Disclaimer: The French ppl are mine, as well as Mari and Sangre. I cannot, alas, claim to own anyone else from this tale. pouts
A/N: I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter up!! The truth is, there was a dearth of reviews, and it was slow going b/c I though you ppl had lost interest. :( However, I got a multitude of feedback this morning, so thank you all!! Especially FreakandProud! She and BlackJackSlvr have been w/ me from the beginning. Ah, I do love my fan base....
Sangre curled on the deck, knees tucked into his shrunken chest, sallow face pressed against filthy greatcoat sleeves. The screaming, that shrieking torture, had been going on for days. Possibly weeks. Occasionally, the torture was varied with physical anguish, but not often. The Sirens preferred madness as their specialty, and it suited them well.
"Stop!" he screamed over and over again. "Stop it, please!"
Perhaps it was the 'please' that made them halt. Samuel Sangre never pleaded for anything. The trio of supernatural femmes stood over him, arms akimbo, glowing eyes narrowed menacingly. One crouched down to whisper in his ear.
"You've failed us. Again." The hiss sent sharp shudders down his spine.
"Twenty years, Samuel Sangre," the second Siren purred. This voice forced his muscles to spasm and cramp. He whimpered.
"And two are lost to us, now," the third said, angrily. Her voice caused his mind to cloud and whirl, making it difficult to think and causing him an immediate headache. She knelt and gripped his chin in icy fingers, her flesh smelling of rain and sea. She forced his eyes to lock with hers, grey-blue orbs that seemed to pierce his soul.
"Two decades we have been bound to you," she rasped. "We are tired. This ends quickly, you superfluous mortal, or we shall end you. And you will not," her lips briefly touched his ear, "be released into death. If you considered what we've wrought on you torment, dear Captain, you were wrong. This is only a fraction of what we're capable of."
The three stood and circled him, like a pack of wolves waiting for the strike. Sangre faced them on his knees, wondering what he could do or say to prolong his chances a bit longer. Suddenly, his head snapped up, and he breathed deeply.
"Land. Three of them have touched land...the Black Pearl is docked." He looked up at his tormentors, yellow eyes and grey mouth softening to a sly expression.
"We can have them as quickly as you like, ladies."
Will exited the cabin he and Elizabeth shared, carrying a tray that still held most of the food he'd brought her in the first place. Even docked, a ship will roll with the waves, a fact that had grieved the Turners (and, in fact, the rest of the crew; especially poor Red) to no end. Elizabeth's episode of undignified "deck washing" had been repeated any number of times in the last weeks, at last ending when a trio of buckets were employed to be switched off as they were needed. The only good thing about this thus far, Will thought, was that the nausea was an excuse for his wife to put aside discomfiting skirts for some garb borrowed from Annamaria.
Will paused in his musing abruptly as something white flew over his head. At first, he thought it was a drunken seagull. But the thing passed over again, its shape having nothing birdlike about it. A third time, the object was flung into the air, accompanied by raucous, piratical laughter. It was then that Will identified the flying object.
"Commodore Norrington's wig?"
"Indeed."
Will spun about to see a stiffer-than-usual Commodore eyeing his aviating hairpiece. Sweat on his brow and deep breaths showed Will that Norrington had only recently given up on catching the thing. His own longish brown-and-silver hair proved to be excellent entertainment for the ocean breeze. Norrington shoved the strands out of his face impatiently.
"Actually," he told Will thoughtfully, "I hate the cursed thing. My attempts to reclaim it were on principle, only."
James' eyes held a twinkle of amusement. "This is really rather entertaining."
The object in question was made airborne once again, this time spinning before descending to the deck. Jack, who had been watching the entire scene with undisguised mirth, rescued the wig from his crewmen, holding it delicately between finger and thumb.
"Better not be damaged!" he told Red, and a man named Mr. Sweet. "We're going to need this little wanker."
With that, Jack plopped the thing down on Will's head.
"What the-" Will reached up to remove the wig, deterred by Jack's slapping his hand away.
