AN:  Almost . . .done . . .almost . . .done . . .Okay, mates, only one more chapter to go after this horrendously long one.  I'll try to get it out ASAP, but given everything that's been happening around here, who knows when it will actually show.  For those of you looking for other fics to read in the interim, ErinRua's 'African Star' is an amazing piece of fanfiction that should be a published novel.  I know I meant to put some others in here that really like, but as I can't remember them, I'll make a list and give recs next chapter.  So, without further ado . . .the beginning of the end . . .

AN2:  Minor further ado.  Much thanks is owed by readers to Jackfan2 and Kayden, without whom I am sad to say I may have allowed this fic to die several chapters ago.  They bring inspiration and dedication.  Thanks, mates.  Now . . .the story . . .

To Love and Protect

Part 27

"Treat them civilly.  Don't take any orders, but if they've advice about the ship, her capabilities, listen to them.  Make sure the ones in the brig stay there, but that they're treated well, given their fair share of rations, not harassed—"

Brian paced along the starboard side of the Intrepid, mentally ticking off points, not sparing a glance at the officer he was talking to.

Rollin increased his pace to keep himself at his captain's side.  "Sir, they're—"

The young captain stopped so quickly that the lieutenant nearly crashed into his back.  "I gave my word that they'd not come to harm."

"Aye, sir.  Just seems you're worrying more about them than about our own men."  Rollin froze and dropped his gaze as the harsh whisper escaped, opening his mouth to stammer a hasty apology.

Brian turned away from his officer for a moment, quickly regaining the composure he had been in danger of losing.  "I am doing this for our men, Lieutenant.  I won't lose them in an avoidable battle with privateers when I know that I'm about to engage in a minor civil war that I never wanted a part in to begin with.  I didn't start this; I'm just going to be the one to finish it.  Or don't you remember that?"

Rollin's head dropped further, making him look almost like a dog waiting to be kicked.  "I remember.  I'm sorry, sir.  I didn't mean to say that.  I trust your judgment."

Brian nodded slowly, grateful that it seemed truth and not simply military protocol that lay behind Rollin's words.

"When we run up the second flag, it means that we've found them.  Layer on all the canvas the Jade has, cut back, and bring her around.  Hallson won't be expecting another ship.  If we can catch him between the two . . .then we stand a chance."

"Aye, Captain."

The young captain studied his officer again.  Rollin's entire body radiated a repressed excitement that transmitted itself into his movement and bearing, not quite cloaked by the uncertainty and apprehension that was also obvious.

It only took Brian a moment more before he figured out what the problem was.  "This is your first command, isn't it?"

Rollin hesitated a moment before nodding, eyes downcast again.  "Aye."

Brian tried hard not to grin, instead just smiling slightly and clapping his officer on the shoulder.  "She seems to be a good ship.  You'll do fine by her, and she'll do fine by you.  Good luck."

"Thank you."  Rollin didn't manage quite so well at controlling his grin.

Brian watched silently as Lieutenant Rollin transferred over to the Jade, the lines were cut between the two ships, and the two courses diverged, setting the privateer vessel far to starboard before the two courses were again parallel . . .far enough away to not be immediately spotted by anyone on the Defender, or to be dismissed as non-combatant if she were, but not so far away that she wouldn't be able to be use when the time came.

The trap was set, the bait would soon be spotted . . .now it was just a matter of waiting.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"I will not allow it.  Sir."

"Who are you to tell me what you will and will not allow?"  Hallson's face was a deep purple as he fumed in front of his captain.

"He is a citizen of the Crown, a man that my men know and like.  If you don't want a bayonet in the back, you will leave him be.  He's already ill."  Jenkin forced himself to talk calmly, only his gritted teeth giving away the urge he felt to physically shake sense back into his commander.

"I outrank you, Captain!  If I wanted him hung, I would see it done!"

"Hanging him would be more admissible than what you want to do.  This is a civilized ship.  I am not going to hang a man from the mast by his wrists so you can bloody well make a point!"

"You will not speak to me in that tone of voice!"

"Sir, I will do whatever is necessary to safeguard my ship.  Whatever is necessary, including talking to you in this tone of voice.  Tie him to the mast, if you want.  He'll be on hand to use to negotiate, but our men won't look at him and wonder if they're fighting on the right side!"

Hallson blinked and stepped back.  "Of course they're on the right side."

"Then prove it.  Don't be inhumane for no reason."

The Commodore paced back and stared into the brig again.  "He really doesn't look so good, does he?"

"No, sir.  I doubt he'd survive long enough to be useful if you did much more than tie him to the mast."

