Title: Of the Sea
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Title: 7. Tea
Summary: A trick is played on Jack. Matt tells Will about someone they both knew. Some people begin to put pieces together.
Timeline: Saturday, May 14, 1675
Author: Cicatrix (Marin K.)

"Tea?" Elizabeth offered, teapot in hand. She was a beautiful woman, her gold-kissed curls pulled back in a loose bun, her skin slightly olive from the sun. She wore a simple dress, blue linen with white lace. She was thin, but not excessively so. In essence, she was the perfect woman, yet these was a light in here eyes, one that spoke of humour and adventure. This was not some silly maid. Her husband stood next to her, a slight smile on his lips.

"Tea?" echoed Jack, "Where's the rum?"

"There isn't any," she said.

"What? No rum?" he asked, astounded, "How do you live?" He stared at Will, who shrugged, "Well?"

"Actually--" Will started, but his wife interrupted.

"Mr. Sparrow does not require rum at this hour of the morning, Will."

"But you do have some?"

"Well, yes, but--"

"What Will is trying to say, Jack, is that we burn it for fuel in the fireplace."

In seconds, Jack was on his feet. "Sacrilege!" he cried, "You--you infidels! Heathens! Betrayers of the human race! How dare you... burning that most sacred of all drinks... again!"

"Jack." Matthew, who had been silent most of this time, pulled on Jack's arm, "Jack, sit down."

"But they--"

"Yes, Jack. Sit down."

He obeyed. Elizabeth poured him a cup of tea, which Jack eyed warily. "It doesn't look like any tea I've ever heard of."

Matthew rolled his eyes. He accepted his tea gratefully, grinning as he brought the cup to his lips. Tea was not served at room temperature, didn't go down warm and spicy, didn't settle in the bottom of your stomach to smolder the way this stuff did. It was a cruel joke to play on the pirate captain, who still glared resentfully at the cup full of "tea", which was, in truth, his precious rum.

"Matthew?" Will asked.

"Aye?"

"You said you--"

"Needed to ask you some questions about the maintenance of my new sword," Matthew finished for him, standing. Will looked at him, confusion clear on his face. "And I do. Why don't we step into the hall, as I'm sure these two won't be at all interested?" Will nodded, and Matt stepped out ahead of him. "Enjoy your tea, Captain," he said as he brushed past him. Jack just glared.

"What was that about?" Will asked as they stood in the hall.

"Sorry," Matt said, "but if it's all the same to you, I'd rather Jack not know about my acquaintanceship with Bootstrap yet."

"Oh. Why's that?"

Matt grinned, "We've got a deal going. Trading stories of our past. The less he knows, the more I have to bargain with, the more I can find about him... or, the more I can find out the truth about him. It goes like this: I told him my life story, he owes me his, or the bare bones anyway. The more details I leave for later, the more I can con them out of him. Right now, he's in my debt."

"Ah," Will said, understanding at last. "Will I be in your debt as well, then?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm not really telling you about myself, I'm telling you about old Bill Turner, and that's your business anyway. The man's your father; you've a right to know. He was a good man, Bootstrap was, though I'm sure you've already heard that countless times." Will nodded.

"Used to drink at the Faithful Bride, you've been there I hear," and Will nodded as he spoke, so he continued, "often with Jack, sometimes alone. I went in one day and there wasn't a spare seat in the place except by Turner, so I sat there. We got to talking, and we're both originally from England, so we talked about that. "

"Where in England are you from?"

"That's none of your business, lad. See, your father's your business, but my life isn't. Right? So about Bootstrap; we got good and drunk that night, went to our respective 'homes'. I saw him a few days later. That was our entire knowledge of one another: sitting and talking about home, comparing notes. He told me about his wife and his kid, 'bout the last time he'd seen 'em. I guess y'could say we were friends, but I don't know. We talked. He really loved you and your mum, I don't know if Jack'd be the type to tell y'that, but you should know."

"I... thank you."

"No problem. He used t'stand up for the barmaids and other wenches if men were bugging 'em. Told 'em t'lay off. Gave 'em the proper encouragement, if y'know what I mean." Matthew's voice had shifted more into the piratical rogue he sometimes used, and though it wasn't entirely noticeable, the shift was there. "Anyway," he said loudly, "thanks for that advice. I'll keep it in mind."

Jack looked up at Matt curiously, who sat down beside him. He'd thought he'd heard something about Bootstrap, but he may have been imagining it. He returned his gaze to glare at the cup of tea.

