Jack Sparrow in Neverland
Title: Jack Sparrow in Neverland 2/?
Author: linaerys
E-mail: linaerys@yahoo.com
Fandom: PotC/Peter Pan/just a tidbit of Neil Gaiman's Endless
Rating/Classification: R for violence, Jack/Hook.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters
Summary: The first time Jack is stranded on the island, an unusual visitor takes him to an unusual place.
Delirium parted the clouds as easily as Dream had created them, for Neverland is her land as much as it is his. Her mismatched eyes had seen many secrets, and tonight she would see another.
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Jack would have liked to find the balm of forgetfulness in Smee's morning draught of rum, but Neverland rum was poor, thin stuff; in such a forgetful land, what more can rum provide? While Jack's memory of the Pearl shimmered and wavered in his mind like mist, the last night was too near to forget. If Hook had been all brutal, that would have been better, but he was not, and Jack was beset by conflicting feeling of revulsion and tenderness, of attraction and fear.
Jack got to his feet gingerly. Perhaps he remembered less than he thought, for he did not remember when the manacles had been taken from his wrists, only now saw that his hands were free. He remembered that Hook had killed that night. A sailor came in without knocking, and when death was meted out on Hook's merest whim, this certainly merited it. The pirates eyes did not even have a chance to widen at the sight of Jack stretched out in Hook's bed before Hook tore open his stomach and chest with a single vicious slash. The man crumpled to the floor, and Smee came in to drag out the body.
"Always knock," said Hook, as he cleaned his hook with a large lacy handkerchief, before turning back to Jack.
Hook had melancholy moments too, though, and when the moonlight shone in he spoke of his days before Neverland. He told Jack he had been Blackbeard's bosun, and before that some tragedy, some fall from a noble fortune had propelled him into piracy. The stories had the taint of legend, of a tale told so often the truth behind it was forgotten. If he truly were Blackbeard's bosun he might be one hundred years old, and Jack wondered again at the nature of this Neverland. Was he already dead, and this was neither heaven nor hell, but some limbo for lost pirates?
Jack examined himself in Hook's mirror. Like the rest of Hook's room here in the Black Castle, it was ornately decorated and inlaid with gold. The Jack who looked back at him was changed yet again, for, true to his word, Hook had shaved Jack's new beard. Jack fingered his lips and tried to keep his secret smile from them. The night held secrets Jack would be happy to forget, but the mixture of pleasure and fear as the Captain shaved Jack's face with his own razor-sharp hook was a memory Jack intended to keep.
So we go a-pirating, he thought. Perhaps we can find our way back to Isla de la Muerta. That reminded him of his compass, and he rushed into his own room. How could he have forgotten? In his store of incredible tales, the finding of this compass was his favorite, not the least because it was completely true. If only he could remember how he found it. The story might be escaping him for the moment, but the compass was still there. Jack wondered what lay between Neverland and Isla de la Muerta— perhaps Atlantis or Tir Na Nog or some equally improbable land.
That day Smee organized the transfer of the captain's belongings back to the ship—and Jack, as the new cabin boy, was obliged to assist. When they had no duties, which was most of the time, the Jolly Roger's sailors kept busy dicing and drinking, and sleeping up on deck when the sun was warm—no scrubbing of decks to a snowy whiteness for pirates—her decks were a smooth soiled brown. Days passed for Jack much as they had on many of his prior ships, spent in drink and dissolution, and occasional hoisting of sails. Jack reflected that if he had been idle for so long, not that he ever would be, he would at least exercise his gun crews.
Nights, well, nights were a different matter. Jack had rarely had to content himself with a lonely bed, but perhaps this bed was a little too full. He had been skilled at managing his lovers before: Lisette, the wife of a merchant captain who under Jack's hands revealed which ships of the fleet carried gold, and which merely tin; Davenport, his first captain during Jack's brief tenure in the Royal Navy, whose dual fears of hanging for unnatural acts and losing Jack had proved most profitable; and so many others—Jack always took more than he left.
"You won't leave me," said Hook, one night, and the words were not a question or a command, but a simple statement. Jack had heard those words before, but never with the tip of an iron hook caressing his back. Jack turned over gingerly to face his captor.
"I have your promise, remember," he said slowly, tracing the rhythm of his words on Hook's chest. "The richest plunder in the world, and places to spend it. All that lays in my sea . . . the Caribbean."
"Indeed you, do," Hook agreed, and Jack would not let him forget it. If they were lucky, they would find the Pearl, and with such a ship as this at his back, she would be his again. Jack tried not to think about it, and made a sign with his fingers against misfortune.
Neverland is as far or near as needs be from the waking rational world, and Jack's words had fired Hook's imagination, which had long lain dormant sequestered here. Betimes when Hook had sailed forth from Neverland for plunder and pleasure he had found the Azores and richly laden Mediterranean vessels, or come upon the coast of Madagascar with its buccaneer brethren more fearsome even than Blackbeard, at least when taken all together. After days of trackless seas, guided by Jack's compass, the first spit of land they saw was a nameless island with a few straggly palm trees on it, but to Jack it smelled of home.
They had many adventures crossing the great nameless ocean: a sea serpent embraced the ship in her gunmetal gray coils, and would not let them pass until each passenger had told a tale and answered a riddle, and they nearly lost all the sailors on an island of shimmering fountains whose fruit brought endless sleep, but finally after months of travel they sighted this small scrap of the Caribbean, and after that saw the two great mountains of St. Lucia. Les Pitons rose each a thousand feet into the sky, and sheltered a snow-white beach.
The Jolly Roger moored in the shallows, and the sailors rowed ashore for water and food. The island's main town was on the other side, but this bay would provide a serviceable staging point for some raids on the town. Jack even had a small notion of luring the Pearl from w herever she lurked by news of their exploits. The sweetest prey, after all, is another predator. Why do all the work of capturing merchant vessels, culling the best gold and silks and selling off the rest, when the Pearl might have already done it for them.
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"He found his way back on his own," said the Dream King, wonderingly. "But this changes nothing, he has made his choice."
"You let them leave? When I was off being fishies they went and escaped?" his sister's multi-colored hair stirred in some breeze, but it was not the one blowing across this Caribbean strand.
"Yes," mused Dream, "Hook is not supposed to leave Neverland. No matter, he will be drawn back there soon enough. These things must needs right themselves."
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St. Lucia city could not have been designed better for plunder if a pirate had planned it himself, thought Jack. The Jolly Roger sat close to the windward shore, just beyond one of the points of land that guarded this bay. The island was a poor one, but still, the few rich citizens would bring a some ripe ships. Jack felt something stir in him akin to lust; it had been so long since he pitted his wits against a foe at sea, and he relished it.
Before night fell, Jack came out on deck where the pirates took up their dicing and dancing. Backlit by the sunset, Jack felt a speech welling up within him. The lads loved to hear his stories, and so when he started to speak, they fell silent.
"Now, you dogs," said Jack, with a bit of a grin at his own swaggering, "you mangy sea dogs. We have the chance for rich pickings here tonight. Make your cutlass is as sharp as your captain's . . ." Jack trailed off as the sound of the Hook's measured footfalls came up from behind him. He felt the familiar itch of sharpened steel at his throat, and smelled the metal tang.
"You were saying?" Hook purred. Jack felt, rather than saw, the slight sardonic smile on Hook's face. He jumped back, executing a smooth spin that took him out of range of the hook, and made a bow toward his captain.
"Your ship, your sailors, your plunder, sir," said Jack, doffing his hat.
