Jack (appears onstage, looking round a little confusedly, and then spots Ariandir): Ah! Arian, luv. Is it review time?
Ariandir: Yup. *hands Jack a wodge of reviews* Right, then - whose up first?
Jack: Aha! Good ol' 'Dera.
Ariandir: Oh, yes. We've covered most of this in our emails, haven't we m'hunni? I'm sorry I haven't updated for so long, but you know the score.
Jack: You mean the myriad of excuses you sent her?
Ariandir (looks awkward): Uh...yeah, that too.
*Jack smirks*
Ariandir: Anywho, thanks for the praise, and I promise I will be more regular with my updates from here on in. *salutes smartly* Here, have a muffin...
Jack: Next up is bobo3. What's the idea? Landing a girl in a sea chest on my ship...*mutters*
Ariandir: Ignore him - he's just put out because Amy keeps turning him down. *grin* Hey, you betcha I checked out Four-sided Eyes, and Not All Treasure Is Silver And Gold! Great stuff! And I'm glad you like Ioade and Kate - it's always a risky business having two of your own characters being as key to a story as the canon ones, so I'm really pleased you like them. Thirdly, we have...ooh! Another new reviewer! Hey there, Savvy-Z-dude!
Jack: S'just as well your Rosaline isn't like Ariandir's - God! Imagine having two girls like that running around...
Ariandir: Your bed wouldn't be cold for a while, would it?
*Jack gives the authoress a Sparrow Grin*
Ariandir: Veering back onto the subject, thank you for your kudos, and rest assured that this will become a fic of epic proportions.
Jack: The reasoning behind that being that she's incapable of writing short stories. Oh, it's rythmteck next!
Ariandir (bites lip and looks ashamed): Oh, dear...
Jack: Arian's feeling guilty because she hasn't reviewed you sequel.
Ariandir (mutters): Thanks for dropping me in that one, Jack.
Jack (brightly): Any time!
Ariandir: What can I say to placate you, oh holy rythteck? I'm so sorry! *grabs the hems of rythmteck's clothes and starts kissing them* There are millions of excuses I could come out with, but none of them are particularly plausible, apart from-
Jack: She hasn't had time because of Guscceys revision and homework. I still can't believe they make you have an education nowadays...
Ariandir: Can you forgive me? *sheepish grin* I swear I'll be good and start reviewing again, even if you don't want to like me. In the meantime, however, there was purpose behind the pyrotechnics. ;) I wasn't just randomly blowing up Ioade's ship because I felt like committing arson. My love to Winn, by the by - I hope she doesn't hate me for not reviewing, either.
Jack: Ah, the faithful lulu bell is the penultimate of the agenda, m'lady.
Ariandir: It's so becoming of him when he's intelligent isn't it?
*Jack shines his nails on the front of his coat*
Ariandir: So, anyway - yes! Bad Jack, indeed! *chuckles as Jack looks scandalised* Well, in all honesty, dearest Captain, it wasn't a very nice thing to do, was it? But you're right in your prediction of comical fireworks to come, bell - read on, and observe Ioade's temper. *evil grin*
Jack (looking rather shaken): And last but by no means least...Starscape Dream.
Ariandir: Ooh! Hello! *big huggles to Starscape*
Jack: Friend of yours?
Ariandir: Yeah! Nice to hear from you! And thank you for checking out my Pirates fic, too - it's the best you've read? Wow! *blushes* Surely not. You're so lovely!
Jack (reading on down review): Uh, Arian...*nudges authoress and points to the end of the text*
Ariandir (pales): Oooo...ok - I promise I write more...burnt sticks...*shudders*
Jack: Well, I believe that's all for now, ladies and gentlemen, so read on, and when you finish, click on the blue button, savvy? Because otherwise Arian will be very upset.
Ariandir: Ah, he's so thoughtful.
Jack: And I don't want to have to put up with her getting like she did when they told her she had coursework to do over half term.
*Authoress directs Jack a flat look*
Ariandir: We'll talk about this later, Mr Sparrow. Loads luv, huggles and muffins to everyone, and take care!
-~*~-
Ioade sat on the edge of her cot, her brine-stained shirt hanging loosely from her slouched form, as the moonlight spilt through the window and bathed her extremities in silver. The tears had not ceased to roll silently down her face in the small hours since the Dark Horse had died, though much of her composure had been regained, and she was now deep in thought.
