Disclaimer: I don't own anything from PotC.
A/N: Well, I'm back from my vacation, and, as promised, I wrote a lot while I was away. As always, thank you so much to all of my reviewers, and I hope this chappy was worth the wait.
Chapter Eighteen:
"I believe they call that poetic justice," Prescott said.
"Prescott!" Ana exclaimed, her tone somewhat scolding, and very surprised.
"It's alright, Maria," Chris soothed. "Your brother is entitled to his opinion."
Prescott raised his chin, his blue eyes cold, hard and fixed on her husband. He was holding back, probably for her sake. But what was he holding back? It was no great secret that Prescott and Chris had never really seen eye to eye. They disagreed with each other on almost every professional aspect of their lives, but Prescott had never shown such outright contempt for her husband.
Perhaps his judgment was a bit clouded. Her brother did look awful. Blood was covering the entire right side of his face. His jacket was gone and the sleeves had been ripped from his shirt, revealing an ugly wound on his forearm. Whatever had happened to him would put even a saint in a foul mood, and her brother was by no means a saint. Where in the world had he been?
"Chris," Ana started. "A moment alone with my brother?"
Prescott's eyes finally came to rest on his little sister. Gone was the icy glare, replaced by the gentle kindness that Ana had always seen in his face.
"Of course," Chris said. "I'll be in our cabin."
Our cabin? That phrase made Ana more than a little uncomfortable, but she said nothing. Silently she watched as Chris left the room. Prescott was leaning against the doorframe and made no move to allow Chris to pass. Glancing back at Ana, Chris' eyebrows rose in a what-did-I-do-to-deserve-this expression as he slide through the small space that her brother had left in the doorway.
As soon as Chris was gone, Ana closed the space between them. She had been momentarily irritated by his callousness towards Chris, but now she was just happy to see Prescott safe. Wrapping her arms around him, she buried her face in the tattered remains of his shirt. Prescott returned the embrace, and Ana was taken off guard by the way her big brother was using her smaller frame for support.
"Prescott, what happened to you?" she asked, pulling away. "Were you on that East India ship?"
He nodded. "They thought I was a pirate," he said, holding up his arm.
Ana felt an ache in her chest as she realized what the ugly wound meant. Her brother, celebrated hero of the Royal Navy, had been branded a pirate. "Oh, God, Pres, I'm so sorry. This is all –"
"Your fault?" Prescott finished her thought. "Yes, it is."
Ana gazed up at him through tear-filled eyes. He was smiling. Ana closed her eyes releasing the tears she had been willing not to fall. She laughed, "Thanks for trying to make me feel better."
Prescott shrugged. "It's all over, now," he said. "Suppose I could just get a couple tattoos and start calling everyone 'luv."
Ana's eyes shot open. "Jack was with you?"
"Aye, luv. He was."
Placing her hands on her hips, Ana tried to produce an intimidating stare. "Better tell me where he is, or I'll make you walk the plank."
Prescott's eyebrow rose, "James put him in the brig."
"You let him arrest Jack?" the frightening glare on her face was now all her own.
Holding his hands up defensively, Prescott said, "Don't be angry. I promised him that I'd get him out, and I intend to do just that."
"You . . . You promised him?"
"A lot has happened while you were off with old Lucky Laffley," Prescott said, by way of an explanation as he made his way to the makeshift examining table set up across the room, and eased his battered body into a sitting position.
Ana crossed her arms in front of her chest. A storm had flashed in Prescott's eyes when he mentioned her husband. He was her older brother. He was overprotective and constantly worrying about her safety. Finding out that her dead husband was alive would make him mad. He would not like the fact that she had mourned needlessly. But, there had to be something else. Prescott was a fair man. Ana would have thought that her brother would give Chris the benefit of the doubt, and hear her husband's story before passing judgment. He would have told Ana to do the same. In the past, Prescott had always personified the voice of reason. Why then did he seem so infuriated by Chris' reappearance?