"It's a disguise, mate. We can't exactly go into the Manor de Bordeaux as we are now, savvy? I think it makes you look rather dashing, really."
"I think it makes him look like a fop," a disgruntled feminine voice interjected. The three men turned, and stood gaping.
Mari stood before them, dressed in Elizabeth's discarded gown. Her russet hair was immaculately coiffed, a fan clutched in gloved fingers. Her lips had even been rouged. She looked every inch the haughty noble lady, her expression only serving to complete the illusion.
"Not one word," Mari warned. "From any of you." And she stalked away, skirts clutched angrily in one fist.
"She looks..." Norrington began.
"...Like her mother," Jack finished softly. Will blinked.
"Well, lad," Jack said hastily, slapping Will on the back. "We'd best hop to, ay?"
"The three of you cannot go to shore alone!" Elizabeth said frantically. She followed Will as he placed supplies in the dinghy, bending stiffly in the commodore's uniform.
"Jack said it himself; Sangre tracks better on land! You'll be as good as letting him have you!" She clasped Will's arm, and he turned, shocked at the tears rimming his wife's eyes. He gathered her close, resting his chin on her hair.
"I don't want anything to happen to you," she whispered. Will kissed his wife's forehead, gently.
"We'll only be gone a day and a night; less, if Jack has any say in it. Nothing will happen to us, my love."
Elizabeth did not respond verbally; she only clutched Will more tightly. Once, she would have reveled in the adventure, but now...now she wanted only to go home. Each passing day saw her more pregnant than the last; she was three months along now, and beginning to show.
Jack and Mari strode up then (well, in Mari's case, minced disagreeably), to place the last of their supplies in the longboat. The commodore, standing close by, handed Mari into the dinghy with practiced grace. Elizabeth hugged the young woman, then turned to Jack.
"You bring him back, Captain Sparrow," she whispered. "And yourself, as well."
"Have I ever broken a promise to you, dear Liz?" Jack murmured back with an irreverent grin. "I am a man of my word."
The three rowed quickly to shore under cover of darkness, as the Black Pearl sailed to a less conspicuous position. They then his the boat carefully (but not so carefully that they would not find it again) and made their way to the doors of Milo de Bordeaux's seaside manor.
Jack, looking quite the gentleman divested of his jangling oddments and eye paint, knocked imperiously on the entryway with his "swagger stick." Mari and Will hung back, similarly disguised, Mari's arm looped through Will's. Mari could feel the tension in the young man, as if he were lightning-struck. He's not certain this will work. Mari smiled to herself. Neither am I. But I've gotten away with worse.
The door opened, revealing a rectangle of yellow light, and a rather groggy-looking footman. He peered through the door at them, slightly confused.
"Who'er you?" he asked, in slurred French. Jack stiffened as if affronted, and answered him in totally unaccented, highborn French.
"I, Monsieur, am Jacob Gull, a representative of the Dutch West Indies Company," (the company was totally fictitious) "and these" –gesturing vaguely over his shoulder- "are my noble progeny, Captain Willard Gull, and the Lady Margaret Gull. We were on our way to the docks, when our caravan was ransacked."
Mari pretended to swoon; Will fanned her attentively. Jack, eyeing them with feigned nervousness, leaned toward the footman conspiratorially.
"Horrible ruffians; we're lucky we weren't killed. However, though our lives have been preserved, our comfort was somewhat compromised. Happily, we stumbled upon this lovely holding, and hoped to discover asylum within its walls."
The footman examined them for a moment. Mari simpered at him; Will (who didn't speak French) looked as stiff and noble as possible, giving the man a grave nod. Jack merely stared back at the servant, his normal, unsteady stance looking like poise.
"You may enter," the footman said, standing aside. Jack grinned and ushered his "children" inside before him.
"Wonderful! My eternal thanks to you, good man. Pray, who is the proprietor of these estates?"
"Lord Milo de Bordeaux, Monsieur Gull. I shall, of course, inform him of your presence immediately. Please, make yourselves comfortable."
