A/N: Been a bit, hasn't it? Sorry about that. What can I say? Unfortunately
the Powers That Be have *not* seen fit to smite school and my job and
everything else except my laptop and Internet access just yet. Patience I'm
afraid may be the ultimate virtue in this game, my dears.
ALL READERS PLEASE READ: I've got a new idea for a Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfic. If any of my wonderful readers digs Buffy, I'd appreciate an email a very great deal. I have some plot questions that I really need answered if I want to keep the more militant Buffy fans from slashing my throat with an axe or something to that effect and also if I want to write a decent fanfic. Hopefully you're all ff.net-literate enough to know how to find my email address, but just in case, it's LilyangelV83@aol.com. Thanks!
I sit back, cradling the compass between my hands, and watch Jack a moment. "All right. I told a tale with you in it, you tell me a tale with me in it."
The man's brows lower over his milky eyes, "Beg pardon?"
"Oh, don't tell me you don't know one. I'll bet you know a great one. The first one, in fact. Let's hear that one."
Jack scowls, sitting in stony silence like a stubborn child.
I'm tempted to continue on my jovial, just above teasing route, but I change course, letting the smile slide from my face and voice, "You know now how long I've come just to hear it, Jack."
"By the Powers, yer right," he finally says with a lop-sided smirk, "It was a dark and stormy night-"
"Don't lie." I'm feeling an anger start to bubble in me, and I wonder if he can feel my glare, "Any story that begins that way is just that, a story. I came for the truth, and I will get it, one way or another."
"For the love o' bloody God an' country," I hear from the door. Anamaria stalks in, dragging the chair from outside behind her. In one smooth movement she is sitting in it at the table. "Pair o' pretentious popinjays you are. If yer happy ta' be the clam today, Captain, that's yer choice. I'll tell Swallow the story, I was there."
Jack's scowl deepens, like Anamaria's just kicked over the board of a game he was winning, but he says nothing. I'd hoped to hear it from Jack's lips, but I find myself perfectly willing to compromise as Anamaria begins, "We were docked at a dive in Singapore, just 'bout ta' ship out. Jack an' I'd gathered the crew an' were walkin' down the pier when I catches sight o' dis bundle plopped right at the end of the gangway. Pick it up; find a slip of a baby girl swaddled in rags. No note, nothin', 'cept a name scratched into the fabric in cheap ink. Guinevere."
"So you took me aboard?" I ask, almost laughing at the mental picture of a group of hardened pirates peering at the tiny infant laid at their gangway.
"Jis' what were we supposed to do, eh?" Jack suddenly snaps out of his silence, "Toss ya' off the docks? No, we brought ya' 'board, rags an' all. Ya' looked fragile as a piece o' seaweed, though. Didn't think ya'd survive long. But ya' did, obviously," he adds before I can, "An' we decided ta' send ya' to Will an' Elizabeth fer yer own good."
That sounds like the end of the story, but I turn to see Anamaria staring at Jack with a peculiar look on her face. Almost like she wants to laugh, but can't remember what's funny, "Aren't ya' leavin' out some things, Captain?"
Jack looks supremely uncomfortable, "Not that I recall."
"Ye' must be losin' yer mem'ry then. Ye' don't recall what happened *after* takin' her aboard the Pearl? I certainly do." She leans over to me and whispers conspiratorially, "He don't want you ta' know how much he fussed over ya' dose weeks between Singapore an' the Caribbean. How he stayed up nights ya' wouldn't sleep. How he nearly hacked off Gibbs' head when he found that cut on yer arm. Don't fit wid his fearsome pirate captain image, ya' see."
"Bloody women. Bloody pirates. Bloody women pirates. Can't keep a soddin' *thing* to 'emselves," Jack growls under his breath as Anamaria shakes with contained laughter.
I pull up a sleeve and lay my inner forearm in the light splashing across the table from the window. The very faintest of scars shows up near the crook of my elbow, a slightly shiny line one will never see if they aren't looking. "What happened?" I ask as I examine this new and mysterious bit of me I've never seen before.