More than this, however, what had happened between Jack and Prescott? Last year, Prescott had looked the other way and allowed the pirate to escape from Kingston. He had done many things that were considered unlawful. Those things he had done to protect his little sister. He did not care one way or the other for the pirate. Prescott had only helped him, because Ana had been just as guilty as Jack.
Prescott had not been furious at Ana for helping the pirate. He had understood her motivations, probably a bit better than she would have liked. He had stepped back and let her follow her heart. But, now something was different. Prescott had given Jack his word that he would free him from British custody. Why?
"Jack is in the brig?" Ana said, not quite ready to voice the thousands of other questions swimming in her head.
Prescott nodded rubbing his bloodied temples.
"Do you think they'll let me see him?"
"He saved my life," Prescott said, "tell them you'd like to see the man responsible for my safe deliverance from evil."
A small smile played around Ana's lips. "Have you always been this good at . . ."
"Lying?" Prescott grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know."
88888
Unbuttoning his sorry excuse for a shirt, Prescott gingerly examined the bruises that had begun to form on his abdomen. Where in the name of heaven was that surgeon?
Sighing, Prescott stared across the room to where Chris and Annie had been standing. Physically, Chris had hardly changed in the two years since his "death," but, to Prescott, Captain Christopher Laffley was a stranger. Looking in his brother-in-law's eyes, he no longer saw goodness or kindness. Instead, he saw the cold indifference of a man who spent his entire life lying to the people that loved him. And now, that liar was trying to weasel his way back into Annie's heart.
Shuddering, Prescott recalled the way Chris had been looking at Annie. To anyone else, he was the devoted husband happy to be reunited with his one true love, yet heartbroken that their reunion was to be short lived. Prescott shook his throbbing head. Chris Laffley may be a lying scoundrel, but he was no fool. He knew Annie. He knew how to play to her affections.
Most likely Chris had concocted some plausible explanation for turning pirate. Maybe he even told Annie that he thought it was better, or safer, that he stay away. He probably tried to tell her that he was protecting her, somehow. Sure, Annie would be angry, what wife would not be in the same situation. She would yell. She would cry. But Annie had been in love with Chris once, enough to forsake all others.
And now, Chris Laffley was dying.
Prescott did not know if this was the truth or another lie. Not that it really mattered. Either way, Chris' eminent demise was actually the ace up his sleeve. Annie had a good heart. She did not like to see people hurting. She would forgive Chris, if only so he could die with all of his debts repaid. Then, figuring her husband was not long for this world, she may even decide to honor her wedding vows. Even if she had moved on with her life and no longer loved him, she would allow Chris to accompany her back to Kingston to die in his own home. Believing that she was doing right, she would fulfill her "to death do us part" promise, hisrealdeath.
Glancing down at the swollen "P" that would forever mar his skin, Prescott's thoughts wandered down to the brig.
Jack Sparrow, a man who had started his life in the King's service just as Prescott. He had been a loyal officer. His actions during the fateful pirate attack would have warranted praise and promotion. He could have been post captain. He would have been given the respect that Prescott knew he deserved anyway.
Instead, Chris Laffley had left him to die on a sinking ship. And now an honorable man lay in the dark hold of a vessel that he could have captained.
Letting his mind wander, Prescott saw the prison yard ofla Cerradura.He remembered the pirate covered in his own blood. He remembered watching that pirate, on death's door, stand up against Don Cornado to defend Annie. The pirate's pain filled screams from the brig of the East India ship echoed in his ears, and Prescott found himself wondering if Captain Laffley would ever suffer so much on Annie's behalf.
Letting out a ragged breath, Prescott closed his eyes. He knew that Annie would forgive Chris. She would not see the harm in letting him spend his few remaining days as her husband, but the damage would be done. Jack Sparrow was not a trusting man and as such he valued loyalty very highly and was deeply affected by betrayal. What would Annie's decision do to him?
Despite the very vocal protests of his brutalized muscles, Prescott stood up and walked out of the sick berth, without waiting for the surgeon. His own injuries would have to wait. He never thought he would care about a pirate, but he did care about Jack.
