Disclaimer: ::singing:: Oh I wish I had the Pirates of the Caribbean... That is what I'd truly like to own....But I don't own the Pirates of the Caribbean....So I am left here all on my own ::crysob::
Author's Note:
Oh yes! I'm updating one last time before the hell that is school begins. One last huzzah for the Thousand Faces now. I really hope you darling readers like this chappie. It took me a while. And it's long. Like you keep begging me to make them. Pay me back with reviews!!!!!
Adios Amigos,
Thousand Faces
Jack had had the good fortune to run straight into Commodore Norrington and his battalion of soldiers. "Well, well, well," said Norrington, stepping forward with both eyebrows raised, "Jack Sparrow. You've proved me wrong. I didn't think you'd be so dim-witted as to return to Port Royal."
"Sorry to disappoint you." Jack retorted, smiling.
"I suppose one must get use to disappointments." returned the Commodore, almost smiling. He signaled to two soldiers behind him who took Jack and shackled his hands. Norrington then turned his attention to Dèsirèè. "Now what have we here?" he stepped towards her, "Another pirate headed for the gallows?"
"Hardly," she replied, and whipped off her hat in a graceful bow. "Dèsirèè Moore, at your service, sir." The soldiers all looked properly taken aback and bowed awkwardly.
-Times like these Dèsirèè really enjoyed being a woman.
"Miss Moore," said the Commodore, never losing a step and bowing, only slightly though, "I have to ask, if you are not a pirate, what were you doing in the company of one?"
"Obviously I was not aware that this man," she pointed to Jack vaguely, "was any sort of villain. I merely asked him to assist me in rescuing this," Dèsirèè stepped aside, revealing the still unconscious lady on the ground, "young woman."
"Gloria!" cried the Commodore, kneeling down to the still comatose woman.
Jack snorted in disbelief. "Why is it, my dear Commodore, that every woman you know ends up passed out on the ground? Rather alarming isn't it?"
Norrington looked up at Jack with a cold glare. "This woman is my wife."
"Oh, good," piped Jack cheerfully, "Glad to see that losing your fiancée to a blacksmith didn't dissuade you from finding yourself another girl!"
Luckily for Jack, Gloria was beginning to come to and occupied Norrington's full attention. "Gloria," the Commodore said again, helping his wife back up onto her feet, "Are you alright?"
"I'm not sure," Gloria said breathlessly, leaning heavily on her husband. She caught sight of Dèsirèè and groaned. "Oh no…I don't think I'm quite alright yet… not at all."
"Why?" Norrington glanced quickly over at Dèsirèè, "Did this woman hurt you?"
Dèsirèè looked very affronted. "So that's the thanks somebody gets for saving a life! Remind me never to do it again."
"Will do," assured Jack. Dèsirèè shoot him a quick glare.
"No, no," the poor woman replied, "She died. I'm sure of it." There was a moment of silence as everyone looked at Dèsirèè and then Gloria. Dèsirèè looked extremely confused.
"Maybe your wife should get some rest," suggested Dèsirèè, staring warily at the exhausted lady.
Norrington nodded and called two guards over with instructions to take his wife home. Once all this had been done, he turned back solemnly to Dèsirèè. "If you did indeed save my wife's life, I suppose I should thank you." He held out his hand.
Jack desperately shook his head at Dèsirèè, trying to tell her not to take the Commodore hand. Dèsirèè looked at him strangely and extended her hand to Norrington. He grasped it triumphantly, pushing back her sleeve.
There was nothing on her wrist. Dèsirèè looked up at him with a bored expression. "Are you quite finished?"
The Commodore cocked his head to the side, thinking. "Almost." He wrenched her arm behind her back, turning her around. After immobilizing Dèsirèè in this fashion, Norrington proceeded to pull down the back of her coat and part of her shirt, revealing her bare shoulder. Well, not entirely bare; there, in scarred flesh, was a small 'P', albeit a 'P' with unclear edges.
