*Jack peeps round a stage curtain, looking slightly fraught*
Jack: Is the coast clear, luv?
Arian: Kate and Ioade have promised not to castrate you if that's what you mean. Anyway, you're on time.
*Jack relaxes and sways onstage*
Jack: Alright then; give us a stack, darlin'.
*authoress hands a wodge of reviews over to Jack*
Jack: First up...jigglykat! Good to see you've stuck with us! I was surprised and all, y'know.
Arian: Never fear jigglykat - I shall never cease updating. Never! Although, admittedly, chapters might kind of trail off in a vague sort of way every now and again...
*clears her throat awkwardly and looks at the next review*
Arian: Yayness! New reader!
Jack: What's that?
Arian: Sparklestar01's put me on her favourites list *grin* Unique's a good word to hear - when I started this fic, I was really keen for it to be different from other things that folks had read, so I'm glad you think it's unique.
Jack: I think it must be said that alot of people were confused by the dream...
Arian: I think it must be said that alot of dreams aren't perfectly logical anyway, Captain.
Jack: Fair point.
Arian: I would like to give credit for that dream sequence, as a matter of fact; it was actually my beta-reader/best friend Rach who came up with the 'bare bones' of that, as it were. My apologies to her as well, because I meant to put this in the last set of author's notes, and I forgot.
*Jack shudders*
Jack: Don't talk to me about bones, luv. Ah! rythmteck, milady, how is dear Winn?
Arian: I quite agree with you about dear Captain Sparrow's scars; he seems to be keeping me in the dark on that one.
*Jack grins*
Jack: Naturally.
Arian: I'm working on him, though. Anyhow, yes! An entire chapter just for you! And I'm glad you're liking Kate's history, too - the odds on that one turning out too cliché were rather large, so I'm glad you found it acceptable. Thanks for the kudos, m'hunni *mwah* =)
*Jack looks confused*
Jack: According to this next review, Arian, I belong to someone called Jingle Bells...
Arian: The women want you, Jack.
*corner of said Captain's mouth hitches up*
Arian: Thanks for the review, Jingle Bell's Jack - I hope you're not too scared to carry on reading *O-o*
Jack: And last but by no means and under absolutely no cirmcumstances least, thanks of course to good old 'Dera.
*authoress mutters*
Arian: Why didn't I answer your email indeed! I did! Why haven't you answered mine?!
Jack: Veering back onto the subject, luv...
Arian: What? Oh right! Yes, of course you can hug Kate - she doesn't bite, you know.
Jack: Too hard.
Arian: That's quite enough from you, Mr Sparrow. Gods do seem to like picking on children for that sort of thing, don't they? Actually, let it be known to all who read this that when I introduced the character of Grapple, he does and, indeed, will serve the part of a sort of visionary, so ponder on that if you will *gives a little mysterious smile* Anyhow, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and thought my work was up to scratch, Miss 'Dera, so my love to everyone in your lot, and answer my email!!! =) xxx
*Jack claps his hands and rubs them together*
Jack: Well, I think that just about covers everything, wouldn't you agree?
Arian: Yes, I think so.
Jack: Oh good. Now, where's me rum...
*authoress sighs*
Arian: You can have him back now, 'Dera. Thanks everyone, and enjoy!
Disclaimer: The genius of Pirates of the Caribbean and the characters therein did not originate from my brain. Neither did Edward Kamau Brathwaite's wonderful poem 'Limbo'. In fact, very little originates from my brain - no, don't laugh.
-~*~-
Grapple threw off the covers and sat on the edge of his cot, panting in the dark.
Across the cabin, snores informed him that everyone else was still asleep. He drew some small comfort from that, but his fingers still trembled as they gripped the sheets, and he could feel rivulets of cold sweat trickling down his temples and into his eyes; what a nightmare!
Somewhere above his head was the distant howl of the wind, and as the dark, wooden walls seemed to begin to crush in on him, Grapple suffered a sudden attack of claustrophobia. A moment later he was stumbling frantically over the sleeping bodies of his crewmates towards the door, which went flying open almost as soon as his fingertips could reach it.
