasons the redcoat gave and finagle his way in to see the prisoners, leading to Hallson filleting the redcoat later.
"Reasons, sir? I . . .I . . ." The young redcoat was saved from his decision as the hilt of a sword impacted with the back of his head with a sickened thud.
Will Turner grabbed the younger man as he slumped to the ground, dragging him swiftly into an alcove and out of sight.
"How many does that make?"
"Four. Hallson has this place under virtual lock-down. You'd think the French or the Spanish were trying to invade the port. You didn't hit him too hard, did you? The lad's only seventeen. It isn't his fault he follows proper chain of command."
"No, I didn't hit him too hard. He could have just stepped out of your way, you know, like the Intrepid's crew did. He doesn't have to follow Hallson. How close are we to the brig?"
"Close. Around the corner, then a guardroom, and then the actual cells are through the next door."
The two men hurried along the stone corridors, their footsteps loud in the silence of the night watch. The guardroom itself was unlocked . . .and unmanned.
"Where the hell are the guards? There should be two of them. This doesn't make sense . . .Hallson has every other step in the path blocked, but he leaves this open . . ."
"Brian . . ." The young captain stopped talking to look where the blacksmith pointed, a curious hissing noise escaping from between his lips as he turned to look at Will again.
"They wouldn't dare . . .Hallson wouldn't dare, without even a semblance of a trial or orders . . ."
"I don't know . . .he dared to break into my house." Will walked slowly over to the brazier and picked up the glowing brand. "Not even a pirate brand . . .adulterers. Britain doesn't brand adulterers like this, not anymore. It's barbaric." Will felt his jaw clench tighter as he dropped the brand and turned away. Jack's earlier rage was suddenly making perfect sense.
"Through here." Brian moved towards the large wooden door at the end of the guardroom, pulling the keys that Rollin had procured for them from his belt as he did so. Before he could begin unlocking the doors, the sound of footsteps and voices in the corridor startled both men.
Brian tossed the keys to Will as he sprinted back across the room, pausing in the doorway. "Get them out of their cells and see if they're fit to travel. I'll do what I can to distract or disable whoever it is."
Will nodded, though the young captain had already left, and turned his attention to the series of locks on the wooden door, cursing the more intense security at Johnson. It wouldn't have taken nearly as much time to get everyone out at Port Royal.
Then again, with Norrington as commodore, there wouldn't have been any need to be breaking his son out of the brig . . .his murderer of a son.
Hallson had better pray that the child was well, in body, mind and spirit. Otherwise, Will wasn't holding himself responsible for any actions that resulted in a long, slow, suffering death for the commodore.
* * *
"Captain, sir, really, we just left for a few seconds, sir!"
"'Just for a few seconds'?! How long do you think it takes to break a man out of prison? 'Just a few seconds' away from your post can mean the difference between justice being served and good men dying in an attempt to bring criminals back to justice! Did you think about this before you both abandoned your post? Did you think at all?"
"Captain, honestly, we were just following orders, sir! We did what we were told to do!"
"Whose orders, pray tell? What fool would order you away from your post when you are guarding a prisoner who is notorious for his daring escapes?"
Michael frowned as he watched the two redcoats cower in front of their superior officer. The young captain hadn't spotted the mercenary, who had come from the other direction, having returned his cache of drugs to their proper place in his room. The two redcoats had, more likely than not, been following Michael's orders and returning the different implements he had used during his information-extracting session with the female pirate to their proper places. That seemed to be all the two marines were good for, having merely watched as the mercenary worked, both of them looking ill at ease, perhaps even physically nauseous over what Michael did. As for Brian Lanebridges . . .
The young officer hardly looked to be the threat that Hallson believed him to be. He seemed young for a captain, and though his voice carried the ring of command, he was hardly being reasonable at the moment. If he was worried about the pirates escaping, it would definitely be more helpful to berate the two redcoats inside the guardroom rather than in the corridor.
If he was worried about the pirates escaping . . .
Michael sprinted the rest of the way down the corridor and swung into the guardroom, his sword already drawn. There was no possible way in Hell someone was going to let Sparrow out now. If Michael's head had been forfeited with the sinking of the Pearl, any hopes he had for a clean, quick death were more than forfeit now.
Will Turner swung away from the door to the brig and towards the mercenary, drawing his own sword in one deft movement and blocking Michael's stroke before stepping away for an instant and sweeping into his own attack.
The mercenary knew instantly that he was in trouble. It might take only a knick to transfer the poison from his blade to the blacksmith's body, but that knick was going to be incredibly hard won. Already the mercenary was strictly on the defensive, backing farther and farther away as Will pressed forward, using his superior skill and longer reach to his advantage.
The sound of steel striking steel sounded from the hallway, diverting both men's' attention for a moment, giving Michael a chance to back towards the door. If it came down to a choice between let Sparrow go and live to fight another day or die on Turner's blade in an attempt to see that Sparrow stayed in his cell, he would definitely choose living to fight another day.
