Disclaimer:  I hopefully own a Christmas present that is in the shape of a rather shallow box and contains a pathway to adventure.

AN:  Sorry I didn't get this up, but between Thanksgiving, my cocker spaniel dying, my shepherd/husky mix getting a tumor in his abdomen, my mom giving my cat away, and Jaraen playing change-the-plot, things have been rather hectic.  Ah, well, en na anoire estel!

AN2:  This chapter might be open to serious revision.  Just wanted to show I am still alive.  Maybe.  Possibly.

To Love and Protect

Part 21

"Did you just growl at me?"  Francis pulled back, halting his work to study the pirate's profile.

"Couldn't think of a curse strong enough off the top of my head.  I could always just hit you again."  Sparrow paused as though contemplating the pros and cons of such an action.

"Growl away."  The military doctor attempted to keep from being flustered by his rather unique patient.  After all, he was used to receiving threats, and occasionally even blows, from the people he treated.  If a man wasn't unconscious or fall-down-dead drunk, medical treatment was going to hurt.  Like hell.

Another glob of dried blood pulled free of the pirate's hair.

"This would be much simpler if you'd let me simply shave around the injury."

"If you wanted to do that, you should have done it while I was comatose.  That's the only way you're going to go shavin' half my head."

"I would have, if I didn't enjoy keeping all my teeth in my head.  You weren't that far under, and you had a rather overzealous protector."

"Really now?  That's interesting."

"What's interesting?"  Francis winced in silent sympathy as his probing fingers drew a hiss and a low curse from his patient.

"Nothing.  You wouldn't happen to reconsider giving me that drink now, would you?"

"When I'm done.  Hold still.  I'm almost down to the wound."

The pirate stopped his restless shifting.  "It didn't take Ana-Maria this long."

"You were drunk at the time and probably rather distracted, if your behavior a few days ago is anything to go by."  A noncommittal grunt was the only answer the doctor received.

Francis turned his full attention to the injury that was slowly being revealed beneath the mass of braided, trinket-laden, blood-matted hair.

"Now that is interesting."  Sparrow didn't respond.  Francis frowned slightly as he shifted to have a better view of his patient's face.  The pirate's eyes were closed, though his breathing lacked the relative rhythmicity of sleep.

"Captain Sparrow?"  The doctor moved his left hand to the pirate captain's shoulder and shook him slightly, concerned by the lack of response.  "Captain Sparrow."

"Wha'?"

Francis sighed in relief as Sparrow opened his eyes, a relief that was short-lived as he felt small tremors race beneath his hand.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."  The finality with which the words were spoken showed in no uncertain terms that no dissension from that opinion would be tolerated.

"Really?  So I shouldn't worry at all about a lack of response and shivering in a man who was hypothermic not that long ago?"

"That would be nice."

Francis smiled slightly as he shifted his attention back to the injury, grabbing his scissors with his right hand.  "It isn't going to happen."

"Yes, it is.  You can't do anything about it, so I would suggest you consign your concern to the injury I sustained to my head, an injury which you actually can be helpful with."

The doctor allowed himself the luxury of a quiet laugh as he shook his head.  "Not bad.  You would have done Brian proud.  Unfortunately for you, I honestly have been ordered about and scolded by British officers who consider themselves above such petty things as physical damage and would thus work themselves near to the point of death, the young captain of this ship included.  I know how to keep an officer down and grounded, and I'm assuming it won't be too much more difficult with a self-appointed one, especially one who's current situation is not exactly conducive to the issuing of orders."

"Simple pirate, mate.  Keep the words small and the sentences smaller."

"I hardly think a 'simple pirate' uses words such as 'consign', 'comatose', and 'sustain', nor do I believe a simple pirate would attempt to imitate the demeanor of an officer of the Royal Navy . . .nor do I believe that a simple pirate would trade his life for another man's.  There."  Jack yelped instead of responding as a quick tug ripped the last stitch free from his scalp.  "That should have come out two days ago, Captain.  You're lucky fever didn't set in."

"Fever doesn't seem to be a problem lately."

"No, I suppose it doesn't."

"I suppose this is where you tell me to think of something pleasant as you re-stitch it, aye?"

"Actually, no.  It's healed.  Almost completely."

