Disclaimer: Jack, Ana, and Norrington are not mine. Oh well, at least I have Prescott.
A/N: Well, you all were so angry about me throwing Jack and Prescott into the ocean, that I decided to give you an update as soon as I finished writing it. But, I will not respond to threats in the future, so just hold your horses :-) Anyway, threatening or otherwise, I do appreciate all of the reviews for the last chapter.
Chapter Twenty Five:
"Stay in the cabin, and don't move till I come get you," Anamaria mumbled under her breath, perfectly imitating the condescending tone that Prescott had used when he instructed her to get below.
She did not know why he had to treat her like such a helpless, dainty damsel in distress. Maybe if Bridget were here, she would be completely useless and have to confine herself to a cabin to avoid danger. But, Ana was most definitely not Bridget. Prescott had taught Ana how to use a sword. He had even been a bit impressed with how quickly she had learned how to use the weapon. Certainly she could do something more productive than pace back and forth in the Captain's quarters.
She stopped pacing and glanced at the door. Prescott would be angry. She had promised to stay in the cabin and not come out, but he would not seriously believe that she would honor that promise. When had she ever in her life listened to Prescott? True, every time that she disobeyed her eldest brother's wishes, she usually ended up in some sort of trouble, and he had to come and rescue her. That, however, was beside the point. She recommenced pacing.
The point was, Ana never did what she was told. Prescott probably expected her to leave the cabin. He would not be at all surprised. Maybe he even wanted her to come up on deck . . . Maybe that was stretching it a bit. She paused again, to look at the door. Approaching the closed door, Ana tried the knob. She half expected Prescott to have ordered it bolted from the other side. It creaked open. Ana poked her head out the door and scanned for guards.
There were none. She walked into the corridor. She could hear the sounds of fighting on the Nefarious.
What would it hurt if she just stood up on deck instead of down in this cabin? All of the pirates were too concerned with saving their wretched hides to notice one woman on the quarterdeck. Ana sneaked above deck and climbed the stairs. Her eyes scanned Nefarious in search of her brother. He was not hard to spot, for he was running full speed from one end of the ship to the other. Where in the world – "Jack!" Ana heard herself scream as she watched Jack's body tumble over the side of the deck and into the stormy sea. Seconds later, Prescott dove into the churning waters after him.
"Dear God," she exhaled, crossing herself.
"Maria?" Chris' voice, he was yelling something, but Ana could not tear her eyes away from the spot where the two men she cared for above all others had disappeared beneath the surface of the angry sea. She hurried down the stairs towards the side of the small pirate ship. Peering over the rail, she still could not see any sign of Prescott or Jack.
"Maria?" This time Chris' voice was much closer. His hand was on her shoulder, though she took little comfort in his touch.
"Jack," she said absently. He must have been hurt. Why else would he just fall into the water?
"Who?"
"Captain Sparrow," Ana clarified, "and Prescott . . ." Her brother had just leapt into the black water after the pirate. No nonsense. No contemplation. He just jumped.
"In the water?"
Ana nodded. Where were they? Why hadn't they surfaced yet? What was taking so long?
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, damn it," she screamed, turning on her husband, and swatting his hand off of her arm. "I'm sure. I saw it with my own eyes."
Chris held up his hands defensively. "Alright, fine," he said.
"Well!" Ana shouted, her anger flaring. "Aren't you going to do something?"
"What would you have me do?" he asked.
"They could be hurt!" Ana yelled hands on her hips, "and you're just going to stand here and do nothing?"
"You want me to attempt to rescue your brother and your new lover?" Chris said. "Surely, you don't really expect me to do that."
"Bastard!" Ana's hand flew back of it's own volition, but she was the one who brought it down hard on the side of her husband's face.
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In the seconds before he leapt off of the ship, Prescott hardly felt the deck beneath his feet. If someone were to ask him later, he would have sworn that he flew from one end to the other. Instinct had completely taken over. He forgot that only a year ago, he could not have cared less if the pirate had lived or died. Hell, last week he would not have shed a tear for Jack Sparrow. He cared nothing for the fact that the man was a criminal, who's life should be forfeit anyway. The only thought in Prescott's mind was that he had given that criminal, that pirate, his word. He had promised Jack Sparrow that he would deliver him from all of the trouble that he had brought down upon him.
When Prescott had entered the service, he would have said anything to a pirate, made any promise, in an effort to bring that pirate to justice. Justice at the end of a rope surrounded by a crowd of people who did not want anything to do with who the pirate used to be, or who that pirate still was deep down. In the past few days, Prescott had seen Jack Sparrow in a different light. He had seen the Jack Sparrow who would drop everything to try to save Annie's life. He had seen the Jack Sparrow who's potential life in the King's Navy was stolen from him years ago. And, he had seen the Jack Sparrow who had risked so much by letting himself trust Prescott.
