She watched Jack lose his battle with exhaustion, still clinging to James, and she composed herself as quickly as she could. Her plan was a good one, but it wouldn't even get afloat if she were without help. Having been solitary for so long, she found it almost amusing that she was now caught in such a complicated web – needing Jack most of all, needing James because he did, James needing their help for his very survival. Right now, she needed Jack's full attention.
In sleep, he was sunk in despair. Attitudes that buoyed him in life – assuredness and simple refusal to accept that things couldn't change for the better at any given moment, that it could really end like this – deserted him while he was adrift in his own unconscious mind. Normally she enjoyed wandering around in Jack's dreams, but now there were no interesting landscapes for him to explore, no enemies to vanquish, no puzzles to work out. He couldn't even bring himself to speak when she went to him and drew his head onto her shoulder.
"Shhh, my love," she murmured, laying her palm against the trapped flutterings of his heart. With her other hand she framed his gilded cheek. "Listen to me, Jack." When he tried to turn away, grief weighing heavy in his eyes, her grip tightened. "This is important, do you understand?"
"Aye," he replied, quiescent for once in his life. A selfish part of her was pleased that she could have this effect on him even now. Barbossa had never once listened to her, no matter how she pleaded or threatened.
"Bring your commodore to me," she told Jack, holding him steady. "We can't make a stand on this dry earth." He merely blinked back at her, concentration wavering, and she gripped him still tighter. "I know it will be difficult for you to remember this when you wake – damn nigh impossible – but you must, however you can."
Closing his eyes, Jack sucked his lower lip between his teeth. "Remember, remember," he murmured.
"Yes, that's it," she said, pressing her face to his, her mouth against his ear. "All tides go out, Jack. Everything comes back to the sea. Remember." She went on, whispering instructions to him, while he caught her about the waist and bobbed his head in compliance. Eventually she had to let go, leaving him muttering her words as she bled through the curtain between awake and asleep.
To her annoyance, Jack didn't follow. She paced until Elizabeth returned. The girl, seeing Jack slumped over in the chair, shut the door quietly and tiptoed over to him.
She groaned in frustration. He would have ample opportunity for rest once all this was over, but for now she needed him on his feet.
Fortunately Jack was a light sleeper, although Elizabeth tried to be unobtrusive as she transferred his arm to his lap. He squinted at her, confused.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," Elizabeth said. "You ought to go back to sleep."
Jack ran his fingers through his hair, or at least made an attempt. "No." He shook his head like a dog shaking off water. "No, 'm awake."
"Jack," Elizabeth scolded gently, "you'll do him no good by wearing yourself out."
That was true; there was only one way to do him good. She waited, attention focused on Jack.
For a moment she feared she'd be waiting a long time, because he didn't look anything but tired. Then he frowned, cocking his head as if listening to a voice only he could hear.
Yes, yes, yes – remember me...
Jack's face twisted with the effort and he scratched beneath his head-scarf. Elizabeth noticed and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Jack?"
"Somethin'...important," he murmured, pressing his knuckles to his chin. "Damn, I know it's there..."
"What's there, Jack?" Elizabeth spoke with a thread of fear. Understandable; he looked more than a bit mad, eyes wide and bloodshot, tugging on his braided beard.
"Just – stand still for a moment, Lizzie, an' let me think." She obeyed, watching apprehensively and jumping, startled, as he suddenly thumped his fist on the bed. "Tides. Tides go out. That's it."
Elizabeth backed away as he stood up and started pacing. "I'm sorry?"
"Where's Will and Claire? Back yet?"
"We're here," Will called from the hallway. He and Claire entered, exchanging a puzzled glance with Elizabeth, who could only shrug at Jack's strange behavior.
She couldn't bring herself to hope just yet. He hadn't really shown that he understood.
Jack came to an abrupt stop in front of Will. "Good," he said shortly. "You get his feet, I'll get his arms. Elizabeth, we'll need a loan of your father's carriage."
"What on earth do you mean to do with it?" Elizabeth wanted to know. "And what's this about moving James?"
"To th' Pearl," said Jack, grabbing his hat from the bedside table and jamming it over his head. "We are taking James aboard the Black Pearl."
Relief and a fresh wave of adoration swept over her. Even under circumstances such as these, he was still her clever Jack, and he trusted to his own instincts above all else – that and the sea.