"Really?  Well, then, let's dispense with this lovely procedure and I shall go and determine from your captain what his plans are while you go and do . . .whatever it is you usually do.  Savvy?"

"Not quite.  It shouldn't have healed this quickly and I don't like the shivering."

"You can not like it to Hell and back without there being anything you can do about it."  The pirate sighed, rubbing one hand along the right side of his head and visibly forcing himself to relax.  "Besides, since when is something healing quickly a bad thing?"

"It isn't.  It's playing with forces you don't understand and don't have control over that can be a bad thing.  How did you do it?"  The doctor gently rubbed a damp cloth along the healing gash, pulling away dried blood and revealing new, tender skin.

"Do what?  Die?  It's quite easy, really.  I seem to have a penchant for it.  Now if you're not going to put stitches or anything like that in, I would be eternally grateful if you would just leave me in peace."

"No."

"Yes.  I am definitely not above knocking you to the floor to gain my freedom, mate.  The first time was an accident.  This time it won't be, and I can guarantee you won't be getting up quite so fast."

"That was a backhanded apology if I ever heard one."

The pirate froze, his head tilted to the right side in an attempt to gently evade the doctor's hands.  "Who mentioned an apology?"

Francis wiped the few bits of blood off his hands as he considered his patient.  "A bargain, then.  If you can't stand my presence or my ministrations, and I can't in good conscience declare you completely sound—"

"Who said anything about having to be completely—"

"If you will agree to rest for the remainder of the day, preferably someplace warm and with something warm to drink, then I shall inform Brian that tomorrow morning shall be an ideal time for your long-awaited tactical discussion.  Agreed?"

"No, not agreed.  I am not staying in here all day."

Francis pulled back even more to study his patient, shock clouding his features.  There was something very wrong with how the pirate had spoken the phrase.  There hadn't been any vicious denial, any false belief of indispensability.  No, it had been something closer to fear that showed on the pirate's face and turned the familiar phrase to something . . .darker.

"Why?  What are you afraid of?"

The easy grin that Sparrow had sported on deck returned, and the doctor knew he had lost any chance of getting a straight answer from the man.

"Nothing.  Captain Jack Sparrow isn't afraid of anything.  I've seen it all and done it all."

"Then there's absolutely no reason you can't stay in Brian's cabin and rest, now is there?  Especially if there's a bottle of spirits and a promise that I'll have the Captain find your woman and send her in, aye?"

The pirate hesitated for a moment before nodding.  "Aye.  You strike a hard bargain.  Tell the lad I'm looking forward to our discussion tomorrow morning."

"I'll do that, Captain Sparrow.  Now, if you'll allow me to excuse myself . . ."

"You couldn't get out of here fast enough, mate."  Sparrow lay down on the bed and stretched out, placing both hands behind his head and calmly closing his eyes, the same easy grin on his face.  "Couldn't get out of here fast enough."

                                                      *                                                    *                                                    *

"Walk with me, doctor."

Francis easily fell into step beside his captain, studying the deck as it passed swiftly beneath his feet before cutting his eyes up to the neat row of stitches on the younger man's cheek, stitches that would need to come out relatively soon.  The doctor sighed softly.  Hopefully the slash had healed correctly and completely.  It was hard enough holding one captain down.  Two was one too many for any man.

"How is he?"

"Honestly?"  Francis couldn't help but smile as Brian simply raised an eyebrow in silent query, his mouth twitching up into a small grin.  "Honestly, I have no bloody idea in Hell how he's doing.  Physically, he's fit.  There's a bit of a limp on his left leg when he isn't being careful, but from what I've seen it's an old injury.  His head is nearly healed, something that should be nigh on impossible in this short a time frame.  His hand is barely a scratch, nothing to worry about at all."

"So what are you worried about?"

"He . . .I'm not sure how to describe it.  One minute he's entirely there, quite adept at a game of verbal sparring, and the next he's . . .somewhere else.  He was shivering again, too.  Whatever he set himself up for with his . . .his . . ."

"Bargain with death?  It isn't that hard to say, Francis."

"Maybe not for you, Captain, but I'm used to people being alive, dying, and staying dead."

Brian paused in his pacing of the deck to stare out at the sea, sparkling under the brilliant Caribbean sun.  His right hand slowly rose to caress the scar on his cheek.  "If there's one thing I've learned from Jack over the years, it's to expect the unexpected."

