Author's Note:

Well, uh…this chapter I'm really quite nervous about. I let Kat talk me into doing it, everybody blame her if you don't think it works!

An Exercise In International Relations

Chapter Five: New Lows

In which Jack Sparrow makes life a little more complicated for everybody, and there's a stowaway.

"Morning, Rochefort!" Porthos was, as always, irritatingly cheerful. Offensively so, even.

So it hadn't been a horrible, alcohol induced nightmare. Oh happy day. "Go and die," he suggested kindly.

"Glad to see some things don't change." Porthos sat down across from him, smirking gleefully. It was definitely a 'gleeful' smirk.

"What are you doing here?" More to the point, why couldn't he be somewhere else?

"Here in Port Royal? Well--"

"I know that much. Why are you here?"

"Ah, you mean here in this house."

"Yes, and?"

"And what?"

Rochefort counted backwards from ten in French, and then again in English, silently. Then, "Why are you here, in this house?"

"Dear cousin Armand had to see your Commodore. I thought I might drop by while he was at it," Porthos said amiably, clearly knowing exactly the effect his unwanted presence was having and quite enjoying it. "So this is your new lover, then, Cyclops?" Rochefort's preferences had become excruciatingly obvious right about the same time Aramis's little 'crisis of faith' did. Porthos tended not to think too deeply on that.

Rochefort snorted. "Hardly." And shut up before you get me hanged, he added mentally. That part he didn't say aloud, because no doubt Porthos would 'innocently' tell anyone who would hold still long enough if he told him not to.

Porthos waggled a finger at him. "Don't play the innocent with me, Monsieur Rochefort, I know you entirely too well."

"I think not."

"All right, Aramis knows you entirely too well. And I'm just taking advantage of an opportunity to mock you."

"Porthos? I'm willing to risk the noose if I get to run you through first."

The Musketeer grinned impudently, poked his tongue out, and then dove out of the study before Rochefort could hit him.

Will's expression was pensive -- sometimes Elizabeth thought he only had those few expressions, 'puzzled', 'pensive', 'panicky' and 'preposterously delighted'. "This isn't good."

Well, at least he had a decent grasp of the obvious. Oh, she did love Will, but he could be a little…dense, from time to time.

God knew it took him long enough to work out how she felt.

"Of course it isn't good!" she threw her hands in the air dramatically. "Can you imagine what'll happen if Jack meets Lieutenant Gillette's cousin?"

That clearly hadn't occurred to him. "Oh…oh…"

"Oh, dear." She finished, pouting. "We were going to go and visit him on our trip! This is completely absurd. And it wouldn't be a problem if he'd just do as he's told."

Will gave her a Look that reminded her of the absurdity of her last statement. Sometimes he wasn't as thick as all that.

"It can't be all that bad…"

Then again, sometimes he was.

"…and then I built a raft using two sea-turtles and the hair from my back…"

"…these boots were a gift to me from the tsarina of Tokyo…"

What happens when two pirates (well, one pirate and one 'famous' Musketeer) get together?

They attempt to drink each other under the table, that's what happens.

"So, whassis about Norr…Norring…Norre…that bugger and your mate?"

"He's no' my mate," Porthos slurred, shaking his head. "He's Aramis's--" he frowned, pensively, then shrugged back into the warm, alcoholic glow. "He's stayin' with the Commodore, on account of being ki'napped and stuck here."

"And he's pullin' the stick out me good mate the Commodore's arse?"

"Dun' wanna know what he plans on replacin' it with."

"Gotta meet this fellow, 'en."

There was a vague part of Porthos that thought perhaps this wouldn't be such a great idea, but it was beaten into submission by the fact he was drunk and bored -- and just about anything was going to sound like a good idea right about then.

Naturally, they weren't the only ones who had been drinking. Gautier Rochefort was enjoying a mildly alcoholic haze, half-curled in a chair in the study. When someone knocked on the door downstairs, he stumbled -- just a little, he was trying for self-control and almost succeeding -- down, and opened the door to find Porthos and a rather disreputable looking (if absurdly attractive) man.

"You didn' say he was all…" the man waved his hands about vaguely, "…bloody…walking sex…"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Bloody right!" the man leered.

"'Ello, Gautier," Porthos said cheerfully. "This is Jack. Jack, this is Gautier Rochefort."

"Thassa very pretty name," 'Jack' wandered in, draping an arm around Rochefort's shoulders.

Jack…Jack…Jack Sparrow? That was a name Rochefort had heard…did the man not realise he was standing in Commodore James Norrington's home? And that it was possibly the stupidest thing he could do?

Given his inebriated state -- Rochefort ignored the hypocrisy -- probably not.

Why should he enlighten him?

"Yours isn't."

Jack sniffed at him. "Y'smell like whiskey. Should try rum. Much be'er."

"I'll keep that in mind, mon ami." He steered them upstairs into the study, deciding this could be good for some amusement, or possibly blackmail.

Porthos passed out fairly quickly. However, 'Jack' held his booze with much more grace -- well… -- and hung on for most of the night.

The last thing Rochefort remembered was being told how pretty his eye was…

Norrington blinked. And then blinked again. Once he pinched himself and blinked. The apparition was not going away. 'Captain' Jack Sparrow was sitting in his dining room.

Stark bollocking naked.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?"

Rochefort stumbled down the stairs, tugging his shirt on as he went. Things became rapidly clearer to Norrington just what had been going on under his roof.

The Frenchman took one look at Jack and his expression clearly stated he didn't remember a thing, but was fairly sure he was going to regret it.

"I repeat," Norrington said, in a quieter, more dangerous voice, "what the hell is going on?"

Jack stood up, smiling brightly. "I think I'll just be taking my leave now--lovely to meet you, Gautier, must remember to thank Porthos!"

"Sit down."

Jack sat. Even he knew when not to argue, and that was a 'do not argue' voice. He leered absently at Rochefort's bared chest, more out of habit than anything else. "Calm down, Jamie, I'm not stealing your little friend away…looks of him, 'e doesn't even remember anyway. So I'll just be on my way, savvy?"

"No, Mr Sparrow, I do not 'savvy'. Why are you in Port Royal and why did you think I would not find you in my house?"

Rochefort buttoned up his shirt as they spoke, sighing. This was not good. This was definitely not good. Norrington looked furious -- jealous, maybe? No, don't be a fool -- and if he ended up swinging from the gallows because of this damn pirate…

"Seemed like a good idea at the time?"

"Get out. Get out."

Rochefort frowned. No, that wasn't right. Why wasn't Ja--Norrington arresting him? Not that he wanted anyone to get arrested (except possibly Porthos), but this wasn't going according to the script. This wasn't right, Norrington didn't act like this. He stayed quiet, though. For now. Strategic silence.

"Right you are. Mind if I get my clothes first?"

"Just get out, Sparrow."

He sounded more tired than anything else. Rochefort watched Jack go upstairs, then looked back over at him. "James--"

"You have until sunset to get out of my house. I do not care where you go."

"As you say, Commodore." If he didn't know any better, he'd say Norrington was jealous. He was acting exactly as Ara--

Not going there.

"Good."

Oh, hell. He had sunk to new lows. Gillette had no room for him, harboring Porthos and Aramis, and Groves simply didn't like him. Therefore, he was left going to the only other people he knew in this godforsaken, miserable place.

That's right.

"Hello, Madame Turner."

"Good evening, Mr Rochefort," she looked a little puzzled. "To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?"

He coughed, and began his request, not noticing the faint miaowing coming from his case.

Fear not, gentle readers, this isn't about to turn into Jack/Gautier. He's a cameo, not a star.