"We're close to where the reports have been coming from."

"Aye, sir."

Hallson debated a moment more, his head tilted to the side.  "Do what you think best."

Jenkin breathed a soft sigh of relief and nodded.

"You."  He pointed to the young marine standing in the corner, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.  "Bring him topside.  Bind him to the mizzenmast . . .but do it gently."

"Aye, sir."

Adam waited until the two officers had headed up before breathing his own sigh of relief.

"Robert, my friend, that was much, much too close for comfort."

He could only pray that when they finally did find the Captain, the battle would be swift and decisive, with the right side coming out on top.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"She still out there?"  Ana-Maria nodded across the water.

"Aye.  Been running parallel to us just like she's supposed to.  Bit further out than Brian meant for her to go, I think, but the lookout can still spot her without a problem, and she'll be able to make out our colors."

Ana-Maria hesitated a moment, her voice a low whisper when she finally spoke, meant for her captain's ears only.  "D'ye really think we've got a chance, Jack?"

"Of course we do."  Jack wrapped his arm around Ana's waist, pulling her close.  "As much a chance as we always have."

The female pirate leaned into his embrace, letting her head tilt backwards and to the side to rest on his shoulder.  "You'll be careful, right?  Not goin' t' do anything stupid?"

"I've been informed in no uncertain terms that that's Will's job, and he's goin' to defend his right to have it."

Ana-Maria laughed softly, and Jack lowered his head, nuzzling her throat.

"You're certain you'll be all right, Jack?  No matter what happens?  Even if Will ends up hurt?"

"Elizabeth's goin' to have his back, and she won't let anything happen to him.  Came too close to losing him to let him get hurt again."

"I did lose you, Jack."  Ana-Maria's hands tightened on his arm.  "I don't want that to happen again."

"Hey, love, no talkin' like that.  You'll watch my back, I'll watch yours, and we'll be fine.  Just like always, love, remember that, just like always.  This is no different than any of a million other times.  I'm not plannin' on dying for a very long time."

"You better not be."

There was a seriousness buried under the playfulness that Jack recognized as a warning.

"Do you think Hallson will show anytime soon?"  Ana-Maria straightened slightly.

Jack shrugged and released his first mate and lover, stepping up to stand beside her.  "At least a half-dozen ships headed into Johnson have seen the Intrepid.  If he doesn't show soon . . .then I doubt he'll show at all."

"What'll we do then?"

Jack was saved from answering by the lookout's call of sails off the port bow.

Men responded instantly, efficiently, trimming the sails to set themselves on the best possible course to meet their foe, loading the guns, running up the second flag that would tell the Jade that their quarry had arrived . . .It was a well-choreographed melee, with a young captain as the director, one that left two pirates and two civilians feeling rather useless.  It was with a feeling of relief that they watched the boarding party begin to form around the young officer, grapples being handed out, rifles loaded, bayonets attached and checked, pistols loaded . . .this was something they could help with.

"Do not fire unless fired upon."  The first command was shouted for everyone to hear, a reminder to the gunners as well that Hallson was to make the first move.  "These are fellow Naval men.  If given the chance, take a man down without killing him.  Don't be afraid to defend yourselves, though, and if fatalities occur, they will not be on your heads.  You're a good crew.  I've worked with many of you for nigh on two years."  Brian smiled slightly.  "You're the best there is.  Do what you're good at.  We'll have our victory yet."

A few scattered cheers were heard, but for the most part the men were silent, each encased in his own world as the sails in the distance grew, becoming easily discernable to those on deck, a small blur off to starboard the Jade as she responded to the signal.  With any luck, nobody aboard the Defender would connect the Intrepid and the Jade until it was too late.

The first shot from the Defender landed far ahead of the Intrepid's prow, doing nothing but opening the way for return fire as the two ships closed.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

The Intrepid was smaller than the Defender . . .much smaller, at least so far as Will could tell.  The first volley from the Intrepid caused minor damage, a broken rail, a hole in the hull well above the water line, but none of the rigging was hit badly enough to even slow the larger ship down.

He wasn't able to determine exactly how much damage the return volley had caused, too busy ducking down as splinters flew and men screamed in pain.

Minor damage to the ships . . .major damage to the crewmen caught in the middle.

Then the Intrepid was past the larger ship, swinging back around, her smaller size giving her a superior maneuverability that they were counting on.

"Will."

The blacksmith spun around as Jack's voice cut cleanly through the shouts as the guns were reloaded, some with chain shot, and men speculated on how long before the Jade joined the fray.

"Will, go below."

"What?"