Still, she had no cause for relaxing just yet. Getting the man there was only the beginning of the struggle.
"Well, James," said Jack, a mocking glint in his eyes, "s'ppose it's time we see who's t' come top." His eyes traveled lewdly down the commodore's body, and James shuddered. He glanced around; the men had backed off as he'd asked, though they were ready to step in if need be, and he and Jack were standing close enough that their low voices wouldn't be heard.
"Tell me one thing first," he said, swallowing bile. Jack twitched his eyebrows in a 'go on' motion. "Was this what you meant from the start?"
Jack pursed his lips thoughtfully, ignoring the fresh streaks of blood down his chin from the blow James had managed to land. "T' be perfectly honest with you, Jamie, no." He grinned cruelly at James's distaste for the diminuitive, both of them remembering well how many times his voice had cracked with passion on that one word. "I'd planned to run you around for awhile yet, keep you fooled, maybe get meself a letter of marque in the bargain. I like this cease-fire with your boys too much to see it ended. But that English beauty, well, she was a rich prize, mate. All the fancy folk aboard, the wealth o' spices – how could I pass that up, eh?"
"And the treatment of the passengers –" He paused, the scent of scorched flesh still heavy in his nostrils. "Was that your standard procedure, kept quiet for these two years?"
Jack shook his head, setting his trinkets to jingling. The emerald pendant James had given him flashed in the sunlight. "Partly, but y' might say I paid 'em some extra attention for your benefit." His laugh was genuine, light and easy, a sound that had once made James glad just to hear it. Now it only hardened his heart and sickened his stomach.
He had worried more than once about a situation like this, wondering if he would have the courage to do what was right, wondering if he even knew what right was. Now he had no more questions about right and wrong, and no doubt whatsoever about his ability to run the pirate through
It wasn't so easy as that, of course; Jack was adept with a sword, agile and quick and utilizing techniques from God only knew where. They were both sweating, Turner blades slippery in their hands, by the time James managed to find a chink in Jack's defense. He parried Jack's thrust with force enough to knock his arm aside, and plunged his sword into the other man's belly.
Jack let out a small 'oof,' swaying backward but staying upright. James would not do him the satisfaction of looking away from his astonishment and pain.
"Now we know, don't we," he murmured. The weathered hilt slipped through James's fingers to the deck. He didn't notice. He was searching for some hint, some sign that the man for whom he had lost himself had been more than a farce.
And he found it. Even as Jack's dark eyes began to grow dim, he tried to smile, crimson slipping past his lips. "I did love you, Jamie, in me own way."
"And I you, Jack," James whispered.
Before Jack could fall to the relatively quick death James had given him, he had one last surprise. Through some inexplicable vestige of strength and will, he raised his sword arm. Although his strike was weak, his aim was true; it did not take a powerful drive to send the point through James's heart.
About to cheer over their commander's victory, the assembled sailors cried out in alarm and darted forward. James fell, watching Jack do the same, gone before he hit the deck. He was aware of many faces blocking the light. Should have let the bastard hang, he thought, and then there was no more light to block.
Bringing his hand to his heart, James was distantly surprised to find it warm and beating, albeit far too rapidly.
"Now that was downright poetic," it purred. "Bravo. The players would weep at the chance to play your parts, if they could ever know the whole story."
He had promised her that he would be strong, but he could feel himself starting to slip. If only there was not such a wealth of material, if there were not so many ways for things to go wrong. It would be one thing if an end was in sight, but he was quite certain that it could go on rearranging the pieces of James's life for eternity. And she had not shown up again, with words of encouragement or the sight of Jack holding vigil over him.
How quickly would he notice if the breath simply stopped coming to that body? It was already nearly lifeless; Jack must have considered the possibility that James might not wake up. He might not have admitted it in a thousand years, but in his heart he must know how slim the chance was.
You faithless, ungrateful clod. His head whipped around, but she was nowhere in sight. It was only her voice echoing in his ears, low and waspish. You know very well he'd never give up on you. Honestly, what have I got to do to make you silly people believe in each other?
He started to speak, to mumble an apology
Don't do something so stupid as acknowledge me, James! He doesn't know I'm here, and he doesn't know where we are taking you, and I would really prefer to keep it that way, savvy? Now you buck up, young man, because I don't have time to keep nipping off to bolster your spirits. Just remember, when it happens: don't be afraid. That's the most important thing, James. You are not to fear him, or me, or Jack, or yourself.
