Disclaimer: I do not own anything from PotC.
A/N: I broke the 200 review mark! Thank you so much to everyone who left me feedback. You have made this author feel so good about her story! Now, I will not make you wait any longer for the chapter.
Chapter Twenty Nine:
"Hope you said all you need to, Miss," the marine said as he pushed Jack through the outer door. "That was your last chance."
Her last chance? Anamaria felt her eyes moisten. Her last chance. Her face began to flush. "Wait," she heard herself call out in voice that sounded too small and too frightened. So many people had walked out of her life without knowing what Ana truly needed them to know. Her last words to a husband she used to love had been "Don't forget your coat." Her last words to a brother who died too young had been "Stay out of trouble." The last time her mother went into to town, never to return, Ana had been angry with her and said something too awful to remember. "Wait," she said again, this time more in control of her voice. Jack Sparrow was not being taken from her unexpectedly. He was scheduled to die in the square tomorrow. This was her last chance to tell the pirate anything she needed to tell him, and she would never forgive herself for letting this opportunity slip through her fingers. "Just a moment longer," she said to the marine.
The guard shot Ana a glare that showed he could not comprehend why a woman would want to spend any more time than was necessary with a pirate. "Sorry, Miss," he said, not sounding at all sorry. "The priest is waiting."
"I don't need long," Ana said, cursing herself for sounding so desperate. Jack had turned around and his piercing eyes were focused on her. She met his gaze, commanding herself not to cry in front of this callous marine, but the pirate's expression was making that task rather difficult. Where she had previously seen no emotion, she now saw a tiny, almost imperceptible, glimmer of hope in those dark eyes. Maybe Jack wanted to say something more to her as well.
"Sorry, Miss," the guard said again.
Hope's light flickered for a second longer, before finally fading from Jack's eyes, leaving them empty and black. The pirate lowered his head.
Ana's heart constricted in her chest. "No," she said under her breath. It was not going to end this way. Her fist clenched. She was not going to let this chance pass her by. "What's your name?" she asked the guard.
"Collins, Miss," he replied, seemingly startled by the question.
"Thank you, Mr. Collins," she said in her best aristocratic imitation. "My brother finds it easier to take disciplinary action when he knows the names of the men who are acting uncooperatively," she warned, crossing her arms and pursing her lips.
The marine's mouth fell open. Sparrow's head rose, one side of his mouth being tugged into a smile.
"Be quick about it, then," the guard said, begrudgingly pushing Sparrow back into the hold, and locking the heavy door behind the pirate.
Jack lifted his chin and arched his eyebrow, waiting for Ana to say whatever she was going to say.
Taking an unsteady breath, Ana wrung her hands together nervously. So many things needed to be said, but she did not know how to say any of them. When had Jack become so hard to talk to? Sighing quietly, Ana reminded herself that she knew exactly when. The pirate had become like a stranger to her on the deck of the Interceptor in the rain, when she had refused to come to his aid. When she had chosen her miserable excuse for a husband over Jack.
"Do you remember the night we first met?" she said, her voice unexpectedly shattering the silence. "The night in my garden, when you were about to rob me?" Hesitantly, she met the pirate's eyes.
"I remember," he said flatly.
"Before that night, I may as well have been dead," she said, struggling with the tears that were threatening to burst out of her eyes. "When I learned of Chris' death, I thought my own life had ended. I spent all of my days crying or cursing God for taking him. After a while, all of that hate and self pity got to be too much, so I . . . " Ana paused, trying desperately to keep her voice from wavering. "So, I closed my heart and I just stopped feeling. I was like an actress playing the part of Anamaria Laffley. I looked perfectly fine, but I could not feel anything." Ana turned away from Jack and started to pace slowly. Never in her life had she admitted these things to anyone, not even Prescott. "I stopped feeling, that is, until that night in the garden when the Spanish soldier came looking for you. For the first time in a long time, I cared about something." Ana halted her pacing and stared meaningfully into Jack's eyes. "I cared about you," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
The muscles in the pirate's jaw clenched and unclenched, he lowered his face.
"I cared about you," Ana said again. "And, I think, you cared about me. I have been a fool these past few days. I should have known better than to believe that ghost was my husband. I should have listened to Prescott when he told me what Chris had done, but I didn't. I was an idiot, and I have no excuse for my actions. I just . . . I knew that Chris was dead and gone, I just didn't want him to be."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Jack said, his eyes still lowered.
"Jack, I lost my husband a long time ago," Ana neared the pirate and placed her hands on his shoulders. "The loss I regret isn't him, it's you."
The pirate's eyes lifted. Ana's heart stopped, as it had the first time she ever laid eyes on the infamous pirate. Again she was swept away by his fathomless eyes. Ana felt his arms encircling her waist, her skin burning beneath his touch. The hold faded into nothingness as he brought his lips to her ear. "I'm not lost," he said.
