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A Pirate's Life and Death part 9 by Ecri
Jack Sparrow stared out at the sea taking a calming breath. It had been a long night. Will had barely slept, so Jack and Elizabeth had stayed up with him. The pirate wondered at Will's reaction to this drug. He was more certain than ever that Will seemed much worse than Bill had, and it puzzled him. He thought perhaps it could be the dose. Killian was likely not careful about things like that, and Will had lost a lot of weight in his time aboard ship. Bill's weight hadn't been an issue. He hadn't been a slave. He hadn't been beaten or mistreated in anyway. Killian had simply decided one day that Bootstrap Bill, a trusted member of his crew, would do well enough, and had slipped a drug to him in his food or in his drink.
Will, on the other hand, had been fed precious little besides the drug. Whatever he'd eaten in the last few months had likely been tainted, for Trilby had claimed Killian used the drug to make troublesome slaves more docile.
Docile. Just using the word in connection with Will Turner made Jack ill. Will was many things–bullheaded, single-minded, loyal–but docile he was not. Even now, half their problem with the boy was that he expected to be well. He couldn't understand not being able to stand, to feed himself, to raise his arm without trembling.
It had been much the same with Bill, though it had taken Bill at most a three or four days to recover. They were well into the second week with Will.
Bootstrap Bill's sonit still took him a bit off guard. From the moment they'd met, he'd known there was something familiar about the blacksmith, but it wasn't until he'd learned the boy's name that he'd put it together. Bootstrap had spoken of a family he'd left behind. He'd even sent money back to them on occasion, but Jack never imagined he'd meet the lad. As far as he'd known, Bill's family had stayed in England. That the lad had left home to search for his father seemed remarkable, but then, Will Turner had proved himself remarkable.
"Chip off the ol' block, 'ey mate?" Jack laughed to himself, as he turned the ship's wheel. His laughter away as thoughts of Bill enticed his mind to wander old familiar roads. He remembered how Bill had sent some portion of his share of plunder home to England whenever he could safely do so. He remembered Bill's own worst fears that his son would follow his father and become a pirate.
"I wouldn't wish a pirate's life on my only child, Jack."
Jack nodded. "I know, but it's in 'is blood. A pirate's life may not be what 'e wants, but 'e's gonna have to taste it once before 'e knows."
"As long as it doesn't end in a pirate's death."
Crossing the deck, Jack stood in front of the wheel and stared out to sea for a moment. "Pirate's don't die. They sail to the next port."
"Aye, that's true enough, Captain Jack! That's true enough." Bill suddenly sobered. "If ye had it to do again, Jack, would you still be a pirate?"
Jack heard not only the question, but also the words Bill didn't say. Did he have regrets? Did he wish he'd chosen a respectable profession? Did he wish he could settle down, or that he'd become a merchant sailor? Jack sighed. Some pirates spent their lives thinking through such things, but JackJack was different.
"Ye don't choose to be a pirate, Bill. Piracy chooses you. I couldn't be anything other than what I am." He smiled allowing a glint in his eye with practiced ease that he knew most would read as insanity. "BesidesI'm good at it, mate. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."
Bill laughed at the twinkle in Jack's eye, as Jack had intended, but then he added his own observation. "And there's none other like ye, mate!"
Jack sighed. He knew what Bill had meant by not wishing this life on his son, but Jack couldn't imagine being anything else. He answered to no one, save men like Norrington when he was caught, and he planned not to be caught again.
His reverie was cut short when Elizabeth appeared at his elbow. He cursed himself silently that he'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't heard her approach. Trying to keep the upper hand, he addressed her first. "And what can I do for you, Miss Swann?"
"It's Will. When we make port, you should try to find a doctor." Elizabeth tried to look stoic and matter-of-fact in her suggestion, but the unusual sight of her wringing her hands, as well as the concern visible in her eyes, belied all such attempts.