Kate stood wordlessly in the shadows at the end of the cot, having risen from her own room to come to Ioade's when she was woken by the noise. She remained silent not because she didn't know what to say, or because she felt awkward, but simply because this was not the time for words; there was no consolation to be given to her captain, and so she gave none, keeping her own emotions reserved behind a serene and beautiful mask. She remembered, from what seemed so long ago now, seeing another young woman grieve silently, and in a manner so like that of the one sitting below her on the edge of the cot that she was unable to hold back the sad little sigh that came to her lips.
The silence continued. And continued. And continued.
Ioade stirred.
"We're going after him."
Kate glanced sideways with her tawny, cat-like eyes.
"Aye, Captain."
And then, all for no reason - just for a keel, and a hull, and a deck, and some sails, Ioade Morgan, the vivacious young pirate captain who had been defeated and humiliated by a fox, buried her face in her hands, and wept.
-~*~-
It was a clear, crisp, fresh morning out on the endless blue, and Jack was not in the slightest bit concerned when a member of his crew announced that a rowing boat occupied by two people - one screaming some rather uncomplimentary things about his ancestry - was quickly gaining on them.
Actually, that was a slight distortion of the truth; he was verging on outright terrified, but then again, he was also Captain Jack Sparrow. And then he realised that this could really do nothing but make the situation worse, and that he was, infact, about to enter his own personal hell.
"Women." He muttered under his breath.
"It's Ioade and 'er first mate, sir." Gibbs reported, his eye fixed to the telescope. "Do you want us to fire on them?"
"No!" Jack called back. "Don't stop, lads. Don't turn around; she'll cool off in a minute."
The Black Pearl continued to drift along at a sea-slug's pace for the next hour or so, always with the rowing boat snapping at her stern like a small dog with its bone stolen.
Jack fully intended to draw this out for as long as possible, knowing that Ioade's pride would not allow her to give up the chase, but also that Kate's arms would only allow her to row for so long, and that sooner or later, the only compromise between the two extremes would be for them to come aboard.
Also, hopefully by that time, Ioade's voice would have given out, too - some of her insults, jack felt, were not entirely deserved.
But the deadly duo in their rowing boat quite seriously impressed Captain Sparrow by managing to last another full forty five minutes, before a coloured flash from Kate's pistol indicated that her limbs had finally refused to work.
"You!" Ioade shrieked, striding across the deck and dealing Jack a stunning blow across the face. "How dare you?!"
Jack winced as he tenderly rotated his jaw.
"Good shot, luv." He grimaced. "I really have to admit you earned that."
"Don't you 'luv' me, you plague rat!" Ioade spat, her smokey eyes burning. "I'll see you grated on the rocks, and your heart fed to the sharks!"
Her hand flashed to the hilt of her cutlass, but was restrained at the wrist by Kate, who, despite this action to avoid physical confrontation, was staring at Jack in a unblinking sort of way that he didn't exactly like.
"I take it you took our crew hostage?" She asked in a voice that was far too quiet to be safe.
"Aye."
"And that you also looted a good deal of our spoil?"
"All of it, actually." Jack grinned brightly. "Not many hands aboard your ship, are there?"
"Were there." Kate corrected him, letting an uncharacteristic tang of bitterness enter her tone.
"Oh, yeah." Sparrow's grin dropped.
"I also have enough faith in your bizarre code of conduct to assume that the girl and Bootstrap's lad are safe."
"Of course."
"For your sake, I hope so." She purred, like a cat.
By this time, the whole deck was under a deathly hush; Jack narrowed his eyes at her.
"We're really going to have to have a talk about your issues sometime, luv." He said softly. "You've obviously picked some up in the interlude."
Something's in Kate's face petrified, and she fixed Jack with an odd sort of expression for a moment - a blank, painted sort of expression.
Then she straightened up, and took a step back from Ioade, who by this time had regained control of her temper, and had been observing the conversation apprehensively. Then Ioade shot Jack a thoroughly revolted look, turned on her heel, and crossed to the rail on the other side of the deck.
All eyes were on Jack, who awkwardly broke the silence:
"Release Miss Morgan's crew from the brig." He ordered. "And tell them that if they wish to eat on this ship, they'll work."
Kate's head snapped round to look at him.
"They're Ioade's men." She said coldly.
Jack locked her gaze with half-closed eyes, taking a few slow steps forward until he was far into her personal space.
"And they're on my ship. I'm captain around here, luv," He whispered, bringing his hand up to bury it in her thick, dark locks, and trailing it round caress her neck. "So get used to it."
-~*~-
Ioade was thoroughly miserable. She'd lost her ship, her gains, her crew, her dignity, and now her composure was about to slip from her grasp, too.
