A/N: WOOHOO!!!!! I have returned from my long sojourn in Holland! And I have returned with….(drumroll) A NEW CHAPTER!! Aren't you all proud of me? I wrote it on planes and trains and while visiting my Oma and other relatives. It's long too! :D:D…at least, it is in my notebook, so we'll just wait and see how long it is typed.
Review responses are at the bottom
Disclaimer: blah blah blah, freckled raven owns nothing…blah blah blah…oh just die, will you? Bloody disclaimer.
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Sam had an intense desire to rub her temples. That seemed far too precocious of her though, so she settled for scratching the back of her neck and sighing.
"This doesn't, perchance, involve any fireworks or noserings does it?" she asked warily.
"Huh?" said Finn.
Sam gave her sister a pointed look.
"Oh, right…that." Said Finn sheepishly with a look that said 'god damn it, I was hoping you'd forgotten that.'
"There were those explosions…" she said, nose wrinkled in thought.
"And Captain MacAllan's pet magpie…" Sam continued for her.
"Ah, yes…" Finn scrunched up her face, "The rest of that evening is something I'd like to forget." She caught her twin's dubious expression, "But that was just poor planning!" she hastened to explain.
"Uh huh," replied Sam skeptically, "planning done by you."
"Alright, alright," Finn snapped. "The less we say about The Incident, the better. This plan will be better!...Really! Trust me!"
This does not bode well, thought Sam. Whenever Finn used the words 'trust me' it was definitely an evil omen. Something was sure to go wrong.
Finn plunged on regardless, ignoring Sam's nervous expression. "You know how Mum and Dad get along better when they're drinking?"
Sam groaned. "I can see where this is going," she mumbled.
Once again, Finn ignored her. "All we need to do is get them drunk again!"
Her twin stared at her for a moment. When it was obvious that Finn's idiotic grin wouldn't melt under her baleful gaze, she spoke.
"You. Are. Daft! Do you have any idea how many ways that could-no will-go wrong? For one, when Mumsy wakes up, she's going to have a headache and a killing spree!"
Finn kept grinning. "Yes, perhaps," she replied cheerfully, "but we've got nothing to lose and there'll be nothing to connect us to it. Hey, who knows? Maybe we'll be lucky this time."
Sam opened her mouth to speak but Finn cut her off.
"You're going to cave anyway."
"Hey! How do you-"
"You always do. Now, shall we shake on it?" Finn held out her left hand.
She was right. Sam could already feel herself giving in.
God bloody damn it.
Sam extended her own hand, then pulled back, eyes narrowed. "Any fireworks?"
Finn chuckled, then, seeing her sister's mutinous expression, she quickly replied, "No, no fireworks."
"You swear?"
"I swear."
They shook. Left hands always, the hands of rogues.
!
Jack was confused. Well, not so much confused as perplexed. In fact, it wasn't even perplexed. There was just something niggling at the back of his mind. He knew that somewhere, in his subconscious, some part of his mind was trying to tell him something important. The only problem was that understanding this message was like trying to understand someone speaking in swedish with a scottish accent.
"Something is rotten in the state of Denmark," the captain muttered to himself.
"Aye, sir," replied Gibbs from beside Jack, as he tightened the ropes, "but we're not in Denmark are we?"
"It's Shakespeare, Gibbs," said Jack, staring out to sea, "Henry the VIII."
Gibbs didn't look up from his work, "Hamlet, sir."
There was a moment's pause.
"What was that, mate?"
"I said; it's from 'Hamlet', sir."
"What is?"
"The line, sir."
"What line?"
Gibbs gave up. There was no way to convince Jack that he'd been wrong about something. He had a very selective memory. The sailor finished his task and moved on to the next, leaving his captain to his muddled thoughts.
Something was simply off, and when there was something off it probably had something to do with Storm. She just had that effect on the world around her. A minute or two later, Jack found himself looking for his bizarre wife. Perhaps if he confronted her about the offness in his mind (most likely caused by her), then maybe he could enjoy his rum in peace.
After a great deal of searching, he finally spotted the elusive Storm under the staircase near his cabin. She was lounging in the shade, sitting on some empty sacs, with the ships' cat, Whiskey, purring at her feet. There was a bottle of rum on a crate beside her and in her hands was a sketchbook in which she was busily drawing. She looked up at Jack as he stepped into her niche, and grinned widely at him.
"Welcome to me hole, Cap'n! Take a seat." She motioned to one of the unoccupied crates around her.
With some discretion, Storm closed her book before Jack could see what she'd been drawing. She leaned heavily on her elbows, chin in one palm.
"Can I see you in me cabin, O'Connor?"
Storm raised her eyebrows with a look that passed for innocent. "I don't know, Cap'n, can ye?"
Storm laid aside her sketchbook and crawled forward a bit so that she could peer through the open door of his quarters.
"No, Cap'n," she said after a moment, "Doesn't look like I'm in there."
Jack rolled his eyes, "Fine, Miss Grammar. May I see you in me cabin?" He asked in syrupy-sweet tones.
