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An Answer of Doubt- part 6
James was asleep by the time Jack came back, and was sleeping when Jack rose at dawn. Jack pressed his hand to James' back, relieved to find it cool to the touch. He pulled the covers up around James and took the bucket, that James had used at some point in the night, out with him.
James woke hours later to find a fresh bucket, fresh water by the bed, and apples on the table. His back felt better. In fact he could use his right arm a little without causing himself tremendous pain. James washed, shaved and trimmed his beard in Jack's mirror. He hardly recognized himself. He supposed that was the point of growing the beard in the first place. The braids helped too. The overall effect was as far from the image he had grown used to shaving in Port Royal every morning, as day is to night. He wondered if he could be recognized, even by Gillette or Groves.
The thought flooded him with now familiar pangs of loss. Memories rushed back unbidden- the brush of fingertips over the back of his hand, what passed for desire in those dark knowing eyes, the beguiling ease of his smile and his laughter. The man had deceived him, and had made him believe false things about himself. James had always known he was not irresistible, known his banter was not particularly charming. His sense of humor did not make him the life of the party. The man had made him forget all that for a while, had made him forget all his other shortcomings. James had never suspected the depths of his own foolishness, until it was fully measured, down to the very bottom of his soul.
When the hatch flew open with a crash, James turned too quickly, and blinked back shooting pain.
"Banging, today, are you?"
"Afternoon, James! You trimmed your beard! Nicely done! I like the gentleman pirate look on you."
"My face was itching."
"I'm not saying it wasn't, just admiring the scenery. Hungry?"
"Not especially."
"Eat."
James sat carefully, mindful of his back, and stirred his peas without enthusiasm.
"Did you find the book of poetry to your liking, James?"
"I did not read it. I finished Hobbes."
"What a shame."
"My back feels much improved, as is the use of my arm. I will be fine to mend sails for an hour or two."
"Yes, of course, James. Maybe tomorrow, ey?"
"I could mend sails an hour today and two tomorrow."
"Take me till tomorrow to find a sail that needs mending."
"I take it the crow's nest is out of the question?"
Jack smiled. "Would you like a game of cards, James? I could read your fortune?"
"I know my fortune, and do not want a game of cards, Jack. Thank you."
"Probably wise. A nice honest Naval lad like yourself is certainly no match for a pirate at piquet or ruffe."
"No, no match at all."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that. Why are you not finishing your lunch?"
"It is hard to work up an appetite for more peas porridge, sitting about a cabin all day."
"Just two more spoons full, mate."
"Fine."
When James had scraped the bowl, under Jack's watchful eye, Jack changed his bandage. There was a little fresh blood where the stitches were pulled cutting into the skin. The wound was still healing well enough. James did not flinch when Jack dabbed at the stitches with rum.
After James was wrapped up again, Jack pulled a deck of cards out.
"I do not want to play, Jack."
"I do card tricks. You like card tricks, don't you?"
Jack split the deck into five and juggled the five parts without dropping a card. Then he shuffled the cards behind his back.
"Pick a card James!"
"No."
Jack took a card from the top looking at James, not the deck. He held it up, so James could see.
"Me of clubs."
Jack plucked another from the middle of the deck.
"Ace of hearts."
James took one from the middle, looked at it, and held it against his chest.
Jack closed his eyes, touched the card lightly, then pulled his hand away.
"Me of hearts."
"Try, the seven of diamonds."
"Me of hearts, James. Look again."
James did.
"I am never playing cards with you."
"We'll have to find other ways to pass the time."
Jack put the cards away and took the bowls out with him. When Jack brought in dinner, James was reading.
"Thought you finished Hobbes."
"Now, I am memorizing him."
"Why so afraid of little Greek, James? Just poetry. It doesn't hurt a bit."
Norrington sighed. "Are you ordering me to read that book, Jack?"
"You know I'm not. I'm putting it away. You'll never see it again, unless you want to. It's the third one on the right.
James stood, walked to the basin and washed his hands and face.
"Has your appetite returned?"
"Do I start light duties tomorrow?"
"We'll see how you feel tomorrow. You'll feel better tomorrow, if you eat something tonight."
"I will feel fine tomorrow, regardless. Even better than I felt today, which was well enough for light duties."
"Look, you can walk on deck a bit tomorrow, if you want. However, I don't want you working until you are healed."
"My injury is healing well. You have said it yourself. It would not keep me from my duties on the Dauntless."
"Ah, but this is not the Dauntless, where likely, lopping off your stubborn head would not distract you from duties. This is my ship, and I don't want you working on it until I say you can."
"May I ask why?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I'll tell you that when you are well. Do sit down, James. Your peas porridge is getting cold."
"I do not care for any."
"Would you like an apple?"
"Do you -have- a reason, or are you just keeping me idle in order to irritate me?"
"That would be a legitimate reason. It is not my reason, however. Why on earth would I want to irritate you?"
