Disclaimer: Gettin' intense, aye? Well, take a moment teh pry yer hands from the armrests, stretch, pour yerself some grog, whilst I give me shpiel. I be not claimin' teh own Pirates of the Caribbean, though 't would be nice. 'T would be nice teh own anythin' from Pirates, aye? Even Barbossa er Davy Jones would make this buccaneer 'appy as an alcoholic in a brewery. Don' get me wrong, Barbossa an' Davy Jones be cooler than buried treasure. But they be not in this fic. Ready teh get back teh readin' now? Enjoy!
Chapter 6
There came a cry from inside the cave that Gibbs barely heard above the rumbling as the cave roof began to collapse in on itself. Drawing his pistol, he glanced over his shoulder to see Jack cradling Morgan in his arms as Walter rowed the dinghy quickly towards the Cloud Treader.
At least they made it out… he sighed in relief. He didn't know who had shot the woman from the Sylph, but whomever it was, he was glad they had.
Some faint shuffling came from the mouth of the cave, causing him to turn and ready his pistol.
A heavily tanned pirate—he recognized him as Flint's first mate—clad in brown and tan clothes covered in a layer of dust from the collapsing cave stumbled out into the open air, hunched over as he coughed the dirt from his lungs.
Gibbs trained his gun on the man, motioning for him to straighten up. " 'Ands above yer 'ead, mate."
The man slowly stood straight and put his hands on the back of his head, glaring at him with his dark red-honey eyes.
"If m'lady Scarlet dies, it's over fer ye."
•••
Gently setting Morgan down on her bed, Jack sat down beside her and clutched her willowy hand as she gave a strangled cry. Her eyes were shut tight, teeth gritted in a pain-filled grimace as her hands clutched into fists. Afraid her nails would draw blood, and feeling he had to let her know he was there—he had whispered to her on the dinghy, but she hadn't answered—he forced her hand open and let it close around his. He glanced down to see her side drenched in blood, and as Morgan's back arched, for a sickening moment he could see right through her. There was so much blood…
A hand was laid on his shoulder. Jack looked over his shoulder to see Rackham giving him a blind man's equivalent of a sympathetic look.
"Gibbs caught one'a Flint's men comin' out'a the cave." He explained. " 'Best deal with him yerself, cap'n."
The door opened and Walter quickly stepped in, his usual composure almost nonexistent.
"The butler an' I know a bit o' doct'rin'," Rackham continued. "We'll take care o' her."
Jack stared at him for a long stretch of time, Morgan clutching his hand tightly as she gave a strangled moan behind clenched teeth. Finally, he stood and reluctantly released her hand, walking towards the door. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Walter pulling out a case of strange-looking instruments.
Shutting the door behind him, he looked up to see Gibbs shove Corsair, Flint's first mate, onto the deck. Feeling a sudden rage boil up within him, he lunged forward and grabbed the tan pirate by his shirt collar. "You bilge rat! I ought'a kill ye right now!"
Corsair, however, remained calm, his gold-red eyes burning with a fire that had not been there before. He looked like a wounded animal ready to strike, but it was not Jack he was after. "I didn't shoot your lady friend. Killing me will do nothing," he said in a soft voice. "Your claim has already been avenged… by Flint."
Jack's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"My sister was not fond of your lady friend," Corsair explained. "She caught the captain's eye in an instant, while Regina had been trying for five years to attract his attention. When we entered the caves behind you, Flint ordered the lady to be brought to him alive. That was something my sister could not allow. So she shot your mistress… and then Flint shot her."
It made sense. Jack released the man's collar slowly as memories of the cave-in came flooding back. He could remember the shot hitting the man's sister, a betrayed, heart-broken look on her face as she fell. One of those muffled voices had been Corsair as he ran to his dying sister's side.
Drawing a shaky breath, Jack turned around and motioned to the hatch. "Lock 'im in the brig."