Behind Jack, Ana heard the heavy door opening. Seizing her final opportunity, she stood on her toes and caught the pirate's mouth in a desperate kiss. One last kiss for the man who had forever changed her life. His arms tightened and pulled her close so that every inch of their bodies touched. Ana's hands let go of Jack's shoulders and wrapped around his neck wishing she would never have to let him go. His lips parted and Ana devoured his taste, his scent, and his touch, memorizing everything.
"Unhand her!" the marine's shout sliced through their intimacy like the blade of a knife. Jack's body was wrenched away from Ana's grasp as the guard flung him towards the door. "Are you alright, Miss?"
Jack leaned against the stone wall for support, clutching his injured midsection. "Courage Captain," Ana said staring straight into his eyes, ignoring the marine. In that one fleeting second, the pirate's eyes opened before her. She saw his pain and his anguish. She saw the man who had once been an officer in the King's Navy standing alongside of the man who had fought to become the most renowned pirate in the Caribbean. She saw pride for the life he had built, and guilt for the life destroyed. And, as he mouthed the next words to the prayer Ana had once prayed over him, she, inexplicably, saw hope.
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"Just up the stairs, Father," Prescott directed the priest. "I'll be up presently." The robed figure nodded and Prescott headed back towards the hold to see what was keeping Sparrow.
"Prescott?" James Norrington's voice halted his superior officer. "I apologize, I mean, Admiral Tarret," James corrected with a smile.
"Indeed, Sir," Prescott replied, his eyebrow's coming together in a mock scowl. Crossing his arms dramatically over his chest, Prescott said, "I believe there is some sort of punishment for omitting my lofty title, is there not?"
"Yes, flogging with your new sash I believe," James laughed.
"Dirty my new sash, heaven's no. There must be another way," Prescott replied, pretending to be giving the matter much thought.
James extended his hand. "I haven't had the opportunity to congratulate you, yet," he said. "To think, the whole time Fornin was telling me about the new Admiral's arrival . . . " Norrington's voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "At least, I suspect we won't have to give our report a second time, as you feared."
"No," Prescott smiled. "I calculate not."
"I heard the fort's salute earlier," James went on. "What do you make of your new crew?"
"I haven't had the time to make anything of them," Prescott answered, and I never will he added silently, "but, Captain Williams seems capable."
"Good, good."
"You'll be sailing back to Port Royal soon, I imagine?" he asked as the pair began to walk towards the fort's exit.
James nodded. "As soon as we're repaired," he supplemented.
"I think I see another promotion in your future," Prescott said, smiling. "As, once again, you have helped to rid the world of the pirate menace. The governor should be at your feet."
James laughed. "Sea monsters in the Gazette again, I can't wait."
Prescott sobered at the mention of the illustrious Naval Gazette. What would they write about him? "Well," he said after a pause. "I do not wish to keep you any longer. We both have work to do, I imagine."
"Indeed," Norrington agreed.
"Good luck, to you James," not quite able to meet his fellow officer's eyes.
Norrington stopped in his tracks. He regarded his Admiral warily. "If I didn't know better," he started. "I'd think you just said good-bye."
"Then, let us be grateful that you know better," Prescott answered, hoping his voice would not betray him.
James searched Prescott's face, as though he knew what was going to happen but he did not want to believe what he saw. "It has been an honor to serve with you, Sir," he said, finally raising his hand in a respectful salute.
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Ana allowed a marine to help her into the carriage. For the first time in her life, she felt as delicate and frail as a woman was commonly thought to be. Normally, she fought against that stereotype. Her mother had not raised a weak little girl, and Ana did not act like a weak little girl. However, this night, she did not care what anyone thought of her. She did not want to leave the fort. She did not want to leave Jack. But mostly, she did not want to believe that the pirate who had brought her back to life was going to die tomorrow. She did not care that the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow would be no more. She cared that the man beneath the mask was going to pass from this world into the next without ever getting the chance to let someone know him. Without getting the chance to let her know him.
As the driver started the horses down the road leading to her house, Ana buried her face in her hands. Unable to hold back any longer, her body shook from the force of her tears. Tears cried for the love that she would never have. The love that Ana had wanted so desperately.
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"Sorry to keep you waiting, Father Muneris," Prescott said, entering his office.
"Think nothing of it, my son," the priest replied, waving his hand dismissively.
Nodding his thanks, Prescott moved to sit behind his desk and motioned for the priest to have a seat as well. Muneris, Prescott smiled inwardly at the priest's name. Muneris was Latin for duty. Prescott had performed his duty to King and Country since he had entered the service so many years ago. His boyhood dream had been to wear the uniform he now wore. Admiral. His new rank was a privilege and an honor as well as duty. If anyone would have told that young dreamer that someday, something would be more important than duty, he never would have understood.