She looked distressed as she said the words, and Jack thought, perhaps, the lad had taken a quick turn while he'd come out to see to ship's business. He felt his heart lurch at the thought, and was surprised at the reaction.
Releasing the ship's wheel, Jack gestured for Gibbs, who hovered nearby in case he was needed, to take it as he moved towards his cabin. Elizabeth fell into step beside him. "What's happened? Is he worse?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "Not really."
Jack stopped and turned to face her. "What?"
"He's not really worse, no."
Jack waited for explanation. He stared at the girl, arms crossed in front of him. When she didn't respond to the silent demand for information, he raised his left hand, supporting the elbow with his right. "And?" His left hand waved vaguely around as though trying to pluck her words from the air around him.
"He's not worse, but he gets no better." She had said these words to him many times, and his exasperation had yet to be any sort of a deterrent to hearing them again.
Jack's eyes were wide and frustration was plain upon his face. "Ye'aven't said that again, 'ave ye? Ye can't 'ave said that again!" He stepped closer to her, invading her personal space, yet the girl held her ground. "Will is getting better. It's just taking time."
"You said it didn't take his father anywhere near this much time"
"We've been through that! I've told ye"
Elizabeth drew in a breath, and stepped closer to Jack, not even noticing when she forced the Captain to take a step backwards. Pointing at his chest, and occasionally poking him with her finger to punctuate her words, she continued to step forward until the two were moving in a small tight circle. "You haven't told me much except to repeat that he'll be fine! When? He can barely eat or drink without retching, and his nightmares are worse than ever!"
Jack stopped moving. "Nightmares?"
"Not that he'll tell me that's what it is, but it's obvious!" Her anger was soon replaced by her worries for Will. "He's not getting better. Bring a doctor!"
"Liz, there's nothing I'd like better, but there won't be one where we're going. We're stopping for supplies; then we're movin' on. Once we get somewhere where they 'ave a doctor, you're more than welcome to run off and find one!" Trained physicians were few in the Caribbean, and Jack would rather not risk Will's life on some stranger with rusty knives, a bottle of whiskey, and a sack full of leeches.
Just then, Gibbs called out for all aboard to hear. "Land to starboard! Approaching port!"
Jack glared at Elizabeth for another moment, then turned on his heel and took his position at the wheel, kohl-rimmed eyes smoldering, yet focused on the island they approached.
**
Trilby walked along the waterfront checking the names of those few ships that had docked overnight. He was looking for a good, fast ship with not too fierce a reputation so he could sign on and finally get back out to sea. He'd been here too long already, but he'd found the days blurring into each other as he'd used bottle after bottle of rum in a feeble attempt to purge the mental images of what Commodore Killian had done to that poor Turner boy.
He'd been entirely unsuccessful, but he had taken to consoling himself with the thought that he'd somehow helped set Captain Jack Sparrow and The Black Pearl off to find and maybe rescue the boy. Not that he thought rescue was possible. If he had thought so, he'd have gone along when Sparrow had suggested it.
It wasn't really his concern Trilby told himself over and over again. He had concerns of his own, like where he was going to find work. Trilby was a seagoing man at heart, and now that he'd been on dry land for so long, he was itching to feel the roll of the ocean's waves beneath his feet and the kiss of salt air upon his skin. One of these ships, he thought, must have an opening.
It was as he sauntered across to one he thought he knew, or had heard of once before, when Trilby caught sight of someone moving in the shadows. Someone crouched there between some recently unloaded crates and barrels, trying not to be seen in the dimming light of the setting sun. Trilby squinted trying to make it out. The movements were quick and hurried, but stiff, as though each movement caused the man unbearable pain yet he showed no sign of stopping or resting.
Thinking perhaps the man might need a helping hand, and his thoughts still unmercifully on the many things he should have done to help young Turner when he'd had the chance, Trilby crossed the road and drew up next to the dark figure.
"Ahoy, mate! You need a 'and?" He reached out to the dark huddled figure, half-hidden in shadow.