When she departed, it was no clearer than when she had arrived, yet somehow James was aware of it. He didn't know how much time had actually passed, or indeed what she had meant by half of what she'd said.
"What now?" it said thoughtfully. "There are so many wonderful things I can show you, Commodore."
He must not be afraid, she had said, and also not to show any sign of rebellion. So he huddled in the dust, clutching his face, and he kept his fresh hope closely guarded.
"But Cap'n, it's madness!"
"I will be the judge of that, Mr. Gibbs," said Jack, fixing his quartermaster with a stern eye.
Anamaria wrung her hat in both hands, dark hair whipping about in the gust of wind. "The ship'll be torn apart, and us lost t' the deep!" she snapped.
"No." The strange calm Jack felt flooded his voice. He should have been taut with panic, at the onset of a storm rumbling on the horizon and his own orders that all souls take refuge in the hold. Instead he was busy tying himself to the wheel, using the rope left over from lashing James to the other side of the helm. He got the impression that she hadn't intended him to watch the proceedings, but he didn't mean to leave James now. There was no telling how confused and frightened he'd be when he woke; he deserved Jack there as the first thing he saw.
If it didn't work, and he didn't open his eyes...well, then at least the last thing he felt would be Jack's body close by.
"Jack, we ain't gonna agree t' this," said Gibbs, grabbing Jack's wrists in his large hands to still him.
Jack looked into the weathered, worried face of the man he was proud to call friend, and he said, "Joshamee, if you have ever trusted me b'fore, I'm asking you to trust me now."
Gibbs studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing against the early fall of rain. Finally his jaw clenched and he released Jack, shaking his head. "I'ma fool fer trustin' ye in the first place, Jack Sparrow, but damned 'f I'm gonna stop now. C'mon, Ana, we'd best go settle the men down."
The woman glared at Jack. "'F you get me killed 'fore you give me the ship I'm owed, I will hound you till kingdom come." She stalked off after Gibbs, muttering under her breath.
Jack grinned, tugging at the rope around his waist. "Got me a good crew this time around, James," he called over the rising gale. "'Twould be a shame if I steered 'em wrong."
Before he tied his right arm down, he reached behind his head to touch James's cheek, his brow, his lips. "I hope she's right," he said softly. "I'll answer for this if she isn't."
He withdrew his hand, letting James's head settle back into its droop, and stretched his bound arm to pull the last knot tight.
She was quite insulted to hear Jack's words of doubt. Rash though she could be, it wasn't as if she hadn't thought this through.
She just wasn't completely sure it would work.
He was surprised to see her, although he labored to hide it. James was balled up on the ground, head buried in his hands. "Changed your mind and come to join me, dear one?"
"I'm afraid not, precious," she replied, simpering at him.
He clucked in disappointment, lifting an eyebrow. "Too bad. I would much rather have preferred to see you at my side than at my mercy. Your funny little Sparrow would have made a lovely conduit for you, or that slayer who'll be dead before the year is out."
She ignored his self-satisfied preening. "I think I've had enough of your gabble. It's high time we settled this."
Aiden ran his thumb over the small collection of books in the Turners' sitting room. Most of them were inscribed with 'Elizabeth Anne Swann' and various dates in an elegant if hasty hand. Some bore her married name, and a few Will's bolder, more precise scrawl.
"I can't stand this waiting," said Claire in an aggrieved tone. "It's going to drive me mad."
"I do wish you would stop walking in circles," Aiden replied, abandoning the bookshelf to lower himself onto a sofa with a sigh. "You're making me dizzy."
To his surprise, she halted mid-stride. Avoiding his eyes, she picked her way over and sat next to him. He was pleased that his harsh words had apparently been forgiven, even if he couldn't fathom why. Claire was infamous for holding grudges. The last time they were in Vienna, she had gone ten days without saying a single word. He couldn't remember what particular infraction had prompted the treatment.
"How can they all stand it?" Claire asked.
"You mean the Turners, and the lieutenants?" At her nod, he shrugged. "There are ways of coping."