"Oh, nothin' serious. Gibbs got a bit careless wid his dagger an' ya' had some light fingers, even then-"
"Not serious!" Jack nearly jumps from his seat at Anamaria's nonchalant response, "He was pickin' his bloody teeth with a *baby* in his arms! You tell me what kind o' lackwit jimmy does a fool thing like that!"
"Anyways," Anamaria continues, cool as a northern breeze, "By an' by Gibbs felt so guilty 'bout the whole affair he volunteered ta' keep an eye on ya' once we got ta' Port Royal. He still doin' his solemn duty, I assume?"
"Oh yes," Jack scoffs, "Even spilled his worthless guts the minute Swallow caught the scent."
"He might've had some help to that end," I admit, feeling the need to defend Gibbs, even if he *did* give me my first scar, "I suppose the gift of rather coercive gab runs in the blood." There is unmistakable pride in the smirk that creeps onto Jack's face, and I smile myself though his face is turned from mine, until something catches my mind once again, "This Swallow business. I'm assuming it's a nickname, me being with Jack so much. Sparrow, Swallow..." I trail off as Jack and Anamaria look at each other, "What? Am I wrong?"
"We called ya' Swallow cuz ya' kept swallowin' things!" Jack says, sounding for all the world like a harried parent just come from yanking a new horror from his child's mouth, "Odd stuff, too. Odds an' ends 'round the ship. Nearly had a bloody faintin' spell I catch ya' 'bout ta' shove a nail down yer little throat. An' let me say ya' owe the crew more than one night o' sleep from listenin' to yer endless bawlin' when ya' found out what was digestible an' what wasn't- which was actually more than I would've thought. Ye' would expect some rope ta' break down at least a little..." Anamaria hums and nods a little in the memory of a horrible night I can only imagine, or maybe I don't want to. Without orders my mind conjures images of the pair sitting at a table, maybe this one, pondering the digestibility of- oh, say a belt buckle, for instance.
"Oh," is all I can coherently muster.
"It's gettin' late," Anamaria asserts, and I glance around to see that yes, in fact, the sun has dipped rather low on the horizon, "We'd best be gettin' back, shippin' out." She rises from her seat, then looks back at me, "You comin', Swallow?"
Jack also turns to me, "I'm curious, girl. Jis' what were ya' plannin' ta' do *after* ya' found me?"
In that instant I know how it feels to be the bug under the curious eyes of a small, undisciplined child. Things are happening too fast all of a sudden. "I should go back to the ship," I mumble and hurry out ahead of Anamaria. As it was in the Turner household, I can see in my head Anamaria's disapproving look at Jack, and his "what'd I do?" shrug. Then I remember that he wouldn't see her look, and walk faster.
Hopes, like dreams I'm finding, can be just as disappointing to the hoper. Again I find myself having been going along my merry way, only to find myself smashed against another rock wall. Jack's question is a perfectly logical one, which *really* irks me. You've found him, Guinn, now what? Well, go for the mermaid's ransom, of course. Oh, that simple, eh? And just what about that whole middle ground where you have no crew, no map, and certainly no ship to ferry you to your marvelous destiny? And yet the call of treasure beckons me all the more now that it is my one goal left, the shimmer of it piled on a beach in great heaps glitters on the edge of every gloomy thought. These are the undeniable facts that make up the rock wall I keep slamming against. And I don't think there's much Anamaria, for all her broad strides across the beach ahead of me, can do to help me over it.
"Bloody hell," Anamaria suddenly gasps. I look up to the dimming horizon to see the Red Osprey, but behind it a ways back and approaching there is another ship.
"Who's that, Anamaria?" I ask as I gaze at the newcomer's billowing black sails. She doesn't answer beyond a harsh shout to get my bleedin' ass into the boat. In a flash we're on the water and moving faster than I thought a longboat could go, thanks to Anamaria's powerful strokes. As we near the Osprey I can make out figures rushing around on the deck, preparing for whatever this other ship may request- or demand.
