Disclaimer: Disney's
A/N: Sequel to 'Bloody Hellish', written in response to the Halloween Drabble Challenge at Black Pearl Sails, and to the Day of the Dead Challenge on Live Journal.
Rumor of Heaven
Grieves'd been wrong. It was sixteen stitches, and every one of them felt like bits of hot lead against Jack's arm.
The fever started before the evening was out. When Bill came to check on him, after standing First Watch, Jack was in a bad way, aching and thirsty, his arm afire. Bill helped him sit up to drink some rum-sweetened water. That stayed down all right, but when morning finally came breakfast was out of the question. Bill fetched Grieves, who scowled over the look of the wound, and cursed the Black Pearl's present lack of opiates. Grieves spoke tartly on this subject to Captain Tobias, who was next to crowd in, and whose hearty cheer made Jack wince. He did considerably more than wince, however, when Grieves cleansed his wound with rum a second time before rewrapping it. Grieves then bled him, and after that he'd drifted into a haze of pain and evil dreams, punctuated by occasional visits from concerned mates, including Tobias's Second, Barbossa, exuding spurious sympathy. The faithful Bill looked more worried with every passing hour.
Jack's fever rose further as dusk came on, and he dozed uneasily as night deepened . It was after Bill went on watch again that he fell into a deeper sleep, and thus was unable to pinpoint the time of his next visitor.
The clean, sweet rose scent was his first hint of her presence. Funny how he could smell that, rather than the usual tar and wood and sea, overlaid of late with less pleasant odors. But then there was the touch of a soft, familiar hand on his forehead. Familiar…but it had been so long….
He moved restlessly against the rough blanket and opened his eyes to the faint lantern light and the sight of her, standing beside him. The beautiful face. And her hair: still lustrous black. And she was slim again.
A calm smile touched her lips, seeing him wake.
"John! Darling!"
She sat on the cot beside him--he could feel the swell of hip against his side, only the blanket between them.
He stared, and spoke in a raspy whisper: "You're…you're well!"
"I am. I would I could say so of you."
" 'S my arm. Fellow…cut it."
She shook her head, though the smile still lingered. "I know."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Oh." He closed his eyes. He could feel her, caressing his face, then moving to run her hands lightly down his bandaged arm. Oddly, there was no pain.
A kiss on his forehead. "Sleep now," she said softly. "I must go. Your brother is waiting."
He murmured agreement, then slept, undisturbed.
A hand on his forehead, again. He licked fever-chapped lips. "Mother?"
"No, lad: Bill! Thank God. Your fever's down."
Jack opened his eyes and lay frowning as Bill unwrapped his arm.
"Jack, this looks better!"
Jack's expression lightened. "Good. But Bill…"
"Hmm?"
Jack looked at Bill for a long moment. Then said soft and slow, "My mother was here."
Bill gave a nervous laugh. "Here? And…you told me she died, Jack."
"She did. Childbed fever. My brother, as well."
"Ah."
His friend was looking at him closely, worriedly, and at last Jack smiled, crookedly. " 's all right. Couldn't be, eh?"
Bill's expression cleared. He opened his mouth, to turn it off with a light word. Then paused, and was seen to change his mind. He gave his own crooked smile. "Couldn't it?"