A strange rumbling sound came from the shaded figure, and Trilby hastily withdrew his hand. " 'ere! Wot's wrong wi'ya?" He took a step backwards in case the man's malady was more brought on by illness more than drink.
In less time than it took his trepidation to take hold of his heart, the man-shaped shadow stood shaking off its cloak and took hold of his throat. "You'll do, for a start."
Trilby's eyes widened as his hands flew instinctively to his throat trying desperately to pry the iron grip away and allow him to take a breath.
The shadow-man loosened his grip slightly allowing his captive to take a slow shuddering breath just as blackness crept into his vision. Greedily gulping what little air he was permitted, Trilby looked intently at the apparition. "CCommodore?"
Killian stepped forward showing his face in the last vestiges of the fading sunlight at precisely the moment when the sun sank below the horizon. His face was a hideous mass of wrinkled, sagging flesh that hung in loose folds upon his bones. His hair a few wisps of gray clinging stubbornly to a mostly bald scalp. But it was not the hideousness of the visage before him that had terror blooming in Trilby's heart.
Looking up into that face, transformed by some evil curse, the old pirate saw the Commodore's eyes. They glowed with an evil light that Trilby had never seen before, and they exuded a malice and a thirst for blood that spoke of massacre.
Killian released his grip on Trilby's throat, only to grab the man's arm. "Have you seen the Pearl, Trilby?"
It was then the man knew that, somehow, Jack Sparrow had managed to free Turner. Knowing little of the Captain of the Pearl, Trilby could only guess that he wouldn't have left the Commodore alive if he could have helped it. "N-no! I ain't 'eard a single word of 'er since she left port 'ere lookingyou."
Killian grinned, but the expression held no humor, only anticipation, malevolence, and hatred. "They'll have to stop for suppliesI am not too late." He glanced up at the moon. It would be full in a matter of days. His brief respite, his stay of execution as it were, was almost over. The grin returned, but this time, it made Trilby shiver.
"Tilby, my friend, we're about to bag a Sparrowas soon as I take care of some unfinished business." His laughter echoed across the docks sending a shiver down Trilby's spine.
**
Anamaria stared at the back of the pirate in front of her watching the slump of his shoulders and the sharp intake of breathe as he seemed to argue with himself. Captain Jack Sparrow was not an easy egg to crack. He still seemed insane more often than not, but this most recent adventure, for lack of a better word, seemed unsettling for him. Treasure wasn't the only thing a pirate buried, and Anamaria was certain the Captain hid things from himself as well as from others.
She tipped her hat back slightly on her head as she watched his shoulders suddenly straighten and his mumbling cease. Without preamble he took the wheel from Gibbs. "I'd like to get to port before sunset!" He barked the words and Gibbs looked at him in uncertainty. Anamaria caught his eyes and shook her head once, letting him know he hadn't really done anything wrong. The Captain was just in a mood.
They were putting into port to pick up some supplies for their trip. The run to and from Scratch had much depleted their stockpile, and she was relieved that they had made it here without incident. She'd been worried when they'd picked up Elizabeth, and later, when they'd pulled a battered, drugged Will Turner from the clutches of some sinister plot she had yet to fathom. She'd assumed they'd need to ration a bit tighter to allow for two extra mouths. No such precaution had been necessary.
Turner could barely keep down what few sips of water they managed to force down his throat, and Swann and Sparrow ate less than the birds whose names they bore as they hovered over the injured boy, too consumed with worry to consume the food they needed.
Expertly, and with the skills of his long years experience, Captain Jack Sparrow slipped the Black Pearl into a vacant berth, wishing all the while that he could do it more quickly.
Glaring at Gibbs again, he issued his orders. "I'll be takin' half the crew ashore for supplies. Once we're back, the rest can take a short leave, but we sail again at daybreak! Make sure they know, we'll be followin' the Code on this one!"