"Aye, sir.  If you say so."

The young captain dropped his hand and resumed his pacing of the deck, a melancholy smile playing briefly across his face.  "You don't believe me."

Francis shrugged, again dropping his eyes to the deck.  "I don't know what to believe, sir."

"Jack has a tendency of taking preconceived notions and turning them upside down, in everyone from a blacksmith to a lowly enlisted marine to a Commodore of the Royal Navy."  Brian paused for a moment.  "So there's nothing you can do for him?"

"I'm sorry, Captain.  All I could do was bargain with him to rest.  I told him you'd send some spirits and his woman in as soon as possible."

"I'd hardly call throwing him and Ana-Maria into a bed together resting, doctor."

"Into your bed, Captain."

A grimace of distaste was quickly concealed behind military rigidity.  "I was rather trying to avoid thinking about that, Francis."  The young captain sighed as he quickly picked out the female pirate among the workers.  "Though I think the likelihood that she'll beat him senseless first is rather great at the moment."

Francis glanced towards the woman, turned back to his captain, paused, and looked again at the knot of sailors around her.  "Is that Turner?  What does he think he's doing, helping to crew this ship?  Damn it, he was virtually dead not that long ago!"

"Aye, he was, but he isn't now, and wasting time arguing with him about what he can and cannot do is not an intelligent thing to do at the moment, doctor.  They're all men, or women, of action.  I would much rather have him sweating off his frustration and his confusion up here than below or in the cabin raising Cain."

The doctor considered a moment before nodding.  "When are you going to send Ana-Maria in to see her captain?"

Brian grimaced again as he turned away, picking a swift path back to the helm.  "I was figuring when she wasn't attempting to strangle the rope while muttering something suspiciously like 'bloody daft fool of a pirate'."

                                                      *                                                    *                                                    *

"I'm telling you, he doesn't know where they've gone!"  The mercenary slammed the cell door shut, barely missing the redcoat that he had enlisted to help drag the semi-conscious blacksmith to the jail.

"He has to know where they are."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, commodore, but he doesn't!"

"How can you be certain?"

"Are you suggesting I don't know how to do my job?  Look at him, for God's sake!"  Michael gritted his teeth together as Hallson did just that, stepping closer to the bars and examining the man lying motionless on the ground as though he hadn't seen him moments before.  "If I give him any more drugs, he'll die.  If I cut him again, he'll die.  There's a great likelihood he'll die anyway.  If he lives, I sincerely question what amount of sanity the man is going to maintain.  You just about heard the man's entire life story, even if it was a bit disjointed and incoherent.  He doesn't know where your bloody Captain has hidden himself."

Hallson turned away from the cell, grimacing in distaste.  "He has to know."

"He doesn't!"  The mercenary was getting rather tired of repeating the same thing over and over again.

"He should.  Maybe you just need to try again later."

Michael sighed, deciding it was useless to argue with the officer.  "If you say so, sir."

"Crallon, you're to guard the cell.  Ensure that no one see him but myself and Michael."

"Aye, sir."  The redcoat dropped into an attention posture as Hallson nodded to him.

"Sir, are you sure that's wise?"  Michael eyed the marine suspiciously.  He had learned his lesson when it came to trusting Royal Navy people at Johnson.

"Are you questioning my judgment, Michael?"

Hell, yes.  "Not at all, sir."

"A very wise decision.  I shall see you in the morning, then."  Hallson strode quickly from the brig.  Michael followed him a bit more hesitantly, glancing back over his shoulder at the redcoat several times.

Crallon waited for perhaps sixty seconds after hearing the door close before moving, unlocking the cell door with shaky hands and kneeling by the semi-conscious man inside, lowering his rifle aside before reaching out hesitantly to touch the other man's shoulder.

"Robert?  Robert, can you hear me?"

The blacksmith began whispering something under his breath, his voice too soft to hear properly.

"Robert, it's Adam.  Come on, friend, don't do this to me."  The redcoat attempted to shift the blacksmith into a seated position so he could see the extent of the damage, stopping abruptly as Robert stiffened and twisted, snarling low in his throat.

"I'm not going to hurt you, friend.  Come on, pull it back together.  You're stronger than this.  Don't let him break you."

Robert slowly calmed, allowing the marine to shift his body with only a suppressed whimper of pain to show he was even aware of what was happening.