"The man said I was a bit squeamish," Dèsirèè explained calmly, fidgeting just slightly in the Commodore's firm grip.
"As I suspected," sneered Norrington haughtily.
"You suspected she was squeamish?" questioned Jack, an eyebrow raised in confusion.
Norrington glanced up at him. "No you limp-wristed jackanape." Jack examined his wrists dubiously.
"You know," commented Dèsirèè, the wheels in her head turning wildly, "I never would suppose that someone as well bred as you could have such terrible manners."
"And what, pray tell, would a pirate know about manners?" Inquired the Commodore mockingly, still restraining Dèsirèè.
"A few things," Dèsirèè continued, her mind measuring distances and reaction times, "For instance, I do know that a gentleman should NEVER touch a lady without her express permission."
"Really," inquired Jack in surprise, "Why is that?"
"Yes, why indeed?" asked Norrington, obviously extremely amused.
"Well, she might do something very un-lady like," she paused, breathing deeply, "Like THIS!" As hard as she could, Dèsirèè rammed her shoulder into the Commodore's face, pushing him off of her. As soon as she had freed herself, she grabbed the chain between Jack's shackles and pulled him behind her as she darted around the regiment of soldiers.
"What are you waiting for you fools?!" Norrington shouted at his shocked soldiers, regaining his footing, "After them!"
Dèsirèè continued pushing through the marketplace, vaulting over carts, while Jack just barely managed to stumble over them.
"Where are we going?" called Jack, dodging a fruit stand to the best of his abilities.
"Well…" she shouted back uncertainly, glancing behind her. Seeing a mob of soldiers chasing after them hardly lightened her spirits. "Anywhere but here!"
The two runaway pirates skidded down a side street and ducked through several abandoned houses, but they still couldn't completely evade their rapidly approaching captors.
As they continued their madcap dash through the city, the buildings (and people) were quickly deteriorating in their cultural appeal. In other words, they were heading deeper and deeper into the slums of Port Royal. The number of vagabonds and streetwalkers were multiplying with every corner they turned. Upon turning one particular corner, Dèsirèè had an epiphany. On the street sat a line of beggars near a pile of discarded rags lying on the corner, which may at one time have been garments, now left there by two unfortunates gone to a better place.
Dèsirèè grabbed the tattered robes and pulled Jack down onto the curb, throwing one cloth over him and the other over herself. Of course she had to remind Jack to remove his beloved hat.
Oddly enough, their rouse succeeded. The battalion sprinted past the line of beggars without giving them a second thought.
Once both of the pirates were certain that the last soldier had scurried past them, they stood up slowly, removing the grimy robes.
"Well," said Jack, taking it all in stride, "That was fun." Dèsirèè just stared at him as she attempted to remove the foul smelling artifice from her person. She pulled a pick out of her coat pocket and proceeded to free Jack from the shackles. "Hey, you're pretty good at that Moore." said Jack with surprise.
"Why thank ye Jack," Dèsirèè replied, placing the tool back in her pocket, "My mother taught me."
"Your mother?" Jack asked, now more surprised than ever. "What, pray tell, was she?"
"A woman of talent," Dèsirèè retorted, smiling to herself.
"Where do we go now?" Jack inquired, rubbing his hands together impatiently.
Dèsirèè surveyed the area around them, trying to figure out where they were. Not being able to determine this, she turned to Jack. "You'll probably know this Jack," she started, "Do you know where Madame Mercy's is?"
"A house of ill-fame?" Jack exclaimed, attempting to look as appalled as possible. "Why would you think I'd know where to find one of them?"
"Because you're a shameless, egotistical narcissist with misogynistic tendencies."
There was a long span of silence. "I'm guessing I should feel insulted, luv?"
"Oh yes, pumpkin."
Jack was silent, but in his mind he was strangling Dèsirèè. He wordlessly pointed down the street, indicating the correct direction. "Thank you," she said and the two pirates made there way to Madame Mercy's.