In the spans of three days, Jack had been the brother that Chris Laffley could never have been. Jack Sparrow cared for Annie. He had risked his ship and his life to help Prescott find his sister. Blinking away the horrors of Captain Voller's torture room, Prescott strode up to the cabin that Laffley was occupying with Annie. Prescott was not going to stand by and watch a good man suffer while a man like Laffley got everything he wanted. Without knocking, Prescott threw open the cabin door.
Chris, who had been sitting on the bed, instantly jumped to his feet at the sudden intrusion. Standing a few inches taller than his brother-in-law, Prescott glared down at Chris.
"Brother," Laffley said, his tone condescending.
"You were never that," Prescott growled unable to contain his contempt for the man that he had mistakenly allowed to marry his sister.
All traces of geniality ran from Chris' face. "Interesting wound," he said, gesturing to Prescott's arm. "You really are the last person I ever expected to fly the black flag. I thought you were a man of honor."
"What do you know of honor . . . Lucky?"
He tried, but Chris could not keep the look of surprise from materializing on his face.
"So sorry. Did I forget to mention that?" Prescott mocked, producing a self satisfied smirk, despite the waves of pain that movement sent shivering through his aching head. "Well, Chris, I know a bit about what you've been up to these past few years. And I know the truth, not that sob story that you fed James and my sister."
The sinister smile came back to Laffley's face. "Maria knows where I've been. She knows that I was a pirate, by choice not necessity. She has simply decided not to tell Mr. Norrington."
Prescott was disappointed to hear that Annie was helping Chris feed James his lies, but he was undeterred. "Knows the truth, does she?"
Chris nodded smugly.
"Well, that's good. Saves me the trouble of telling her how 4th lieutenant Laffley really became Captain Laffley." Hoping that Chris would not be able to resist taking the bait, Prescott turned and headed out the door.
"Wait," Chris said. "What are you talking about?"
Facing Laffley, Prescott smiled coldly. "Oh, yes, Chris. I've learned an awful lot about you these past few days," he said. "Was promotion so important that you would leave a fellow officer bleeding on the deck of a sinking ship?" Prescott paused.
Chris' expression hardly changed. He did not throw up his arms and admit defeat or fall to his knees and beg Prescott to keep his secret. But, something did change. Prescott held all of the cards, and Chris knew it.
"Tell her, Chris," Prescott said, his voice a harsh whisper. "Or I will."
88888
Ana walked hesitantly down the steep stairs that led to theInterceptor'sbrig. Only two marines guarded the top of the staircase, and feeding them some story about wanting to see a "real, live" pirate had not been difficult. At the bottom of the stairs, Ana let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Some twenty feet away, a candle was burning surrounding two men in a warm yellow circle of light. One man wearing a Navy uniform stood, fumbling with something too small for Ana to see. A second man, who Ana assumed was Jack, sat on a table with his shirt removed and his back facing her. Neither had noticed Ana.
Taking a deep breath, she walked towards the lighted area with what she hoped looked like confidence. When she had been searching for Jack in Tortuga, Ana could not wait to find him. Now, she was frightened to face the pirate who had once again suffered so much on her behalf.
"Pardon me, Sir," Ana addressed the Navy man just before the needle he had been fumbling with pierced the torn flesh around Jack's wrist. The pirate did not move to face her.
"Aye, mum?" The sailor looked extremely nervous, being caught between a woman and a pirate.
"You are not the surgeon."
"No, mum. I'm the sailmaker's mate. The surgeon refused to tend to a . . ." the sailor paused glancing at Jack. "The surgeon couldn't come down, so 'e sent me."
"I thought as much," Ana said, hoping her instant dislike for the surgeon did not come through in her voice. "My father was a physician. Captain Norrington asked that I come down and supervise your treatment of this man's lacerations, but I think perhaps, I should perform the sutures myself." Ana intentionally mentioned Norrington's name and used as many big words and medical terms as she could remember in hopes that the sailor would think he was in over his head.