Claire snorted, having a good guess as to how the Turners dealt with their anxiety, and probably Gillette and Groves too. The two men had left earlier, worried and upset, and he sincerely doubted they had gone to their separate homes. Will and Elizabeth had retrieved young Billy from Norrington's house. After Aiden complimented the handsome child (and Claire treated him as a menace more frightening than any demon she'd faced), they had put him to bed and retired themselves. Claire and Aiden had taken a brief stroll down the street, leery of catching any errant noises from the second floor. There was only silence when they returned, as well as a few blankets left out for them.
Now she sat stiffly beside him and clasped her hands together, saying, "I hate feeling as though I haven't any control."
"I know," he said, not without sympathy. "It's your nature to desire control over a situation."
"Not just situations. My – my own feelings, too."
Aiden looked at her sharply. Her gaze was leveled down at her feet. He watched her toes curl in the thick rug, and realization dealt him a heart-stopping blow.
"Claire?" he said cautiously, hardly daring to hope.
"It's never going to be like this, you know," she said, indicating the interior of the room with one nervous hand. "And I can't promise I won't be unhappy, won't change my mind if I think we aren't doing the right thing."
He closed his eyes, reaching blindly for her hand. "I can live with that." When he felt composed enough to look at her again, he found her staring at him with desperate, searching eyes, her hands poised to touch his face.
"Aiden," she breathed, sounding hesitant. He leaned down to press his mouth to hers, stalling any further attempts to think better of this. He was sworn to guide and protect her, and if that meant guiding her into unfamiliar territory and protecting her from her own groundless fears about what she meant to him, then he would fulfill his duty to the utmost.
"Do you remember the day of your promotion to acting lieutenant?" Theodore laughed softly, puffing air against Andrew's neck. "James gave you that bottle of champagne in celebration, and you dropped it on the deck and ruined his shoes."
Andrew sat half-upright, pushing at the arms encircling him. "Don't," he said heatedly. "Don't talk about him as if he's gone."
"All right," said Theodore, soothing him with hands rubbing his back, lips against his jaw. "I'm sorry, love, I am."
Andrew shuddered once, drawing a deep breath, and tucked himself back against his lover's side. "Besides, it was his stockings that were ruined, and I bought him a new pair."
James couldn't quite tell what was going on, not in terms of seeing it or hearing it. All he had was a feeling in his gut, like he was being tugged in two different directions and he was bound to split. He wondered if this was what it would be like to have a limb amputated, or to be confined to the land for the rest of his days, or to lose the parts of himself that were bound up in Jack.
He wondered if Jack had felt like this when he lost her, and vice versa.
Don't be afraid, he heard, and You are a fine man, James, and It has been an honor being under your command, sir, and Port Royal is the better for your outstanding example, and As a boy, I wanted nothing more than to be like you.
He found the voice most dear and the words he would want to hear, right at this very moment, and he clung to it.
Don't let go.
The storm raged on.
Jack tried not to care which way the wind blew them. She had called up this storm; it was up to her to see them all through it. If she did, he would have been in her debt for the rest of his life, were the two of them not far beyond debts.
The stinging rain and occasional wave swept over the side made him keep his eyes closed tight. He twisted one hand in its constraints until he could find a mate for it.
He thought he heard James groan behind him, but it might have been the battered timber all around them.
"How are you..." He was almost too dumbfounded to be angry. More importantly, he was weakening. "How are you doing this?"
She pressed harder, searching for rough patches. "I told you, brother, that I had power at my disposal." Knowing he shrank from the earthly storm, she grinned impishly. "That'll teach you to be cocky, won't it?"
"You can't destroy me, not completely," he snarled, retreating yet further from her advances. "We were the same, long ago, and one cannot exist without the other."
"I'm well aware of that, and I'm not interested in destroying you, not once I've made sure you won't be able to touch these people again. All I want is the man." She let her voice rise to a shout, commanding him. "Give him to me!"
"No!" He cried out at the strain of his continued resistance.
She sighed. Stubborn to the last, but then, it was a trait that seemed to attract itself. "Then I shall take him." Apologies, James, she thought in his general direction. Jack will make it up to you, I promise.
Reaching for him, she pulled.
Jack made an effort to mind his own business, but in the end he couldn't keep himself from looking to see what damage was being done, and if the end was in sight.
He opened his eyes, raised his head, and saw the belaying pin coming straight for him.
"Damn," he managed to say, before it landed solidly on his head.