"That ye may," Storm replied cheerfully. She gathered up her rum and sketchbook, petted Whiskey-who meowed plaintively at her departure-and rose in one nearly-graceful movement.
Once inside his cabin, she kicked off her boots and settled herself on his bed. Jack did his best to ignore this affront to his authority. Instead, he moved to stand beside her.
She was looking up at him with an innocently expectant expression on her face, which was obviously completely fake. She most likely knew what it was that was bothering him and they both knew that she was never innocent…of anything.
"Could-may I have a piece of paper?" Jack asked, motioning to the sketchbook in her hand.
Storm quirked an eyebrow at the odd request but she wordlessly complied. She pulled out a piece of creamy white parchment and handed it to him, along with the bit of charcoal she used to draw.
Jack thanked her, then walked over to his desk. He pushed aside the messy pile of maps and seacharts and gestured at Storm to join him.
Her expression wary, the female captain moved to stand beside Jack and flashed him a questioning glance. He merely shook his head and began to draw on the parchment.
First he sketched a crude stick figure wearing a skirt.
"This is you," Jack proclaimed and he wrote 'Storm' beside it.
"I don't wear a skirt."
"What?"
"I said; I don't wear a skirt. Therefore that," Storm pointed derisively to the figure, "is not me."
"Well, 'ow else do I make it look female?"
Storm shrugged. "I don't know. Give it breasts?"
Jack raised an eyebrow slightly but he obliged, by scratching out the offending skirt and drawing two circles on the upper part of the stick figure.
As he did so, Storm muttered, "Besides, any man can wear a dress." (A/N: And nowadays they can!)
Jack ignored her remark; he was becoming quite adept at doing this. He drew another stick person. This one was, apparently, male (from the lack of breasts). It was obvious that the figure was unhappy judging from his upside-down U for a mouth.
Jack pointed to it, "This is Storm's brother, James." He labelled it. "Now, James is in trouble with the Navy."
Jack drew a noose around James' neck. Storm seemed to twitch angrily at this, but she said nothing.
Jack continued, "Storm wants to save her brother." He put a sword in her hand and a sailboat underneath her. As an afterthought, he wrote 'The Black Pearl' on the side of the bo-ship.
"However," said Jack, his voice had gained a somewhat sarcastic edge, "She seems to be goin' in the wrong direction."
The pirate drew an arrow pointing in the opposite direction of 'James'.
Uh oh, said Storm's brain to itself, here it comes.
Jack added an 'island' to the picture (meaning a bump with reasonable facsimiles of palm trees on the top).
"It seems," (yep, there was Mr. Sarcasm), "that she is headin' for a treasure island, where she knows that a fleet of wicked privateers are waitin' for her."
The island was then surrounded by a horde of generic stick figures carrying muskets and swords. They might have been menacing if they hadn't been, well, sticks.
Jack turned to Storm, who had watched this unfolding stick drama impassively. She didn't meet his eyes, but continued staring at the parchment.
"So, Storm," said Jack in a mock conversational tone, "Ye've always been the artistic one. Tell me, what is wrong with this picture?"
For a moment there was silence between them. Then, Storm shrugged nonchalantly and spoke as lazily and uncaringly as possible.
"Well, Jack, they are only line drawings. I think ye just need to work on yer technique."
Jack sighed in frustration. "Storm, I don't know what yer plan is, but whatever it is, it doesn't make sense!" his voice had progressively risen. "We're headin' in the bloody wrong direction! Your brother is probably already dead," Storm winced at this, "but here we are, traipsin' off to his 'rescue' and into the hands of some pissed-off privateers! What the hell are we doing?"
The female captain looked very uncomfortable. She fidgeted slightly and tried to meet Jack's gaze. She couldn't manage it though and turned away to face the window.
The warring expressions on her face conveyed that she wanted to sigh, curse, and maybe sink through the floor all at once. Instead, she ran one hand absently through her braids. Several times, it seemed as if she would speak, but she always shut her mouth quickly.
Finally, after a long silence, Storm found words.
"Ye, of all people, should understand revenge," Storm said quietly, still facing away from Jack.
To Jack, understanding came like a slap in the face.
"So that's what this is about…"
Storm nodded.
"And ye didn't tell me because of the danger to me crew and me ship. Am I right?"
A pause, then another nod.
"I see…" Jack started for the door.
Storm turned swiftly towards him. "What are ye doing?"
Jack's hand was on the door handle. "I'm turnin' me ship around," he called over his shoulder.
"No!"
The sheer vehemence of this outburst surprised Jack long enough for Storm to cross the room. She seized his shoulder roughly in one hand and spun him around to face her.
"Ye can't."
Her voice was quiet. That was surprising, thought Jack. He'd been expecting a tirade.
"Yes, I can," he replied, "and I will. Right now, me crew-and me ship-are in unnecessary danger. That's reason enough for me."
"But we've come so far!" Storm looked desperate. "We can't turn back now!"
"Do ye even realize what ye're askin' me to do? Ye're demanding that I put everythin' on the line for you!"
"I'd have done the same for you! In fact, I have!"
"Please, Storm, think clearly for a moment. What do you possibly have to gain from all this?"
Her answer was swift and final. "Vengeance."