"Yes, mum. That sounds like a fine idea," the sailor said before he practically ran out of the brig.
Finally, Ana was alone with Jack, and for the first time she noticed what he was wearing, or rather, not wearing. The pirate was naked from the waist up, and in spite of the cuts and bruises that dotted his torso, he was quite a capturing sight. Jack was a lean man with deeply bronzed skin pulled taut over a perfectly muscled chest, and Ana suddenly discovered the brig to be slightly warmer than when she had first entered the room.
"Jack," she said.
For the first time in months, Ana stared into the fathomless eyes of the infamous pirate. His expression was guarded, as usual. The dark kohl that lined his tired eyes was smudged, and a bruise was beginning to form on his cheek. Every fiber of her being wanted to pull Jack close and hold him until they arrived in Kingston, but something inside wasn't letting her give in to her impulse.
"Anamaria."
His voice was weary, but her name still never sounded so right as when spoken by Jack. She half expected him to make some joke about her wanting to get him alone and in the dark, but he didn't. Instead, he just raised his hand to her cheek and held her in his mesmerizing gaze.
Ana stood lost in his eyes for what could have been days before noticing that Jack's hand was shaking, almost imperceptibly. Frowning, Ana took in the sight of the bandage wrapped around his forearm, no doubt covering a pirate brand to match Prescott's, and the deep purple bruises encircling his shoulder.
"Is this dislocated?" she asked, her worry and concern breaking the spell.
"Was," he answered, dropping his hand. "Your brother reset it."
Ana's eyebrow arched. "Prescott?"
The pirate nodded.
"Very trusting. Prescott's medical knowledge is rather . . . limited."
"So, he told me," a smile passed over Jack's lips. "After the fact."
Ana laughed softly. "Well, I'm glad he tried to help. I was worried that he did that himself," she chuckled, remembering her brother's attitude towards the pirate during their last encounter.
"He's not so bad, actually," Jack said, glancing down to his feet. "Might've misjudged 'im."
"Why Jack Sparrow, you're beginning to sound as though you actually like my brother."
"I think ol' Scotty's starting to like 'imself," he answered cryptically.
"Scotty?" Tell me you didn't call him that to his face."
The pirate produced a devilish grin. "I did."
Ana whistled quietly. Scotty? Prescott hated nicknames. If someone wanted to address her brother, they could call him Captain Tarret, or Prescott if they happened to be a close acquaintance. Not to say that Prescott forced people to call him by his title, but he had always been a man who commanded respect. People called him Captain, because anything less just never seemed right. What in the world must have happened between her brother and the pirate that could result in such a changed attitude in both men?
Not knowing how to comment on the matter, Ana picked up the needle and took the pirate's wrist in her hands. Jack flinched beneath her light touch, and her heart nearly broke for the injuries he must have sustained on her account. Steeling herself against her emotions, Ana leaned towards the light, and set to work.
"You never told me that you had another brother," Jack said, probably trying to keep his mind off of the needle.
His words, however, caused her to stop suddenly, her eyes flashing to the pirate's. "Prescott told you about Findley?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Mentioned him, why?"
Ana blinked a few times, slightly stunned. "It's just that . . . well . . . Prescott doesn't talk about Fin . . . at all."
"No?" Jack said, his voice hitching as Ana resumed sewing up his battered wrists.
"No," she said, remembering the hollow look in her eldest brother's eyes at Findley's funeral. "Prescott always blamed himself for Fin's death."
"Why?"
"When Fin joined the Navy, Prescott was a lieutenant on Admiral Fornin's flagship. Prescott requested that Fin be stationed on the same ship, because he had promised their mother that he would look after Fin." Ana sighed. "The flagship was caught in a battle, and Findley was killed. He died in Prescott's arms."
"He was young, then?"
"Fifteen. He'd been in the Navy for six months," Ana paused. Closing her eyes, she could still see the smile on Findley's face when he had picked her up, spun her around, and told her that he was going to serve on the same ship as their big brother. He had whooped and hollered through the whole house, even kissing the maid he was so excited. "He always wanted to be just like Prescott," she said, her voice tinged with sadness.