"I understand I am to hear the confession of a . . . a pirate?" the priest asked curiously.
Prescott arched his eyebrow, surprised by this question from the Father. With his brown hair, graying at the temples, and gentle eyes, the priest did not look like a man who harbored the same views as the townspeople who disliked pirates just because they were pirates. Hell, Father Muneris did not look like he could dislike anyone. "I thought all men were equal in the eyes of God?" Prescott said.
The priest's kind face cracked into a smile. "Indeed," he said. "But no man sees through the eyes of God, not even me."
Prescott folded his hands on the desktop. "Yes, Father, the man is a pirate, and he is condemned to die tomorrow," he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his words.
The older man's expression turned thoughtful. "I may not see through the eyes of God, but I can see through your eyes. Your conflicted about sending this man to his death," he said knowingly.
Prescott stared levelly back at the priest. "Do not look too deeply, Father," he replied, a warning in his voice. "You may not like what you find."
The door opened, disallowing any further discussion, and Jack Sparrow entered the room, closely flanked by two marine guards. Father Muneris rose from his seat, and nodded a greeting to the pirate, who looked utterly shocked by the show of kindness. Sparrow's eyes then came to rest on Prescott, who had also risen from his chair. "New uniform suits you, mate," Sparrow said, grinning.
Before Prescott could respond, one of the marines cuffed the pirate sharply on the back of the head. "The Admiral'll not be addressed by the likes of you," he scolded condescendingly.
"Collins!" Prescott bellowed.
The marine snapped rigidly to attention as his Admiral's voice echoed through the small room. Eyeing Prescott, Sparrow rubbed his head.
"This man is slated to die tomorrow. We will not make his last hours any worse than they already are!"
"But, Sir," Collins floundered. "He's a pirate."
"I know who he is," Prescott growled. "The two of you are dismissed."
The marine bowed his head and shuffled out of the room.
"Admiral Tarret," Father Muneris spoke up. "A man's confession is a private affair. I'm afraid you too will have to leave."
The pirate's kohl-lined eyes darted back and forth from Prescott to the priest. He seemed to suspect that something was not right with this scene, but he did not to appear to have any idea what.
"Of course," Prescott said, coming around his desk. "But, I wonder if I could trouble you with a question before I go?"
"Certainly, my son."
Prescott came to stand behind the priest. "I wanted to know if sins committed against a pirate," he paused to gesture to Jack, "are any less than sins committed against say . . . a priest?"
Father Muneris chuckled softly. "It is men who place severity on crimes, not God. If you were to steal money from a pirate or from the church, it makes no difference."
"I hoped you would say that," Prescott said. Taking a second to glance over Muneris' shoulder at Sparrow, Prescott then turned back to the priest and punched him square in the face. "Forgive me," Prescott said aloud, as the man of God fell to the ground at the pirate's feet.
Sparrow cocked his head to one side, both eyebrows raised. "Tha' certainly was unexpected."
"My sister's maid tells me that this is a favorite disguise of yours," Prescott said, pointing to the long robes that Father Muneris wore. "So, put them on."
The pirate did not move. "I won't let you do this," he said, his voice low and even, and his eyes deadly serious.
Prescott suspected that this was the look Sparrow employed when facing an adversary. A lesser man would have backed down and done the pirates bidding instantly, but a lesser man would not have given his word to free said pirate. "You do not have a choice," Prescott answered.
"An admiral does not throw his life away for a pirate," Jack said quietly.
For the first time since meeting the legendary Captain, Prescott heard a hint of shame in the other man's voice. He heard the voice of a man who had long been convinced that he was unworthy of kindness. Seeking the pirate's eyes, Prescott placed his hand on Sparrow's shoulder. The officer felt a stab in his heart as he realized how many times he had stood thus when speaking to Findley. "An admiral does whatever he damn well pleases," he said compellingly.
A knock at the door prevented Sparrow from making a reply.
Prescott's eyes immediately became glued to the incapacitated priest on the floor of his office. Motioning for Sparrow to lift Muneris' feet, Prescott shouted an inquiry to his sentry, Collins.
"Your wife to see you, Sir," Collins answered.
As quietly as possible, the two men carried the evidence of the crime into the other room, laying him on the cot. Prescott gestured for the pirate to stay hidden in the smaller room.
"Good luck, mate," Sparrow whispered, winking.
"Send her in," Prescott said, closing the door that separated Sparrow and the priest from his office.
"Good evening, Prescott," Bridget greeted coolly.
The Admiral's mouth fell open slightly at the sight of his wife. She was wearing traveling clothes. "My dear," he answered tentatively.
"I just came down to congratulate you on your promotion and to tell you . . ." her voice faltered. "To tell you that I'm leaving."