Jack rubbed his forehead. "What good is that? It'll only bring ye trouble and ye'll have nothin' to show for it."
Storm's eyes narrowed. "Ah yes," she spat, "I forgot this matter isn't about somethin' as important as a ship. After all, all that's been taken from me was my brother. Why didn't I realize?"
"Now, Storm…" Jack began cautiously.
"Don't ye 'now, Storm' me! Do ye have any idea what it's like to lose somebody so close? All ye've ever lost is a ship. Ships can be bought or built. People can't. You don't know…you don't…" Storm trailed off, having run out of steam.
For a moment, Jack's resolve wavered. She looked so small, so defeated. Her shoulders were slumped. She looked like a forgotten string puppet, hung on a wall; her whole body limp yet still held upright. She didn't cry, she never did, but she was the absolute picture of sorrow and dejection. It made Jack want to comfort her…or something.
The only problem with that plan was that Storm would probably kick his head or knee him in the bollocks for such a condescending action.
Instead, Jack pulled a small flask of rum out of his sleeve (he had them strapped all over his body. You never knew…) and wordlessly handed it to her. Storm's blue-grey eyes flicked to it, then to his face and back to the flask. She made an almost imperceptible shrug and snatched it out of Jack's hand. She downed its' contents in three gulps, shaking her head afterwards to clear the fog. After the rum was in her system Storm seemed to stand a little taller and she definitely appeared calmer.
Rum was a pirate's only comfort. That and whores. (Though in Storm's case, it was probably just the former).
Storm raised a calloused hand to Jack's cheek. The tiny gesture seemed to transport the two of them-for a fraction of a second-to when they'd been young and still lovers. It was just a flash, over in a heartbeat, but they both felt it. And it was a landslide.
"Please, Jack," Storm said softly, her voice quietly entreating, "I know who it was that ordered me brother's death. He's waitin' fer me…at the island. I know it. He's all I want, the last business I have to take care of."
She let her hand drop, but she kept her gaze locked with his. "Jack…ye've done nothin' fer me in twelve years. Just…just do this one thing fer me now and if it's what you want our paths will never meet again, just please…don't turn this ship around."
Jack studied her for a long time and she resolutely stared right back at him.
All of a sudden, as though by its own accord, the memory of their first meeting appeared in his mind. At the time, he'd been only sixteen and just a minor crewmember on the Pearl. He'd gotten into trouble with the law (thus starting a long-lasting tradition). Storm, a spritely girl his own age, had sprung him using feminine wiles and a cleverly placed knife.
"I guess I owe you, don't I?"
"Damn right you do. I almost had to kiss a guard!"
"How's about a drink?"
"You'll have to do better than that."
"What's better than a drink?"
"Gah! Fine. For now. But here's a deal, everytime I do something for you, you have to do something for me…whatever I ask. And vice versa."
"Erm…alrighty. What do you want right now?"
"A drink."
"Storm O'Connor, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."
It was not the last time she rescued him.
"I guess this one of those times," Jack mused to himself, semi-lost in memories.
Storm cocked her head to one side. Hope flared in her belly. "Hmmm?"
Jack heaved the great sigh of one who is aware that they're making a mistake they'll soon regret. "I'll take ye to the island."
An intensely relieved smile pulled at Storm's lips.
"But…" added Jack.
"But?"
"But I'm going to warn me crew."
Storm nodded. "Fair enough." Inside she was quite grateful for this. An informed crew would be much more useful.
In the next second, Jack was out the cabin door, already shouting.
"Alright, ye scurvy bilgerats! On deck, all of you!" There was a slight pause. "Of course, except for those of you whose job it is to keep the ship from sinking!"
"That's all of us, sir!" called back Anamaria, to a round of laughter from the rest of the crew.
Jack stuck his tongue out at her. "Pay attention, you lot! I…"
The sound of his voice faded away as Storm shut the door. She wandered back over to the bed and sat on its edge. She breathed a heavy sigh and ran another hand through her numerous braids.
"So close," she whispered to herself, and glanced out the window, "and yet so far."
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A/N: Personally, I like this chapter. I got to get some foreshadowing in, plus some mild flashbacking, and show the discomfort Jack and Storm feel when they're in each other's presence. Plus it's really long! Anyway it is time for the review responses.
Anaknusan: Haha, yes it really seems as though you've inherited my rambling-nesss. Oh no! I'm contagious! Now government officials are going to carry me away and place me in quarintine so that I don't corrupt any more fanfiction readers! (cowers under desk). By the way, Egypt rules! That is all. Oh, and review again! :D:D
Random Character: Gah! That stupid asterixes thing! It's sooo bloody annoying. Even if I upload things as web pages they still disappear. Grrrrrrr. Well, now you have some idea of what Finn is going to do, and she's dragging poor Sam into it. Mwhahahaha!!! Review again! Well…you always do, don't you?
Gabwr: Person of very few words aren't ye? Still, I thank you for your encouragement.
Dreamgirl21147: Yes it was thick on suspense wasn't it? I hope I've answered all your questions (including where the rum has gone ;):P). See you in the next chapter!