"Take Elizabeth and go below.  She'll follow you."  The pirate captain kept half his attention on the Defender as the Intrepid swung round to sweep across her other side.

"It's no safer down there!  Cannonballs can go through hulls, Jack."

"You'll be able to keep an eye on the children, and there's less splinters, less chance of a mast or sail or somesuch fallin'.  You're out of your element here, Will.  You're a hand-to-hand combat fighter.  You can't help with this."

"Once we board, I can help, and I plan on it.  You're not the only one who's hunting someone.  My children should know how to follow orders by now, anyway.  They're being more useful than we are, at the moment."

Jack seemed to consider arguing again, then thought better of it.  "Just . . .be careful, lad.  Watch out for yourself."

"I will, Jack.  You don't have to worry about me.  I can take care of myself."

Jack smiled slightly, and Will shrugged, understanding the message.  Just because he didn't have to worry wouldn't mean that the pirate could stop himself from worrying.

The two ships again swept past each other, slower than before.  Water erupted as missed shots careened into the ocean; splinters flew from connections; and still, by some miracle, the Intrepid's rigging held firm, none of the masts or sails damaged.

Unfortunately, the same could be said for their opponent.

It was as the crew of the Intrepid was once again arranging the sails to catch the wind and bring them back around to strafe the larger vessel for a third time, the ship noticeably more sluggish, that the privateer vessel made its debut in the battle.

The smaller ship was nearly flying in comparison to the two naval vessels.  Her first two shots were wide, but a third brought down the Defender's foremast, to loud cheers from both the crew of the Jade and of the Intrepid.

As the Jade finished her first pass, the Intrepid moved in for her third.

A sharp crack brought all eyes up to the Defender's mainmast as a cannonball glanced off the side.  Slowly, almost as though debating whether or not it wished to fall, the mast leaned to starboard, towards the Jade, which hastily broke off it's second pass as the mast leaned further, further . . .and collapsed completely.

This time the cheers could be heard from the Intrepid, slowing on the starboard side of the large ship, to the Jade, moving back in on the port side.

Their opponent was crippled.

Now, all they had to do was subdue the crew.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Where the hell did that second boat come from?"  Jenkin's voice was icily calm and cool as he surveyed the damages to his ship.

They were dead in the water.  It was only a matter of minutes before the crews of the other two ships pressed their advantage and boarded.  How many men would they be facing?  Were they going for blood, or just for victory?

This is Brian Lanebridges' command you're talking about.  He never was a killer.

Then again, he'd never been pushed near as far as he had been these last few days . . .none of them had.

"Captain."  Hallson's voice was calm, emotionless, a far cry from the strident accusations that Jenkin had expected.  "How bad do you think this is?"

"Bad."

"If we go down, we'll go down fighting."

Jenkin didn't comment, simply watched as his men gathered weapons and prepared to repel boarders.

Britsh versus British . . .

This was not a fight he had ever wanted to be a part of.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Will watched the first wave of boarders cross from the Intrepid to the Defender, just barely able to make out similar activities on the opposite side of the ship as the marines from the Jade followed suit.

"Do you want to do this?"  Elizabeth's hand was in his as they watched the ensuing skirmish, telling friend from foe becoming a difficult task.

"I have to."

"Where are Jack and Ana-Maria?"

Will tilted his head slightly.  "They're already over there.  Jack's . . .hunting."  There was not other word to describe the single-minded fixation with which the pirate was searching for his prey.  Anyone else with a weapon was simply a hindrance, an annoyance that needed to be dealt with quickly.

"Whenever you're ready."

Will considered telling Elizabeth once more to stay with the children, to do anything but follow him, but he knew she wouldn't listen.  Backing down had never been something that Elizabeth was good at.  She was prepared for this, dressed in trousers and a loose white shirt, a pistol and a sword strapped to her side.  He had taught her how to use her sword himself . . .knew she was a decent shot . . .and she'd be by his side.  They'd be safe.

"Let's go."

Elizabeth met his half-hearted grin with a smile of her own as she squeezed his hand once before releasing it.

Swinging over to the Defender was an entirely new experience, the brief dizzying moment as deck became water became deck below his feet, the jolt as he found his footing on the crippled ship, the disorientation as pistols and rifles exploded and swords clashed . . .

"That was rather fun."

Elizabeth laughed and nodded as she emptied her pistol into one of the redcoat's upper arms, causing him to drop his rifle.

Will emptied his own weapon before unsheathing his sword, bringing it up to parry a swing from one of Jenkin's lieutenants.  The man froze as his eyes met Will's, and Will was fairly certain that the other man had even stopped breathing.