"No, by all means, pray continue," replied Hook.
"If we can take a ship by boarding, we will—silence is golden, savvy? If not, I want the best marksmen—Smee, if your glasses are clean, and Noodler, on Long Tom, and everyone else go where you're told." Jack hesitated for a moment. "Captain, does the plan suit?"
"Oh yes."
"Now we wait . . . for the opportune moment," Jack finished. He was flushed and giddy with excitement and pre-battle nerves, and he envied Hook's tranquility.
"My ship?" Hook asked when the sailors had dispersed. Jack smiled hopefully and nodded.
"You are like Smee," said Hook after a long pause, "everyone loves you." Hook said the word "love" like it was a kind of disease. "I've read that it is better to be feared." I'm working on that, thought Jack, but he did not say the words.
"Sailors always like to get their spirits up before battle," said Jack, trying not to sound plaintive. Jack Sparrow begs for no man's approval, he told himself.
"What they like is immaterial," replied Hook. "Have you 'made your cutlass as sharp as your captain's'—I do hope you were going to say 'hook'? 'Tis worthy advice. Blades come from every direction in the thick of battle. And make sure the double hook is sharp as well." His voice was chilly and he dismissed Jack with a wave of his hand.
Jack did as he was told, grumbling a bit. As the sliver of a moon rose, Hook entered the cabin to make ready for the fight. Jack fought a losing battle against Hook's desire to wear velvet: "it's impractical" was not, it appeared, a phrase in his vocabulary. He girded three pistols onto Hook's cross-strap, and helped him place two daggers within easy reach of Hook's left hand. Jack affixed the sharpened double hook, and finally put Hook's sword belt on him. I'm more likely to use one of those pistols than he is, thought Jack sourly. Although Hook had become adept at cocking a pistol one-handed, he needed help mounting one on his claw.
As expected a merchant ship did come in that night under cover of darkness. Truth be told, she was probably a smuggling ship dodging countries and tariffs as she skipped across the Caribbean. All to the good, thought Jack, since the Royal Navy would have less of a stake in her voyage. She was a fat little ship, blunt-prowed and riding heavy, with naught but stern chasers to protect her. When she let her anchor go in the bay, Jack jerked his chin at Hook, who signaled his men. For all their tomfoolery in Neverland, they formed a sleek and deadly boarding party. The boats had been place in the water hours before. Jack took command of one and Hook the other, and they rowed quietly through the still waters of the bay.
Jack felt like a coiled spring as he sat in the stern, waiting while the muffled oars slipped in and out of the water. He instinctively checked his weapons: three pistols, already loaded, were tucked into his belt, his sword hung at his waist, and he had a cutlass at the ready, to clench in his teeth at the last moment. It had seemed a silly affectation at first, from Defoe's pirate lore, but it was the quickest and most quiet weapon to hand when boarding a ship.
The smuggler was tucked down snug for the night, and a single lantern burned on the prow. As the boats came in under her gunwales, a fortuitous breeze started up abeam, disguising any knocks they made. Jack threw his grappling hook first, and it landed softly, catching the rail on an upswing. Jack put his finger to his lips and glared at the men in his boat. He watched them all cower back from him, and felt a swell of pride. They might cower more from Hook, but then, Jack had never killed any of them.
Jack ascended the rope and knocked the watchman unconscious with the butt of his knife before any of the other sailors had even thrown their ropes. Soon after, though, Jack heard the thuds of grappling irons sinking into wood all around him, and the devil-faced pirates swarmed over the sides of the ship like rats. Jack gestured eloquently at his men, and they spread out to do their duties—looking for the treasure and silencing the passengers.
Jack tiptoed toward the captain's cabin, and opened the door. His eyes had adjusted to the night, and he saw the captain laying in his hammock, mouth open in sleep. Jack tied the man's hands with rope, then took his neckerchief and gagged the man. He woke up when Jack forced the rag into his mouth, and made a choking sound as he looked around wildly. Jack took his knife and put it under the man's chin.
"When I take this gag off, you're going to tell me where exactly on your ship the richest treasure is, and if you don't the next sound you make will be you choking on my knife," Jack said quietly, imitating Hook's sinister politeness. "Understand, mate?" The man's eyes showed white all around, and he looked like he might faint, but he nodded, and Jack loosened the gag.
"We've only a little gold, and all that's here in the cabin," he said. He listed the drawers and cabinets where it was hidden, and Jack smiled. All too easy, he thought. True, there was not much gold, but Jack felt the captain told the truth—richer smugglers would stay away from St. Lucia. "Other than that, there's only the rum and the calicos in the hold." The man glanced around quickly, and Jack knew he was hiding something. He pressed his knife into the man's neck again, this time drawing a thin bead of red from the tip.
"There's a bolt of green velvet for my wife in that cupboard," the captain admitted at last with a sigh. Jack smiled.
"What a wonderful husband you must be, sir," he said, tipping his hat, "but I know someone who will enjoy this cloth more than your wife. Jack emptied the cabin in a few minutes; the gold went into he pockets, and little enough there was, and he tucked the bolt of velvet under his arm. It looked black in the dim light of the cabin, and felt like some exotic animal fir.
Walking out on deck again, Jack saw that the pirates had gathered up the rest of the crew and bound them to the gratings. Noodler directed a crew of men loading the cloths onto the jolly boats. Smee came over to Jack and bowed his head apologetically.
"All theys had were the cloths, sir," he said.
"Buck up there Smee, it's all right. Some prizes are better than others." Jack took out one of the coins and pressed it into Smee's hand. Smee's face lit with a smile for a moment, then he squirreled the coin away somewhere in his trousers. Finally when all the goods had been removed from the little ship, Hook climbed up the ladder and over the rails. He strode around the small deck, saying nothing, and finally came around to Jack.
"This is your 'rich pickings'?" he said. Jack hastily removed the gold from his pockets. It made a pitiable double handful, but he presented it to Hook anyway. Hook sneered slightly, and waved his hand at Jack. "Keep it." Jack flushed with anger. True, the Black Castle held a thousand times more loot than this little ship, but in the real world, this was a tidy take. Jack opened his mouth to protest when he remembered the velvet.
The cloth weighed down Jack's hands as he held it out to Captain Hook, and his wrists almost faltered, as the battle-tension melted out of him. Hook smiled slightly, and caressed the cloth.
"Ah, that will do nicely," he said, after a moment. "Now back to the Jolly Roger. We shall return to Les Pitons." The Jolly Roger's crew left the smugglers tied up on their ship. They had tied the bonds loose enough that one of them would be able to escape and free the others within a few hours.
"An excellent find, Sparrow," said Hook, after they returned to his cabin. He held the cloth up to the torchlight, then held it against Jack's cheek. "Would you like it? It would look well on either one of us." It would make me look like a popinjay, thought Jack, especially beardless as I am now, but he managed to hold his tongue. Instead he said, "Velvet suits you better I think, my captain. Not all of us have the bearing for it."
"True enough, lad," agreed Hook. He wrapped some of the velvet around his shoulders, where it clashed with the red he already wore. "I'll have Smee make up a jacket and waistcoat from it."
"You've done well tonight," said Hook, as he shrugged of his coat. Jack came around behind to help him. Then Jack felt the touch of cold steel on his cheek, but this was the blunt side, and not meant as a threat. "How shall I reward you?"