Crallon cursed quietly as he studied the man in front of him.  Blood stains dotted his clothing and heat was already beginning to pour from his skin as fever took hold.  What truly frightened him was the lack of comprehension on the blacksmith's face and the primal responses he had demonstrated.

"I'm sorry, Robert.  We tried to get to you before they did, really we did.  It's just so hard now, with the upset about the Captain running off with the prisoners and all.  Otherwise we'd have already ended this charade a long time ago."

No response was drawn.  Adam sighed.  "Just stay seated like this, Robert, and I'll see what I can do about getting you fixed up, all right?  I have to leave the room for a moment to do that, though, so I'll need to relock the cell.  Don't worry, though.  I'll be back."

Even that didn't draw an answer, and as Crallon started out on his mission of mercy, it was hatred and loathing that he felt most keenly.

One way or another, Hallson was going to pay for what he had done, to the Captain, to Robert, to the child, hell, even to the pirate woman.  He was definitely going to pay.

                                                      *                                                    *                                                    *

"Will, are you all right?"  Elizabeth moved to her husband's side quickly.

"I'm all right, Elizabeth.  Just a bit winded."  That part was true enough, at least.  He was tired from all the physical labor and ready to call it a night.  Just because he failed to mention to his wife, whom he wasn't entirely sure would be calling it a night with him, that a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach was telling him in no uncertain terms that something was wrong, well, that was his decision to make, no one else's.

"You should stop, then.  Brian will skin you alive if you hurt yourself trying to crew a ship you aren't even supposed to be on."

"Come with me, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth straightened, dropping her eyes from Will's.  "I don't think you know what you're asking, Will."

"I do.  I want the wife that I love to come with me."

"Will . . .I was the one who asked Jack to hold on to you."

The blacksmith frowned reprovingly, but Elizabeth cut him off before he could voice any comments.

"And then I asked him to let go."  Elizabeth turned away again.

"Is that all that's bothering you?  Don't worry about it, love."

Elizabeth straightened, gazing suspiciously at her husband.  "What did you just call me?"

"What?"  Will blinked, genuinely completely confused.

"You just called me 'love'.  Will, you never do that.  That's Jack's line."

"I suppose it's just a reaction to having him so close for so long."  The blacksmith shrugged, hoping to display a nonchalance he didn't feel.  "Elizabeth, I asked Jack to let me go.  I thanked him and practically begged him to let me go.  It wasn't you or me, though, who got to make a choice.  It was Jack's, through and through, and he made it.  I don't think he made it just for me, either.  I think he wanted to prove something to himself."

"I don't suppose he'll ever tell the story, not in it's entirety.  Hell would have to be a frozen wasteland before Jack would willingly tell one of his real stories."

Will smiled, the action somewhat dampened by the growing sense of unease at the back of his mind.  "Come with me, Elizabeth.  Please."

Elizabeth hesitated a moment longer before answering.

"All right, Will."

                                                      *                                                    *                                                    *

"Ana-Maria."

The female pirate paused, deciding quickly that it was impossible to pretend she hadn't heard the summons.  "Captain Lanebridges."

"Come here."  Ana-Maria slowly acquiesced to the command, taking a few moments to enjoy the faint glow on the horizon as darkness stole over the Intrepid, not quite an honored guest but too bold to be a thief.  "Feeling better?"

"Aye."  It was true, too.  A full day's worth of work had given her a chance to fight her demons with a ready outlet for her excess energy.  Now that she had stopped, a bone-deep weariness was swiftly replacing the numbness that routine had given her.

"Jack could use a bit of company.  Francis promised him a drink and a certain female pirate's company if he'd rest all day.  So far he's managed to make due with simply the brandy."

Ana-Maria bristled slightly at the implication that she was could be bartered about.  "I don't need to be ordered to my captain's side."

"I wasn't suggesting you did.  Have a pleasant evening, whatever you decide to do."

Ana-Maria watched in somewhat shocked surprise as the young captain simply turned and walked away, leaving her to decide what to do, to decide to return to Jack's side or not.

It wasn't much of a choice, really.

                                                      *                                                    *                                                    *

Maybe I could trust ye if I hadn't heard ye babblin' 'bout seein' Death and bein' claimed . . .Maybe I could trust ye . . .