The young girl blinked back the rising tears, and stared determinedly out at the ocean; she'd pay Jack back, somehow. She'd find a way to make him stop and re-think how he saw her: an easily duped, niave little lass capable of throwing a strop, with a bark worse than her bite. Well, she'd bite him alright! Right where it would hurt him the most...
And then it came to her, in such a perversely linked flash of logic that she had to laugh aloud - Sparrow was incredibly partial to women. A lady with the right subtlety and mind could quite easily manipulate him through seduction, and control over Jack was exactly the kick in the teeth Ioade owed him.
The honey-haired girl pursed her lips thoughtfully and frowned, leaning forward on the rail.
Not that she'd ever bed the Captain herself, of course - good lord, no! What she needed - what she really needed - was someone with brains, resourcefulness and beauty, someone completely on her side, who'd be able to twist Sparrow round their little finger...
Ioade drew in a deep breath of sea air, and smiled to herself.
Kate.
-~*~-
"Excuse me?" Kate asked, fixing her Captain with a passive face in which her eyes smouldered.
It was later that day, and Ioade had called her first mate to talk with her in the cabin that Jack had set apart for them:
It was a small room, poorly lit by sputtering candles, and furnished only with two palettes, a rickety old wooden chair, and a small table that was actually a crate. There was a leak dripping down through the ceiling in a corner, too, and the rhythmic 'thap' of the drops smacking onto the floor boards was beginning to get on Ioade's nerves - she quite certainly suspected that Jack had included that dig in the ribs especially for her; she was touched.
"I need you to seduce Jack." Ioade repeated more firmly, leaning forward with her elbows on the crate-top, and steepling her long, tar-smeared fingers before her lips. "Since it looks like Sparrow's going to force us into joining him, it's very important that things go my way on this voyage, and that won't happen if the good Captain's playing as an independant piece - I need to have some influence over him."
"Oh, I see." Kate smiled in her venemously pleasant way, tipping her head back to look up at the wooden ceiling with beatifically glittering eyes, and then bringing it down again so that her chin touched her chest, in a hugely exaggerated nod. "Your influence is between my legs, is that it?"
Ioade rolled her eyes; there was no reasoning with her first mate when she was like this.
"You understand how important this is, Kate. You're not that stupid."
Kate shot her captain a flat, unfriendly stare.
"You sleep with him, then."
Ioade snorted incredulously.
"Don't be ridiculous! Oil and vinegar don't mix without a beating." She said. "And as Captain, it's my privelidge to deligate the less delectable tasks. Therefore," She pointedly locked the dark-haired woman's eyes with her own. "If you won't do it as a favour, you'll do it as an order."
Kate stared at her for a moment, speechless with indignation.
"May I be excused?" She asked stiffly.
"Of course." Ioade smiled pleasantly, watching her first mate turn and walk quickly out of the cabin.
"Don't break all the furniture!" She called after her.
-~*~-
The light was beginning to fade, and there was a tawny aurora beginning to creep up from the horizon as Kate stood at the rail of the poop deck, the warm Caribbean breeze tumbling her hair back from her face.
She didn't know how long she'd been standing out on the deck by herself, thinking, but her anger hadn't gotten any less. How dare Ioade make her do something like this? How dare she? After all she'd had been through, and not even starting on why she had become a pirate, where did her captain get the nerve?
Kate took a deep breath, and intensified her stare at the swelling waves below.
It was all her fault, really. No - correction: it was Jack Sparrow's fault. If only that fateful night hadn't happened eleven years ago; if only he'd chosen a different port to plunder; if only he'd chosen a different villa. If only she hadn't been who she was, she might have faced her dilemma with better grace...
The girl sat at her dressing table, running a brush through her thick ebony locks.
The heavy brocade cloth of her robe was a-dance with halos thrown by the fickle flames of the oil-lamps and the dying fire, her gold earrings casting shadows over her neck.
And her eyes were closed.
She would curse her foolhardiness later that night, but then why should an innocent little girl of seventeen - the daughter of a rich Italian wine merchant - living a privileged, safe and sheltered life have reason to suspect that pirates should ever come to call?
She never even realised there was someone else in the bedroom with her until she felt the cold barrel of a pistol touch beneath her ear.
The young girl's eyes flew open, and she would have screamed at the reflection of the ragged, tar-smeared man in the mirror, had she not been silenced by the fear of a bullet in her jugular.
"That's it, pumpkin - not a peep from yea." The pirate leered. "Pretty bit of work, aren't yeh?"
"Per favore." The girl trembled. "Misericordia, per favore."