"Cap'n," Gibbs stepped forward, "we still got 'alf the honest crew down there."
Oh yes… Jack sighed. "I'll go clear room fer him, then."
Climbling down into the hold, Jack approached the brig, where the now rather filthy crew sat. Upon his entrance, several of the men began grumbling under their breath.
"Evenin', mates," he said simply.
Griffith, who had grown a beard since he left Tortuga in the hold, stood and clutched the bars of the brig. "What do you want?" he said sourly.
"I know Morgan's been feedin' ye throughout the voyage," Jack said calmly. "I allowed it. Now I want ye teh return the favor." He paused. "Morgan's been shot."
The brig went silent, every man giving Jack his full, astonished attention.
Griffith swallowed hard, his grip on the bars loosening, before he spoke up again. "By whom?"
"None of your concern—she's dead," Jack assured the ex-captain.
Sighing heavily, eyes going to the floor, the blonde ex-captain anger seemed to fade away as he looked back up to the pirate before him.
"I need room in there for one o' the bastard captain's crew." Jack motioned up to the hatch. "We'll let ye out, but ye gotta coop'rate. Fer Morgan, if not fer me. Do we 'ave an accord?"
Griffith thought for a moment, then sighed and slipped his arm through the bars. "Give me a razor and it's a deal," he smiled.
Feeling his troubles ease slightly, he smiled and shook the ex-captain's hand. He turned to the pirate guarding the brig. "Harper, get these men out'a 'ere, an' give that hairy bastard a razor."
As the honest crew gratefully filed out of the brig, stretching their cramped muscles, Gibbs led Corsair to the newly vacated prison. Surprisingly enough, the first mate didn't struggle in the slightest, or rattle the bars when the door was shut—he was about as violent as a box of kittens.
"Enjoy yer stay, mate," Jack said in a low voice as he turned back to the hold. Climbing back onto the deck, Jack spent the next half hour or so pacing outside Morgan's cabin. When the door finally opened, Jack nearly ran into Rackham, who was wiping the blood from his hands with a rag. He had never noticed the tattoos that traveled from the back of the blind pirate's hands up his arms until now, as he was wiping Morgan's blood from them.
"Done all we could, cap'n," he explained. "She's still in a lot of pain, but she's stable."
Jack looked into the cabin as Rackham exited to see Morgan lying right where he had left her, bandaged, writhing a little less than before.
Walter stepped into the doorway, but where Jack expected him to send him away, the butler placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She needs you," he said simply, and then stepped around him, leaving him alone with Morgan.
Stepping inside, Jack jumped slightly as the door was closed behind him. As he took a few steps forward, he found Morgan had been stripped of her bloodstained dress and undergarments, save her leggings, which had been unbuttoned and pulled away from the wound. Bandages had been wrapped around her waist; from just below her sharp hipbones to just over her breasts, the white gauze stained a bright crimson at her left side. Pulling a chair up to her bedside, he sat down, prying her grip from the sheets and allowing her to clutch his hand instead. He brushed a strand of hair from her moist forehead, sleek with a fine layer of sweat.
" 'Ello, luv." He said after a long pause, in a soft voice. "I'm 'ere, don' worry."
Morgan winced in pain, her eyes never once opening, as she stifled a pain-filled gasp and grasped his hand tightly.
Saddened at her lack of response, he patted her hand with his other, free hand. "Y-ye have teh come through now, luv. Ye have teh." Stroking the back of her hand tenderly, he was surprised to find himself close to tears when he discovered that the crimson stain on her side had gotten slightly larger. "Ye can't leave me, darling. I don' know what life'd be like without ye…" He smiled slightly, "…A whole lot quieter, that fer sure…" Not wanting to even imagine Morgan gone, he shook his head and tightened his grip slightly on her small hand in his. "Don' leave me… please…" he pleaded to the figure on the bed before him, fighting to hold the tears back. "…Don' leave me alone…"
•••
Knocking lightly, Gibbs opened the door to Miss Scarlet's cabin slowly, letting in a cool breeze. He had brought a bowl of soup Walter had fixed for the captain as a sort of peace offering. It had been three hours since they set sail off the island and back towards Port Royal.