"You . . .you're supposed to be dead!"

Will shrugged.  "I was, but now I'm not."

The officer backed away slowly before dropping limply to the deck as the hilt of Elizabeth's sword hilt came down on the back of his head.

"Convincing you're opponent you're either a ghost or one of the undead isn't exactly above-board when it comes to the rules of engagement, Will."

This time Will's grin was wide and completely authentic.  "Pirate?"

Elizabeth laughed, and the two of them continued to make their slow way across the deck, Will keeping one eye open for Hallson the entire time, listening quietly over the link to ensure that Jack was still fine.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"There!"

"Where?"  Ana-Maria hollered over her shoulder as she dodged a bayonet thrust and used the hilt of her sword to smash the redcoat's nose in.

"Watch your back."  With that Jack was gone, ignoring the curses that Ana-Maria sent his way, dodging amidst individual fights, instinctively hunching his shoulders and ducking as pistol and rifle reports were heard, the haze over and around the ship from the cannons and the handguns seeming to thicken with each passing minute.

The man he had spotted wasn't the mercenary he had been searching for since he boarded the ship, but he would do for starters.

Jack was almost close enough to touch him when the redcoat spun around, bringing his rifle up in an automatic defense before blanching and stepping back.

The pirate captain almost extended a hand, half-expecting the younger man to pass out on the spot.

"I remember you."

The half-growled words didn't do much for the young man's complexion, but he did finally bring his rifle up again, attempting to bludgeon the pirate with the butt.

It only took Jack a moment to disarm the much less experienced marine and back him against the rail, his sword at the redcoat's throat, not quite drawing blood.

"I should kill you."

"I swear I didn't have anything to do with what happened!  I was just following orders!  All I did was watch!"

"Watch what?"  The sword bit slightly deeper, bringing a bead of blood to the surface.  Jack made certain to keep an eye on the surrounding scuffles, not wanting to be surprised by anyone thinking to help their comrade . . .if anyone was still aware which men were comrades and which weren't.  Brian really should've tied ribbons or something on his men so he could tell which marines were friends and which foes.

"You don't know?"

"If I knew, would I be asking you?"

The redcoat swallowed slowly.  "I thought . . .I thought she would've told you . . ."

"What.  Did.  He.  Do."

"He cut her . . .a cross.  He had dipped the knife in something . . .I'm not sure what . . .but she started crying out, tossing around, trying to get away . . .he had her swallow something, too . . .and he kept tellin' her that . . .terrible things . . .were happening to you, and to Turner, and to the boy we had . . .and I think . . .I think whatever he used to drug her with, she could see what he was saying in her head . . .but she still wouldn't give the Captain away . . .so he branded her . . .and kept talking to her 'til she gave him up . . .and I swear we didn't do anything but watch!"

Jack studied the marine carefully.  "Michael never touched her in any other way?"

"What do you—No!  God, no.  We're not savages."  For a moment Jack thought the redcoat was going to start struggling again, but a bit more pressure kept him from doing much more than panting in irate indignation.

"That's good for you, son.  That's very good for you.  Now, things'll go even better for you if you can tell me where Michael is."

"I don't know.  He was with the Commodore, aft, with that blacksmith . . ."

"Thank you."

Jack grabbed a fistful of the redcoats shirt and hauled him upright, pulling his sword away and smashing the hilt down on the back of the redcoat's head.  He left the younger man sprawled awkwardly on the deck.

He had bigger prey to find.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Damn it."

"Sir?  What's wrong?"  Jordan spoke hesitantly as his captain paced the deck.

"This.  This entire thing is wrong.  This needs to end.  It needs to end now."

Brian watched as more men fell on the Defender, not able to tell for certain if they were his men or not.  There was little blood, in comparison to when they took a pirate ship or a privateer's vessel, but there was still more than there should have been.

"Are you capable of watching the ship?"

"What?"  Jordan looked as though he had been asked to pet a cobra.

"The Intrepid.  I know you're qualified, but do you feel capable, in this situation, of being commander of her?"

"Aye, sir."  Jordan recovered quickly from the shock, nodding smartly.  "May I enquire as to what you're planning on doing?"

"I'm going to have a face-to-face discussion with Jenkin.  He won't be able to handle this much better than I can . . .if we both order our men to stand down . . ."

Jordan nodded again.  "I can handle command until you get back.  Be careful, sir.  The Intrepid needs you.  Your crew needs you."