Anamaria's first mate spots us, and she yells to him, "Who the hell's followed us!? That better not be who I think it is!"
"It is, Captain, it is," says the man, sounding like he's just delivered a death sentence, "It's Faulkner."
A blue tapestry of swears explodes from Anamaria as she swings into action. Ropes are thrown and the longboat is pulled from the water. I have to trot to keep up with Anamaria as she stalks down the length of the Osprey's decks. "What's Faulkner got to do with this, Anamaria?" I ask over the shouting of the crew.
"He's after Jack," Anamaria says simply, without turning to me.
We pass my boys, but I don't stop to check with them, something else had most definitely caught my interest, "What do you mean? Why in the world would he be after Jack?"
"Captain's made many enemies over the years, an' most wouldn't mind the sight of his corpse, even if he *is* harmless now," she says as she holds a spyglass to her eye and peers at Faulkner's ship, "I told you I keep Jack safe- well, now ya' see me in action." And then I'm left in her wake among the chaos on the deck, with nothing to do but watch Faulkner descend on us. Anamaria has left the spyglass on the railing, and as the ship moves it begins to topple over the edge. I catch it, and then bring it to me. It's heavier than I would've thought an empty tube would be, most of the weight coming from the lens. I hold it to my eye and focus on Faulkner's ship. The image is dirty and about as focused as a drunkard's vision, but my sight is brought amazingly close to the ship's deck. I immediately spot Faulkner from behind shouting something, and then two figures appear to the right of him. When I focus on them, my heart stops and I feel my jaw and stomach drop like anchors. Will takes Elizabeth into the protective circle of his arms on Faulkner's deck.
A/N: Amazing how the human mind works, ain't it? To respond:
TO ALL REVIEWERS: If you didn't read the top note to all readers please go back and do so, for the sake of future fanfics by yours truly. If you're enjoying this, you may just like what I've got cookin' in the old noodle once this little jaunt has reached its conclusion.
Sunshinejedi: Keep up the good work? Will do, just as long as I have an audience to write to. And thanks for the compliment; it has turned out to be much more of a challenge to stay in the present tense than I first thought. To be honest, I can't wait to get back to the good old past. Tense, that is. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Mo: Hey, let me tell you something right now: NO review is too long, got that? Anyways, yes, I know blind Sparrow is a bit of a downer, but I gotta separate my story from the rest of the herd somehow, right? And as for Guinn and Pete- well, let's just say I have *designs* on that pair. Keep reading if you wanna know what they are!
Fire Pixie: **grins sheepishly** Well, I'll have to refer you to the top A/N as to updates... But I'm elated to have your seal of approval on my Jack, and I hope this chapter also gains that distinct honor. See ya' next time!
autum: Eep, believe me; my muses are drastic enough in their measures to keep me writing for some time yet. About Jack's senses, I figure that six years or so of living on a deserted tropical island *alone* has gotta make anybody's senses just a touch sharper. Glad you liked the last chapter, keep reading!
Calex: No, indeed I would not be nearly as wicked as my ff.net author quota states if I divulged delicate emotional plot information, I'm sure you understand. I will say this; I have *designs* on Peter and Guinn, never fear. Or perhaps fear... Hope this chapter was just as enjoyable as the last, keep reading!
WrdPntr: Yes, I think I can fill in the blanks after "awesome awesome awesome..." Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'll see ya' in the next!
Andraaia Taka-Ichi: Yes, breathe, hon, remember to breathe. Hope this update was to your liking. See ya' the next!
Taka-Ichi-Sisters: You're not of any relation to my dear Andraaia Taka-Ichi by any chance, are you? If so, that's awesome; I've got a *family* of fans! Not a legion, but I'll take what I can get. Anyways, ultra-glad you like the story so far, hope you liked this chapter, keep reading I'll keep writing, yadda yadda... Look, there's only so many times I can say all that jazz, you know the drill.