Madame Mercy's was located on the edge of town, near the waterfront. The façade was anything but inviting, the red brick long ago turned black with grime and soot, yet lamps and candles burned brightly inside and it appeared that many of the rooms were occupied.
"Why are we here again?" questioned Jack.
"Jesus Sparrow do you ignore everything I say?" Dèsirèè rejoined angrily.
"'O course."
Dèsirèè sighed, resigned to defeat. "We are here to retrieve the key in order to get the treasure."
"What kind of perverse sod would hide a key in a whorehouse?" asked Jack in disbelief.
"I would." replied Dèsirèè, a wide, dangerous grin on her face.
"'O." said Jack quietly. Dèsirèè hopped up the front steps and pushed the doors open confidently.
It was obviously a very high class place. Gilded, satin furniture was strewn about everywhere and red velvet drapes hung from every doorway. The air was soaked with the smell of wine and sweet perfume, and the floors were covered in plush Persian carpet. Various striking young ladies lay stretched out languidly on assorted sofas, sheer gossamer robes adorning their hour glass figures.
One of the young women propped herself up on her elbows, straining her long neck to look at the two pirates standing in the doorway. Her curly mahogany hair was cut just at her shoulder and had a tendency of falling into her eyes. She was short compared to most of the women in the bordello but was actually average in height. Her tan eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Dèsirèè and she gave a rather high pitched squeal of delight. "Moore!" she cried, waving her hand with childish exuberance. Dèsirèè glanced over, her eyes lighting up with delight.
"Bathom!" Dèsirèè returned, making her way to the back of the room where the young lady was situated. Jack followed behind her, enjoying many a fantasy about why Dèsirèè knew a girl who worked in whorehouse.
"Just the person I wanted to see." said Dèsirèè happily. The young lady, completely ignoring Jack, pulled Dèsirèè down onto the couch, with a slight 'oomph' from the pirate.
"Dèsirèè Moore, I missed ye!" shouted the girl, embracing Dèsirèè perhaps a tad too tightly.
"Alright Bathom, ye can let go now," wheezed out Dèsirèè, who was having slight difficulty breathing. "Bathom?" The young woman stayed clinging to Dèsirèè. "CASSY!"
"Oh, sorry." giggled Cassy, releasing Dèsirèè from her vise grip. "It's just so wonderful to lay eyes on ye! Where 'ave ye been?"
"'Eere, there," Dèsirèè shrugged her shoulders, "Everywhere practically."
"Except 'eere," pouted Cassy, "Why'd ye run off like that? Just because-"
"Cassy," Dèsirèè said loudly, talking over Cassy's words, "I'd like ye to meet Captain Jack Sparrow. Jack, this is Cassandra Bathom."
Jack stepped forward and bowed gracefully, took Cassy's hand and kissed it lightly, "M'lady."
Cassy's eyes grew a shade lighter. "Cap'n…" she said breathlessly. Then, still looking at Jack, she reached over and slapped Dèsirèè who was making gagging motions.
"Ow!" cried Dèsirèè catching her hat.
"That's what ye get," said Cassy primly. Dèsirèè just smiled ruefully.
"Cassy, it's wonderful to see you, but is Cee in?"
"Cee? Oh Cee! She doesn't work 'eere anymore."
"What?" asked Dèsirèè in dismay, "She went to another establishment?"
"Oh no, nothing like that." assured Cassy. "She stopped whoring months ago."
"Really? Why?"
"She landed herself a very wealthy Countess, lucky bitch."
"Ye mean Count don't ye?" corrected Jack.
"No," said Dèsirèè, looking up at him, "She, uh, means countess." Jack looked very confused. Cassy kept on talking.
"She still comes in 'eere though, to visit and the like."
"So she's still in Port Royal?" questioned Dèsirèè eagerly.
"Oh, yes, most definitely." nodded Cassy seriously. Dèsirèè was about to heave a sigh of relief when she glanced out of the window just over Cassy's shoulder. "Oh…bugger."
Cassy turned around to look and Jack leaned down. There, perfectly framed by the window, they could see a group of soldiers coming down the street with Norrington in the lead.