That was the man to whom he had given his word. This was one promise to a pirate that Prescott was going to keep.
The Caribbean sea was as dark and angry as the storm over head. The water was uncharacteristically cold. The saltwater found every cut and scratch on his body and burned and stung his numerous injuries. It poured in his ears, flowed up his nose, and pricked his eyes as thousands of tiny daggers. Using every ounce of strength he possessed, Prescott forced himself to swim faster and deeper. He was not going to let Jack hang, and he certainly was not going to let the best sailor he knew be swallowed up by the sea that he loved.
All at once, he caught sight of something light just in front of him. Flailing wildly, Prescott managed to catch hold of the light. Pulling upwards with every fiber of his being, the light turned into the pirate's arm. With no time to thank God, Prescott turned and kicked as hard as he could towards the surface. His progress was greatly hampered by the pirate in his arms. Jack was not helping. He was not swimming. He may not even be . . . No. Swim! Prescott urged his tired body up. His strength was failing him. His limbs ached.
Just as the thought crossed his mind that he was not going to make it, he broke the surface and hauled himself and the pirate out of Death's reach.
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Nursing his reddened face, Chris' eyes met his wife's. Anamaria saw his face, the very same face that she had looked into as she promised that she would love him only, and forsake all others. She saw the same light brown eyes that had sparkled, as he made the same vow. His lips were parted in disbelief, the very same lips that Ana had kissed two years ago as Chris boarded the Intrepid for his last voyage as her Captain. The lips she had ached to kiss again. Everything about him was the same as the man who had loved her unconditionally, but she knew now, as he stood staring back at her, that Chris Laffley was dead. She was not sure if he died two years ago when he was thrown from the deck of his ship in the hurricane, or if it was long in the past. He might have died before he ever met Ana, maybe the night that pirate's attacked his ship when he was a mere lieutenant seven years ago. Maybe Chris Laffley never existed at all, at least not the Chris Laffley that she thought she married, the man who was selfless, truthful, and honorable. Maybe he had lied to her all those years. Maybe she had lied to herself. Whatever the case, he was dead to her now. Captain Lucky Laffley who now stood before her was not selfless, truthful, or honorable. He was not the man that she had known, the man she had loved.
He knew it too. Whatever vision of his wife that Chris had carried with him for the past two years was gone. He saw her now for who she really was. Who she had become. He no longer saw Maria Laffley. For the first time, he was looking at Anamaria Tarret.
Maria and Chris had long ago been in love. They had wanted the same things out of life. They had stood gazing at sunsets and sharing each others dreams. But, Ana and Lucky were not in love. They had no life together, and they never would.
"Prescott!" James Norrington's voice thundered louder than the storm. "There," he was shouting. "Throw a line!"
Her brother was in the water, with one arm wrapped around Jack. Jack was not moving. His eyes were not open. Ana's hand went to the tiger eye necklace that had been a Christmas present from the pirate. She held her hand tightly around the pendant as though she were clinging to the pirate. Fighting for him when he could not.
"Jack," she said, knowing that he could not hear her.
"Come on," Chris' voice was soft and resigned, his hand took hold of hers. "I'll take you over to him."
Gazing, uncomprehending, into his eyes, Ana saw all the way down to his heart. It was not small, black and shriveled as she had come to believe over the course of this day. For one second, she saw her husband's heart, a momentary flicker of the man she always wanted him to be. He was resigned. She was not his wife anymore. He was offering to take her to the man that he knew she truly loved.
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James was a by-the-book Navy man. He was a career Navy man. Someday James would die a Lord Admiral, probably having been knighted by the King and revered by English citizens everywhere. He was born to command. Anytime a situation descended into chaos, James would take charge and restore order. Usually, Prescott found James' need to control somewhat irritating. This night, however, Prescott had never been happier that Norrington was the man he was. Everyone of the freed captives on the deck of Nefarious was so busy cheering, since they were under the impression that Prescott had just saved the life of a noble, that no one had thought to throw him a rope. Who knows how long he would have swam if James had not berated the hands for neglecting their duties.
Grabbing hold of the line, Prescott tied it around his waist. Holding tightly to the injured pirate, he signaled for Norrington.
"Come on, men," James ordered. "Heave!"
As he neared the top, Mr. Daniels appeared by the side. He leaned over to help pull Sparrow into the ship. The young pirate had removed the sling that had held his arm, and used both hands to carry his Captain to safety.