"You know, if you'd just drink it, you'd find it's not that bad," Matthew informed him, taking a sip of his own drink.

"You'd do well not to speak to your captain in that manner, sailor," Jack returned, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Well, sir, technically you're not my captain yet, as you have not yet accepted me on to your crew, so technically I'm not required to call you captain or follow your orders. One might say I do it just to humour you. And because I need a ride to Tortuga, at the very least."

"Then, dear Matthew, if you don't stop being, for lack of a better term, an idiot, I shall leave you in Port Royal."

"Oh no. Spare me from that torturous fate. I beg of you," he pleaded sarcastically. Jack rolled his eyes, and Matthew grinned. Elizabeth and Will exchanged curious expressions.

"How did you two meet?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We found Matthew," Jack informed her, "floating. In the ocean. So we fished 'im out." Matthew nodded in agreement. "He was real beat up when we found him, too. Y'can still see some o'the bruises. Lost 'is memory. Well, not all of it. A few hours worth, we figure. I told him to be useful, and 'e was, so we're thinking we might keep him."

"Oh," Elizabeth said. It sounded as if Jack was talking about a lost puppy. There was something strange about Matthew though, something she couldn't place. Perhaps it was the slenderness of his frame, or the delicate lines of his face, the way he argued with his captain. His voice, though gruff, was an octave too high, and he moved with just a little too much grace. He just wasn't right.

Jack and Matthew remained for an hour or so more, discussing their voyage together thus far, and the details of their arrangement. At last, Jack was convinced to drink his tea, and he was surprised to discover it had been rum all along. They all laughed at his expense, but not even he could suppress a smile. At last, Captain and "guest" departed, having to prepare the ship for departure, and round up the band of scattered, drunken sailors.

"Will," Elizabeth said, "is it just me, or was there something odd about that man with Jack?"

"I don't know. He did seem a little off, though I can't say how." Will shrugged, took a sip of his rum. Elizabeth glared at him, and he put the glass down on the table. "Good man though."

"Or woman."

"What?"

Before she could respond, there was a knock on the door. One of the servants entered the salon, curtsied to the pair. "Sir, missus, Commodore Norrington to see you at the door."

"Let him in then."

"Yes, Mrs. Turner."

"Has Jack Sparrow been here?"

"What?" Will asked, "No 'hello'? No 'how are you Will and Elizabeth?' Do you trust us so little?" James Norrington shook his head.

"No, but he appears to have kidnapped a young girl!"

"Kidnapped? When, where? Who, for that matter? And how do you know this?" Elizabeth stood suddenly, crossing her arms across her chest. Will looked up at her.

"A payment of gold was being made for her return, and he stole it, obviously so he would have both the girl and the gold, and therefore would not have to return her, except for twice the price."

Elizabeth continued to look at him expectantly. "James, does this 'girl' have a name?"

"Miriam Sharp, I believe."

Will stood, a shocked expression on his face. "Miriam Sharp? Why, that's the girl that used--" he stopped dead in the middle of his sentence, and both Elizabeth and Norrington stared at him. "Matthew Brown!"

"What?" both Elizabeth and Norrington demanded, though for different reasons.

"Matthew is Miriam! You said he reminded you of a girl, and I thought he reminded me of someone! I didn't think that it could be the girl who used to tend me when my mother wanted me off her hands. Her parents and mine were good friends, she left for the Caribbean five years before I did. That's how she knew my father!"

Norrington was confused, but Elizabeth understood exactly. "Of course! It all makes sense now! But why would Jack kidnap her, and then dress her up as a man, and then let her wander around the town by herself? And if she was kidnapped, why would she go back to him?"

"Unless she's planning something," Will suggested.

"It's a possibility. I wish they'd stayed for longer!"

"The story about fishing him out of the ocean was rather suspicious."

"What," Norrington interrupted, "may I ask, is going on?"

"Well," Will said slowly, "it's a long and rather complicated story."

"I suggest, Mr. Turner, that you start at the beginning."

Will nodded in response, "When I was a lad growing up in England..."

Author's note: Confusion reigns. I was going to make this chapter longer, but I really want to get on to the good stuff... Tortuga! Plus I need to go to bed earlier tonight, I'm exhausted from staying up too late too often.

Review responses:

dagzer: I'll try my best. Thank you!

Reese Sparrow: I think you're one of the few who appreciates it as much as I do.

heather321: But they have to go to Tortuga!