Brian smiled slightly and nodded.  Win or lose, it was unlikely he would ever be commanding a vessel for the British Royal Navy again.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Jenkin stood panting for a moment as his opponent collapsed, senseless, to the deck.  He had a broken arm, a gash to his ribs that would more than likely need to be stitched, and his head would be killing him for some time to come, but the boy was still alive.  The captain prayed fervently that the same could be said for all the other marines and sailors that had fallen.

"Captain Jenkin!"

Muttering a curse under his breath, Jenkin turned towards the summons, automatically raising his sword to a defensive position.  More than one person had already tried to take him out by calling his rank and name first, hoping to catch him off-guard.

"Brian."  The defensive posture turned quickly to an offensive one as the younger captain nodded, his own sword unsheathed.

"We need to end this, Andrew."  Brian kept his position strictly defensive, maneuvering slowly around the captain of the Defender.

Jenkin matched his slow circling and nodded.  "Tell your men to step down.  It'll be over then."

"You know as well as I do that that isn't acceptable.  How has the Commodore been acting lately?  Does he seem like someone fit to command?"

Jenkin shook his head slowly.  "That isn't for you and me to decide, Brian.  You know that.  What you've done is treasonous."

"I will take responsibility for my actions, and for any actions that occurred under my command, but I will not turn my men over to be judged by a madman."

"Madman or not, he's your commander!"  Jenkin punctuated his statement with a short offensive rush that Brian easily countered.

Once again the two men turned to circling each other, set apart from the rest of the battle, neither side willing to interfere in their leader's battle.

"You just admitted yourself that he's a madman.  Take him into custody.  Contact proper channels, get him out of the position of commander!  Blind loyalty does no one any good!"  This time it was Brian who quickly switched from a defensive position to an offensive one, though his rush was more suited to a sparring match than to a life-or-death battle.  "Our men are killing each other.  Brothers-in-arms turned against each other.  This is wrong, Andrew, so wrong it sets my teeth on edge, and I can't stand to watch it."

Jenkin spread his arms briefly in a gesture of frustration.  "Do you think I can?  Do you think I'm enjoying standing here, checking each time to ensure that the man I'm trying to take down isn't one of my own?  Do you think I don't cringe every time I look at this mess?"

"Then let's end it.  Now.  Here.  No more blood spilled, unless they decide to spill mine."  Brian lowered his cutlass until the point was towards the deck and slowly extended one hand, an offer of peace . . .

The report of the pistol didn't register as anything untoward, just another shot from someone who had managed to reload.

The ball embedding itself in the wood just to the side of his right arm did register with Captain Andrew Jenkin, as did the look of shock on the younger captain's face . . .shock that became disbelief that became pain that hid just the barest edge of fear as the young man lifted a hand to cover the bloodstain that was slowly spreading across his abdomen.

"Oh, Lord, Brian."

The younger officer was shaking slightly as he stared at the blood on his hand.  "Andrew . . .end this . . ."

"Brian!"  Jenkin wasn't quite fast enough to catch the young man as he collapsed to the deck, lying utterly, frighteningly still.  Blood was already beginning to pool underneath him . . .too much blood, too fast . . .Andrew was dimly aware of a cessation of battle sounds around him, the clash of swords replaced by a growing hush of whispers and exclamations.

"He made a good officer.  It's quite the pity."

Jenkin lifted his head slowly, staring hard at his commanding officer.  "You shot him in the back.  He wasn't fighting you and you shot him in the back.  You almost shot me.  How bloody damned close to him were you?  You can't even kill a man decently!"

"Captain, this is not the time for hysterics!  We've taken out their commander.  Press the advantage."

Slowly, his own limbs shaking from sheer rage and a deep exhaustion, Captain Andrew Jenkin hauled himself to his feet.  "What you have done is beyond what I am willing to overlook.  You shot a man in the back who was only trying to end this with as little blood spilled as possible.  You have ignored proper procedure, endangered the lives of British civilians without just cause and for no apparent reason . . .No.  This ends now."

"What do you mean, this ends now?  This isn't over until I say—"

"This is Captain Jenkin speaking!  All men, repeat, all men are to lay down your weapons!  This is a cessation of hostilities, negotiated between myself and Captain Lanebridges.  Return to your own ships if you are able.  If you aren't, you'll be given proper medical attention here."

The shouts carried well, and those who didn't hear or didn't understand were quickly informed of what was happening.  Slowly, uncertainly, men lowered their weapons, eyed their opponents warily.

"You can't do this, Jenkin!"  Hallson's sword was barely out of its scabbard before a trio of marines had stepped between him and their captain . . .Captains, Jenkin corrected himself softly, recognizing one of them as Hardel, the redcoat who had served with Brian Lanebridges for five years now.