The footman gestured toward a grouping of overstuffed furniture positioned near the back of the foyer. Jack put on a disarming golden grin.
"Many thanks, my good man!"
The three went over to the chairs, Will handing Mari into one before either man seated himself. As soon as the footman was out of sight, Jack sprawled lazily and grinned.
"Well, mates, this seems to be going off without a hitch!" he said cheerfully. Mari raised an eyebrow.
"Things are rarely 'hitchless' in these cases," she said dryly. "What if de Bordeaux's sister shows up?"
"Ah, Juliette is probably married with a brood of French pups by now. Besides, if she were still here, do you really think she'd recognize me?"
"I don't know, Jack," Will said softly. "You have one of those faces."
"What sort of face would that be, lad?"
"Apparently, the sort women feel the need to chastise."
Mari smiled widely at this, knowing well her father's talent for garnering female slaps. Jack rolled his eyes, then lowered his eyelids in a sly look.
"In any case, mate, that's why you're here."
"What? Jack..." Will gave the pirate a warning look. Jack only smiled.
"Yer prettier than I am, lad. More...eye-catching, as it were. If Juliette is still cavorting about, odds are she'll notice you before she notices me. 'Twas always the way with your dad. Couldn't take him anywhere."
"S-so...you expect me t-to seduce..." Will began, spluttering angrily. Mari wore a longsuffering look. Jack waved his hands, forestalling Will's babble.
"I don't expect ye to seduce anyone, lad. Yer a married man, wi' a whelp on the way. No; I just want you for...eye-candy. Wi' that sharp tongue, I'm sure you can distract anyone while the lass and I get what we came for."
"So, I'm to pilfer this treasure while you two dissemble, no doubt?" Mari asked. Jack shook his head.
"No, lass. Ye're here to help me keep me head in this place. It's worse than the minotaur's maze; ye've the best head for navigation I've yet seen. I can find the treasure, but I need you t' get me out again."
Jack ended there, rather abruptly, neglecting to mention the manor's confusing passageways had nearly been his downfall, last time. Milo had not been happy with the young rogue seducing his sister, and intended to extract his vengeance from Jack's flesh. It had been by luck only that Jack had found his way out of the labyrinthine corridors at all.
At that moment, a door opened at the far end of the hall, and a tall, balding man strode through, accompanied by a retinue of servants. Jack didn't need to tell his companion who this man was. It was quite obvious Milo de Bordeaux was going to attend to them personally.
"Ah, Monsieur Gull, I presume?" he said grandly, in heavily accented English. Will couldn't tell if the man's disuse of his native tongue was out of consideration or arrogance. His attitude could have suggested either.
The three rose and made the proper obeisance.
"You are correct, my Lord de Bordeaux," Jack said gravely, pretending not to notice the affront. Or, the looks Milo was giving his daughter, for that matter.
"We were hoping," Will said, stepping neatly in front of Mari before her glares caught de Bordeaux's attention, "that we could-"
He was stopped by a wave of de Bordeaux's be-ringed hand.
"Yes, yes, my footman has told me all about it. I would be happy to give three such distinguished persons asylum in my home for the evening."
Jack smiled to himself. In other words, he's going to try and weasel a trade agreement out of us.
"My sister and I would be delighted for the fresh conversation of new company," Milo continued. All three companions froze.
"Your sister?" Mari inquired politely. "She lives here with her husband, does she? I should be delighted for another woman's company."
"Ah, she will like the company as well!" Milo said exuberantly. "Yours as well as the gentlemen's, Mademoiselle. Juliette is, alas, still searching for a man to capture her heart."
A/N: Ohhhh.....Something tells me Jack is in TROUBLE now!! Hehehe. I love that. Elizabeth fans, no worries. Her part gets bigger later on. And, I apologize b/c I said there was going to be a row in here and there isn't. Well, it took me longer than I thought to set up for it, but how sweet it will be, savvy?
Also, for those of you who read An Officer and A Gentleman and are slightly confused, wait for it. All will be explained in time.