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Dawn silhouetted the mountains by the time the pirate ship tacked over to the other side of St. Lucia. Jack left Hook asleep in his cabin; he had no wish to be in the path of that the hook when the captain's bad dreams overtook him. Hook's mattress had to be re-sewn regularly to patch up the tears he made in it. Jack rubbed his wrists absently as he oversaw the crew. They brought the ship to rest in the bay, and looked to Jack to decide whether they would stay here a few days, or move on.
Jack reflected that St. Lucia had probably yielded up all the bounty she could, and he itched to return to Tortuga, its women and its taverns. There they could find a market for the cloth, and spend the gold. Jack had in mind to replace his sword, and even the Jolly Roger would run low of munitions eventually. It was amazing how many lost shipments of bullets and powder were found in Tortuga. This bay was sheltered, but not enough, and Jack started toward the captain's cabin to ask permission to take the ship back out into the open water. Best not to undermine his authority any further, thought Jack.
He knocked on the door, and hearing no answer he entered. Hook still lay sleeping, and his dreams had evidently been tranquil, since his sheets were un-torn. His hair was spread out on the pillow, like a spill of dark wine. He looks peaceful, for once, thought Jack. It's going to be hell to wake him. Just then Hook must have sensed something, for even in his sleep, his face grew dark and troubled, and he lashed out, burying his hook in the wood of the bed frame. Jack started to back up, belatedly remembering something his nurse had once said, that one must let sleeping giants lay, and thinking better of his plan to wake his captain. Hook opened his eyes and regarded Jack balefully. He had seen several pirates die upon the hook after waking up their captain, but Hook's anger was banked, and he wrenched his weapon out of the bedstead. "It's gotten bent," he said. "It's my favorite one. Fix it, will you?"
"Yes, of course," said Jack. Hook shooed Jack away, but he lingered a moment by the door. "You don't mind, I hope, if we troll other waters, do you?" Hook nodded absently and waved him out the door. Good enough for me, Jack thought, as he went whistling.
The sail between Tortuga and St. Lucia would take a few weeks, and Jack had to admit, it was more than practicality that drew him there. Too long he had drifted, dreamlike with the Jolly Roger and this fantastic crew. He needed rum that would get him drunk, a willing woman in his arms, and two more waiting their turn. He needed people who remembered Captain Jack Sparrow, so he could start to remember himself. And most of all, he needed word of the Pearl.
Perhaps we should head toward Isla de la Muerta first, he thought, as he ordered the crew to make sail. The Pearl might still make berth there, on such a well-hidden island. Jack took out his compass, which now never left his side. Hook paid no attention to it when he sent it clattering across the cabin with Jack's jacket and shirt. Jack could feel the ship's proximity to the island; he felt it like cool thread through the warm wind, and indeed, the wind was favorable for a journey in that direction.
Perhaps the Jolly Roger could take the Pearl Jack dared to hope. He had an advantage: he did not care if the Jolly Roger or any of Hook's crew survived the encounter. Barbossa might expect Jack to be squeamish with the lives of his men, but Hook could order his men into certain death, as no other pirate captain could.
The ship sailed on through the day, her wind never faltering, bringing them ever closer to the dead island. Then Jack, as the last night failed, Jack saw a ship with dark sails silhouetted in the distance. She tacked in the wrong direction for this wind, as the waning moon rose, she made no change in her course. The Jolly Roger would be upon her in an hour or less. Jack directed to crew to make ready at their gun stations.
Hook finally roused himself and came out on deck. Smee had made up the green velvet in record time, thought Jack, or perhaps this was yet another coat from his voluminous wardrobe.
"Very elegant, captain," said Jack. Hook smirked and waved the compliment away, but Jack knew he was pleased. Jack handed the glass to Hook, and helped him set it to his eye. "I know that ship. She will be richly laden, and can lead us to still more wealth," said Jack in his most seductive whisper. Hook raised an eyebrow.
"Indeed."
"The ship, too, is a great prize, unlike that rotting scow we robbed at St. Lucia. If you commanded two pirate vessels, just think of the plunder you could take." Hook combed his beard with the tip of his hook.
"Go on," he urged. Jack looked up at the captain. He wore a predatory smile that made Jack feel a twinge of pity for Barbossa. Then Jack smiled himself; it was no more than his mutinous first mate deserved. Jack still wanted to shoot the man, for the poetic justice of it all, but if he died upon Hook's hook, he was still just as dead.
"She's a fast, stiff ship, but we'll have the weather gage of her. She must believe us a merchant vessel, otherwise she would have run by now."
"She's not a merchant vessel, then, Jack?" asked Hook. He picked up Jack's chin with the blunt outside of the Hook. "I have a feeling there's something you're not telling me."
"She's a pirate ship," said Jack, "so she's done all our collecting for us, you see."
"Is she really. This should be exciting." Jack smiled brightly, and sagged with relief as soon as Hook turned away. Over the past months he had grown accustomed to his captain's presence and the spell of fascination he wove around him, but when Hook focused all his attention on Jack, his knees still went to water.
The moon limned the crests of the waves with shimmers of silver. In this dim light Jack saw that the sails of the approaching ship were indeed as black as night. Hook stood at his side as they approached. He ordered the hands to extinguish all the lights on board the Jolly Roger, and in that monochrome night, they unfurled their pirate flag. The Jack strained his eyes against the glass, and could see barely any movement on board. The pirates went below to run out the guns. The other ship had not opened her gun ports; in fact, all on board seemed to be asleep.
They drew in closer and closer, silent—even the Jolly Roger's creaking seemed to be muted. Hook gave the signal and she fired a warning shot across the bow. It took out a darkened lamp, sending a spray of glass across the deck, but even that noise was muffled by the oppressive night. Someone must have heard, though, for a few figures started dashing about on deck. They had pulled up close enough that Jack could see she had no gun ports, this was not the Black Pearl, but some other ship with black sails. She was not even a pirate ship, Jack thought as his heart sank. He would suffer for this.
Hook did not shout instructions across the breach for them to lower their colors, and run up the white flag. He simply gave another signal to the gun crews who opened fire on the ship, ripping up railings and decks. One lucky shot took out the mizzenmast—oh yes, Noodler on Long Tom. Jack winced as the beautiful wood went up in a spray of splinters, but he shrugged philosophically; at least it wasn't his Pearl.
The Jolly Roger came in closer, and Hook shouted instructions to ready the grappling irons. The other ship's crew had, by now, run a white flag up, but Hook paid no attention to it. The men laid down planks and swung across on ropes, running all over the deck.
"Leave none alive," shouted Hook, as he ripped through the belly of one of the ship's passengers. Jack rushed across after. A boy ran up to him waving a knife, and Jack knocked the child unconscious with the butt of his pistol, but after that he stood amazed at the carnage. Hook fired his pistol with one hand, and gutted the passengers until the deck around him ran dark and slick with blood. Finally Jack recovered himself, and ran up to Hook, but stood far enough away to be out of his reach.
"Captain, you must leave some of them alive, to tell us where to loot is," he pleaded. Hook seemed not to hear him for a moment, then shook his head impatiently.
"Please," said Jack. Hook glared at him for a moment then snarled, "Very well," biting out the words as if they tasted bad.
Jack could not hide his disgust. "Bring me anyone alive," called out Hook. Two pirates quickly appeared with a woman between them, each grasping one of her arms. She wore a long white gown, and was young, much younger than Jack was himself. Hook smiled as if he were sucking on lemons.
"What do you think she can tell us?" he asked. "Well, she may not be able to tell us anything, but I'm sure she'll be of some use." The girl shot him an imploring look. Jack came around behind her and lifted her hair up to his face.