His heartbeats numbered at least a dozen an instant as he went down the passageway. His head felt light, was aching dully, and as he walked, he found his legs wouldn't take him in a straight line, and his stomach felt overfull and stretched taut; his conscious called out for the galley. The sanctity of the galley with its warm fire and familiar smells and Kate's kettle...
The boy cried out suddenly as he lost his footing on a flight of steps, and went tumbling blindly down in the dark. He drew in a sharp breath as he reached the bottom and lay still on the floor for a moment, the smell of salt and pitch in his nose as he rested with his cheek to the rough wood.
His head was clear and sharp from the fall now, and all over he felt chill and fresh; he could taste blood in his mouth, and his bottom lip felt four times the size it should have been.
Eventually, Grapple climbed slowly back to his feet again, and continued to make his way down the corridor.
Overhead, through the hatches, he could still hear the wind and the rain rumbling and rushing; the darkness was all the while gradually lessened by the candlelight spilling out from a doorway at the far end of the passage.
Grapple held his aching head with one hand as he neared it, and turned to step over the threshold into the galley.
-~*~-
Will looked round at the sound of footsteps. The black-haired, Irish cabin boy of the Dark Horse was half-limping, half-dragging himself down the stairwell, blood from a large split in his swollen lip trickling down his chin; Will rose from his chair and reached the foot of the stairs just in time to catch Grapple as his knees buckled.
"Tanks, sir." The lad murmured weakly.
"What happened to you?" Asked Will. He set Grapple at the table and crossed the galley.
"Nightmare." Grapple groaned, resting his brow on his folded arms. "Had t'get oit o' the cabin."
Will returned from the other side of the room with a cup of water which he handed to the boy, and reseated himself as he watched Grapple sit up and begin to sip wearily at it.
"How did you cut your lip?"
"Fell." Grapple explained between swallows.
"You can't leave it like that." Will said. "Get the blood cleaned off, at least."
Grapple reached up and curiously touced his fingertips to his chin, before holding them infront of his eyes.
"Here."
Will tossed the boy a clean rag from his belt, and leaned over to pick up the kettle of cold water from the hearth.
Grapple looked puzzled.
"It's better than the water they swab the decks with." Said Will quietly with a smile.
The boy grimaced.
"Oi work wit it every day - believe me, oi knoi."
-~*~-
When Ioade opened her eyes, she promptly rolled over and moaned into her pillow - it felt as though someone had split the back of her skull with an axe. She hadn't slept properly for nights now, and that was making her ever more fraught by day; she thumped the bed with her fist.
"Bloody Kate and bloody Sparrow!" She cursed, glaring over at Kate's empty cot across the cabin. "Why did I ever agree to do this?"
Ioade tossed and turned in the oppressive darkness, trying to sleep, until she'd fidgeted about so much that her feet were completely tangled in the blankets, and every spot in the bed was so warm from when she'd last lain there that she overheated.
Wiping away the long-suffering tears, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the cot, the sheets kicked into an untidy heap at its foot.
"You are such an idiot sometimes." Ioade murmured into her hands.
-~*~-
"So y'knoi Jack troo the cursed gold lark, aye?"
Will nodded.
"I must admit, I would have thought Jack would have had more sense than to go off on a venture like this; especially after...well."
Grapple fingered his beaker for a moment and then grinned.
"So be yeh a pirate or a blacksmith noi?"
"Sometimes I'm both." Smiled Will after a moment's pause.
There was the sound of boots on the stairwell, and the man and the boy twisted in their seats to see an ashen-faced Ioade clumping down to join them.
"Boy. Bootling." She nodded huskily. "Doesn't anybody sleep on this ship?"
"Mornin' Cap'n." Said Grapple. "Probably not - eht's a fair bet tat Sparrow and Miss Kate aren't sleepin'."
Will cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Oh, don't talk to me about them." Ioade grumbled, sitting down at the table and resting her head in her hands. "A good, strong drink's what I be needin', though thanks to Mistress Cole, it's the one thing I can't have."
The young blacksmith gave her a puzzled frown.
"Don't even get me started on it, Bootling: it's really not healthy."
"D'yeh want me t'get yeh some water, Cap'n?" Grapple asked in his soft Irish lilt.
"Water? What's that?" Ioade asked with a half-hearted laugh. "No lad - I'll live."