Jack was seated at the lady's bedside, clasping her hand in his, staring at her sleeping form, a mix of resolution and exhaustion on his face. The look of extreme suffering was finally gone, replaced by peaceful repose. Her skin and bangs were still slightly moist with sweat, but her chest rose and fell slowly and steadily.
"She asleep?" the first mate said in a voice just above a whisper.
"Finally…" Jack answered, his voice hoarse.
Gibbs slowly approached and set the bowl of soup down on the bed stand. "Walter went an' cooked ye that."
Jack gave a soft noise, indicating that he had heard him, but didn't really feel like talking.
Sighing pointedly, Gibbs clasped a comforting hand on the captain's shoulder. " 'Ang in there, cap'n. She'll pull through." He had to find some way to convince him to eat, and smirked as a rather amusing idea rose in his mind. "And if she were awake, she'd be naggin' ye teh eat somethin', so ye'd best do so, so's ye don't go an' anger the littl' miss."
Jack gave an extremely small, soft chuckle, barely nodding his head. "Aye, mate…" he murmured.
Feeling it was time for him to leave the captain be, he walked to the door and, peering one last time into the cabin, he smiled. He never thought it possible, but it was unmistakable—Jack had found his mate, and was patiently awaiting her awakening like a loyal, lovesick puppy.
She better make it out a'right…
Stepping out of the doorframe, not wanting to disturb the couple, he slowly and silently closed the door behind him.
•••
With her eyes closed, Morgan could faintly hear the waves against the hull of the ship. Opening her eyes slowly, she waited for the ceiling of her quarters to come back into focus. Judging by the light coming in the window, it was about mid-day. For a moment, the reason she was lying in bed with practically no clothes on evaded her, and for a moment made her a bit nervous.
I'm in bed, half naked, why…?
Rising from the fog with the rhythm of the waves, memories surfaced within her mind of past events—treasure, gunshots, screams, a soft, coaxing voice…
That's right… I was shot… I guess I'm alive, though…
The pain in her side had subsided to a dull sting, and only rose when she moved.
How long have I been out?
Glancing to the bed stand to her left, she found eight lines etched into the wooden table, similar to the tallies men in prison scratched into the walls of their cells for every day that went by.
Eight days! She sat bold upright, or at least tired to, but was stopped by a sharp jolt of pain that traveled up her spine. Forcing herself to remain calm, she relaxed and breathed deeply, willing the pain away until it faded to a dull throbbing. Heaving a heavy sigh, Morgan paused for a moment as she heard another person's breathing join her own.
She looked down to her left hand, which was lying beside her hip, to find a familiar sleeping face nuzzled into the bedding beside her. Jack was seated at a chair and slumped sleepily at the bedside, hands brought up to cushion his face, one gently grasping hers.
Morgan couldn't help but smile at the boyish look on his face. She reached over with her right hand to brush away a strand of beads that was obscuring her view.
Jack's eyes fluttered open. He leaned up on his elbows, not seeming to realize that she was awake. He learned soon enough when his eyes moved to hers, suddenly widening in shock as he involuntarily slipped from his perch at the very edge of his chair, dropping with a loud crash to the floor. But even with his sudden drop, his eyes never left hers, and his hand never loosened its grip. He sorely got to his knees, opening his mouth silently as he tried to piece together what he was attempting to say. He finally swallowed hard and opened his mouth again.
"M—…" he stuttered, "…Morgan?"
Morgan smirked, "I'm not Bloody Mary."
With a sudden, disbelieving laugh, he lunged forward and engulfed her in a tight embrace. "I can't believe it!" he said into her shoulder. "I was so worried! I thought ye'd never wake up!"