Climbing on board Nefarious, with James' help, Prescott struggled to catch his breath. He saw Jack lying on the deck in Daniels' arms. His eyes were closed and the middle of his shirt was stained red. Prescott could just see the pirate Captain's chest rise and fall, at least he was breathing. Thank God for that.
"Men," James said, his voice respectfully quiet. "Rig a stretcher. Take Mr. Sparrow to the surgeon."
"Prescott!"
He turned just in time to see Annie, clutching the necklace she wore, coming towards him. Her weasel of a husband stopped some distance from Prescott. Annie came close, tears in her eyes, and buried her face in his chest.
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She could not stop the tears. Prescott held her firmly and she hugged him back, lending his ragged body strength and taking comfort in his embrace. He had held her much in the same way when her mother died and later when their father died. He had hugged her on the beach in Kingston the day she came home to find out that Chris had died in a storm. He had always been her rock. Anytime tragedy found its way into their family, Ana could always turn to Prescott. When she was twelve years old and learned that Findley had been killed in battle, Prescott had been there for her. He looked past his own guilt and his own pain, and tried to comfort his baby sister. That day he had returned to her the small gold cross she had given Findley. She told him to keep it. She knew he needed it more that she did. Now, as Ana cried, she could feel both crosses underneath his shirt.
Prescott was tired, she could tell. He was shivering from the water that soaked through every inch of his body, but he was okay. Ana thanked God for keeping her brother safe. Prescott was the only family she had left.
A sailor came forward, offering Prescott a blanket. He wrapped it around his shoulders, and stared levelly into Ana's eyes. "He'll be okay," he said.
"Thanks to you," Ana said
Prescott shrugged off the compliment. "Annie," he said glancing over her shoulder. "Chris is – "
"Dead," Ana interrupted.
Her brother's eyebrows rose. "What?"
"Chris died a long time ago," she explained. "I know that now. I was a fool to think that I could trust him, to take his word over yours. I just . . . I just wanted him to still be the man I married."
Prescott sighed.
"He was," Ana went on. "For a second back there, when you surfaced with Jack. I don't know what happened, but Chris knew that it . . . that we were over. He was the one that brought me over here."
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Prescott's heart broke. Somehow Laffley had managed to pull the wool over Annie's eyes again.
"I won't forgive him, Prescott," she went on. "I can't forgive all of the lies, but I can't hate him, either."
Jaw clenched, Prescott wiped the tears from his little sister's face. "I know," he said.
"Annie," James was standing behind, waiting for the opportune moment to make his presence known. "It's time to be getting back to the Interceptor."
Prescott nodded and James led Annie back to the relative safety of his ship. Chris, who had been keeping his distance from Prescott, moved to follow.
"Wait," Prescott's voice stopped the man in his tracks. Willing his teeth to stop chattering, and forcing himself not to shiver from the cold, Prescott approached Chris, rage radiating out from his blue eyes. "I know it was you," he said, his voice deadly calm. "I saw you shoot him, so don't pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about."
Chris pressed his lips together. He did not make any attempt at a denial.
"Tell me something," Prescott went on. "Are you really dying?"
He knitted his brow, clearly not expecting Prescott's question. "Yes," he answered, his voice even as a man who had accepted his face.
"You're certain?"
Chris nodded.
"How long?"
"The pain's getting worse," he replied. "Not long," he said quickly, after meeting Prescott's icy stare and realizing that the older man was not asking because he was concerned for Chris' welfare.
"I won't tell her," Prescott said though gritted teeth, almost not believing his own words.
Chris' eyebrow rose. "Why?"
"My sister saw something in you. Something she thought looked like the man she used to love. We both know that man is gone. I, for one, am beginning to wonder if he ever lived," Prescott said, selfishly satisfied by the guilt he thought he saw in Laffley's face. "You have hurt Annie, enough. You stole two years of her happiness by letting her think you died. I will not increase her pain by telling her that you tried to take away any chance of her future happiness."
"Thank you – "
"I don't want your thanks," Prescott snarled. "I'm doing this for her. She will mourn your death . . . a second time. But, I will spare her from hating herself for wasting her love on a man who never deserved her."
Chris nodded.
"You've earned all the pain that your death will bring, Laffley," Prescott's voice was a menacing whisper. "If only to understand some of the pain you caused the people that wanted to love you."
"Prescott –"
"Whatever you have to say, I don't want to hear it. No apology will earn my forgiveness and no explanation will make me understand. I'm letting you walk away from this night, because I think the death that is in store for you will be far worse than anything I could do," Prescott paused. "But know this, Laffley. If Sparrow dies, I will kill you . . . over a four or five day period."
TBC
Alright, I know there was not nearly enough Jack in this bit, but he's back next chapter, I promise. Please, don't forget to review.