Jack looked down at Dèsirèè who looked up at him. "Well Cassy," said Dèsirèè standing up quickly and talking at a similar speed, her eyes darting to the window, "It's been lovely seeing you and all but we really have to go and for the record, we were never here."
"Who are you?" asked Cassy, a confused look on her face.
"Exactly. That's my girl." Dèsirèè and Jack headed for the door.
Jack peeked his head around the doorframe. The soldiers had stopped about halfway to Madame Mercy's, and the Commodore was turned to them, barking out his final instructions.
Just across the street was an alley. Jack looked back at Dèsirèè, mouthing 'Ready?' Dèsirèè nodded her head and took a deep breath.
They sprinted across the deserted street, which, for some reason, seemed wider than others. When they had made it into the alley unseen, they leaned up against the gritty brick wall, listening to Norrington attentively.
"-and search every building, every room, every alleyway, until you find them. Understood?" The soldiers nodded. "All right men, start your search." And the battalion broke a part and began their hunt for the two pirates.
Dèsirèè and Jack looked at each other. They couldn't go back out into the street; they'd be seen before they could take another step. Jack looked around the alleyway to see if there was another way out; there wasn't. Dèsirèè stole a quick look at the street; two soldiers were coming their way. Jack looked as well and then looked back at Dèsirèè who had begun cursing.
"Bugger. Buggerbuggerbugger. Goddamnit!" she shouted in a whisper, hitting the brick wall with her hand, not caring how much it would – ow – hurt.
"Dèsirèè, luv, calm down." Jack whispered to her, attempting to soothe the obviously aggravated woman.
"Calm down? Yes, gem of a suggestion. Damn. We're going to get caught. Damn!"
Suddenly, Jack had a brilliant idea. "Dèsirèè," she ignored him, leaning up against the wall, mumbling to herself, her arm flopped over her eyes dejectedly. "Dèsirèè," Jack said again, this time a little bit louder. She stopped mumbling, but still disregarded him. "Dèsirèè!" he shouted, well, said as loud as he could in a whisper.
"What?" she asked exasperatedly, uncovering her eyes.
Without further ado, Jack tossed her hat to the ground, and kissed her.
And kept on kissing her.
Needless to say Dèsirèè was surprised. Then she heard the approaching footsteps. She tried to push Jack away but he just shook his head anxiously. It was then that Dèsirèè understood the plan. Dèsirèè leaned back a little farther and lifted her leg up to Jack's hip, attempting to add a little more realism to the scene.
By now, Dèsirèè could hear the two men chatting with each other. Her pulse quickened slightly, hoping they didn't try to take a good look at the two of them. Jack heard them too and paused momentarily to tip his hat farther down over his eyes.
The two pirates could hear the soldiers stop at the alleyway entrance. Dèsirèè imagined they did a double take as they abruptly stopped talking. The two men stood there for several seconds until someone shouted at them.
"Perkins! John! You find anything?"
"No sir," replied one of them, "Just a man and his whore."
Jack could almost feel how badly Dèsirèè wanted to cry out in indignation. He just wasn't sure if it was about her being called a whore or if it was about her being called his.
"Well, come on then!" shouted the commanding officer. The two soldiers reluctantly trudged away.
As soon as Dèsirèè was sure the two soldiers had gone, she shoved Jack off and started jumping around, spitting, crying 'Jack germs, Jack germs' frantically.
"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad," insisted Jack, feeling rather insulted. Women DID NOT respond to his kisses like this.
In reply, Dèsirèè merely took a corner of her coat and started wiping her mouth on it desperately. "God, I hope I didn't catch some kind of disease."
"Shut your gab," said Jack despairingly, pouting and glaring at Dèsirèè at the same time.
She smiled impishly and stopped. "You know," Dèsirèè started, glancing back out into the street; the soldiers where grouped at the far end of the street, "I could go for a strong drink."