"I can and I will.  Don't make this harder than it has to be, Frederick.  We're going back to port.  There'll be a proper hearing.  You can plead your case there."

Hallson's answer was to turn run toward the stern.

"Catch him and throw him in the brig."


Two of the marines nodded and sprinted after their former commodore.  Hardel stayed and watched as Jenkin knelt down again to gently check over the fallen man.

"Sir . . .?  Is the Captain . . ."

"He's alive."  Jenkin closed his eyes and winced as the heavy sigh of relief reached his ears.  "It's not good, son.  He's losing a lot of blood . . .a lot of blood."  Jenkin shrugged out of his blue officer's coat and folded it tightly before setting it on the large exit hole in the younger captain's stomach and applying pressure, earning a small moan of pain from his patient.  "Through and through, so who knows what it did to his insides . . ."

A sharp cry from aft caused Jenkin to jerk his head up in alarm.

Tie him to the mast, if you want.  He'll be on hand to use to negotiate . . .

Jenkin was on his feet in an instant.  Of all the stupid . . .even Hallson wouldn't . . .

Hell, yes, he would.

"Stay with him.  Keep pressure on that."

Hardel was down on the deck in an instant, doing all that was possible to keep the weak thread to life whole.

"I've still got a madman to deal with."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Things were not going well . . .not going well at all.  Michael carefully inched his way through the soldiers and sailors, hoping not be noticed as men decided whether or not they would believe that a truce had been called.

He was completely unprepared for a hand on his shoulder, and even more unprepared for facing the man that it belonged to.

"Boo."  The pirate captain smiled mirthlessly as the mercenary jerked free, rushing backwards as fast as he could.  "I've been looking for you."

"Didn't you hear the man, Sparrow?  Everyone's to lay down their weapons.  Peace."

"You might not have noticed this, but I don't happen to be a member of the Royal Navy, and I sure as hell am not letting you get away because one of them decides its time to stop playing before I'm through."  There was a dangerous light to Sparrow's eyes, a cold, vicious light that warned the mercenary that he wouldn't be walking away this time.  Blood stained the upper part of the pirate's left sleeve, but Jack Sparrow seemed blissfully unaware that he had been injured at all.

Michael turned and sprinted below decks, Jack barely a step behind him.  The mercenary didn't stop until he had to, stumbling to a halt in the crew's quarters.

"Now, this isn't familiar at all, is it?"  Jack's voice was a dangerous purr as he stalked Michael.  "If I remember correctly, it was somewhere like this that you left me to die, wasn't it?  My turn."

Michael had barely cleared his sword from its scabbard in time to parry the first swing, and the sheer power behind the blow sent splinters of pain racing up his arms.  He had hoped that the pirate's injury, minor though it apparently was, would give him some kind of edge.

That hope had already died.

The mercenary struggled hard to focus, reminding himself firmly that he had the advantage, that all he had to do was cut Sparrow, just nick him, and let the poison do the work.

When putting all your strength into blocking blows that were meant to decapitate, disembowel, or otherwise ensure your demise, it was a hard thing to concentrate on forming an offensive plan.

Michael cried out in pain as Jack's sword slipped beneath his guard and danced across his ribs, leaving a trail far too similar to the one that he had given Turner for the mercenary's liking.

"You're a ruddy coward, Michael.  You can't take what you dish out, and you can't even dish it out without the help of your precious poisons."

Again Jack's sword slipped through his guard, burning a trail of fire across his left arm before flicking back and carving the other half of the cross into his flesh.

"You should have left me and mine alone, traitor."

A vicious downward blow caused Michael's fingers to loosen their hold on his sword, and it slid to the deck.  The mercenary dropped quickly after it, gasping in terror as his own hand missed the hilt and instead landed on the blade, the well-honed metal slicing easily into his flesh.

Jack grinned slightly and backed away a step.  "What's the matter?  Still fighting with a poisoned blade?  How long do you have?  A half hour?  Why don't we see how long you can fight with death running through your veins, aye?"

Michael couldn't answer, even if he wanted to.  He could feel where the curare had already worked, the muscles completely frozen, unresponsive.  He couldn't draw breath to speak . . .couldn't draw breath to live . . .couldn't live . . .God, this wasn't how it was supposed to end . . .

Jack scowled blackly at the corpse in front of him.  "Curare.  Where in bloody hell did you get curare?  Wherever it was, you bloody traitor, you got taken in.  Your monkey must've jumped eight or nine times before it died."

The corpse didn't answer . . .not that he had expected it would.  Jack sighed and turned away from the body, stumbling as he tried to make his way back toward the stairs and the deck.  Shaking his head, he placed one hand over the gash in his left shoulder, ensuring that it wasn't any deeper than he had thought.