Turner returned to his offensive, backing Michael away from the door and towards the wall. The mercenary's arm was already beginning to burn with exertion from deflecting the vicious blows aimed his way. A startled cry of pain and rage diverted Turner's attention again, and the mercenary took the opportunity to lunge forward, attempting to both strike the blacksmith and free his escape path at the same time. Will's sword swept in for a belated parry, and Michael felt his sword being wrenched from hand and sent flying across the room. Before the blacksmith could reverse the movement and bring his sword in to taste blood, Michael had taken the chance offered him and run, sparing only a quick glance to ensure that he ran in the opposite direction of the three British naval men still engaged in their own battle.
Apparently the two guards weren't as useless and easily led as Michael had believed.
* * *
"Jack?" Ana-Maria whispered the word, not quite certain why she should. There was just something in the way he was holding his head, the way his feet were braced as he leaned against his cell door, the way his right hand hovered where the hilt of his sword would have been that demanded some sort of acknowledgment.
"He's comin'. Fightin'." Jack's eyes were half-closed, predatory, as though he were the one doing the fighting. The sound of steel against steel could be heard from beyond the wooden door separating the trio from the rest of reality.
Ana-Maria nodded, climbing slowly to her feet. She felt better than she thought she would, not too incredibly shaky, though her arm still burned and itched. Her memory of what had happened hadn't clarified, though . . .if anything, it was dimmer than before. If not for the brand on her right arm and the cuts on her left, she could almost believe it had all been a nightmare.
"Papa's coming?" The child, too, dropped his voice to a whisper as he stared uncertainly at the pirate captain.
"He's coming, Jack." Ana-Maria reached down to pat the boy on the head, pulling her hand back in surprise as her fingers encountered a series of pendants.
How had she managed to miss the fact that Jack had braided and tied trinkets into the boy's hair?
The sound of battle came to an abrupt halt, and Ana-Maria tensed as she stared at Jack again. The grin on his face reassured her that everything was all right as the locks opened and light streamed into the brig, blinding her night-adjusted eyes. Two figures darted through the door, hastening first to Jack's cell and unlocking it.
Will grabbed his son in a tight hug as the child darted out of the cell, the pirate captain directly behind him.
"Well, it looks like you had fun, Jack." Will smiled and quirked an eyebrow as he pulled the silver trinket away from his son's hair to look at it before letting it fall back into place.
"Oh, aye, we had a grand time." The sarcasm that underlined the pirate's words brought a smile to both men's faces.
"Yes, well, if you don't want to have more fun, I suggest we get out of here as quickly as we can." Brian turned his attention to unlocking Ana-Maria's cell, swiping idly at his blood-covered left cheek.
"Lad, are you all right?" Jack pulled the younger man back as the lock on the Ana-Maria's cell opened and the female pirate stepped out. A gentle probe showed the edges of a two-inch-long cut. "You really need to learn how to duck."
"Or maybe I need to learn how to avoid you." There was no malice in the young officer's tone, only weariness. "At least it'll be symmetrical now. One scar on each side."
"Papa, you're bleeding!" The child's voice was horror-struck as he pulled his hand away from his father's side.
Will gently set the boy down and turned a practiced eye to the gash on his ribs, an injury he had been too preoccupied to notice. The gash wasn't deep, though it was long. "It's all right, Jack. I'll be fine. Come on. Let's go see your sister. Uncle Brian's men should have the active guard positions until Michael sounds the alarm, so if we leave now, we should be all right."
No one argued as the quintet hurried back the way they had come, Jack and Ana-Maria sparing only moments to grab their swords and pistols from the guardroom.
* * *
Michael ascertained with a quick glance that Turner and the rest had left before beginning a rapid search for his sword.
After all the kills he had made with it, he was becoming rather attached to it.
The mercenary sighed in relief as a glint of steel on the flagstones near the far wall caught his eye.
Michael gingerly picked up the sword by the hilt, staring in fascination at the crimson stain along one side of it. He hadn't thought that he had actually hit Turner. Even though the man had managed to free Sparrow and the others, he wasn't going to get away unscathed. Within ten minutes he would be feeling the full effects of the poison; within a half-hour, he would be dead.
Michael had rethought his opinion of the young captain. The man had managed to position his men so that they held the most important guard points, leaving his lieutenant on his ship to ensure that she was ready to leave harbor as soon as the order was given. He had managed to incapacitate eight redcoats without a single cry of alarm and without any deaths, though some of them would probably wish for death over the headaches they would have when they awoke. He had somehow managed it so that the crew he was taking out with the Intrepid were on board the ship already.
The mercenary comforted himself with the thought that even if Lanebridges managed to get Sparrow and the rest to the Intrepid and get out of port before the chaos that had descended on the fort resolved into a serious manhunt, he and Sparrow wouldn't win.
It might not have been the pirate blood Michael was hoping for, but it would do.
It would definitely do.
