Title: Of the Sea Rating: PG-13
Chapter Title: 22. Home Again
Summary: Matthew and Morgan wander Nassau.
Timeline: Monday, June 13, 1675
Author: Cicatrix (Marin K.)

There were memories in Nassau; sweet and bitter they were, and countless. Matthew had been glad to escape from Jack and Pearl, glad to find himself in the busy streets as the sun set on the western horizon. He found himself looking out to sea, to the clear Caribbean waters, tinged gold by the fading rays of the sun. He smiled faintly at the shadowy outline of the Black Pearl, and then turned away.

He wanted to not think, wanted to forget the past month of his life, and maybe more after that. Jack was an enigma, never letting on how much he knew or didn't know. Matthew was torn, wishing he could trust him, wishing he didn't want to. It had been too long since he had trusted anyone; Bootstrap had been the last. It was nearing twelve years since his departure. He had to admit, he felt connected to Jack. He knew it was probably that they had both known William Turner, and he wanted to be able to trust the man that Bootstrap had trusted.

"I trust you," he muttered by way of compromise, stroking the soft head of the cat that was curled up in the depths of his pocket. He hadn't wanted to leave Morgan behind, so had decided it would be best if she accompanied him. He didn't intent to go drinking, or do anything that might upset or frighten his companion.

He thought of all the men he'd known, and all those he had called friends. Many had been good men, good shipmates, but how many would he have trusted with his life, or more importantly, with his secrets? He and Daniel had been close, all those years ago, but could he really say he'd trusted him? Not enough. Of all of them, Jack was the worst. With the others, it had been easy. He'd never been tempted to pull any of them aside, to spill his darkest thoughts, his fears... but Jack evoked in him a desire to do just that.

He walked along the street that ran perpendicular to the docks, peering curiously at the ships. There were less of the larger merchant ships now, more of the smaller, quicker vessels so ripe for liberation, like the Aurora. There was one even that looked just like her, with three masts, her sails as white as the purest afternoon clouds. There was no flag upon her mainmast, no hint to her nationality. Logic said it was most likely a pirate ship. There was a group of men gathered around the bottom of the gangway, and they laughed amongst themselves. Matthew edged closer, trying to read the ship's name.

He was shocked. The ship was no other than the one it so resembled: the Aurora. In her perfect beauty, matched only by the Pearl, she was there, docked just in front of him. He was torn between running away and running to her. Instead, he settled on a casual walk towards the ship, wondering if she was still crewed by the same men.

"Excuse me," he interjected politely into the conversation of the sailors, most likely pirates, though he kept his head bowed, hoping not to be recognized, "do you know where I can find Daniel Clark?" The group of men all turned and looked at him.

One of them nodded and said, "Aye. I'll get 'im." He darted up the gangway, shouted something along the lines of "Hey, Dan! Someone's 'ere t'see you!" and returned within seconds. Matthew nodded his thanks, looking up the ramp from the corner of his eye. It was then that a very familiar silhouette appeared, and he was gripped by a sudden urge to turn around and leave. It was too late, now. He was standing just far enough away from the group of pirates for Daniel to know that he was the one who was looking for him.

He sauntered down the gangway. "How can I help you, sir?" he asked.

"How's Aurora doing, Dan?" Matthew asked, lifting his head to meet his old friend's eye.

Daniel Clark thought he was going to have a heart attack. Eight long years they had searched and out of the blue, the man suddenly appeared right in front of the ship, with a slight smile on his lips. "Captain!" he said, expecting to choke. He embraced the younger man.

"Aye, I suppose so."

"What happened to your arm?"

"Nothing. It's my shoulder that's messed up."

"Oh."

There was a lull in the conversation, as both men stared at each other, appraising one another. Both had changed, but neither was truly different. Daniel's hair had started to gray, but the silver threads were difficult to see among the blond. His eyes were the same brown so near to black, though the crow's feet were more apparent now. His back was a little more bent than it had been, and his hands more callused by the years. He was still the same man, with the same mischievous grin.