Wincing as her side began to burn, she couldn't help but protest with a string of, "ow" 's until he got the hint and loosened his hold. Only then was she able to return the embrace, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and stroking his back lightly. She was surprised when her cheeks didn't flush, but there was something about it… a rightness that she had never felt before; a feeling that made her loathe to let go.
Which neither of them did for quite some time.
•••
His day brightened by Morgan's awakening, Jack Sparrow marched down into the hold with his old drunken-like swagger back that made the brig-keep, Harper, cheer. "Glad teh have ye back, cap'n," he grinned.
Jack grinned. It felt so good to be able to flash his characteristic smile again. Motioning to the hatch, he gestured for Harper to leave. "Need a minute alone with the chap, savvy?"
With a nod Harper stood and left for the deck.
The tanned pirate looked up through the bars, giving his work a small pause. Jack wasn't sure where he had gotten them, but Flint's first mate was stringing pieces of broken glass smoothed by the ocean into hanging ornaments that distorted the light and gave the brig a nice homely touch. He gave the captain a small smile. "You're looking in good spirits. How fares the lady?"
Jack pulled up Harper's chair and took a seat in front of the bars. "She's gonna be fine now." He stopped for a moment, thinking to himself, and then finally spoke up. "What did Flint want back in that cave?" he switched the subject to a more serious one. "It all seems to grand a scheme fer just a woman."
The tanned pirate heaved a heavy sigh. "He was chasin' a legend."
Jack leaned forward slightly, intent to hear out the full story.
"Hethen myth tells of an orb that is said to give its owner complete control over the ocean itself," explained Corsair. "Depending on that person's intent, the results can be either miraculous or apocalyptic." He frowned. "There's a chance that Flint has it already."
"I don' think so, mate," Jack shook his head. "Gods took it back, where it belongs."
Corsair looked up at him, shocked and relieved at the news. "You're sure?"
The captain leaned back in his chair, grinning smugly. "Cave came down—" he made a shattering gesture and sound, "—just like glass."
Sighing, Corsair leaned back against the wall of the brig. "That's good news for all of us; one less thing to worry about…"
Jack's eyes narrowed as his curiosity peaked. "What d'ye want here? Ye've been more than reason'ble with us, an' no pirate's that coop'rative wit'out somethin' in it fer him."
There was a pause before Corsair finally spoke. "I'm here to claim my vengeance on the murderer of my sister." He studied Jack with his crimson-honey eyes. "Do you think you could permit that?"
Jack gave a small smirk, his hand at his chin as he thought out his options. "I think we could reach some sort of… arrangement…"
•••
Glad to finally be able to sit up, Morgan was not too surprised to find her clothes were no where in the room—probably being washed or mended. Searching around on the floor, she finally found the ring, which had been the only piece of treasure she knew had made it out of the cave. Unfortunately, it was so incredibly plain that it probably wouldn't be worth anything on the market. Threading the pale silver-gold ring through the silver chain she found in her jewelry box, she connected the chain at the back of her neck and let the ring dangle just below her collarbone. She smiled, running a finger down the chain as her thoughts drifted to her beloved captain.
The poor pirate hadn't gotten any sleep while she was out, so the instant she was awake, which was two days ago, she ordered him to get some rest.
It was only after he was sound asleep that the realization dawned on her. They were headed back to Port Royal, where her friendship—although she was starting to think that it might just be more than a mere friendship—with the captain would be condemned. Worse, Jack would be hung if he was discovered. Even with all his luck, there would be a day when his luck would run out and Commodore Norrington would succeed in hanging him. Whatever the outcome of their arrival, she would probably never see Jack again.
Slipping into a loose lacey blue dress, as she couldn't wear a corset at all in her condition, she shakily stood and, with the aid of a cane Walter had supplied her with, walked out onto the deck.