"Because it entertains you!"
"Lot's of things entertain me. Having a certain member of my crew not question an order, that would be a bloody carnival, mate."
"Perhaps if your orders were based on logic, every day would be carnival, Jack."
"I can be most logical."
"You are the least logical person I have ever met!"
"Why thank you, James. If you do not sit down, I am starting without you."
"It was not meant as a compliment. The fact that you choose to take it so, only proves my point."
"Look, logic is fine and dandy, for what it is fine and dandy for. No good when you throw people in the mix. With people, the most irrational things work."
"One example."
"Say I wanted to commandeer the Interceptor-"
"Fine."
Jack stood and walked over to James, who was still standing by the basin on the dresser.
"You want logic? Here's logic. The more you rest; the sooner you will heal. The sooner you heal; the sooner you can go back to full duties. Frankly mate, I don't have a sail that needs mending. I don't fancy cutting one up, either. James, I know how frustrating it is. I'm not a good patient, either, mate. I know you are stir crazy, cooped up in here with nothing to do all day." Jack leaned in a bit until James met his gaze, "You look miserable, sailor. What can I do to cheer you up?"
James stared at him until Jack was sure he could feel icicles forming.
"You can spare me your imitation of a dockside whore. Look to your duties, Captain. It is not for me to mend sail. It is not for you to cheer me up."
"How very logical of you. I'll leave you to my books, then."
Jack grabbed an apple, leaving two bowls of peas porridge untouched, and stalked out of the cabin, back to the helm.
"Changed my mind, Ana. I won't be making an early night of it after all."
"Trouble with your Navy man?"
"Would you like to say something to me, Anamaria?"
"Told you to keep him drugged."
"He has not asked for it."
"He'll drink it, if I give it to him."
"For his pain, Ana, not for my recreation."
"You are the best man and biggest fool I ever met."
"Now that last part, really is saying something."
"It is. Jack, if you get some damn fool plan in your head-"
What love? You'll sink your boot in me so deep Neptune will feel it?
"- I'll help."
"-I'll keep that in mind."
"Goodni', Captain."
"Night, Ana."
She took three paces toward her cabin and turned.
"Jack. Coming back to the helm in three hours. He'll be asleep. You need sleep, too."
"Fair enough."
Three hours later, Jack had eaten an apple. Norrington was still reading.
"Dante! I did prefer him to Hobbes. Goodnight James. The light won't bother me."
James said nothing, nor did he even look up from his book, so Jack took off his boots and crawled onto the bed.
Jack was gone, by the time Norrington woke up. About noon, Jack brought stew into the cabin. Jack stood and gaped at the scene, nearly dropping the bowls.
Norrington was rifling through his charts!
What did that matter? Of course, it mattered! No, it didn't matter. He had not told Norrington not to touch his charts. Norrington should have bloody known, though! What would he be doing, in Norrington's place? Looking at charts, of course. However, Captain Jack Sparrow would not have gotten caught red handed. Jack hummed the pirate song until he was sure his voice was going to sound somewhat normal when he said,
"Join me for lunch, James?"
He did. "Your charts are vastly superior to Naval charts. Were ever did you get them, Jack?"
"Drew them."
"Drew them? What the Caribbean map, you drew it?"
"Got more than one Caribbean map- but yes, I drew them all."
"Jack, they are simply magnificent. They are priceless!"
"Indeed, as I have no intention of parting with them."
"How did you become such a gifted cartographer?"
"Drew maps. A lot of them."
"You've had no formal training?"
"One might say that."
Jack finished quickly, grabbed his bowl and bowed to James, though James did not notice. He was studying his untouched stew, as if something had crawled into his bowl and died there.
"Would you be so good as to put the charts back from whence they came, when you are quite finished with them, James?"
"Of course."
"Thank you."
Jack stomped out and meant to slam the hatch, but his hand slipped, so that he only closed it. He was tempted to open it again, just to slam it as hard as he could. Instead he walked to the rail and threw his bowl and spoon over the side. He could feel Gibbs' eyes on his back.
"Mr. Gibbs, you have something to say to me?"
"No. Will you be taking the helm, Captain?"
"Aye."
"Heard it is quite good."
"What?"
"The stew ya made! Everybody's raving about it! Thought I'd have myself a bowl right now."
"Please do."
"Anything -you- want to talk about, Jack?"
"How's the crew?"
"Plenty less bothered than I counted on. Clemmons weren't what ye'd call well liked. Nobody puts any stock in that babble of his. Most seem to think Grey'll bring us luck, especially the Navy deserters, and the rest of the crew what know who he is. Not that any of them are talkin' about that to the rest, mind."
"Thank you, Mr. Gibbs."
Gibbs lingered longer than necessary, then clapped his hand on Jack's shoulder and headed for the galley.
Jack stretched his arms wide, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against the Pearl. The Pearl did not hug him back.
...to be continued...