With that, the Captain jumped from the ship and onto the docks, the men he'd chosen to accompany him close at his heels. Jack was indeed in a bad mood, and none of his crew had any desire to test him.
Anamaria sighed as she watched Sparrow's back. Tearing her eyes away, she glanced towards the cabin, knowing Elizabeth was in there with Will, and that, likely, she was in no better mood than the captain. She shook her head. This wouldn't be a fun trip.
**
Elizabeth again gently stroked Will's forehead with the water-soaked cloth. He was dreaming again, locked in some nightmare image, which he never fully escaped even when awake. She tried to wake him now, but wasn't able. It worried her, but Jack always sent her away when she grew worried over this inability to wake him. Often he would send her out of the room and lock her out.
Irritated at this, she'd been too angry to do more than allow it on the first occasion. On the second, she'd decided not to allow it.
Flashback
She'd walked around the Pearl until she found a strong rope, then, deftly tying one end securely to the rail as Norrington had once showed her, she'd tied a loop in the other end and used it to stuck her foot into it. As quickly as she was able, she lowered herself precariously over the side until she'd been suspended in front of the cabin's porthole. It was open, as it often was, to catch what breezes deigned to be caught.
She watched as Jack bent over Will, gently removing the damp cloth Elizabeth had placed upon his forehead. "Will?" He called to the younger man, but Will only turned restlessly from side to side, grimacing in pain or horror.
"Will?" He called again, louder, but again to no affect.
Will's hands came up in an unconscious plea for help. Jack caught them both in one hand and held them still against Will's heaving chest. Will was screaming now, the images of his dream tearing the sounds from his parched throat as tears slipped beneath tightly clenched eyes.
Elizabeth was about to try to climb back up the rope and try to get to his side somehow, when she saw a sight that chilled her blood.
Jack, still doubled over and standing above the screaming boy, pulled back his one free hand and slapped Will soundly across the face.
Shocked, Elizabeth swayed on her rope as she opened her mouth to say something only to close it with an audible snap as Jack again struck Will. One more blow, and Will's eyes opened. Feverbright, they locked on Jack's though it was apparent he wasn't seeing the Captain. To Elizabeth's surprise, Jack struck him once more, and Elizabeth was about to yell at him, all thoughts of keeping her presence secret gone in the face of this attack.
Surprise again caught her in its grip as Will stopped struggling. His glazed eyes focused on the man above him. "J-Jack?" He seemed confused more than anything.
"Jack" he spoke clearly and softly, his throat still parched and his mind still lost in images from whatever nightmare had tormented him.
"Sshhh! It's alright, mate. You're not alone." With the gentleness of a mother with a newborn babe, Jack settled Will back down and returned the newly moistened cloth to his forehead. "Whatever yer seein' it's just a dream, lad."
"Dream." Will repeated the word as though he'd never heard it before. "It wasa dream."
"Aye, that it was, and you're burning with fever from it." Jack mopped the sweat from Will's face and chest, speaking to him softly as he worked.
Elizabeth watched, her surprise at Jack's slapping Will doubled at the realization that he could be so gentle. She continued to watch in amazement as Jack gently stripped Will's sweat soaked shirt from him and replaced it with a cleaner, drier one even as he spoke reassuring words to his young friend.
Elizabeth had considered Captain Jack Sparrow a friend since their bizarre adventure with Captain Barbossa, but she had not realized just how good a friend he was to Will. Will sorely needed friends. He worked hard and long hours at the smithy, robbing him of what time he might have otherwise had to linger over ale and conversation. Raised almost entirely by a drunken blacksmith, Will hadn't had time to make many friends, and heaven knew the people in Elizabeth's circle had done nothing to make him feel welcome.