"Sorry, darlin'." The pirate grinned. "I don't speak Italian."
-~*~-
She couldn't remember ever having been so afraid.
She was held at gun-point by two of the crew while the rest looted her father's villa, bringing up all the wine from the cellars, having their way with the household maids and filling their arms with all the finery they could find.
She screwed her eyes shut and prayed that they'd stop soon, but she couldn't shut out the noise around her because the pirates had hold of her arms. There were screams from the servants, shots, raucous laughter, the smashing of glass, the odd furling roar of passing torches, and more than once, the girl found herself certain that she had heard the sound of bodies hitting the tiled floor.
She wondered why the men weren't touching her, why they weren't doing to her what they were doing to the maids, and then, even worse, she wondered when they would start on her - when they'd finished with the servants, she imagined.
But suddenly she found herself being roughly turned and jostled forward, and felt the cool sensation of night air on her face.
She opened her eyes, and saw that the pirates were finally leaving the gutted villa. All around them, torch heads swam and fluttered in the darkness, and dark figures, whooping, singing, laughing, were scurrying down towards the fire lit bay like rats.
She was forced so roughly down the front steps that she fell when she lost her footing, slamming down hard on the stone, and as she was manhandled to her feet again, there was something warm and salty smeared over her lips.
They forced her on through the beset town, the burning olive trees and vinyards serving as horrible mockeries of beacons, and surveying the scene of choas majestically from where She floated on the inky water, a huge ship with black sails sat anchored in the bay.
The girl felt that sense of impending doom swell and swell inside her as they approached the shore, and when they virtually threw her into the longboat, and the pirates began to row, she felt her gut was going to burst with anxiety.
The seconds seemed to crawl by with enormous effort as the dark vessel loomed nearer. The girl shivered as the longboat passed into Her cold shadow, and again it was rough, calloused hands hauling and shoving her this way and that, and she barely had time to take in the ladder that was dropped down infront of her before she was shunted up the first few rungs; she started the ascent quickly as she felt the barrel of a pistol pressed into the small of her back.
The deck of the ship was crowded with men, some bearing torches, all she could see bearing weapons, and they cat-called and jeered at her as she was frog-marched between them, her head hung in fear and shame.
The pirates jerked her to a rough halt somewhere past the main mast, but she kept her eyes on the floor, not caring what was happening around her as long as they let her alone.
A finger was placed under her chin and firmly raised it, so that she was forced to look up.
The man standing before her, she assumed at once, must have been their captain. He was an exotic looking man, by any sort of description, with a black moustache, braided goatee and a mane of brine-coarsened hair, kept out of his face by a faded red bandana, decorated with various beaded braids and trinkets. He surveyed her through narrowed, kohl-rimmed eyes that glittered dark in the torchlight, his lips pursed slightly in consideration. His skin was very tanned - obviously he was a man who'd spent much of his life out in blazing sun - and his garb was unmistakably piratical, with a long grey-blue dress coat and breeches, a loose, soiled cotton shirt, worn brown leather boots and belt, a sword belt, and a sash. There was a pistol and a cutlass at his waist.
"You're very pretty girl." He assessed quietly, moving his head back as though he could quite see her clearly. "If it weren't for the blood and the bruises." He'd moved his gaze from the girl to her escorts. "What did you do to her? Roll her here in a bloody barrel?"
The man on her left - a West Indian with dreadlocks and designs on his face in faded white paint - grunted but said nothing.
"What's your name, luv?" The Captain asked, turning his attention back to their captive.
She opened her mouth to reply, but then thought better of it; far better to play dumb:
"Prego, signor - non parlo bene l'inglese. Non capisco. Mi dispiace."
Her plea trailed off in a murmur, and she hung her head again, quite sure that she was about to recieve some form of punishment for this outburst.
But instead of striking her, as she had expected, the Captain frowned at her for a moment, and then looking up, called:
"Will-y'm!"
A tall man, with his hair tied back in a rag and a neat, pencil-thin moustache stepped out of the rabble, and approached the Captain.
"Care to give ol' Jack a bit of a helping hand, mate?" The dark pirate asked, flashing the man a gold-punctuated grin.
"Aye, Cap'n." The man replied, and bending down slightly (for she was about head shorter than either of them), managed to make himself understood to the girl in very basic Italian.
"Says her name's Katelise D'Lazzio." The pony-tailed man reported, after an exchange of sentences.
"She speak any English at all?" The Captain asked.
Katelise's translator voiced the question, and she tremerously answered.
"Accanto a nessuno."
"Not much."