ALL READERS PLEASE READ: I've got a new idea for a Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfic. If any of my wonderful readers digs Buffy, I'd appreciate an email a very great deal. I have some plot questions that I really need answered if I want to keep the more militant Buffy fans from slashing my throat with an axe or something to that effect and also if I want to write a decent fanfic. Hopefully you're all ff.net-literate enough to know how to find my email address, but just in case, it's LilyangelV83@aol.com. Thanks!
I sit back, cradling the compass between my hands, and watch Jack a moment. "All right. I told a tale with you in it, you tell me a tale with me in it."
The man's brows lower over his milky eyes, "Beg pardon?"
"Oh, don't tell me you don't know one. I'll bet you know a great one. The first one, in fact. Let's hear that one."
Jack scowls, sitting in stony silence like a stubborn child.
I'm tempted to continue on my jovial, just above teasing route, but I change course, letting the smile slide from my face and voice, "You know now how long I've come just to hear it, Jack."
"By the Powers, yer right," he finally says with a lop-sided smirk, "It was a dark and stormy night-"
"Don't lie." I'm feeling an anger start to bubble in me, and I wonder if he can feel my glare, "Any story that begins that way is just that, a story. I came for the truth, and I will get it, one way or another."
"For the love o' bloody God an' country," I hear from the door. Anamaria stalks in, dragging the chair from outside behind her. In one smooth movement she is sitting in it at the table. "Pair o' pretentious popinjays you are. If yer happy ta' be the clam today, Captain, that's yer choice. I'll tell Swallow the story, I was there."
Jack's scowl deepens, like Anamaria's just kicked over the board of a game he was winning, but he says nothing. I'd hoped to hear it from Jack's lips, but I find myself perfectly willing to compromise as Anamaria begins, "We were docked at a dive in Singapore, just 'bout ta' ship out. Jack an' I'd gathered the crew an' were walkin' down the pier when I catches sight o' dis bundle plopped right at the end of the gangway. Pick it up; find a slip of a baby girl swaddled in rags. No note, nothin', 'cept a name scratched into the fabric in cheap ink. Guinevere."
"So you took me aboard?" I ask, almost laughing at the mental picture of a group of hardened pirates peering at the tiny infant laid at their gangway.
"Jis' what were we supposed to do, eh?" Jack suddenly snaps out of his silence, "Toss ya' off the docks? No, we brought ya' 'board, rags an' all. Ya' looked fragile as a piece o' seaweed, though. Didn't think ya'd survive long. But ya' did, obviously," he adds before I can, "An' we decided ta' send ya' to Will an' Elizabeth fer yer own good."
That sounds like the end of the story, but I turn to see Anamaria staring at Jack with a peculiar look on her face. Almost like she wants to laugh, but can't remember what's funny, "Aren't ya' leavin' out some things, Captain?"
Jack looks supremely uncomfortable, "Not that I recall."
"Ye' must be losin' yer mem'ry then. Ye' don't recall what happened *after* takin' her aboard the Pearl? I certainly do." She leans over to me and whispers conspiratorially, "He don't want you ta' know how much he fussed over ya' dose weeks between Singapore an' the Caribbean. How he stayed up nights ya' wouldn't sleep. How he nearly hacked off Gibbs' head when he found that cut on yer arm. Don't fit wid his fearsome pirate captain image, ya' see."
"Bloody women. Bloody pirates. Bloody women pirates. Can't keep a soddin' *thing* to 'emselves," Jack growls under his breath as Anamaria shakes with contained laughter.
I pull up a sleeve and lay my inner forearm in the light splashing across the table from the window. The very faintest of scars shows up near the crook of my elbow, a slightly shiny line one will never see if they aren't looking. "What happened?" I ask as I examine this new and mysterious bit of me I've never seen before.