There was a long silence. Will studied the honey-haired, pretty-faced girl sitting opposite him with her face in her palms; he hadn't spoken to her much up till then, and he was really quite curious as to the anomaly she was turning out to be.
"Why are you two down here, anyway?" Ioade asked then, taking her head out of her hands.
"Couldn't sleep." Grapple and Will answered at once.
Ioade raised an eyebrow at her cabin boy's lip.
"And I suppose ye got that countin' sheep, did ye?"
"The rams were rutting." Grapple said without batting an eye.
Will looked at him, and smiled. Ioade gave a tired laugh.
"It's good to see you're retaining a sense of humour." Said the blacksmith.
"Never fear of me losing that, Bootling." Ioade replied. "I'm of the hundred-painful-and-excruciatingly-embarrassing-ways-for-Jack-Sparrow-to-die-gags ilk, myself."
As the dishevelled captain then groaned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, Grapple leaned across to whisper in Will's ear:
"And of course, eht's not compulsory, but eht's also helpful if yeh sanity's hangin' by a tread, too."
"Really?" Will murmured, raising an eyebrow. "I think I must have missed that part."
-~*~-
Jack woke to the sound of rain tapping on the windowpanes; rain to sail by. Bloody perfect.
He sighed, and absentmindedly buried the fingers of his right hand in Kate's hair, which was spilling all over his chest in thick, silky waves.
For some strange reason, he felt as though he was partly to blame for the young woman's misfortunes. Why on earth should he, though? It wasn't his fault the bloody Crown had hanged her husband, or that exacting her revenge had forced her to turn pirate. The sorrow of her story had struck a chord with him on some level, though, and he pondered for a moment on the image of her perfectly calm, tear-streaming face, clear and unreal in the candlelight.
Jack glanced down at where Kate's lips rested by one of his bullet scars.
He supposed she wasn't all that hard-hearted really, not underneath that mask of hers. There had been something in the way she had listened, in turn, to his stories last night, and then touched, kissed every scar when they'd retired to his chambers.
She was a good girl, Jack decided as he watched her face, bearing its trademark serenity even in sleep. Just a nice, taciturn little lass who had gotten mixed up in something that had ultimately maimed her sense of emotion, that was all.
But what were her opinions of him, though? He wondered as he shifted in the bed. Kate had shown fierce loyalty to Ioade on a number of occasions since they'd come aboard, yet she didn't seem to share her captain's wish to see his head on a platter; he just hoped it wasn't anything chronic.
The pirate grinned suddenly as Kate stirred and stretched cat-like against him, twining a hand in his rattails: he was having that type of thought.
"Mornin', luv."
"It's raining." Kate observed without opening her eyes.
"Really?" Jack feigned utter shock. "I'd never've guessed!"
"You're too smart for your own good sometimes, you know that."
The young woman's black eyelashes parted, and a pair of elegant tawny eyes gazed up at Jack from his chest.
A powerful gust of wind buffeted past the windows, and the ship rocked with a loud groan.
"That's odd." Kate frowned. "There wasn't any sign of bad weather yesterday, was there?"
"I take it you're discounting that 'Holy Fog' that lasted from Monday to Thursday." Jack said dryly. "Sea-storms come up pretty quickly; it's nothing the Pearl can't take."
Kate glanced at the warped glass panes.
"I trust your judgement."
"Excellent choice, luv. May I also add that you're looking extraordinarily beautiful this morning?"
"What do you want, Jack?"
Jack gave her the look of one who has been falsely accused of stealing rum.
"Miss Cole, in all truthfulness, I am offended: am I not allowed to pay a simple compliment without being suspectected of harbouring conditions?"
"Jack, be serious: you and I both know you never do something unless it's for your own gain."
Jack looked at her sorrowfully and heaved an injured sigh.
"You've seen through me, luv." He lamented. "All right, I confess: I was rather hoping I might be permitted to look over Ioade's half of the map again to check our course."
"Else we'll stray into uncharted waters and run onto rocks, or reefs? Or possibly die of starvation and dehydration? That is if we don't get Scurvy, first."
"That's the one."
"Why are you asking me this?" Kate said coolly, tracing circles further and further down Jack's torso in a way that seemed to be causing him breathing difficulties.