"Where've y'been?" he asked at last, and the man once known as Michael shook his head. By now, the ship's entire crew had heard, and they had grouped around the pair. They spoke not a word, but rather exchanged hopeful glances. It had been a long time since they had seen their captain, and most were the same men who'd been gathered in Tortuga now nine years past. There were a few new faces, and a few old were now gone, claimed by the sea or by other fates more pleasant.

"Too many places to name," Michael said, and paused.

Looking around at the men that surrounded them, Daniel shrugged. He said, "Let's go to your cabin and talk, Captain." With a sad smile, Michael nodded.

"I don't know where to begin," Daniel said.

Michael said nothing, pacing through the cabin. All was as it had been eight years ago. The same chairs were gathered around the same well-worn table, and the same charts were hung on the wall (though with age, their corners had begun to curl, and their letters begun to fade). There was a sword leaned against a desk, and it was still as bright as it had been, as if someone had set about the task of polishing it each day. Crossing to the desk, a beautiful piece wrought of oak and bolted to the floor, he saw that a half-finished letter was still laying there, to the then newly-appointed governor of Port Royal.

"Nothing's changed," he murmured. "You left it all as I did..."

"Aye," Dan told him, "figured you'd want everything where you put it... when you came back."

Michael nodded, and went to one of the chairs. He sunk into it, leaning his head back, speechless.

"We can set sail whenever you want, sir. The men will be glad to have their captain again."

"... Set sail?" he echoed.

Daniel opened his mouth to respond, and just then there was a knock on the cabin's closed door. A muffled voice spoke through it. "Jack is here to see you, Daniel," it said, and Michael flinched. Surely not, he told himself, Jack is a common name. Could be one of many men.

"Send him in," Daniel said, and then he paused, "if you don't mind, sir."

"Not at all."

A few moments later, the door opened, and standing in the doorway was none other than Captain Jack Sparrow. Matthew closed his eyes, wondered if it was luck, or whether Jack had known, somehow figured it out when he'd overheard the story he'd told to Morgan. He reached into his pocket, stroked the small cat's fur, and frowned.

"Jack!" Daniel exclaimed. "Wonderful to see you, Captain."

He nodded, smiled slightly, and looked at Matthew. He arched a brow, and then tipped his hat deferentially. He held out a hand, and Matt took his own from his pocket and shook the one offered. "Captain Michael Raven, I presume," Jack said. Behind him, Daniel grinned.

"Captain Sparrow," said Michael by way of acknowledgement, withdrawing his hand and motioning languidly at a chair. "Please, sit." Jack obliged, but Daniel remained standing. Matthew's head was spinning, unsure how to balance two men who had entirely different conceptions of who he was without ruining his image, and without telling anybody any more than was absolutely necessary.

"So," Jack said casually, "I see that you found him at last."

"He found us, actually," Daniel informed him.

"Aha," he replied. Turning to 'Michael', he said, "I've heard a great deal about you." Matthew smiled vaguely, trying to balance his thoughts, unsure of his position. His only chance would be if he could get Daniel out of the room for a moment before Jack spilled anything, or tried to use his knowledge as leverage.

"Daniel," Michael said, "could you excuse Captain Sparrow and I for a brief moment? I'd like to discuss something with him in private." Daniel looked perplexed, but simply shrugged and nodded. He went to the door, and hesitated a moment. "I'll call you back the moment we're done. Thank you." He left.

Matthew stood, turning on Jack, who looked at him with a slightly amused expression. "So," he said, "I see you've been hiding more than I originally thought. I take it Daniel has no idea as to your true identity, does he?" Matt shook his head, and Jack smiled. "That's interesting." He didn't respond, so Sparrow continued, "When are you leaving?"

"Leaving?" Matthew echoed.

"Aye," Jack said, "I figger, since y'found yer ship, you'll probably be leaving soon, won't you?"

"No."

"And why's that?"

Matthew smiled weakly. "Because, Jack. My place is on the Pearl"

"Is it, now?"

"Yes."

"Then why, might I ask, are you here?"