There was a fog on the water that evening. Jack was at the helm, as usual. Captain Griffith, Mr. Miller, and the rest of the non-pirate crew, who were all looking clean and crisp again, were all about attending to whatever job needing doing, right alongside with the pirate crew. It was the first time she had ever seen the men get along.
Upon realizing that she was out and about, Jack leapt down to the lower deck and ran right to her side. "Ye a'right?" he said in a concerned voice, "I don' want ye pushin' yerself."
"I'm fine, Jack." Morgan smiled, flattered by his concern. "I'll simply need to sit down a little more than usual."
Jack gave her an odd smile that didn't manage to reach his eyes, which fell to the deck. "…Well… I-I'd better… go back teh the helm… make sure the ship stays on course," he mumbled as he started back towards the wheel.
"Jack," Morgan took a step forward.
The pirate captain stopped.
"The ship is going back to Port Royal," she paused for a moment, "isn't it?"
There was a larger pause before Jack spoke up in soft voice. "Aye, luv… That it is…" He continued towards the helm.
Morgan's brow furrowed. "You're taking me back?"
Jack simply stood there, his back to her, silent.
"I don't understand."
"This ain't the life fer you," Jack said blankly. "You've got to go back where it's safe, where you belong."
"I don't want to go back."
Jack stopped and turned around, examining her with a critical gaze.
"I don't want to go back there," Morgan couldn't look at him, dropping her eyes to the floor instead, "back to that…"
"Morgan—"
"No!" Morgan clenched her hands into fists and shook her head, finally finding the courage to look him in the eye. "Don't make me do it—I can't! Not after all this!" Words were flying out of her mouth now that she had no control over as she fought back tears. "I want to stay with you, because I—"
The shrieking howl of something soaring through the air pierced the quiet. Morgan turned to her left as time slowed to catch something whirl past her before a cannonball smashed against the main mast, sending splinters flying out in every direction. She reflexively dropped to her knees with her hands over her head as the mast collapsed into the sea off the starboard side with a loud shriek. She could hear her heart thundering in her ears as she saw the Sylph off the port rail, cannons ready. Oh my god…!
•••
The instant Jack saw the Sylph, he started giving orders, pushing his curiosity as to what Morgan was about to say to the back of his mind. "Gibbs!" he shouted to the older pirate, "release the first mate! 'S time fer him to prove his worth!"
Gibbs nodded and disappeared into the hatch. The two men flew back on deck, Corsair looking a bit surprised as to his sudden release, but ready for battle nonetheless.
Before he could shout out another word, the Sylph opened fire, proceeding to tear the Cloud Treader apart.
"Does this crate 'ave cannons!" Jack screamed to anyone who was listening.
"One!" Walter answered back.
Turning around to face the butler, he stared at him, bewildered, for a few moments before shaking his head in disbelief. "What is wrong with you people?" he shouted over the cannon-fire to Walter, who merely shrugged in defeat. "Load the longboats!"
The crew, dodging flying wreckage, moved to load whatever supplies they could into the dinghies, lowering them off the starboard side of the ship.
Drawing his pistol, he took aim at one the first faint crewmember of the Sylph he saw who was manning a cannon. Holding his breath, he pulled the trigger to be rewarded by an scream as the man fell. Unfortunately, another man quickly took his place.
He noticed Morgan out of the corner of his eye running towards him. "Get in a longboat, luv!" He fired another shot, the round bouncing off the cannon with a loud clang and a flurry of sparks, startling the mate manning it, who leapt away with a startled yelp.
"I'm not leaving my ship!" Morgan shouted stubbornly.
"Morgan!" Another shot was fired that dealt a fatal blow to a crewmember of the opposite ship.
"Mr. Sparrow!" The woman grabbed his arm, forcing him to look into her miss-matched eyes. "I'm not leaving, so I might as well do something useful. Now, give me a weapon."
Jack chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before he finally heaved a heavy sigh and, reaching to his belt, pulled out a pistol and, looking away, placed it into her open hand.