"I thought you liked fine things, captain," he said, his eyes fixed on Hook.
"Only sometimes," said Hook, taking aim with his pistol, "I think she'll get tiresome."
"Perhaps she can entertain the sailors," said Jack, grasping at straws.
"Do you know any stories, girl?" Hook asked. Fright had rendered the girl mute, Jack saw. He jerked his chin at her desperately, urging her to answer, but her dark eyes simply welled up with tears and she said nothing.
"I see. I don't think she's very entertaining at all." He made as if to fire again and Jack leaped around to the front of the girl. All the sailors stood around staring at the confrontation. Jack stood in front of the girl, cursing himself for stupidity. He should just let her die, he should walk away, but he could not stomach any more death tonight.
Hook walked slowly toward them. He flung the pistol away. Jack's hand went for his sword, but Hook came upon him before he could draw it. He forced Jack's chin up with the point of his hook.
"I mean to kill her, and if you try to stop me, I can kill you too," he said in a conversational tone. Jack fought within himself, but finally his survival instinct won out, and he stepped aside. Hook cut her throat with one quick slash, and the pirates holding her allowed her to fall to the ground.
"Take Mr. Sparrow back to my cabin and chain him up for me," Hook instructed them. "The rest of you, empty the hold, then fire the ship."
The sailors did an excellent job securing Jack. They strung him up by iron manacles around his wrists and left him hanging there in the cabin until the work of stripping the ship was completed. The Jolly Roger's swaying in the breeze caused Jack to lose his footing every few minutes, and by the time Captain Hook returned to his cabin, Jack's shoulders and arms were in agony. He had plenty of time to regret his actions. Not stepping in to try to save the girl—he knew he would do that again if he had to, and knew he would step away again, too. No, he regretted not escaping in St. Lucia, and finding his own way back to Tortuga. He knew what Hook was capable of, knew that he abided on the thin line between bedmate and victim, and how easy that line would be to cross.
No, he had been blind, willing to use any tool to regain his Pearl, even one so likely to turn in his hand as the captain. Jack saw the door latch rising and then Captain Hook strode through the door. He flung off his hat and removed his coat, then plunged his hook into the acid bath he used to clean it. Finally he put on a long velvet robe before walking over to Jack.
"I think I'm done with this Caribbean of yours, Sparrow," he said. "The prey is as you promised, but the treasure is somewhat lacking." Hook advanced toward Jack has he spoke, and Jack's breath came shallow and fast with fear.
"There's a place I didn't tell you about," said Jack. He strained to find the flippant yet conspiratorial tone that had convinced his shipmates in Tortuga, but instead he knew he sounded panicked.
"Isla de la Muerta. Indian Treasure. Can only be found with a magic compass, which I have." Not strictly true, and Barbossa had likely cleared it out by now. Still, any way off this ship before they returned to Neverland was better than remaining to be tortured.
"Twice you've failed me. Shall I give you another chance to fail me again? I think not. We return to Neverland. I've unfinished business there, and it calls to me."
"Well, in that case, if you'll just let me off on the nearest island, I'll trouble you no further," said Jack. He knew it was a vain attempt, but had to make one last effort.
"You defied me, Jack Sparrow. I cannot allow you to live," said Hook in a pleasant voice. "Still, it is a long journey back to Neverland, and I would hate to be bored the whole time. There is sport left to be had, I think." Jack felt numb. He had no illusions about his ability to stand up to any kind of torture, especially not the kind he was sure Hook had in mind. If Hook wanted crying and pleading, no doubt he would get it.
Hook stepped in close to Jack, his face mere inches away. He reached up, and Jack thought he was going to be let down, but instead the captain sank his Hook into Jack's arm and ripped slowly through it.
"I don't like scars," he said, "but still, you must be punished." Blood flowed down Jack's arm and shoulder as he retched and choked from the pain. The blood was flowing fast now, and he felt blessedly light headed. The last thing he heard was Hook shouting for Smee.
He awoke in the brig, with his arm neatly bandaged and food and water by his side. Hooks not as good at that as I imagined, Jack thought with a sardonic twist to his mouth, but he'll no doubt learn.
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The wind blew favorably for Neverland for a full week, and the vicissitudes of time and space around that placed allowed the Jolly Roger to reach her quickly. For Jack, even that week seemed interminable. His arm acquired several new scars, although Neverland's quick healing clung to the ship, and within a few days they became merely ugly red seams. The pain was the easy part. Still, he spent a fair amount of the week unconscious, and in one of his dreams he had a visitor.
"He won't let me interfere," said the girl. She seemed familiar, but Jack had forgotten his trip to Neverland already, and so the colorful hair and mismatched eyes only made him feel comforted. "You are in his story now. He said Neverland is a skillie . . . no, not skillie, a steerie . . . that's not right either. It's a thing, that has it's own life's unicycles, must live and die on it's own. I wanted to help you."
"What is it, love? What do you mean?" Jack asked. In this dream he was free from his bonds, but still stuck inside the cell. Then Jack heard a voice like stones falling in a starlit pool.
"My sister is right, we are not allowed to interfere. She ought not be here. The Skerries were a gift to me from fairy, and I made a promise to a lady that they would finish their own stories, and die, as they must.
"I can give you forgetfulness, if you want. But Neverland already has that in abundance. I cannot give you that which you do not already have. Know this, the power that made these lands is what can help you leave."
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No, forgetfulness was denied him. In those dark days of pain and fear there were still moments of pleasure, but so tainted they did not deserve the name. Jack's beard grew back and his hair lengthened and coarsened as he hung in Captain Hook's bonds. He became better at hardening his spirit, retreating from the dark magic of Hook's blue gaze, until the day they let go anchor in Neverland's lagoon. Hook had Jack brought to his cabin in the evening, as was his wont.
He saw Hook swirling in velvet, cloaked in menace and felt nothing, neither fear nor attraction, neither revulsion nor envy. Hook seemed to sense this, for he did not tease Jack with the hook, or cut Jack's clothes off him, nicking Jack's skin in his haste. Instead, Hook looked uncertain for a moment, then called for Smee.
"I will take him up on deck, where he will serve as an example to the rest of the crew," he told Smee. Jack had not been outside in so long, and the feel of Neverland's cool evening air on his face was intoxicating. The moon looked down. She did not hide her face from Hook, or sneer at the pirates, but instead seemed to be beaming her calming silver light at Jack alone. Hook held Jack by the collar of his shirt and the crew assembled to see what would happen.
"This mutinous dog wanted to save a woman. A woman," said Hook, laughing slightly. The crew looked around nervously and laughed as well. "Now you shall see what happens to traitors."
"To traitors," whispered One-Eyed Joe from the crowd, "I think it happens to everyone." Hook heard this and crossed to Joe with two great strides. He did not pause a moment before opening Joe from waist to shoulder. Jack did not wait to see the pirate fall, but dove over the side of the ship, and into the black waters of the lagoon. As soon as he plunged in, the moon covered her face with clouds, and all was darkness. In the deep water, Jack saw women's shapes . . . mermaids, whose phosphorescent scales gave off a dim light.
One of them swam up to him, where Jack rested, suspended under the water. She was beautiful he thought, and her webbed fingers and gills only served to make her more so. Her eyes wove a spell, and although they were under water, Jack heard her say, "come with us, live with us under the waves." Then she gave a flip of her tail and swam further under the water. Wait for me, Jack tried to say, but water entered his lungs and he knew no more.