It had been a stupid mistake that got him that, letting his attention focus on Michael before he had dealt with the trouble right in front of him.

It had been stupid to engage the mercenary in a clash of swords.  Will was going to be furious with him . . .not that Will wouldn't have wasted his shot if he thought Elizabeth was in trouble . . .

Jack frowned and shook his head again.  God, he was exhausted . . .

Another two steps were all he managed before collapsing to his knees.

Escape based on the flimsy oath of a pirate . . .

An oath fulfilled . . .

Jack took a deep breath, closing his eyes, trying to clear his head and lessen the pounding of his heart.

When he opened them, he could see the dim outline of a gray mist and dancing lights over the solid planes of the Defender's deck . . .

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"Frederick, you're just making this harder on yourself.  This is not going to impress whatever judge we end up with."  Jenkin tried hard not to let his irritation and anger show.

Hallson had his sword at Robert's neck, and already a small cut dripped blood down onto the blacksmith's chest.

"You're all traitors!  Every single one of you!  I order you to pick up your weapons and to defend this ship!"

Jenkin froze as he finally caught Hallson's eye.

Whatever sanity the man had possessed before had fled completely.

A different tactic was definitely needed here.  "Sir, the ship is safe.  We already did what you asked, remember?  All of these men are Royal Navy men . . .they're all supposed to be here.  Everything is in good order, sir."

"Then why wasn't anyone obeying my orders?  You should court-martial those men there, Captain, chasing their superior officer with intent to detain him."

At least they didn't shoot you in the back, you bloody monster.  "Sir, you need to step away from the prisoner so we can ensure that he's securely locked away and that any injuries you've sustained are taken care of."

Hallson smiled, a sight that sent a chill through Jenkin's blood.

"Didn't you hear, Captain?  We're not taking prisoners today."

Jenkin turned away as Hallson's sword arm tensed.

"Hallson."

"Will?"  Robert's voice, hoarse and strained though it was, managed to convey both the heights of joy and the depths of doubt.

"You're dead.  You're supposed to be dead!"  Hallson stood frozen, only his eyes moving as they roved over the younger blacksmith's entire body.

"Maybe I am dead.  Maybe I'm here to see that you end up dead, too."  Will's stride was purposeful, steady, slow, his sword dripping someone's crimson blood, his face hard and impassive, eyes fixed and steady, and for a moment Jenkin could indeed believe that he was Death in human form.

"No."  Hallson pulled his sword away from the helpless blacksmith, brandishing it instead at the approaching personification of death.  "No!"

"Yes."  Will seemed to savor the word, drawing it out into a long whisper.

Before Will was close enough to draw blood, two rifle shots split the silence on deck, and Hallson collapsed to the ground, one ball in his head and another in his heart.

Will stood with hands clenched for a moment before turning away.

Adam Crallon was already working at undoing the ties that held Robert to the mizzenmast as Jenkin gave orders for the disposal of Hallson's body before making his way back to where he had left Brian Lanebridges, hoping against hope that the young man was still clinging to life.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

"He should have been mine."

"It's all right, Will."  Elizabeth rubbed her hands over her husband's shoulders.  "Robert's safe, the children are safe, you're safe, I'm safe . . .everything's all right.  It doesn't matter who killed him, just so long as he's dead."

Will nodded slightly.  "I know you're right . . .but I still wanted him."

"I don't think you would have enjoyed it if you did get him."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Will's mouth.  "No, probably not.  You're right.  We won, he's dead . . .that's what matters."

"Exactly.  That's what matters."

Will wrapped his arms around his wife, bringing her head in for a quick kiss.  Maybe standing on deck in the aftermath of a minor civil war, with men being slowly moved to their proper crews, the dead identified and the wounded tended, wasn't exactly the proper time . . .but it would do.

Elizabeth remained quiet in his arms for a few moments afterward.  "Jack and Ana-Maria?"

Will shrugged.  "I don't know.  Jack's had all his defenses in place since we boarded . . .I tend to heed his mental 'no trespassing' signs.  Things can get rather ugly otherwise."

"Can't you just make sure he's all right?  I would have expected him to be right by your side when you confronted Hallson . . ."

"He had found Michael.  I felt that . . .there wasn't any way I couldn't."  Will closed his eyes and gently nudged the link, searching for a reaction from the pirate.  Frowning when none was forthcoming, he tried again harder . . .and opened his eyes wide, gasping in shock and fear before breaking away from Elizabeth and rushing down below deck, no longer quite so certain that everything was all right.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Jack struggled to remain on his knees, swaying violently, using his cutlass that he had embedded in the floor to help him keep his balance.  Some part of his mind knew that falling any further than his knees would be much, much too far to get back up from.