Her attention was drawn back to Will as he cried out again in confusion, still fighting past the memory of the dream. "It seemed so real, Jack. What if it is? What if"
"I'll hear no more of that, Will Turner! You're not responsible for your father's death no matter what sort of dreams you've 'ad!" The way he spoke, Elizabeth was sure he'd had this conversation with Will before, yet Will hadn't spoken to her of any dreams. Momentarily angered at the thought, she forced herself to chase such feelings away. Will was likely seeking comfort from Jack over this because Jack had known Will's father. How could she begrudge him that?
"But Jack"
"No buts, Will Turner! As stubborn as yer father! He wouldn't want ye goin' on like this!" Jack's admonishment seemed to do the trick, settling Will's thoughts and momentarily stilling his almost incessantly trembling body.
Jack fussed over Will for another moment or two, then, when he seemed to have drifted off to sleep again, he turned to look Elizabeth in the eye. "Let's get you inside, Miss Swann."
Elizabeth gaped at the pirate. "Howhow did you" She couldn't finish the question as she traced the last few minutes in her mind's eye wondering when she'd given herself away.
To her consternation, a sly grin spread across her face, and an odd glint appeared in his eye. She groaned as she realized what he was about to say.
"How? You forget, lass. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."
End Flashback
Elizabeth had never been able to determine how Jack had known she was there, and he'd refused to tell her.
Now, she watched Will's shallow breathing almost mesmerized by it. She must have dozed, her tired body giving in easily to what it sorely needed. She might have slept through the night, early as it was, but for the loud crash she heard just outside the door.
Standing, she raced to the door and flung it open to find the remaining crew of the Black Pearl battling pirates. Slipping back inside, she pulled a sword from Jack's personal armaments, and stepped out again, carefully closing the door, locking it, and slipping the key down the front of her dress into a pocket concealed in the lining.
Turning to face the raiding crew, she stood in wide-eyed astonishment at the face of Commodore Killian as he leered at her. "Miss SwannI'd sell you again, but I don't have the time for it. I'll assume the lad is in there!" He gestured behind her towards the cabin door even as he raised his sword and swung at her head.
To be continued.
Author's note: I know I said the swashbuckling would be back in this chapter. Ooops! I guess I meant the next chapter! Enjoy, and check back later for more!
Responses to Reviews:
Jackfan2: Thanks! I do have some things up my sleeve. I only hope they don't disappoint.
Trinity Day: I'm glad you're enjoying this! I'm enjoying writing it.
EnglishMystic: Thanks! I guess you like the comfort side of hurt/comfort! There's lots more angst, introspection, swashbuckling, and humor to come.
LordLanceahlot: Thanks. Let me know when yours is written.
Anaticulapraecantrix: Glad you liked that!
Phoenix Flight: Don't worry. At least he's among friends now.
Rachel the Insane Unicorn: Thanks. Can I take it that you love this story?
Sirena: A shining fanfiction review if ever I saw one! Wow! Thanks! You've eased a lot of my own worries over the story. I do hope you like the rest of it. Again, thanks!
Death: Umspooky namebut, thanks!
Emiri-chan: Thank you for your enthusiastic review. I will search out your fic as soon as I've finished this one. (This and a few other unfinished fics are taking all my time at the moment, but I will make time to read yours.) As for your questionsbut you'll have to wait to read the rest of the fic to find out!
Alexa: Yeah, you never know what Elizabeth's going to see. She never stays where they put her! No, things won't be easy for Will, but he's got people to look out for him now, plus, he's a strong man. He's got some fight left in him. I do know just what you mean. Writing for yourself is a truer expression ofwhatever you need to express. Writing what others want to read never goes half as well. I will check out that fic you recommended.
Alicia: Yeah, I hate clichesthough they can be useful from time to time. Genius? (Ecri blushes.) Thanks!
Jack the Pirate: Thanks! I love to call people fans of my work! Stay tuned for more swashbuckling!
Amy85: Sorry about the delay. I was a bit blocked, but now I'm back on track! More to come soon.
Padfoot4ever: Thanks! I'm enjoying this, too! (The writing, that is!)