"Leaving? What do you mean –"
"No, Prescott," Bridget held up her gloved hand, halting his words. "Let me say what I've come to say." Bridget paused again and drew a haggard breath. "I know you do not love me. Maybe you could have grown to love me someday, or maybe if I hadn't lost our son . . ."
Their son. The words hit Prescott like an arrow to the chest. Marrying Bridget had been his obligation, a sort of penance for one evening of indiscretion. The son she almost bore had not been his obligation. The child they almost raised had been his redemption. They had planned to name him Findley. Prescott's mouth went dry. He had never mourned the son that died before he had the chance to live. He never thought about the father he could have been to that little boy.
Bridget shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm going back to England. Perhaps this way, we can both . . . we can both find happiness." Stepping closer, Bridget placed a shaking hand on her husband's face. "I did love you, Prescott. I love you still."
"I know," he said softly, not able to mirror her affections. "Collins," he called to the sentry. "Escort Mrs. Tarret to the docks."
"Of course, Sir," he answered taking the lady's arm.
"Goodbye, Prescott." Bridget said and walked out of his life without turning around.
The door behind Prescott opened with a loud creak. Sparrow stepped into the office clad in the priest's robes. The officer stood, silently staring at the closed door.
"So, that's your wife."
"Not anymore, it would seem," Prescott said curtly. "Come, we must be on our way."
Wisely, the pirate did not comment further on Bridget's visit.
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Sitting on the terrace, Anamaria gazed to the ocean stretching out as far as she could see. The sun had just set, and the water seemed to blend with the sky at the horizon. Jack Sparrow belonged out there, on a ship living the free life afforded by the sea, not in a tiny cell in Fort Arthur awaiting execution.
"Here you are, Miss," Sarah set a drink down on the table. Ana had requested another toddy, made with rum, the second she had entered her front door. "Do you require anything else?"
"Did you dispose of my – of Mr. Laffley's things, as I asked?"
"Yes, Mum."
"Good."
"My sympathies, Mum," Sarah said hesitantly. "I can't imagine how hard it must have been to lose him again."
"I didn't lose him again," Ana said, her stare not leaving the water. "I let him go."
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Prescott leaned against Loyalty's mainmast as the ship he used to Captain slipped slowly away from Kingston harbor. He and Father Sparrow had left the fort without raising a single eyebrow. He had told the guards at the outer door that he would be escorting the priest back to the church and then heading home. The pirate would soon be missed, but finding the escaped convict would be a matter for the marines. In an effort to save face, they would try to locate Sparrow and return him to the hold without raising an alarm. The Admiral would not be roused until the morning, by which time he and Jack would be long gone.
Forsaking everything he had worked his whole life for had taken only a matter of minutes.
Upon arriving at Loyalty, Prescott had sought solace in the fighting top, high above the deck. He did not want to watch a crew of pirates take his ship out of the harbor for the last time. He did not want to see their smiling faces as they welcomed their Captain back. He simply wanted to be alone.
He found himself staring at the house he knew to be Ana's. A light burned in her bedroom window. Tears threatened to form in his eyes. He did not know if he would ever see his baby sister again. He had not said goodbye. He had not given any indication that come morning Jack Sparrow would still be alive and her brother would be disgraced.
Vaguely he became aware that he was no longer alone. The spicy sent that wafted his direction alerted him of the pirate Captain's presence before the other man's voice. "Thank you," the pirate said simply.
"Do not thank me," Prescott said, his words laced with the bitterness he was feeling. "I merely kept my word."
"I knew you would," Sparrow said, his voice hushed. "That is not what I thank you for."
Prescott furrowed his brow. "Then what?"
Jack stared out towards Ana's house. "I know you probably did it for her, and not for me," Sparrow paused. "But I can't help but think that you never would have done it at all if I hadn't told you what he did to me back on Intrepid."
Prescott's jaw dropped. "Are you saying that you think I killed Laffley?"
The pirate's attention immediately snapped back to Prescott. "Didn't you?"
"No. I figured it was you, or Mr. Daniels."
Sparrow shook his head gravely. "No."
The officer's mind exploded into a myriad of activity. He had never wanted to probe the circumstances of Christopher Laffley's death. He had been certain that any inquiry would lead back to the pirate, or his compatriot. Sparrow had been wronged so many times by Laffley, and Daniels had been livid upon finding out that the man had shot his Captain. They were the only possible suspects, besides himself, and Prescott was reasonable sure that he did not take leave of his senses and kill his brother-in-law. Who else . . . slowly, Prescott's gaze drifted back to his sister's home. His throat went dry and his heart knotted up inside of his chest.
"My God," he breathed. "Annie."
TBC
Well, I hope you all liked my little twist. Did you see it coming? I sure hope not :-) I'll try to be a bit quicker with getting the final chapter of this story up, but if you would like a bit more of Jack and Ana please check out my new one shot "Giving In," and let me know what you think.
Now, don't forget to review before you go!