"It doesn't matter, damn ye!"  The harsh whisper caught in his throat as he wheeled around, attempting to pace the cramped cabin in an effort to silence the voice and drive back the cold that was creeping through his body.

No?  It doesn't matter that she doesn't trust you, that she doesn't believe you?  That's strange, considering I believe she was half of the loophole you used to crawl away from me.  She doesn't want you, Sparrow.  That makes you mine.

"No way in Hell."

Hell can be arranged for you, if you like.

"Just leave me alone."

Never, Jack.  It isn't in my nature to lose, but They keep interfering when it comes to you.  It's rather amusing to be able to interfere back.

"Speak for yourself."

I am.

"I won."

You cheated.  Escape based on the flimsy oath of a pirate and the devotion of his wench?

"I could feel her.  She was crying.  Over me.  For me."

It wouldn't have lasted long.  You shouldn't have felt it.  You should have been numb.  They interfered for the last time, though.  This time I win.

"No."

I'll always win, Jack, just because of what you are.  Human.  Mortal.  Weak.  From the moment you came screaming and kicking into the world, you've been making your way inexorably towards me.  We've met so many times before, my dear Captain.  Remember?

The pirate captain bit down on his own cheek so hard he tasted blood, choking down the scream that instinctively rose as pain exploded throughout his body, threatening to send him crashing to the floor.

He remembered.  He remembered every single time.

"I won."

You lose, Jack.  You belong to me, now and forever.

"No."

"Jack?  No what?"  The pirate captain spun around again, suppressing the tremors that were racing along his body as he grinned sloppily at the woman standing in the cabin doorway.

"Ana-Maria.  I was beginning to think you weren't going to come, love."

"Of course I came, ye daft pirate.  I couldn't not come."

"Why?"

"Because I love you, Jack.  I'd die for you."  She smiled slightly as she stepped into the cabin and shut the door.  "When I don't want to slap ye, that is."

"Do you trust me?"

"Should I?"

The grin faltered slightly as Jack swayed in place.  "I'd die for you, too."

"I know, and I know you lived for me, it's just . . ."  Ana-Maria stepped closer to her captain, tracing one hand along his cheek slowly before freezing, her eyes narrowing dangerously.  "Jack, what's wrong with ye?"

"If you don't want me here . . .if I don't belong here . . .it still wants me."  More violent shudders were tracing their way through his body now, tremors that he couldn't hide.

The female pirate was still and silent for a moment before she reacted, pulling Jack over to the bed and forcing him to sit, gathering a blanket around them both and settling his body as close against hers as she could.

"I want ye here, Jack.  I need ye here.  Understand?"

"Aye.  And ye trust me?"

"As much as I can.  I didn't mean what I said earlier, love.  You scared me half to death with what you did for Will.  I don't want to lose you . . .especially not like that."

"I wasn't really aware of what I was doing."

"Don't even try that, Jack.  You don't bargain with death without knowing what you're bargaining with."

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, and I really wasn't entirely coherent, Ana-Maria.  I was exhausted and hurting and . . ."

"If you could do it again, would you make the same choice?"

"It doesn't matter.  Choice made, come and gone."

"Really?  Why're you cold, Jack?"

"Because I let it in and the darkness doesn't take no for an answer."  The pirate captain attempted to shrug.  "It doesn't make accords like Will does."

"What about Will?  Can he help you?"

"How?  The link?  I thought ye hated it, love."

"I did.  I do.  I hate seeing you like this more."

"The link broke when I died."

"Shouldn't it have come back with you?  He could help, Jack.  There's been no blood contact and there's been no promises.  How did you start it before?"

"I was half-dead and delirious and I asked for his help."

"Do it again.  Jack, it can't hurt to try."

"He's afraid of me now, love.  I saw it in his eyes, earlier.  I don't want someone walking through my head who's afraid of what he sees."

"He isn't afraid of ye.  Maybe afraid for ye, but not of ye.  He loves ye like a brother.  It took the two of ye t' get int' this mess, so maybe it just takes the two of ye t' get out.  Ask for help, Jack.  Please."

"You're certain?"

"Aye, I'm certain."

"Ye trust me."

"Aye."

"All right."  Jack's body slowly relaxed and he sighed, his next words barely a whisper.

"Help me, Will."