"Because this is... was my ship, once. Not just a ship I sailed on, she was mine. She's not as grand as the Pearl, I grant you, but I loved her well. And then I lost her. Until now, I thought that Daniel must just have thought me dead, and taken her as his own, and that was fine, I knew he'd treat her well." He paused, and shook his head, "But then you told me that they were looking for me... that my crew and my ship were still searching for their captain, and I missed her.

"I came to say goodbye, Jack. To tell Daniel the Aurora is his, and that it has been for the past eight years. I came so I can take what valuables I left in this room eight years ago, buy myself some rum, and go back to the Pearl and sleep... that is, if that's alright with you, Captain."

Jack Sparrow met Matthew's eyes, and smirked. "Why should I trust you?" he asked.

The other laughed, though it was a harsh, forced sound. "Trust me? Jack, you should never trust me. I'm a pirate. However, you should believe me because I haven't got a reason to lie. If there's no profit in it, why bother?" Neither spoke for a moment, and then with a gentle sigh, Matt said, "Now, am I welcome back on the Pearl or not?"

"Aye," Jack consented.

"Great... now would you do me a huge favor?"

"What's in it for me?"

"I'll buy you some rum."

Jack grinned, and nodded.

"Great," Matthew continued, "see that chest in the corner?"

A few moments later, Jack and Michael emerged from the captain's quarters. Daniel turned, and went to his captain, looking at Captain Sparrow curiously. Jack was laden with a wooden chest that had previously rested on the floor of the cabin, and was gritting his teeth because the thing was quite heavy.

"I'm leaving now," Michael said.

"But, Captain--"

Michael interrupted him. "Give me your hand, Daniel." Confused, he did as was bidden. Matthew pressed the hilt of a sword into his palm, the same well-polished sword that had rested against his desk. "I'm not your captain anymore," he said. "The Aurora is yours, mate. She's been yours for the past eight years. Claim her."

"But... where are you going to go?"

"The Black Pearl," Matthew said, "Captain Sparrow and I have an agreement."

"You just got here, Mike," Daniel protested.

"And now I have to go. Treat her well."

Daniel frowned, shaking his head. "Whenever you want 'er back, she's yours," he said. The man called Michael smiled faintly, and clasped Dan's shoulder with his undamaged hand. He nodded, not in agreement or consent, more a sort of acknowledgement of something he knew it would be useless to attempt to change.

"G'bye, mate," he said, and turned away. He ushered Jack head of him, and stepped towards the gangway before he stopped, then turned. "By the way, next time you see me, if I'm not on the Aurora, call me Matthew." With those words, he walked away, and disappeared into the evening. The new captain thought the whole thing was strange; after eight years, Michael had appeared out of the blue, and less than thirty minutes later he left again, this time with no promises, no guarantees. He left only a sword, and instead of an explanation, a request to be called Matthew.

"What the hell is in this damn box anyway?" Jack asked, trying to adjust the chest so it would be easier to carry. It was heavy. Matthew simply smiled at his misfortune, and shrugged his right shoulder lazily.

"Let's go home," he said, and the other gave him a perplexed expression as they walked down the emptying street.

"Home?" he echoed, "I thought that was in Tortuga?"

Matt shook his head, "Not anymore." When Jack's confused stare did not vanish, he said, "Later."

"The Pearlthen?"

"Aye, the Pearl."

"You still owe me rum," Jack said, and Matthew honestly laughed for the first time in days.

Author's note: Aha, Michael is at last explained. Jack and Matthew are on reasonably good terms for the moment... hint: that will change, but I won't say how. It's a secret! I have no idea what's going to happen next. I have a tendency to write myself into corners, and then suddenly I think, "Oh! I'll do (this)!" and it all works out. To all of you who have asked the question: I still have no idea if this is going to turn out to be a romance or not. I do have some ideas for later chapters, but how often can you expect a pirate to be entirely honest? I'm still trying to figure out how to write the next fifty-two days of stuff before everything gets turned upside down... but I won't tell you how!