Title: Jack Sparrow in Neverland 2/?
Author: linaerys
E-mail: linaerys@yahoo.com
Fandom: PotC/Peter Pan/just a tidbit of Neil Gaiman's Endless
Rating/Classification: R for violence, Jack/Hook.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters
Summary: The first time Jack is stranded on the island, an unusual visitor takes him to an unusual place.
Delirium parted the clouds as easily as Dream had created them, for Neverland is her land as much as it is his. Her mismatched eyes had seen many secrets, and tonight she would see another.
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Jack would have liked to find the balm of forgetfulness in Smee's morning draught of rum, but Neverland rum was poor, thin stuff; in such a forgetful land, what more can rum provide? While Jack's memory of the Pearl shimmered and wavered in his mind like mist, the last night was too near to forget. If Hook had been all brutal, that would have been better, but he was not, and Jack was beset by conflicting feeling of revulsion and tenderness, of attraction and fear.
Jack got to his feet gingerly. Perhaps he remembered less than he thought, for he did not remember when the manacles had been taken from his wrists, only now saw that his hands were free. He remembered that Hook had killed that night. A sailor came in without knocking, and when death was meted out on Hook's merest whim, this certainly merited it. The pirates eyes did not even have a chance to widen at the sight of Jack stretched out in Hook's bed before Hook tore open his stomach and chest with a single vicious slash. The man crumpled to the floor, and Smee came in to drag out the body.
"Always knock," said Hook, as he cleaned his hook with a large lacy handkerchief, before turning back to Jack.
Hook had melancholy moments too, though, and when the moonlight shone in he spoke of his days before Neverland. He told Jack he had been Blackbeard's bosun, and before that some tragedy, some fall from a noble fortune had propelled him into piracy. The stories had the taint of legend, of a tale told so often the truth behind it was forgotten. If he truly were Blackbeard's bosun he might be one hundred years old, and Jack wondered again at the nature of this Neverland. Was he already dead, and this was neither heaven nor hell, but some limbo for lost pirates?
Jack examined himself in Hook's mirror. Like the rest of Hook's room here in the Black Castle, it was ornately decorated and inlaid with gold. The Jack who looked back at him was changed yet again, for, true to his word, Hook had shaved Jack's new beard. Jack fingered his lips and tried to keep his secret smile from them. The night held secrets Jack would be happy to forget, but the mixture of pleasure and fear as the Captain shaved Jack's face with his own razor-sharp hook was a memory Jack intended to keep.
So we go a-pirating, he thought. Perhaps we can find our way back to Isla de la Muerta. That reminded him of his compass, and he rushed into his own room. How could he have forgotten? In his store of incredible tales, the finding of this compass was his favorite, not the least because it was completely true. If only he could remember how he found it. The story might be escaping him for the moment, but the compass was still there. Jack wondered what lay between Neverland and Isla de la Muerta— perhaps Atlantis or Tir Na Nog or some equally improbable land.
That day Smee organized the transfer of the captain's belongings back to the ship—and Jack, as the new cabin boy, was obliged to assist. When they had no duties, which was most of the time, the Jolly Roger's sailors kept busy dicing and drinking, and sleeping up on deck when the sun was warm—no scrubbing of decks to a snowy whiteness for pirates—her decks were a smooth soiled brown. Days passed for Jack much as they had on many of his prior ships, spent in drink and dissolution, and occasional hoisting of sails. Jack reflected that if he had been idle for so long, not that he ever would be, he would at least exercise his gun crews.
Nights, well, nights were a different matter. Jack had rarely had to content himself with a lonely bed, but perhaps this bed was a little too full. He had been skilled at managing his lovers before: Lisette, the wife of a merchant captain who under Jack's hands revealed which ships of the fleet carried gold, and which merely tin; Davenport, his first captain during Jack's brief tenure in the Royal Navy, whose dual fears of hanging for unnatural acts and losing Jack had proved most profitable; and so many others—Jack always took more than he left.
"You won't leave me," said Hook, one night, and the words were not a question or a command, but a simple statement. Jack had heard those words before, but never with the tip of an iron hook caressing his back. Jack turned over gingerly to face his captor.
"I have your promise, remember," he said slowly, tracing the rhythm of his words on Hook's chest. "The richest plunder in the world, and places to spend it. All that lays in my sea . . . the Caribbean."
"Indeed you, do," Hook agreed, and Jack would not let him forget it. If they were lucky, they would find the Pearl, and with such a ship as this at his back, she would be his again. Jack tried not to think about it, and made a sign with his fingers against misfortune.
Neverland is as far or near as needs be from the waking rational world, and Jack's words had fired Hook's imagination, which had long lain dormant sequestered here. Betimes when Hook had sailed forth from Neverland for plunder and pleasure he had found the Azores and richly laden Mediterranean vessels, or come upon the coast of Madagascar with its buccaneer brethren more fearsome even than Blackbeard, at least when taken all together. After days of trackless seas, guided by Jack's compass, the first spit of land they saw was a nameless island with a few straggly palm trees on it, but to Jack it smelled of home.
They had many adventures crossing the great nameless ocean: a sea serpent embraced the ship in her gunmetal gray coils, and would not let them pass until each passenger had told a tale and answered a riddle, and they nearly lost all the sailors on an island of shimmering fountains whose fruit brought endless sleep, but finally after months of travel they sighted this small scrap of the Caribbean, and after that saw the two great mountains of St. Lucia. Les Pitons rose each a thousand feet into the sky, and sheltered a snow-white beach.
The Jolly Roger moored in the shallows, and the sailors rowed ashore for water and food. The island's main town was on the other side, but this bay would provide a serviceable staging point for some raids on the town. Jack even had a small notion of luring the Pearl from w herever she lurked by news of their exploits. The sweetest prey, after all, is another predator. Why do all the work of capturing merchant vessels, culling the best gold and silks and selling off the rest, when the Pearl might have already done it for them.
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"He found his way back on his own," said the Dream King, wonderingly. "But this changes nothing, he has made his choice."
"You let them leave? When I was off being fishies they went and escaped?" his sister's multi-colored hair stirred in some breeze, but it was not the one blowing across this Caribbean strand.
"Yes," mused Dream, "Hook is not supposed to leave Neverland. No matter, he will be drawn back there soon enough. These things must needs right themselves."
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St. Lucia city could not have been designed better for plunder if a pirate had planned it himself, thought Jack. The Jolly Roger sat close to the windward shore, just beyond one of the points of land that guarded this bay. The island was a poor one, but still, the few rich citizens would bring a some ripe ships. Jack felt something stir in him akin to lust; it had been so long since he pitted his wits against a foe at sea, and he relished it.
Before night fell, Jack came out on deck where the pirates took up their dicing and dancing. Backlit by the sunset, Jack felt a speech welling up within him. The lads loved to hear his stories, and so when he started to speak, they fell silent.
"Now, you dogs," said Jack, with a bit of a grin at his own swaggering, "you mangy sea dogs. We have the chance for rich pickings here tonight. Make your cutlass is as sharp as your captain's . . ." Jack trailed off as the sound of the Hook's measured footfalls came up from behind him. He felt the familiar itch of sharpened steel at his throat, and smelled the metal tang.
"You were saying?" Hook purred. Jack felt, rather than saw, the slight sardonic smile on Hook's face. He jumped back, executing a smooth spin that took him out of range of the hook, and made a bow toward his captain.
"Your ship, your sailors, your plunder, sir," said Jack, doffing his hat.