"And I suppose ye expect me to pay for it, hm?" sneered Jack, still fuming.
"Actually," she said, glancing back at him, "I was going to pay for yours."
Jack looked surprised and then smiled. "Aye, I might accept that apology."
"An apology?" Dèsirèè mocked confusion. "Whatever for?"
Before Jack could respond she stepped out into the street, movingly as stealthily as possible. Jack followed. A loud bang rang out behind them. The two pirates turned to see Commodore Norrington, who had just slammed the door of Madame Mercy's rather hard in obvious frustration. He mopped his brow with his sleeve and then looked up. What sight should befall his eyes but that of Jack and Dèsirèè looking back at him.
Dèsirèè hadn't expected such a malicious smile from the Commodore as he spotted them. He slowly made his way down the steps of Madame Mercy's. "Jack?" asked Dèsirèè as she stepped backwards slowly, "Got a plan?"
"Your turn luv." replied Jack also stepping back little by little.
Norrington called to the soldiers and they all turned, their eyes focusing on the two pirates.
"How does running sound?"
"Running? Excellent. Brilliant." The two pirates took off dashing down the street, the posse of soldiers not to far away.
As they got deeper and deeper into the center of the city, Dèsirèè saw a theatre house. Sprinting towards it, Jack following, she pushed her way inside.
Rehearsals were clearly underway. Various actors were spread out around the theatre, some onstage, some in the house, still others backstage, catching a little sleep. A man stood on the stage, attempting to memorize his lines.
"To be…er," the man stumbled and tripped over the words painfully, "Or, or not to be…uh…"
Jack and then Dèsirèè vaulted onto the stage. "That is the question!" shouted Dèsirèè as she ran past.
"Oh yes, thank you!" shouted the man after her.
Dèsirèè backtracked to pat the man on the back. "You're welcome." Norrington and his soldiers burst through the doors. Dèsirèè ducked backstage. Jack was standing there rather unsure of what to do. Dèsirèè pushed him towards a wooden ladder and they climbed into the flies. They found themselves standing on a catwalk directly above the stage. Looking down they could see the soldiers spreading across the theatre and Norrington pacing impatiently right below them. It looked like they were safe for now.
Dèsirèè turned to Jack glaring at him. Jack noticed this and put his hands up defensively. "What did I do?"
"Since I met ye, I've been followed, attacked, and chased twice-" she threw up her hands. "Let's face it, ye are just bad luck!"
"Oi!" Jack retorted, "Ye 'aven't exactly been a good luck charm for me either luv!"
"Okay, okay," admitted Dèsirèè, calming down, "Let's keep quiet or else they'll hear us." She looked down at the stage again. Norrington had stopped pacing and was now standing directly under her, arms crossed across his chest, surveying his soldiers search. Dèsirèè sighed. "At least things can't get any-" she was interrupted by a loud cracking noise. She looked at Jack, her eyes widening. She whirled around and looked behind her. There she saw it; the plank of wood they were standing on was breaking. Dèsirèè looked back up at Jack, her whole face sagging. "Oh merde-"
Before she could finish, both her and Jack plunged down towards the stage. Jack had the good fortune to land on a pile of sandbags. Dèsirèè had the good fortune to land on the Commodore, knocking him down. He sat up, wig slightly askew, looking very undignified. Dèsirèè was sitting quite comfortably in his lap. He looked down at her, eyes wide with amazement. She looked back up at him.
"Why Commodore," she said, fluttering her eyelashes, "I didn't know ye cared."
Norrington, obviously quite averse to the idea, unceremoniously pushed the female pirate off of him. He stood up and dragged Dèsirèè to her feet. Jack was already in shackles yet again.
"Believe me Ms. Moore," returned the Commodore, glaring at her, "I don't."
A/N: Boom! Whatdya think? Please give me some feedback; I'm dieing to know how this went over! How are my chase scenes? SHOUT OUT Y'ALL. Next Chapter: Cee and Our Favorite Love Birds come on to the scene.
Adios Amigos,
T.F.