Returning to the issue at hand, Jack fired a few more shots before he was forced to reload. While he was doing so, he glanced around to discover just how much damage had been dealt to the once magnificent ship. The poor vessel was practically falling apart.
There came a loud boom as Walter fired the single cannon aboard the ship, knocking off a good chunk of the Sylph's bowsprit. Morgan was struggling to aim the pistol, firing a shot that merely embedded itself in the ship's hull. But the deadly resolve on her face attested that she learned fast and, next time, she would be much more successful.
By then, he had gotten his pistol reloaded, and returned to firing. He downed a few more men—three to be exact—before he heard a familiar groan of pain. His heart skipped a beat as his head snapped back to Morgan to find her clutching her side, her face pale. This had to end soon or she'd kill herself.
A cannon shot from the Sylph hit the ship's hull, the wood exploding in a cloud of fire, smoke, and splinters. Jack just managed to catch the flash of black powder as the wind swept it out into the ocean, causing his heart to pound in his chest.
Glancing back to the starboard side of the ship, everyone—save Morgan, Walter, and himself—had managed to get into the longboats and were now floating a safe distance away from the crippled ship. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a smear of black on the horizon.
•••
"Cease fire!"
As the pounding of the cannons faded, Captain Flint smirked triumphantly at the wisp of black that the wind snatched from the Cloud Treader. "Bosun," he said in a firm voice, his eyes never leaving his quarry.
The large man looked up from his cannon at the starboard rail.
"Make 'er burn."
The bosun grinned and, loading the cannon, aimed at the open wound on the side of the Cloud Treader.
Flint chuckled softly to himself, relishing in his brilliant strategy as the ragged ship fought to stay afloat. Eagerly anticipating the fireworks celebrating his victory, he saw no point in delaying the moment any longer. "Fire."
•••
In a flash, Jack rushed forward and, scooping Morgan into his arms, used one of the remaining fore mast lines to swing him and the struggling woman out onto the sea on the starboard side of the ship, Walter quick on his heels. They hit the water hard and Jack had to struggle to bring them both up to the surface. Walter shoved a floating piece of wreckage their way, which the pirate quickly grabbed onto to keep afloat.
There was a loud boom, followed by the crash of splintering wood, and then a great explosion that sent Jack flying back into the water from the force of the blast. When he was able to pull Morgan and himself back to the surface, he was greeted with a humbling sight. The Cloud Treader was nothing more than a smoldering coffin, splintered and scattered in every direction as the once majestic ship sunk to the depths in pieces.
•••
Leaning on the starboard railing of the Sylph, Flint chuckled to himself at the high-pitched screaming he heard coming from the remains of the Cloud Treader. Extending his telescope to get a better look, he noticed three partially submerged figures just behind the flaming wreckage, one of them being the woman, who was struggling and screaming and crying for her lost ship. The rest of the crew had gotten into longboats, although the rest of the scene was obscured in black smoke.
A moment later, which was already a moment too late, he realized that it wasn't smoke he was staring at.
The notorious Black Pearl turned, the wind caught in its forbidding black sails, revealing rows of cannons armed and ready.
"Full sail!" He screamed to the man at the helm. "Quick!"
•••
"Fire!" Jack shouted to his loyal crew aboard his vessel, clinging to a piece of the once proud Cloud Treader right in front of the Black Pearl.
The cannons opened fire above them, howling over their heads as they shot towards the Dutch ship. It didn't take long for the Black Pearl to prove she was more than a match for the Sylph. The crew of the opposing ship frantically opened the sails and fled as fast as they could, though not fast enough to save her from a severe beating.
A rope was thrown to the captain and, wrapping a strong arm around Morgan's waist, who was sobbing into his shoulder, the last of the shipwrecked travelers were heaved onto the deck of Jack's beloved ship.
And as the Sylph vanished over the horizon, not a sound was heard, save the crackling of the burning wreckage and the sobbing of the woman who had lost her one symbol of freedom on the open sea.