Jack tried to make some sort of coherent reply, but it came out as a sort of long, tongue-tied cross between a groan and a grunt.
"Luv..." He managed.
Kate smiled as she took her hand away.
"Sorry, Jack - I couldn't resist."
"Because," Jack retried with a certain air of scorn. "I'm fairly certain that Ioade would bite me if I tried asking her anything."
Kate sighed.
"This whole messenger routine is really becoming quite tedious, you know."
"I'll make it worth your while, luv." Jack said with a suggestive hitch in the corner of his mouth.
"And rest assured, dear Captain, that we shall explore that sometime." Said Kate, leaning up to press a kiss on his lips. "But for now, we both have duties to attend to."
Jack propped himself up on his elbows, and watched with a look of disbelief as Kate rolled off his chest, slid out of bed and crossed the cabin to get dressed.
"You know, darlin', you really know how to ruin a man's morning." He remarked as she tugged her shirt over her head.
"What? Last night wasn't enough for you?" She asked incredulously. The linen had slipped off one smooth, rounded shoulder, and the hem only reached mid-thigh; it was Jack's opinion as she turned to face him that she should have dressed like that more often.
"Oh no, luv, it was good enough." He grinned. "Ask any of the crew if you're not convinced - they'll tell you how it sounded to them."
A well-aimed pair of breeches hit Jack squarely in the face.
-~*~-
"And limbo stick is the silence infront of me,
Limbo, limbo like me,
Limbo, limbo, limbo like me.
Long dark deck is the silence infront of me,
Limbo, limbo like me,
Limbo, limbo, limbo like me.
Stick hit sound
And the ship like it ready,
Stick hit sound
And the dark still steady.
Limbo, limbo like me."
Marlin's voice carried across the rain-pattered deck as the sailors hauled on the lines. The West Indian pirate's clothes were soaked through and clung to his dark skin, and fine droplets of water coating his coarse dredlocks flashed like tiny sparks.
"Long dark deck and the water surrounding me,
Long dark deck and the silence is over me,
Limbo, limbo like me,
Limbo, limbo, limbo like me.
Stick is the whip
And the dark deck is slavery,
Stick is the whip
And the dark deck is slavery.
Limbo, limbo like me,
Limbo, limbo, limbo like me."
The song rang with an almost hypnotising grasp of dynamics: calling some lines out with strength and urgency, and then suddenly pulling back to gentle quietness again, as though Marlin were singing to himself.
The crew hauled hand over hand to his rhythm, some of them - mostly Ioade's men - murmuring along to the words. Others that were swabbing the deck or splicing ropes atop barrels and astride canons listened attentively, just able to see the silhouettes of their mates bowing and straightening, bowing and straightening through the grey rain.
Will gazed aimlessly out across the increasingly petulant waves. Seagulls had been flying overhead for the last few hours, borne before the wind and away from the oncoming storm, their bodies like gliding paper cut-outs against the blackening heavens.
"Don't concern yerself too much, Will." Gibbs said gruffly from the blacksmith's right shoulder.
"We didn't have Elizabeth on board last time." Will explained quietly.
"She'll be fine if she stays below deck; pitched and tossed a little, maybe, but nuthin' so serious."
In the lull, they both looked out to sea again.
"There's been something amiss since since that thing appeared." Said Will after a moment.
"Aye; a queer feelin' among the men." Gibbs agreed. "Jack's aquired a head for the unnatural, it seems."
Will thought for a moment.
"Grapple told me he'd had a nightmare last night."
Gibbs shook his head.
"Poor lad - prob'ly from seein' that beast."
"I suppose..." Young Mr Turner struggled for a moment. "He was quite badly shaken though: he fell down a stairwell on his way to the galley."
"Did he now?" Gibbs asked, seeming suddenly more interested. "I wonder what it was the boy saw...I suppose he didn't think to tell ye?"
Will frowned a little, and leant forward on the ship's rail; it was just possible that there might have been some sort of connection. "I'll ask him." He mused.
-~*~-
Ioade thrust the mop back into the pail of pitch and then slapped it back on the deck again with a noise like a wet fish. Her humour was becoming progressively fouler because of Kate's sanction, and she was fairly certain that a good deal of the swag in the Pearl's hold could now be stored in the bags beneath her eyes; and it was all bloody Sparrow's fault!