"This'll be interesting..." The Captain murmured.
Katelise watched submissively through hooded eyes - letting them assume that she only spoke Italian belied that she was capable of understanding most of what they said, catching the gists and trying to piece together what was going on.
"Per favore, signor," The girl quavered, surprising both men who turned to look at her. "Come si chiama?"
"She wants to know your name." The pony-tailed man grinned.
"My name?" The Captain repeated incredulously. "D'you mean t'say you haven't heard of me?"
Katelise noted that he seemed to slur his words alot more than his companion.
The other man snorted.
"Be a bit hard for her to have heard of you when she doesn't know who you are, Cap'n."
The Captain frowned, and then raised his eyebrows.
"Quite right!" He agreed, reeling slightly as he straightened up. Katelise tired to shy away, but her escorts wrenched her back, bruising her arms.
"My name, missie," The Captain said, leaning down so that his face was level with hers. "Is Captain Jack Sparrow."
She didn't need a translator to understand what he said. This was the illustrious Captain Jack Sparrow? She'd heard him mentioned before, in passing conversation and vague references, by associates of her father's that came to their villa on business, but never so much that she had ever gathered more about him than that he was a well-known pirate and fly in the ointment for merchant sailors.
"Perche sono qui? Che vole?" Asked Katelise, her voice betraying how she was trying hide her fright.
The pony-tailed man, who had bent down rather quickly when she had started to speak again, straightened up silently, and then said with a strange smile:
"She wants to know why she's here."
A murmur of dark laughter rippled through the crew, and the wooden deck beneath Katelise's feet groaned.
"To ride with the crew!" Someone jeered, and the rabble broke out in obscene laughter.
"Quiet, you scabrous dogs!" Sparrow barked, and the cackling subsided to a low, excited, shifting mutter again. "Now,"
He stepped forward so that he stood close to Katelise; she tried to struggled back once more, but the pirates simply jerked her still.
"You needn't worry, missie, 'cause if your father loves you as much as he should do, he'll meet us and pay a ransom, and you'll be back home before you've even got your sea-legs, savvy? In the meantime however,"
And Jack buried a hand in her soft hair behind her head, and leaned in close, so that she was primed for a kiss. Katelise made a muted whimper.
"Welcome aboard the Black Pearl, m'lady." He whispered, and the rabble roared.
-~*~-
Kate gazed at the deck below, at the spot just infront and off to one side of the main mast. The strong Italian mother tongue that had been in Katelise's mouth since birth had been her only shield that night - a thin wall of security behind which she hid, like a small child wearing a veil to protect itself from a murderer. Behind her native language, she had been able to nurse the wounds inflicted upon her through embarrassment and fear, though Jack's touch, and his invasion of her personal space had shaken her badly.
Kate sighed - that had always been the choice weakness of hers that Jack had played upon. Only a few hours ago, he'd exploited it again, and she had been defenceless against his attack.
The pirate wasn't cruel or malicious by nature, however, and even now, she noted, the spilling of innocent blood was something he avoided. Jack was more the sort of man to threaten, to charm, to outwit his enemy with words - silver-tongued as opposed to violent.
Yet that wasn't to say that he never exploited his adversaries' weaknesses, or that he wasn't to be feared; on the contrary, he was incredibly clever in the way he presented people with the impression that he was a dim-witted inebriate that could be easily dealt with. In fact, that was how she and her captain had gotten into this situation in the first place, when Ioade fallen for Jack's ploy and gone to bed that night with the impression that she had won.
Kate heard footsteps on the deck behind her that suddenly faltered, and she turned to see Will considering her with an air of caution.
"Good evening, Mr Turner." She greeted him quietly.
Will nodded politely, but didn't move.
Kate smiled slightly.
"I don't bite, you know."
The blacksmith chuckled.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that - you're a pirate, aren't you?"
Kate laughed; a deep, rich sound.
"I..." Will hesitated, and then crossed to stand beside her at the rail, though he maintained a respectful distance. "I hope I'm not being forward, but you seem troubled."
Kate was silent for a moment, and then gave him a sidelong smile.
"It's nothing you need concern yourself about for my sake. Life is generally cruel to women - we learn to deal with that on our own after a time."
Will opened his mouth to say something more, but seemed to think better of it.
"I'm a remarkably enduring person, Will - say whatever it was you were going to say."
"I was remembering what Jack said to you earlier. On deck." He said quietly.
There was an awkward silence.
"I don't know what happened to you," Will continued uncertainly. "But I'm sorry."
Kate swallowed, unsured what to say.
"Thank you."
-~*~-