"Oh, nothin' serious. Gibbs got a bit careless wid his dagger an' ya' had some light fingers, even then-"
"Not serious!" Jack nearly jumps from his seat at Anamaria's nonchalant response, "He was pickin' his bloody teeth with a *baby* in his arms! You tell me what kind o' lackwit jimmy does a fool thing like that!"
"Anyways," Anamaria continues, cool as a northern breeze, "By an' by Gibbs felt so guilty 'bout the whole affair he volunteered ta' keep an eye on ya' once we got ta' Port Royal. He still doin' his solemn duty, I assume?"
"Oh yes," Jack scoffs, "Even spilled his worthless guts the minute Swallow caught the scent."
"He might've had some help to that end," I admit, feeling the need to defend Gibbs, even if he *did* give me my first scar, "I suppose the gift of rather coercive gab runs in the blood." There is unmistakable pride in the smirk that creeps onto Jack's face, and I smile myself though his face is turned from mine, until something catches my mind once again, "This Swallow business. I'm assuming it's a nickname, me being with Jack so much. Sparrow, Swallow..." I trail off as Jack and Anamaria look at each other, "What? Am I wrong?"
"We called ya' Swallow cuz ya' kept swallowin' things!" Jack says, sounding for all the world like a harried parent just come from yanking a new horror from his child's mouth, "Odd stuff, too. Odds an' ends 'round the ship. Nearly had a bloody faintin' spell I catch ya' 'bout ta' shove a nail down yer little throat. An' let me say ya' owe the crew more than one night o' sleep from listenin' to yer endless bawlin' when ya' found out what was digestible an' what wasn't- which was actually more than I would've thought. Ye' would expect some rope ta' break down at least a little..." Anamaria hums and nods a little in the memory of a horrible night I can only imagine, or maybe I don't want to. Without orders my mind conjures images of the pair sitting at a table, maybe this one, pondering the digestibility of- oh, say a belt buckle, for instance.
"Oh," is all I can coherently muster.
"It's gettin' late," Anamaria asserts, and I glance around to see that yes, in fact, the sun has dipped rather low on the horizon, "We'd best be gettin' back, shippin' out." She rises from her seat, then looks back at me, "You comin', Swallow?"
Jack also turns to me, "I'm curious, girl. Jis' what were ya' plannin' ta' do *after* ya' found me?"
In that instant I know how it feels to be the bug under the curious eyes of a small, undisciplined child. Things are happening too fast all of a sudden. "I should go back to the ship," I mumble and hurry out ahead of Anamaria. As it was in the Turner household, I can see in my head Anamaria's disapproving look at Jack, and his "what'd I do?" shrug. Then I remember that he wouldn't see her look, and walk faster.
Hopes, like dreams I'm finding, can be just as disappointing to the hoper. Again I find myself having been going along my merry way, only to find myself smashed against another rock wall. Jack's question is a perfectly logical one, which *really* irks me. You've found him, Guinn, now what? Well, go for the mermaid's ransom, of course. Oh, that simple, eh? And just what about that whole middle ground where you have no crew, no map, and certainly no ship to ferry you to your marvelous destiny? And yet the call of treasure beckons me all the more now that it is my one goal left, the shimmer of it piled on a beach in great heaps glitters on the edge of every gloomy thought. These are the undeniable facts that make up the rock wall I keep slamming against. And I don't think there's much Anamaria, for all her broad strides across the beach ahead of me, can do to help me over it.
"Bloody hell," Anamaria suddenly gasps. I look up to the dimming horizon to see the Red Osprey, but behind it a ways back and approaching there is another ship.
"Who's that, Anamaria?" I ask as I gaze at the newcomer's billowing black sails. She doesn't answer beyond a harsh shout to get my bleedin' ass into the boat. In a flash we're on the water and moving faster than I thought a longboat could go, thanks to Anamaria's powerful strokes. As we near the Osprey I can make out figures rushing around on the deck, preparing for whatever this other ship may request- or demand.