"No, by all means, pray continue," replied Hook.
"If we can take a ship by boarding, we will—silence is golden, savvy? If not, I want the best marksmen—Smee, if your glasses are clean, and Noodler, on Long Tom, and everyone else go where you're told." Jack hesitated for a moment. "Captain, does the plan suit?"
"Oh yes."
"Now we wait . . . for the opportune moment," Jack finished. He was flushed and giddy with excitement and pre-battle nerves, and he envied Hook's tranquility.
"My ship?" Hook asked when the sailors had dispersed. Jack smiled hopefully and nodded.
"You are like Smee," said Hook after a long pause, "everyone loves you." Hook said the word "love" like it was a kind of disease. "I've read that it is better to be feared." I'm working on that, thought Jack, but he did not say the words.
"Sailors always like to get their spirits up before battle," said Jack, trying not to sound plaintive. Jack Sparrow begs for no man's approval, he told himself.
"What they like is immaterial," replied Hook. "Have you 'made your cutlass as sharp as your captain's'—I do hope you were going to say 'hook'? 'Tis worthy advice. Blades come from every direction in the thick of battle. And make sure the double hook is sharp as well." His voice was chilly and he dismissed Jack with a wave of his hand.
Jack did as he was told, grumbling a bit. As the sliver of a moon rose, Hook entered the cabin to make ready for the fight. Jack fought a losing battle against Hook's desire to wear velvet: "it's impractical" was not, it appeared, a phrase in his vocabulary. He girded three pistols onto Hook's cross-strap, and helped him place two daggers within easy reach of Hook's left hand. Jack affixed the sharpened double hook, and finally put Hook's sword belt on him. I'm more likely to use one of those pistols than he is, thought Jack sourly. Although Hook had become adept at cocking a pistol one-handed, he needed help mounting one on his claw.
As expected a merchant ship did come in that night under cover of darkness. Truth be told, she was probably a smuggling ship dodging countries and tariffs as she skipped across the Caribbean. All to the good, thought Jack, since the Royal Navy would have less of a stake in her voyage. She was a fat little ship, blunt-prowed and riding heavy, with naught but stern chasers to protect her. When she let her anchor go in the bay, Jack jerked his chin at Hook, who signaled his men. For all their tomfoolery in Neverland, they formed a sleek and deadly boarding party. The boats had been place in the water hours before. Jack took command of one and Hook the other, and they rowed quietly through the still waters of the bay.
Jack felt like a coiled spring as he sat in the stern, waiting while the muffled oars slipped in and out of the water. He instinctively checked his weapons: three pistols, already loaded, were tucked into his belt, his sword hung at his waist, and he had a cutlass at the ready, to clench in his teeth at the last moment. It had seemed a silly affectation at first, from Defoe's pirate lore, but it was the quickest and most quiet weapon to hand when boarding a ship.
The smuggler was tucked down snug for the night, and a single lantern burned on the prow. As the boats came in under her gunwales, a fortuitous breeze started up abeam, disguising any knocks they made. Jack threw his grappling hook first, and it landed softly, catching the rail on an upswing. Jack put his finger to his lips and glared at the men in his boat. He watched them all cower back from him, and felt a swell of pride. They might cower more from Hook, but then, Jack had never killed any of them.
Jack ascended the rope and knocked the watchman unconscious with the butt of his knife before any of the other sailors had even thrown their ropes. Soon after, though, Jack heard the thuds of grappling irons sinking into wood all around him, and the devil-faced pirates swarmed over the sides of the ship like rats. Jack gestured eloquently at his men, and they spread out to do their duties—looking for the treasure and silencing the passengers.
Jack tiptoed toward the captain's cabin, and opened the door. His eyes had adjusted to the night, and he saw the captain laying in his hammock, mouth open in sleep. Jack tied the man's hands with rope, then took his neckerchief and gagged the man. He woke up when Jack forced the rag into his mouth, and made a choking sound as he looked around wildly. Jack took his knife and put it under the man's chin.
"When I take this gag off, you're going to tell me where exactly on your ship the richest treasure is, and if you don't the next sound you make will be you choking on my knife," Jack said quietly, imitating Hook's sinister politeness. "Understand, mate?" The man's eyes showed white all around, and he looked like he might faint, but he nodded, and Jack loosened the gag.
"We've only a little gold, and all that's here in the cabin," he said. He listed the drawers and cabinets where it was hidden, and Jack smiled. All too easy, he thought. True, there was not much gold, but Jack felt the captain told the truth—richer smugglers would stay away from St. Lucia. "Other than that, there's only the rum and the calicos in the hold." The man glanced around quickly, and Jack knew he was hiding something. He pressed his knife into the man's neck again, this time drawing a thin bead of red from the tip.
"There's a bolt of green velvet for my wife in that cupboard," the captain admitted at last with a sigh. Jack smiled.
"What a wonderful husband you must be, sir," he said, tipping his hat, "but I know someone who will enjoy this cloth more than your wife. Jack emptied the cabin in a few minutes; the gold went into he pockets, and little enough there was, and he tucked the bolt of velvet under his arm. It looked black in the dim light of the cabin, and felt like some exotic animal fir.
Walking out on deck again, Jack saw that the pirates had gathered up the rest of the crew and bound them to the gratings. Noodler directed a crew of men loading the cloths onto the jolly boats. Smee came over to Jack and bowed his head apologetically.
"All theys had were the cloths, sir," he said.
"Buck up there Smee, it's all right. Some prizes are better than others." Jack took out one of the coins and pressed it into Smee's hand. Smee's face lit with a smile for a moment, then he squirreled the coin away somewhere in his trousers. Finally when all the goods had been removed from the little ship, Hook climbed up the ladder and over the rails. He strode around the small deck, saying nothing, and finally came around to Jack.
"This is your 'rich pickings'?" he said. Jack hastily removed the gold from his pockets. It made a pitiable double handful, but he presented it to Hook anyway. Hook sneered slightly, and waved his hand at Jack. "Keep it." Jack flushed with anger. True, the Black Castle held a thousand times more loot than this little ship, but in the real world, this was a tidy take. Jack opened his mouth to protest when he remembered the velvet.
The cloth weighed down Jack's hands as he held it out to Captain Hook, and his wrists almost faltered, as the battle-tension melted out of him. Hook smiled slightly, and caressed the cloth.
"Ah, that will do nicely," he said, after a moment. "Now back to the Jolly Roger. We shall return to Les Pitons." The Jolly Roger's crew left the smugglers tied up on their ship. They had tied the bonds loose enough that one of them would be able to escape and free the others within a few hours.
"An excellent find, Sparrow," said Hook, after they returned to his cabin. He held the cloth up to the torchlight, then held it against Jack's cheek. "Would you like it? It would look well on either one of us." It would make me look like a popinjay, thought Jack, especially beardless as I am now, but he managed to hold his tongue. Instead he said, "Velvet suits you better I think, my captain. Not all of us have the bearing for it."
"True enough, lad," agreed Hook. He wrapped some of the velvet around his shoulders, where it clashed with the red he already wore. "I'll have Smee make up a jacket and waistcoat from it."
"You've done well tonight," said Hook, as he shrugged of his coat. Jack came around behind to help him. Then Jack felt the touch of cold steel on his cheek, but this was the blunt side, and not meant as a threat. "How shall I reward you?"