Escape based on the flimsy oath of a pirate . . .

Bootstrap had said he was a free man, hadn't he?  Not bound to anything?

You can't die.  You've an oath to complete.

He'd done it.

Finished it.

Ended it.

Won.

His ship was at the bottom of the sea, though, his crew all dead, and Ana-Maria would be just about ready to kill him now for running off on her like he had.

Jack reached out unsteadily to grab at one of the dancing points of light, actually partially surprised to find his hand went straight through the mist and the light without disturbing either.

That was interesting . . .

Jack!  Jack, damn you, what in hell were you thinking, what are you doing, you bloody stubborn obstinate annoying gods-cursed infuriating pirate you're scaring me half to death don't do this Jack don't do this you won you won I can see that you won Jack get up you stubborn bloody man get up don't let them win get up get up get

Jack shook his head, drowning out the voice, slamming his defenses back into place.  This was his decision, his problem, not something that Will was supposed to interfere with.

The pirate winced in pain and brought both hands up to his head as Will simply pushed his way past the barriers, too worried and upset to bother with such niceties as getting permission.

Jack, this is not how you are meant to die.  If you were going to die like this, it would have been on the Pearl.  We won, Jack.  We won.  You are free.  Don't trick yourself out of this.  If you're scared, or hurting, lean on me, I'm here, I'll help you.  I've lost my whole world before, too.  You build another one.  Ana-Maria will be absolutely furious with you if you quit now.

Quit?  Quitting was not something that Captain Jack Sparrow did . . .

You won.  We won.  Get on your feet, Captain.  Get on your feet right now.

Since when had he been able to make out words over the link?

Since you were doing something so stupid that I needed to go plow my way this far into your mind, stubborn bloody pirate.

Will was becoming far too much like his father for Jack's liking.

Jack slowly stood, the gray mist and dancing, haunting lights receding as he did so.  Walking was still difficult, the first step sending him reeling sideways.  A strong hand on his shoulder kept him from hitting the ground, and before he could recover he found himself enveloped in a tight hug.

He had just acclimated himself to breathing through Will's tight grip when Elizabeth added her own arms to the mix.

"I take it we won?"

Will arched an eyebrow and stepped away.  "We won.  Hallson's dead, the battle's over."

"Where's Ana-Maria?"  Jack used one hand to shoo Elizabeth's fingers away as she careful pried at the bloody material covering his upper left arm.

"Right here, you bloody fool.  Just took me a bit longer to follow Will's mad dash down below."  She eyed his injured shoulder as well.  "I thought we were going to avoid doing stupid things?"

Jack just grinned and shrugged.  "I couldn't help it.  Spent too much time with William here.  It's not bad, anyway.  Won't even need to be stitched.  Elizabeth's got a nick of her own, but I don't see you berating her."  He gestured to a small bloody patch surrounding a ragged tear in Elizabeth's trousers.

Ana-Maria shrugged.  "I figured Will already beat me to it."

"Only if dear William wants me mentioning the blow to the head that had him unable to tell down from up and left from right for nearly a full minute is he going to do that."

"I thought we'd worked on this ducking problem, Will."  Jack admonished as he led the way slowly back to the main deck.

"When there's four of them to one of me . . .if Elizabeth hadn't been there, I'd be dead.  Besides, it's Brian who has a problem with ducking, remember?"  Will fell quickly silent, and Jack didn't need to turn around to see the guilt on his face.

"How bad?"

Elizabeth shook her head slowly.  "Bad."

"Damn it.  The lad's a good captain, a good man.  What happened?"  Jack stopped at the edge of the main deck, allowing his companions to come up but not moving far enough forward to interfere with the damage control and assessment, both for the ship and for the wounded, that was being tended to.

"Hallson shot him in the back when he was trying to negotiate a cease-fire.  Francis is already working on him, but he says not to expect anything."  Elizabeth bit her lip, praying silently, yet again, for the young man's life.

"Will Turner."

Will turned abruptly at the sound of his name, his hand instantly going for his sword before he relaxed.

"My name is George Hardel.  I was just over on the Intrepid, and that last barrage from the Defender before we boarded, it tore her up pretty bad . . .two of the balls went through the gun decks.  We're still pulling people out of there."

Will and Elizabeth both froze, barely able to put their fear into words.  "Our children . . ."

"I'm sorry.  They haven't been recovered yet."