In a sudden flare of temper, she kicked the bucket and then howled a loud curse. Reduced to pitching decks and bereft of her ship and her captaincy, the unfortunate Ioade Morgan was thoroughly miserable. The matter wasn't helped by the fact that Jack seemed to be enjoying her predicament immensely, and was taking every opportunity to rub her nose in it; what in the name of all that was lawless had she done to deserve this? Ok, so perhaps she had sinned a good few more times than she suspected she was mortally allowed, and perhaps there was a shred of truth in Kate's accusation that she drank more rum than even Sparrow did, but dammit, she was human too!
The young girl let her mop fall to the floor with a loud clonk, and sat down on a nearby sack. She silently admitted that she had been a little more disagreeable and vindictive towards Jack than was necessary, but then again, she reminded herself, he had blown up her ship: her pride would only let her sink so low in this limbo.
'But he only did that because you double-crossed him in the first place.' Chided a voice in her head. 'It was you - you were too stubborn to accept anything short of a total victory on your end of the deal.'
'He deserved it.' Ioade replied bitterly. 'You know he would have done exactly the same if he had been me.'
'Would he?' Inquired the voice.
'Yes.' Ioade said testily. Then she felt her resolution drop a notch. 'Maybe...Well, no.'
'He's only doing what's right by him. It's possible that things might be more profitable for you if you make a truce.'
'Make a truce with Sparrow?' Ioade scoffed. 'I'd rather use my head as a muzzle blush, thanks.'
'It's your choice.' Resigned the voice. 'But you know I'm right.'
Ioade shook her head, and sighed.
'You see how bad it is not being drunk? I'm even talking to myself now. Maybe I'm doing daft.'
'Daft like Jack.' Sniped the voice. 'Face it, missy - you and Jack are more alike than you're willing to admit.'
"We are not!" Ioade bellowed, leaping to her feet and breathing heavily as her words hit the walls of the brig with an almost physical force.
A moment of silence followed; the voice was gone, and she was alone.
"Ioade?"
Kate stepped out of the shadows of the stairwell, her eyes like glowing embers.
Ioade looked at her older first mate hopelessly, her arms hanging by her sides.
"You think I should make a truce with Sparrow." She said forlornly, all fight gone from her soul.
Kate considered her, and nodded.
"Yes, I do." She said quietly.
Ioade let herself drop back down onto the sack, and rested her face in her hands.
"That ship was me life, and he bloody well stole it." She muttered.
Kate's eyebrows bent sadly, and she went to her friend and laid a hand on her shoulder.
"He took something from all of us." She told her. "But especially from you and I; he was wrong to sink the Horse, and I think he knows that."
Ioade lifted her head, and looked wearily up at the dark-haired woman.
"And what did he take from you?" She asked.
Kate smiled in a way she had of doing so.
"Make a truce with Sparrow." She confirmed softly. "I promise you won't regret it."
And giving Ioade's shoulder a final queeze, she turned and left the brig.
-~*~-
Grapple sat in the crow's nest, Cotton's parrot on his right knee, and Harlequin on his left, his fife poised in his tar-smeared fingers.
He had an old, distressed wine-red dress coat wrapped about his bony shoulders to provide some warmth and protection from the rain, but his black hair was plastered to his face and his head, while his dark blue eyes peered pensively out through the rain. The black man in the mask had lingered in the back of his mind all day, and Grapple couldn't seem to rid his ears of the chant that lurked in them either, like the remnants of a heavy fog lurking in the entrance to a cave, evading the sunlight or the wind.
"Should I tell someone, d'yeh tink?" He asked the birds.
"Splice the mainbrace." Cotton's parrot replied from his right knee, whilst Harlequin merely shook the water from his ruffled feathers on the boy's left.
Grapple gazed idly at the rain again for a while, and began to hum 'All For Me Grog'.
The wind blew drips down the back of his neck, and there was damp in his bones as he shivered and pulled the coat tighter about him. The rain lashed all about, and hid the Pearl and her crew below him from sight in grey; the sound of waves beginning to crash against the ship was still audible above the low whistling air, though, and the crow's nest swayed through the sinking cloud.