James screamed at the agony surpassing all of what had come before. Water ran into his mouth, choking him. He coughed raggedly, wishing he could free his arms so that he could bend over properly. His body ached, the swollen ropes cutting into his skin –
Ropes. Ropes, and the taste of saltwater, and the chill of being soaked to the bone, and solid wood beneath his shoes, and –
Jack's hand in his own.
He craned his neck, seeing a dark mane at the edges of his vision. "Jack?" The fingers in his grip were limp, and Jack did not stir upon hearing his name. Not being able to see him, James squeezed his hand tightly.
"Hello?" he called to the silent ship, now rocking gently on a placid sea. "Is there anyone here?"
He heard the creak of a hatch being opened, but couldn't see the stocky, middle-aged man until he'd come around the helm.
"Good t' see ye again, Commodore," said Joshamee Gibbs.
Will didn't sleep well when it rained, much less during a violent storm. Elizabeth took great care in comforting him, kneading the tenseness from his shoulders, until he finally drifted off with an arm slung across her. When she tried to do the same, she found herself staring at the ceiling overheard, beset by worry.
She was still awake when the storm broke, bringing with it that eerie post-apocalyptic calm. It was over, one way or another.
Listening to the patter of the last of the rain, she knew there was no way to know what had happened, not until the Pearl returned.
Nevertheless, when she came back to bed after checking on the baby, she draped herself over Will's muscled back and immediately feel asleep.
In the end, she didn't destroy him; he had been right about that.
But once she pulled James free, she didn't worry about him, either.
She was too tired to feel much, though she did look fondly on the sight of James lowering Jack to his bed. Jack turned to him, seeking warmth, and James hesitated a moment before he slipped beneath the covers. Mindful of Jack's bandaged head, he sank back into the pillows and held him close.
Good boys, she thought, surrendering to a yawn.
He was there when she nestled against Jack, although not completely. He hovered between sleep and awake, needing genuine rest but afraid of losing touch again. She waited patiently until she could feel him on the fringes of their embrace.
Lifting her head from Jack's shoulder, she crooked a finger at him. Slowly, his arms went around them both.
"James," Jack murmured drowsily. Their fingers laced together at the small of her back, James's hand over Jack's.
The three of them were content to lie still, wrapped up together in the scent of the sea.
"Oh good, you're awake."
"Shouldn't I be tellin' you that?" Raising himself up on one elbow, Jack winced at the throbbing pain in his head.
James smiled that sweet, secret smile at him, perching on the edge of the bunk. "How are you feeling?"
"Again I say, other way 'round," Jack retorted, poking him in the thigh.
"I'm fine," he said, nudging Jack aside so that he could stretch out next to him. Jack climbed halfway on top of him without delay, delighting in the rumble of a laugh beneath his cheek. "Though not for lack of trying."
"And the others? They were worried 'bout you too, y'know."
James traced the pattern of scars on his back. "I've spoken with them. Claire and Aiden are...interesting, aren't they? They're all extremely relieved to find us both in one piece – well, more or less," he amended, gingerly touching Jack's bandage. The lump beneath it had stopped bleeding quickly, though now it was swollen to the size of an egg and throbbed irregularly.
Somehow, when James was gazing down at him like that, he couldn't find it in himself to care about the pain.
"I could never repay what you've done for me," he said in a low, earnest voice.
Jack tugged on his earlobe. "Oh, I can think of only one thing that would satisfy me."
"Jack, you're injured," James said reproachfully.
"Not that, mate – my, what a deviant mind we have!"
James had the misplaced decency to blush. "What, then?"
Jack raised his head, wanting to be able to look him squarely in the eye. "Love me. For as long as we're both on this earth."
"I do, Jack," James whispered, green eyes burning suspiciously bright before he closed them. "Against all my better judgement, I do love you."
Deciding that he wouldn't take offense at that judgement comment, Jack kissed a path back to his ear and said into it, "I love you too, you silly prig. Just in case 's not obvious already, or you're fool enough t' doubt it." And to make the message perfectly clear, he proceeded to kiss him into a state of insensible bliss.
When they broke for air, James reached up to touch the worn, smooth wood above their heads. ""She's truly beautiful, your Pearl."
"'Course she is," said Jack smugly.
Flattery will get you everywhere, gentleman. How does a nice private beach off the coast sound?
"Did you hear something?"
"Yeah. You get used t' it."