"A lofty goal," Jack commented.
Ana's eyebrow seemed to raise of it's own volition in reaction to the respect in Jack's voice. Securing the final stitch, Ana let her fingers wander up the pirate's forearm, stopping just below the bandage. "What happened to you, Jack?" she asked, her voice soft.
Snatching his arm back from her touch, Jack sighed and lowered his eyes.
Ana regarded the pirate. She remembered the way he had stood up to Don Cornado time and time again, even after what that barbarian had done to him. But, she also remembered the haunted look in his eyes when he had awoke from a nightmare in her house. Jack Sparrow was a strong man who probably laughed in the face of danger, but he was clearly not invincible. Placing her hand on Jack's shoulder, Ana tried to come up with the words to comfort a man who had just had his "crimes" burned into his skin. Closing her eyes, Ana took the pirate's hand in her own and laced her fingers through his. "Courage, Captain, do not stumble though thy path be dark as night. There is a star to guide thee. Let the road be dark and dreary and its end far out of sight. Face it bravely, strong or weary. Trust in God, and do the right."
Opening her eyes after reciting the words to the prayer that had helped Jack through prison, Ana tentatively met the pirate's gaze. One side of his mouth curled into a smile. Leaning over, he placed a kiss on the top of her hand, sending shivers up and down her spine. "Thank you," he said.
"Annie?"
Cursing under her breath, Ana reluctantly let go of Jack's hand to face the intrusion. "James," she greeted, holding her voice even as though she were exactly where she was supposed to be doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing.
"Annie, what –"
"I'm tending to Mr. Sparrow's wounds," Ana said before James could finish his question. "I think that I am more fit to the task than the boy who repairs your sails." Cocking her head to one side, Ana placed her hands on her hips.
Norrington's face colored slightly. Even he had the good grace to appear embarrassed by his surgeon's thoughtless behavior. "Yes, well," James stuttered, "You should have asked me first."
Ana pursed her lips. She should have asked the Captain's permission before traipsing through his ship, but she knowing that his answer would be "No," Ana skipped that step.
Clearing his throat, Norrington shifted his gaze to the pirate. "I've just finished interrogating Captain Voller about this incident. His version is quite different from the one that Prescott gave me." Jack's black eyes rose to meet the accusation in James' voice, but he said nothing. "As I am unable to find Captain Tarret at present, your account of this business will have to do, for now."
"Very gracious, mate."
"James," Ana interrupted before Norrington had a chance to continue. "Do you mean to tell me that you would take the word of that filth over the word of my brother?"
"Captain Tarret has given me reason in the past to be wary of his word," James replied, his voice emotionless. "If you would, Mr. Sparrow. Were you captured before Captain Tarret was brought aboard, or at the same time?"
"At the same time?" Ana repeated. "That would mean you're accusing my brother of –"
"Lying, interfering with the pursuit of a known criminal, engaging in acts of piracy, and treason."
Treason. Ana swallowed the word and it sat like a lead ball in the pit of her stomach.
"So, you've spoken withCaptainVoller," Sparrow started, "and now you are willing to completely change your mind about him and condemn your friend based on the words of a pirate?"
Norrington rolled his eyes. "Answer the question Sparrow," he said in his loftiest aristocratic tone.
For a few uncomfortable seconds, Jack simply stared silently at the Naval officer. "Captain Tarret is a man of honor," he said finally. "What reason does an honorable man have to lie?"
Ana had to stifle the urge to expel the breath she had been holding since Norrington made his inquiry. For some reason, she was relieved by Jack's words. Her brother was a man of honor, but he was also a man of cunning. Last year, when he had turned his head and let a wanted man sail out of Kingston, he had somehow managed to receive commendation from Admiralty for bringing down a Spanish brute, rather than the reprimand he probably deserved. Ana had absolutely no idea how Prescott had come to be on the East India vessel with Jack. However, she was equally certain that James Norrington didn't know either, no matter what Prescott had told him.
