Disclaimer: I still don't own Jack or anyone else from the movie.
A/N: Italics are still flashbacks.
Thank you. Thank you for the kind reviews. I crave feedback, so please, keep them coming.
"Well, Captain, I do not keep my valuables in the garden, so if you would follow me, please, I will get your money," she said finally, forcing the memories of La Cerradura to the back of her mind.
"Lead on then, Miss – I'm afraid I don't remember your name, luv."
"I didn't tell you my name."
The corner of the pirate's mouth turned up into a smirk, "are you going to?"
"I haven't decided yet."
She turned and headed up the cobblestone path, to the rear entrance of her estate. She paused as the last remnants of the Caribbean sunset descended to meet the horizon casting an orange light on the ships in the harbor. Closest the Loyalty, her brother's ship, bobbed with the gentle waves of the harbor. At the loading dock, the Interceptor, Captain Norrington's ship and farther out the Dauntless, the flagship, prepared to make way with the dawn. Nothing was out of the ordinary, save for one ship too far away for her to make out. She glanced behind. Sparrow was staring at the same ship. Straining her eyes, she still could not see the ship's name, but she could clearly make out the colors. Spanish.
A Spanish ship docking in Kingston was not out of the ordinary, neither was a two-headed goat. However, the aforementioned ship, doubtless drew more attention than any bizarre farm animal. Likely, any person in town who had noticed the strange ship had stopped in their tracks to investigate, but the pirate was not just any person. According to the stories, he had been the scourge of the Spanish main. Why would this ship captivate him so? There was something in his eyes that she could not identify. Sparrow had not shifted his gaze from the Spanish ensign, but she suspected that he no longer saw the red and yellow fabric billowing in the breeze. His dark eyes were far away, and he seemed lost in thought. This was a perfect opportunity to dash into the house and lock the pirate out of her life, but her feet refused to budge.
Acknowledging a sudden surge of excitement, she realized that the Spanish ship must have something to do with Sparrow being in Kingston. Perhaps the ship had been trying to transport the prisoner, or possible the pirate escaped and stowed away on that ship.
"Are you out here, ma'am?" her maid's voice jolted her from her reverie.
Sparrow's eyes were instantly on her, "answer," he demanded quietly, "we wouldn't want anything to seem out of the ordinary now, luv."
"Yes, Sarah," she called back, hoping her voice sounded normal, "what is it?"
"There's a soldier her to see you," Sarah answered, "shall I show him to the terrace?"
"Expecting soldiers, were you?" Sparrow accused as he once again unsheathed his cutlass, "that's quite a heartless trick, don't you think?"
"I wasn't expecting anyone," she snapped, indignantly, "just calm down and let me get rid of him. Hide in the shadows, if you want. That way you can hear what we say, and you may slit my throat whenever you feel it is appropriate." Stalking away, she realized that once again she was provoking a dangerous man. Maybe this soldier was her way out of this situation. After all, just because she had felt pity for Sparrow a year ago, she owed him nothing. He was a criminal. He never deserved Don Antonio's prison, but a British gallows was completely different.
"Sorry to bother you so late in the evening, Senora,"
Her eyes widened as she understood that the voice belonged to the Spanish soldier standing before her. Sarah had neglected to mention that. That single fact that changed everything. Bringing a dangerous brigand to justice, British justice, she could live with. She could not live with herself knowing that she had anything to do with a man being sent to la Cerradura, even if that man was a pirate. Right or wrong in the eyes of the law, she would not turn Sparrow over to be tortured.
"Not at all," she replied as soon as she rediscovered her voice, "what brings the Spanish army out to my home?"
"Bad tidings, I'm afraid. We were transporting prisoners from la Cerradura to Spain and one has escaped," the soldier explained shaking his head apologetically.
"Oh my," she remarked, feigning surprise, "is this man dangerous? Do you think he's here in my house? What should I do?" As she bombarded the soldier with questions, she tried to fight the images of Sparrow's blood-stained body from taking over her thoughts. If he had only recently escaped, then what other cruelties had he endured?
"Now, now," the Spaniard soothed, "no need to panic. We are just informing everyone in town, asking that you report anything suspicious and exercise more than the normal caution. Have you noticed anything suspicious?"
"No," she heard her voice answer the question, but she almost could not believe what it had said. She had lied to a soldier, protected a pirate and was now just as much of a criminal. Well, maybe not just as much, but she had broken the law just the same, for a pirate.
"Do you live alone? I could post a guard at your house until we make way."
"No," she answered shortly. The Spaniard looked as though he expected some sort of explanation. When he received none, he bowed slightly.
"As you wish, Senora. Goodnight," he said , and Sarah showed him to the door.