Through his eyelashes, his eyes narrowed against the oncoming rain, Grapple squinted out ahead for a moment, and then glanced off the starboard side, just for an instance. Through the greyness, he thought he saw, in heartbeat, the topsails of a ship move by a little way off; the image phased out of the rain and back in again so swiftly, however, that he couldn't be sure, and a few seconds later, he was convinced it had only been his imagination.
Gazing upwards, Grapple shivered slightly as he saw the first flicker of lighting lick across the clouds, closely followed by a rumble of thunder. He shifted upright, the two birds taking off into the rain as he crawled on his knees towards the ratline; Ioade had specifically instructed him that trainee pirate or no, he was not to stay on duty in the crow's nest during stormy weather.
His bare feet found their first purchases on the rough, sodden ropes, and he began the descent, searching for new footholds with his toes and soles as he went, unable to see beyond a metre or so in any direction.
As Grapple got about halfway down, he felt a sudden urge possess him, and hooking one arm through the rigging to secure himself, he paused to look off the starboard side again.
Lightning flared across the sky again, and a rumble of thunder like a giant sailor rolling a giant barrel up a giant wooden gangplank boomed in the charcoal heavens.
And through the approaching curtains of the storm, as the rain fell ever heavier, a ship materialised out of nowhere, sailing alongside them about eighteen fathoms off.
What it was exactly about that ship, Grapple couldn't quite put his finger on in that moment, but something about it seemed unreal; insubstantial.
A voice below him called something out across the deck, but it rang thickly in the boy's ears, and he felt suddenly as though he was drifting away from his body, floating off into the rain. His mind fell into limbo, and he lost all the feeling in his limbs and the colour in his sight.
Lightning spat overhead like the flash from a flintlock, illuminating the shining, scurrying black figures on the deck of the Pearl.
The ship in the rain disappeared to the only pair of eyes that saw it, and as his arm slipped limply from its hold in the ratline, Grapple fell from the rigging in a dead faint.
-~*~-
Kate leant over the young boy, her eyes creased with concern as she looked over his pale, wet face and his soaked hair.
She placed a hand on his brow.
"Well?" Ioade asked agitatedly.
"He's running a high fever." Kate assessed quietly, inching the blankets up higher over the child's chest. "No doubt he caught a chill to the bones, sitting out in that weather."
"Thank God Will saw what was happening." Ioade murmured. "He'd've died if he'd hit the deck from that height."
The cabin door opened, and Elizabeth entered carrying a basin of steaming water and a cloth.
"Is he alright?" She asked, kneeling down beside Kate.
"He's running a fever, and I've never seen anyone out so cold without having taken a blow to the head, but I fairly confident that he'll live."
Elizabeth smiled at the woman's wry humour.
"I wonder why he fainted when he did." Ioade pondered aloud.
"Will said he fell down a stairwell sometime last night." Elizabeth said. "He might already have been concussed. Or at least ill, at any rate." She added with a slight shrug.
Kate gave an 'mmm' of agreement.
"At any rate, I don't think being out in the cold and wet all that time did him any favours." She concluded.
The door banged open for a second time, and Will, water-doused and dripping from head to toe walked over the threshold, wiping rain and sea from his eyes.
"How is he?" He asked, glancing from woman to woman and then at the waxen boy.
"He's fine Will, thanks to you." Elizabeth smiled at her fiancé.
Will smiled back at her, and then glanced at the bedraggled Kate and Ioade with a slightly troubled expression.
"Jack needs all hands on deck." He said in a rueful tone.
The two pirates look back at grapple's prone form lying on the bed, but Elizabeth intervened:
"I'll take care of him."
Kate gave an appreciative nod after a second's consideration, and took hold of the hand that Ioade was offering out to help her to her feet.
As they reached the doorway, Ioade turned to face Elizabeth.
"If he wakes up and he asks," She indicated to the boy with her chin, and spoke with piratical gruffness. "Tell 'im we all be up there battling everything nature's throwing at us to save his miserable little bilge-rat hide, savvy?"
Elizabeth watched her with mirthful eyes, and then broke a smile.
"Aye Cap'n."
-~*~-