James nodded stiffly. For the present, Jack's answer seemed to satisfy. "I will have more questions," James paused directing a glance at Ana, "later."
"Please, don't stop on my account," she said, crossing her arms.
"Annie, what I have to ask Mr. Sparrow may be . . . shocking to you and –"
"James, after what I've seen these past few days. I seriously doubt that anything you have to say will shock me."
Norrington sighed. "Really, Annie I don't –"
"He's trying to tell you that I killed a man," Prescott's voice cut through James' ramblings like a pistol shot. Stepping into the light, Prescott's icy glare was heightened by the shadows cast on his face. "He's going to try to tell you that my actions were unjustified."
"What?" Ana did not know how to respond to her brother. His eyes were hard as stone. He was furious, and his fury was directed at James Norrington.
"Tell me," Prescott went on. "What would you have done in my situation."
"Prescott," Norrington's voice almost pleaded with her brother, "the man's face was all but unrecognizable."
"I'm sorry, James. I was unaware that the course of action I took to save my own life would offend your delicate sensibilities."
"For heaven's sake, Prescott, that isn't all. There's a man aboard that ship with only one arm. He claims that your sailing master was shot because he attacked this man, Sutton."
Prescott threw up his hands. "Would you listen to yourself for a minute. They had two ships. They put a shot across our bow. I hove to. They boarded. We were outnumbered easily two to one. What man in his right mind would launch an attack with those odds!"
"Where is your uniform, Prescott?"
"Probably on my ship, James," Prescott perfectly mimicked the derogatory tone that Norrington was using. "Voller told me that I could keep my epaulettes if I wanted to be immediately hanged as a spy along with my whole crew, or I could remove my uniform. In which case, my crew would sail back to Kingston, and I would take my chances aboard Voller's ship. I decided that the lives of my men were worth the price of a new uniform."
Somehow, Ana knew that Prescott was lying, but she found herself very impressed with the fervor and quality of his deception. She also found herself wondering what in the world Prescott was hiding.
"Prescott –"
"Voller thinks my men are pirates, James. He is taking them to Kingston, a city full of pirate-haters. If we do not get there beforeLoyalty, then my men will die at the end of a rope in the town square, disgraced."
"I am aware –"
"I don't give a damn what you are and are not aware of. I would like to make you aware of the fact that Admiralty will be none to pleased to hear that instead of rushing to the aid of my crew you were down in the brig trying to satisfy some personal grudge against a pirate that embarrassed you over a year ago!" Prescott snarled. "God help you if your pettiness cost's those men their lives, because I don't know how you'll sleep at night."
Ana wasn't sure if Prescott's mentioning Admiralty was the straw that broke Norrington's back, or not. Whatever the case, James ceased questioning her brother and left the brig shouting orders to let out more sail so that they would reach Kingston sooner.
"I don't think you and James will be on speaking terms by the time we get to port," Ana mused once Norrington was out of earshot.
Prescott raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Right now all I want a few bandages, maybe some brandy, and a long nap," he sighed. "So, if the two of you can keep yourselves out of trouble for a few hours, I would appreciate it."
Ana smiled as her brother walked away. She had a thousand questions for him, but she could at least allow him time to see to his injuries. Turning back to Jack, Ana said, "Am I going to be surprised by how well my brother lies?"
The pirate's dark eyes sparkled. "That depends, luv. How well do ye think 'e lies now?"
Ana did not answer, once again she found herself swimming in the depths of Jack's eyes. For a moment, she decided to let her emotions get the better of her self control. Placing her hand on Jack's neck beneath his long brown hair, Ana closed her eyes and caught his lips with her own. The dimly lit room seemed to explode into a chaotic mix of light and sound. The skin on Ana's cheeks seemed to ignite when the pirate placed his calloused hands on either side of her face.
Pulling away, Ana stared into Jack's eyes and smiled broadly. "Happy Birthday, Jack Sparrow."
TBC
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