Slowly she descended the stone stairs that led back to the garden where she had left Sparrow. She expected to find him sword drawn and poised for battle, instead he was sitting some distance away with his back against the trunk of a tree. In the dim light, she could just make out his silhouette. Stepping closer, she could see that his eyes were closed and a thin layer of sweat was covering his face. Her breath caught in her throat. Fever.
Her stomach turned, and she was powerless to repel the images of his battered body lying in la Cerradura's infirmary.
Her father had been a physician. He had worked in the naval hospital in Portsmouth and operated his own office in Kingston. She and her mother had often assisted him with patients. They would mix all manner of herbs into salves or simply provide home cooked meals for the men and women in her father's care. During those years, she had seen many wounded naval officers and merchant sailors. Hers had been the last face that some of these men saw before falling asleep never to wake. Despite this fact, her stomach had turned and her heart ached at the sight of Sparrow's tortured body shivering in the shadow of that stone column.
After watching the soldiers carry Sparrow from the prison yard, she had feigned a headache to get her brother to go to dinner without her. As soon as he had left her room, she had made her way down to the yard. Trying to keep out of sight, she waited for Cornado to dismiss the civilian that Prescott had decided was a doctor. She needed to talk to this man. Inside, she had an uncontrollable and inexplicable desire to help the pirate, if only to spite Cornado.
"Doctor," she whispered as the doctor neared the spot where she was waiting.
"Sí, I mean, yes?"
Thank goodness the man spoke English, "Are you hear to tend to the pirate?" she questioned tentatively.
Behind his wire rimmed spectacles, the doctor's eyes lowered, "yes." He seemed sad. Perhaps she was not the only one disgusted by the commandant's brutality.
"My father was a physician. Do you require any assistance?"
The doctor could not keep the surprise from showing on his face. He smiled slightly, "I could not subject a young lady to a prison hospital."
"This young lady has been subjected to a naval hospital. I feel I am fit to the task," her father had treated men from his majesty's navy, so she was not completely lying, thought she had never actually seen the inside of a naval hospital. She did feel that she was fit to the task, prison infirmary or not. For some reason, her heart had gone out to Sparrow. Even a scallywag deserved to be treated better than this.
"I see," the doctor replied, "I would welcome the help, if you are sure?"
She nodded as the doctor motioned for her to follow him to the pirate's room.
Injury, she had seen before. Sickness, she had seen before. Death, she had seen before. Still, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw in that room. In the yard, the pirate had been far away and somehow, less real. Now, in that tiny room, he was close and decidedly real. His pain was real.
Curled on a small cot, Sparrow's shivering had worsened. The doctor shook his head before beginning to work. He removed Sparrow's soiled shirt to reveal a mix of old healed and partially healed wounds. His chest was covered with deep purple bruises to say nothing of his back.
As the doctor turned the captain over onto his stomach, Sparrow moaned softly, and she had to bite her lip against the wave of nausea that was crashing over her.
"Flogged," the doctor said simply, as an explanation to the deep gouges criss-crossing the pirate's back.
"What can I do?" she asked.
The doctor motioned to a bowl of water and a pile of rags. "These cuts need to be cleaned so that they don't become infected." The doctor sat on a chair next to the cot and dipped a rag into the cool water. Slowly and cautiously, he set the cloth on one of the lesions.
Without warning, a painful cry escaped from the pirate and he jerked away from the doctor's touch. He fell off of the cot, hissing as his back connected with the dirt floor. Not knowing what else to do, she flew to the captain's side and caught his hand in her own. Gently rubbing the top of his calloused hand, she whispered soothingly in his ear, "ssh, Mr. Sparrow, I'm a friend. I'm not trying to hurt you. The doctor just needs to dress the cuts on your back." His eyes, bright with fever, danced around the room, as if he could not see her or the doctor at all. Then, without warning, he collapsed in a heap on the ground.
"It's probably better that he's unconscious for this," the doctor sighed.
"Enjoying the view?"
She blinked to banish the memories, before meeting Sparrow's gaze. His eyes were still cold and unreadable, but they were beginning to betray him. The man was weary. "Are you satisfied that I didn't invite the entire army to my house to turn you in?" she answered, avoiding his comment, "I got rid of him – "
"Why?" he cut her off.
"Because Captain, I do not give my word lightly, but if you would like I'm sure that I could persuade that fine soldier to return and cart you off to prison," she snapped.
Sparrow lowered his eyes for a split second. Something flickered across his face and was gone almost before she could recognize it. She had hurt him. More than that, she felt regret for what she had said. Of all the people in the world, she knew what the man had endured at la Cerradura. To threaten to return him to that hellhole was undeniably cruel.
"Lead on, Miss . . ." the pirate murmured, "I'm afraid I still don't know your name," he said, a hint of a smile playing about his lips.
"Anamaria."