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Dawn silhouetted the mountains by the time the pirate ship tacked over to the other side of St. Lucia. Jack left Hook asleep in his cabin; he had no wish to be in the path of that the hook when the captain's bad dreams overtook him. Hook's mattress had to be re-sewn regularly to patch up the tears he made in it. Jack rubbed his wrists absently as he oversaw the crew. They brought the ship to rest in the bay, and looked to Jack to decide whether they would stay here a few days, or move on.
Jack reflected that St. Lucia had probably yielded up all the bounty she could, and he itched to return to Tortuga, its women and its taverns. There they could find a market for the cloth, and spend the gold. Jack had in mind to replace his sword, and even the Jolly Roger would run low of munitions eventually. It was amazing how many lost shipments of bullets and powder were found in Tortuga. This bay was sheltered, but not enough, and Jack started toward the captain's cabin to ask permission to take the ship back out into the open water. Best not to undermine his authority any further, thought Jack.
He knocked on the door, and hearing no answer he entered. Hook still lay sleeping, and his dreams had evidently been tranquil, since his sheets were un-torn. His hair was spread out on the pillow, like a spill of dark wine. He looks peaceful, for once, thought Jack. It's going to be hell to wake him. Just then Hook must have sensed something, for even in his sleep, his face grew dark and troubled, and he lashed out, burying his hook in the wood of the bed frame. Jack started to back up, belatedly remembering something his nurse had once said, that one must let sleeping giants lay, and thinking better of his plan to wake his captain. Hook opened his eyes and regarded Jack balefully. He had seen several pirates die upon the hook after waking up their captain, but Hook's anger was banked, and he wrenched his weapon out of the bedstead. "It's gotten bent," he said. "It's my favorite one. Fix it, will you?"
"Yes, of course," said Jack. Hook shooed Jack away, but he lingered a moment by the door. "You don't mind, I hope, if we troll other waters, do you?" Hook nodded absently and waved him out the door. Good enough for me, Jack thought, as he went whistling.
The sail between Tortuga and St. Lucia would take a few weeks, and Jack had to admit, it was more than practicality that drew him there. Too long he had drifted, dreamlike with the Jolly Roger and this fantastic crew. He needed rum that would get him drunk, a willing woman in his arms, and two more waiting their turn. He needed people who remembered Captain Jack Sparrow, so he could start to remember himself. And most of all, he needed word of the Pearl.
Perhaps we should head toward Isla de la Muerta first, he thought, as he ordered the crew to make sail. The Pearl might still make berth there, on such a well-hidden island. Jack took out his compass, which now never left his side. Hook paid no attention to it when he sent it clattering across the cabin with Jack's jacket and shirt. Jack could feel the ship's proximity to the island; he felt it like cool thread through the warm wind, and indeed, the wind was favorable for a journey in that direction.
Perhaps the Jolly Roger could take the Pearl Jack dared to hope. He had an advantage: he did not care if the Jolly Roger or any of Hook's crew survived the encounter. Barbossa might expect Jack to be squeamish with the lives of his men, but Hook could order his men into certain death, as no other pirate captain could.
The ship sailed on through the day, her wind never faltering, bringing them ever closer to the dead island. Then Jack, as the last night failed, Jack saw a ship with dark sails silhouetted in the distance. She tacked in the wrong direction for this wind, as the waning moon rose, she made no change in her course. The Jolly Roger would be upon her in an hour or less. Jack directed to crew to make ready at their gun stations.
Hook finally roused himself and came out on deck. Smee had made up the green velvet in record time, thought Jack, or perhaps this was yet another coat from his voluminous wardrobe.
"Very elegant, captain," said Jack. Hook smirked and waved the compliment away, but Jack knew he was pleased. Jack handed the glass to Hook, and helped him set it to his eye. "I know that ship. She will be richly laden, and can lead us to still more wealth," said Jack in his most seductive whisper. Hook raised an eyebrow.
"Indeed."
"The ship, too, is a great prize, unlike that rotting scow we robbed at St. Lucia. If you commanded two pirate vessels, just think of the plunder you could take." Hook combed his beard with the tip of his hook.
"Go on," he urged. Jack looked up at the captain. He wore a predatory smile that made Jack feel a twinge of pity for Barbossa. Then Jack smiled himself; it was no more than his mutinous first mate deserved. Jack still wanted to shoot the man, for the poetic justice of it all, but if he died upon Hook's hook, he was still just as dead.
"She's a fast, stiff ship, but we'll have the weather gage of her. She must believe us a merchant vessel, otherwise she would have run by now."
"She's not a merchant vessel, then, Jack?" asked Hook. He picked up Jack's chin with the blunt outside of the Hook. "I have a feeling there's something you're not telling me."
"She's a pirate ship," said Jack, "so she's done all our collecting for us, you see."
"Is she really. This should be exciting." Jack smiled brightly, and sagged with relief as soon as Hook turned away. Over the past months he had grown accustomed to his captain's presence and the spell of fascination he wove around him, but when Hook focused all his attention on Jack, his knees still went to water.
The moon limned the crests of the waves with shimmers of silver. In this dim light Jack saw that the sails of the approaching ship were indeed as black as night. Hook stood at his side as they approached. He ordered the hands to extinguish all the lights on board the Jolly Roger, and in that monochrome night, they unfurled their pirate flag. The Jack strained his eyes against the glass, and could see barely any movement on board. The pirates went below to run out the guns. The other ship had not opened her gun ports; in fact, all on board seemed to be asleep.
They drew in closer and closer, silent—even the Jolly Roger's creaking seemed to be muted. Hook gave the signal and she fired a warning shot across the bow. It took out a darkened lamp, sending a spray of glass across the deck, but even that noise was muffled by the oppressive night. Someone must have heard, though, for a few figures started dashing about on deck. They had pulled up close enough that Jack could see she had no gun ports, this was not the Black Pearl, but some other ship with black sails. She was not even a pirate ship, Jack thought as his heart sank. He would suffer for this.
Hook did not shout instructions across the breach for them to lower their colors, and run up the white flag. He simply gave another signal to the gun crews who opened fire on the ship, ripping up railings and decks. One lucky shot took out the mizzenmast—oh yes, Noodler on Long Tom. Jack winced as the beautiful wood went up in a spray of splinters, but he shrugged philosophically; at least it wasn't his Pearl.
The Jolly Roger came in closer, and Hook shouted instructions to ready the grappling irons. The other ship's crew had, by now, run a white flag up, but Hook paid no attention to it. The men laid down planks and swung across on ropes, running all over the deck.
"Leave none alive," shouted Hook, as he ripped through the belly of one of the ship's passengers. Jack rushed across after. A boy ran up to him waving a knife, and Jack knocked the child unconscious with the butt of his pistol, but after that he stood amazed at the carnage. Hook fired his pistol with one hand, and gutted the passengers until the deck around him ran dark and slick with blood. Finally Jack recovered himself, and ran up to Hook, but stood far enough away to be out of his reach.
"Captain, you must leave some of them alive, to tell us where to loot is," he pleaded. Hook seemed not to hear him for a moment, then shook his head impatiently.
"Please," said Jack. Hook glared at him for a moment then snarled, "Very well," biting out the words as if they tasted bad.
Jack could not hide his disgust. "Bring me anyone alive," called out Hook. Two pirates quickly appeared with a woman between them, each grasping one of her arms. She wore a long white gown, and was young, much younger than Jack was himself. Hook smiled as if he were sucking on lemons.
"What do you think she can tell us?" he asked. "Well, she may not be able to tell us anything, but I'm sure she'll be of some use." The girl shot him an imploring look. Jack came around behind her and lifted her hair up to his face.