Anamaria's first mate spots us, and she yells to him, "Who the hell's followed us!? That better not be who I think it is!"
"It is, Captain, it is," says the man, sounding like he's just delivered a death sentence, "It's Faulkner."
A blue tapestry of swears explodes from Anamaria as she swings into action. Ropes are thrown and the longboat is pulled from the water. I have to trot to keep up with Anamaria as she stalks down the length of the Osprey's decks. "What's Faulkner got to do with this, Anamaria?" I ask over the shouting of the crew.
"He's after Jack," Anamaria says simply, without turning to me.
We pass my boys, but I don't stop to check with them, something else had most definitely caught my interest, "What do you mean? Why in the world would he be after Jack?"
"Captain's made many enemies over the years, an' most wouldn't mind the sight of his corpse, even if he *is* harmless now," she says as she holds a spyglass to her eye and peers at Faulkner's ship, "I told you I keep Jack safe- well, now ya' see me in action." And then I'm left in her wake among the chaos on the deck, with nothing to do but watch Faulkner descend on us. Anamaria has left the spyglass on the railing, and as the ship moves it begins to topple over the edge. I catch it, and then bring it to me. It's heavier than I would've thought an empty tube would be, most of the weight coming from the lens. I hold it to my eye and focus on Faulkner's ship. The image is dirty and about as focused as a drunkard's vision, but my sight is brought amazingly close to the ship's deck. I immediately spot Faulkner from behind shouting something, and then two figures appear to the right of him. When I focus on them, my heart stops and I feel my jaw and stomach drop like anchors. Will takes Elizabeth into the protective circle of his arms on Faulkner's deck.
A/N: Amazing how the human mind works, ain't it? To respond:
TO ALL REVIEWERS: If you didn't read the top note to all readers please go back and do so, for the sake of future fanfics by yours truly. If you're enjoying this, you may just like what I've got cookin' in the old noodle once this little jaunt has reached its conclusion.
Sunshinejedi: Keep up the good work? Will do, just as long as I have an audience to write to. And thanks for the compliment; it has turned out to be much more of a challenge to stay in the present tense than I first thought. To be honest, I can't wait to get back to the good old past. Tense, that is. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Mo: Hey, let me tell you something right now: NO review is too long, got that? Anyways, yes, I know blind Sparrow is a bit of a downer, but I gotta separate my story from the rest of the herd somehow, right? And as for Guinn and Pete- well, let's just say I have *designs* on that pair. Keep reading if you wanna know what they are!
Fire Pixie: **grins sheepishly** Well, I'll have to refer you to the top A/N as to updates... But I'm elated to have your seal of approval on my Jack, and I hope this chapter also gains that distinct honor. See ya' next time!
autum: Eep, believe me; my muses are drastic enough in their measures to keep me writing for some time yet. About Jack's senses, I figure that six years or so of living on a deserted tropical island *alone* has gotta make anybody's senses just a touch sharper. Glad you liked the last chapter, keep reading!
Calex: No, indeed I would not be nearly as wicked as my ff.net author quota states if I divulged delicate emotional plot information, I'm sure you understand. I will say this; I have *designs* on Peter and Guinn, never fear. Or perhaps fear... Hope this chapter was just as enjoyable as the last, keep reading!
WrdPntr: Yes, I think I can fill in the blanks after "awesome awesome awesome..." Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'll see ya' in the next!
Andraaia Taka-Ichi: Yes, breathe, hon, remember to breathe. Hope this update was to your liking. See ya' the next!
Taka-Ichi-Sisters: You're not of any relation to my dear Andraaia Taka-Ichi by any chance, are you? If so, that's awesome; I've got a *family* of fans! Not a legion, but I'll take what I can get. Anyways, ultra-glad you like the story so far, hope you liked this chapter, keep reading I'll keep writing, yadda yadda... Look, there's only so many times I can say all that jazz, you know the drill.