Chapter Three

Aftermath

Will sighed and silently bathed James' wounds, bitterly angry at Jack for what he had ordered to be done. This time, he had taken things too far. Jack was a good captain, and he had never seen him act in such a cruel and heartless way; it was no better than Barbossa.

Slowly, the blood was cleaned and staunched, and left to the open air to dry. Will handed the man his clothes and stood, about to make his way out of the lower deck. He paused, looking over his shoulder,

"If it's anything - I didn't agree with what Jack did to you today." He muttered, "You should get back on deck though; before he finds reason to do something else." before he left.

James cast a dark look after Will as he went, shaking his head and sighing darkly. Well it's still all about Jack isn't it… yes, what Jack did, yes, what Jack might do if I don't get back to work. Young Turner should try working himself when he's practically had a knife drawn down his spine… Norrington growled with a slight frown and stood, slinging a loose shirt on over his shoulders to keep from sunburn, but left it open due to the heat, and exited the cabin, running a hand through his lank hair as he went, squinting in the sudden sunlight as he emerged upon deck.

He spotted the Captain up at the helm, and quickly focused on something other than the commanding figure stood at the wheel, barking orders now and then. James walked with a slight pained look about the way he moved, making his way over to Gibbs for orders, avoiding the gazes and ignoring the cruel smiles of those individuals that bothered to look through the thin shirt at the remnants of the gashes.

"Well you can start by cleanin' over there if ya like… then if ya can manage?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow a little, "Haul the back middle sail back up – we ain't needin' it. Call fer help if yer be needin' it okay lad?" he was about to clap him on the back before remembering, and instead smiled and patted his shoulder before steering him towards the other end of the deck, where a couple of crew members were already half-heartedly scrubbing the shiny greasy floor. With a disgusted expression he knelt down and had a bucket of water skidded across to him, half of the water slopping onto his clothes, and a cloth missed his face and he caught it deftly, giving them a sickly smile and concentrating on the task in hand, oblivious to anything that might have been called out to him or shouted in abuse – it was really his only other escape, apart from his mind, but of course memories dwelled there. Memories.

Norrington cast a quick glance up towards the helm, and his eyes darkened. Sparrow. Tonight the Captain wouldn't sleep very well.

Jack glanced at the man as he emerged, quickly crossing the deck and getting to work, keeping his head down and avoiding looking up at him. He did however, notice one or two smoldering glances, but he passed them off as mere annoyance from the punishment. That's all it was, and Jack found himself concentrating on steering and not fretting over Norrington. More difficult to ignore was when Will came to stand by his side, glaring at him. After ten minutes Jack turned to the side and stared at him back.

"If this is about..."

"Yes. It is." He snapped, a disgusted look on his face, "That was wrong and you know it."

"Not my problem lad - he should remember to call me Captain as well as learn a little respect."

Will felt like punching the man in the face, but he refrained from doing so. It wouldn't achieve anything in the long run, and though he had made his point about how he felt, Will quickly left the bridge and went to help Ragetti secure the mizzenmast.

Jack watched him go and tried to shift the guilt; it wasn't helping him now his compass was swerving every now and again - his concentration having wavered. He didn't like to admit he was a good man, or that he had gone too far. His pride was a large part of him. Losing it was not something he was about to consider.

X x X x X

Later on, when Gibbs had relieved Jack of his duty and taken up night watch, the Captain brooded in his quarters. Compass forgotten, as was their mission, he couldn't get the man off his mind. The image that he had made himself watch, James' back arching back in agony as time and time again, he was whipped...the defeated way in which he had slumped forward onto the deck afterwards. It was horrible. They had agreed on six lashes before hand, but it had seemed like many more.

He shivered and pulled his coat about him, expression grim - perhaps he'd better catch some sleep. Another day had passed without them catching up to the ship, and Jack feared that perhaps they had already docked - a wiser strategy would be to just catch the wind and make a line for the port, in the hopes of meeting them there. Perhaps they would still beat them...it was a vain hope.

He didn't realize the moment when he fell asleep, though, an empty bottle slid from his limp arm and rolled across the cabin, clattering against the half open door.

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Author's Notes: So this was the after events of how people felt about what happened to James… like it? Tell me so! I like to hear from my readers, to see what they want, to see what they like, and to generally get a feel of how they're seeing the fiction, and what they think could be done to improve this. Remember – us authors write to entertain! Your fanservicing fictions right here ;3