"I thought you liked fine things, captain," he said, his eyes fixed on Hook.
"Only sometimes," said Hook, taking aim with his pistol, "I think she'll get tiresome."
"Perhaps she can entertain the sailors," said Jack, grasping at straws.
"Do you know any stories, girl?" Hook asked. Fright had rendered the girl mute, Jack saw. He jerked his chin at her desperately, urging her to answer, but her dark eyes simply welled up with tears and she said nothing.
"I see. I don't think she's very entertaining at all." He made as if to fire again and Jack leaped around to the front of the girl. All the sailors stood around staring at the confrontation. Jack stood in front of the girl, cursing himself for stupidity. He should just let her die, he should walk away, but he could not stomach any more death tonight.
Hook walked slowly toward them. He flung the pistol away. Jack's hand went for his sword, but Hook came upon him before he could draw it. He forced Jack's chin up with the point of his hook.
"I mean to kill her, and if you try to stop me, I can kill you too," he said in a conversational tone. Jack fought within himself, but finally his survival instinct won out, and he stepped aside. Hook cut her throat with one quick slash, and the pirates holding her allowed her to fall to the ground.
"Take Mr. Sparrow back to my cabin and chain him up for me," Hook instructed them. "The rest of you, empty the hold, then fire the ship."
The sailors did an excellent job securing Jack. They strung him up by iron manacles around his wrists and left him hanging there in the cabin until the work of stripping the ship was completed. The Jolly Roger's swaying in the breeze caused Jack to lose his footing every few minutes, and by the time Captain Hook returned to his cabin, Jack's shoulders and arms were in agony. He had plenty of time to regret his actions. Not stepping in to try to save the girl—he knew he would do that again if he had to, and knew he would step away again, too. No, he regretted not escaping in St. Lucia, and finding his own way back to Tortuga. He knew what Hook was capable of, knew that he abided on the thin line between bedmate and victim, and how easy that line would be to cross.
No, he had been blind, willing to use any tool to regain his Pearl, even one so likely to turn in his hand as the captain. Jack saw the door latch rising and then Captain Hook strode through the door. He flung off his hat and removed his coat, then plunged his hook into the acid bath he used to clean it. Finally he put on a long velvet robe before walking over to Jack.
"I think I'm done with this Caribbean of yours, Sparrow," he said. "The prey is as you promised, but the treasure is somewhat lacking." Hook advanced toward Jack has he spoke, and Jack's breath came shallow and fast with fear.
"There's a place I didn't tell you about," said Jack. He strained to find the flippant yet conspiratorial tone that had convinced his shipmates in Tortuga, but instead he knew he sounded panicked.
"Isla de la Muerta. Indian Treasure. Can only be found with a magic compass, which I have." Not strictly true, and Barbossa had likely cleared it out by now. Still, any way off this ship before they returned to Neverland was better than remaining to be tortured.
"Twice you've failed me. Shall I give you another chance to fail me again? I think not. We return to Neverland. I've unfinished business there, and it calls to me."
"Well, in that case, if you'll just let me off on the nearest island, I'll trouble you no further," said Jack. He knew it was a vain attempt, but had to make one last effort.
"You defied me, Jack Sparrow. I cannot allow you to live," said Hook in a pleasant voice. "Still, it is a long journey back to Neverland, and I would hate to be bored the whole time. There is sport left to be had, I think." Jack felt numb. He had no illusions about his ability to stand up to any kind of torture, especially not the kind he was sure Hook had in mind. If Hook wanted crying and pleading, no doubt he would get it.
Hook stepped in close to Jack, his face mere inches away. He reached up, and Jack thought he was going to be let down, but instead the captain sank his Hook into Jack's arm and ripped slowly through it.
"I don't like scars," he said, "but still, you must be punished." Blood flowed down Jack's arm and shoulder as he retched and choked from the pain. The blood was flowing fast now, and he felt blessedly light headed. The last thing he heard was Hook shouting for Smee.
He awoke in the brig, with his arm neatly bandaged and food and water by his side. Hooks not as good at that as I imagined, Jack thought with a sardonic twist to his mouth, but he'll no doubt learn.
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The wind blew favorably for Neverland for a full week, and the vicissitudes of time and space around that placed allowed the Jolly Roger to reach her quickly. For Jack, even that week seemed interminable. His arm acquired several new scars, although Neverland's quick healing clung to the ship, and within a few days they became merely ugly red seams. The pain was the easy part. Still, he spent a fair amount of the week unconscious, and in one of his dreams he had a visitor.
"He won't let me interfere," said the girl. She seemed familiar, but Jack had forgotten his trip to Neverland already, and so the colorful hair and mismatched eyes only made him feel comforted. "You are in his story now. He said Neverland is a skillie . . . no, not skillie, a steerie . . . that's not right either. It's a thing, that has it's own life's unicycles, must live and die on it's own. I wanted to help you."
"What is it, love? What do you mean?" Jack asked. In this dream he was free from his bonds, but still stuck inside the cell. Then Jack heard a voice like stones falling in a starlit pool.
"My sister is right, we are not allowed to interfere. She ought not be here. The Skerries were a gift to me from fairy, and I made a promise to a lady that they would finish their own stories, and die, as they must.
"I can give you forgetfulness, if you want. But Neverland already has that in abundance. I cannot give you that which you do not already have. Know this, the power that made these lands is what can help you leave."
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No, forgetfulness was denied him. In those dark days of pain and fear there were still moments of pleasure, but so tainted they did not deserve the name. Jack's beard grew back and his hair lengthened and coarsened as he hung in Captain Hook's bonds. He became better at hardening his spirit, retreating from the dark magic of Hook's blue gaze, until the day they let go anchor in Neverland's lagoon. Hook had Jack brought to his cabin in the evening, as was his wont.
He saw Hook swirling in velvet, cloaked in menace and felt nothing, neither fear nor attraction, neither revulsion nor envy. Hook seemed to sense this, for he did not tease Jack with the hook, or cut Jack's clothes off him, nicking Jack's skin in his haste. Instead, Hook looked uncertain for a moment, then called for Smee.
"I will take him up on deck, where he will serve as an example to the rest of the crew," he told Smee. Jack had not been outside in so long, and the feel of Neverland's cool evening air on his face was intoxicating. The moon looked down. She did not hide her face from Hook, or sneer at the pirates, but instead seemed to be beaming her calming silver light at Jack alone. Hook held Jack by the collar of his shirt and the crew assembled to see what would happen.
"This mutinous dog wanted to save a woman. A woman," said Hook, laughing slightly. The crew looked around nervously and laughed as well. "Now you shall see what happens to traitors."
"To traitors," whispered One-Eyed Joe from the crowd, "I think it happens to everyone." Hook heard this and crossed to Joe with two great strides. He did not pause a moment before opening Joe from waist to shoulder. Jack did not wait to see the pirate fall, but dove over the side of the ship, and into the black waters of the lagoon. As soon as he plunged in, the moon covered her face with clouds, and all was darkness. In the deep water, Jack saw women's shapes . . . mermaids, whose phosphorescent scales gave off a dim light.
One of them swam up to him, where Jack rested, suspended under the water. She was beautiful he thought, and her webbed fingers and gills only served to make her more so. Her eyes wove a spell, and although they were under water, Jack heard her say, "come with us, live with us under the waves." Then she gave a flip of her tail and swam further under the water. Wait for me, Jack tried to say, but water entered his lungs and he knew no more.