Day was just breaking over the eastern perimeter of palms, light streaking the edges of the sky's horizon, when Isaac returned to the deck from returning an exhausted Elizabeth to her cabin. He'd missed the Caribbean sunrise. He'd also missed the strange pack of pirates that seemed to crawl out of the woodwork of the Black Pearl at the crack of dawn and he smiled at various members of Jack's crew as they went about the early morning routine. Several of them, those that he did not recognize, gave him strange looks as they shuffled around him. Marty the mini-sized pirate grinned upon catching sight of him, and took his usual mighty crack at the taller man's knee as he passed.
"Feels like not a day's gone by," Isaac remarked, if only to himself.
"Out the way, Captain!"
"What?" Isaac jumped aside to find a rather grumpy looking Cook with a bucket of water in his hands.
Cook readjusted his glasses and frowned up at him. "Isaac? Wot the devil? I thought you was the Captain!"
"Where is the Captain?"
"Sleepin?" Cook shrugged. He started away but stopped and pointed a finger at him. "Don't be wakin that man up, lad. From what I hear he needs his sleep more than ol' Cooky as of late."
Isaac frowned after the old man as he trudged away. The cook's words didn't sit easy with him. His first encounter on the ship had been with a panicked and sad-faced Elizabeth who had declined to discuss the matters which distressed her. He had fully expected to see the captain of the Black Pearl up bright and early flouncing around chatting with his crew. A knot formed in his stomach as the possibility occurred to him that Jack was not well. The pirate captain could have been ill or in a state of declining health for quite some time unbeknownst to him. Afterall, he had been gone for so long. Too long, and he cursed inwardly at himself for it.
Just as he was about to march into the captain's quarters before he lost his nerve, the pirates on deck scurried to hook and pull a longboat up onto the deck. Curious, he stood there across the deck watching. When it was swung up over the rail he laid eyes on a most welcome sight. A smile he felt even at the corners of his eyes broke across his face at the dainty doll that was Alice Witter. Tearing across the deck he went, pushing past several disconcerted pirates all the way. He whisked her up into his arms, buried his face in her hair, and inhaled the sweet smell of her.
The woman was startled, feeling his shoulders and arms. "Jack?" When he put her down, she gasped. Her hands went to her mouth. Grey eyes shining, she grabbed him up in her own hug. "Isaac! What did blasted London do to you? You look like-like oh you poor-Jack, for heaven's sake! Good god, but you're a man!"
"And you're still a sweet doll," he murmured, drawing her closer. "Thank the heavens you're here."
"Or curse them," Gibbs muttered.
Isaac grinned at the sailor whose arms were full with a large trunk. "Well, well, well." He watched the man dump the thing onto the deck and huff back to the boat to take two smaller chests from it and plunk them down beside it. "If it ain't Joshamee Good Luck Gibbs!"
"Aye," Gibbs grinned back at him. "Been too long with ya gone, Isaac! Jack's gone mad!"
"Tell me something I don't already know," Isaac challenged.
The sailor looked from him to Alice. And then back to him. Muttering under his breath, Gibbs plodded off into the crowd of pirates.
Isaac furrowed a brow down at the woman. "What's that about?"
"Nothing important," she told him. A small smile crept onto her face as she gazed up at him. "You're here!"
"I'm here," he agreed, forgetting his fears for the moment. He smiled down at her, cursing inwardly at the tears that had snuck into his eyes. The woman closest to his heart had not changed a single bit since the last time he saw her. It had been nearly six years ago that he had watched her sail away with Jack on the ship they stood on. "Older and wiser and, best of all, home."
Alice Witter studied the man that had been a wiry boy the last time she'd laid eyes on him. She cursed herself for the tears in her eyes and even more so for the smile on her face. The pirates gathering around them were eyeing her curiously, and she could not blame them for she was sure she had rarely shone such emotion in their presence. Anamaria, the one she liked to spar with, seemed stunned but Alice could not determine if it was the look on her face or the man in front of her which startled the dark beauty. Even Gibbs was back, unable to resist the young gent that had left the Pearl as a boy so long ago to become a proper man.
Feeling as if the assembled group would crush her, she grabbed up the sack she'd dropped and snuck away. But not without with one last wistful glance at Isaac. Pride swelled in her chest and she found she had to turn away lest the tears burn her eyes worse than they already had.
Crossing the deck quickly, she opened the door to Jack's quarters and slipped inside. Unlike the man's surrogate son, his ship had not changed much. Pearl was as familiar as always. She had to agree with the boy-whenever it was that she found herself on the beautiful ship, she felt as if she were right at home.
"Psst," she hissed over her shoulder. "Stop fussing!"
The sack rested.
As her heels tapped down onto the last step into Jack's territory, she sighed. From the looks of things, the pirate hadn't changed either. There was definitely another person in his bed. His hair, if it was good for anything, was easily discernible from that of other people. The sunstreaked head of hair was certainly not his. Laying the sack gently on the floor, she tiptoed toward the bed and leaned over it, frowning down at the pirate and the person snuggled up against him. Whoever it was was very, very small-childlike even.
Just then, the person moved and the little girl's content, sleeping face turned towards her. Little Lucy Turner, looking for all the world like a teensy tiny Elizabeth, was snuggled in the warm comforting arms of a softly-snoring pirate. Jack's innocent, sleeping face was as content as the girl's.
Alice couldn't help but smile at the two snoozing seraphs. Angels they were in sleep, both of them. Little Lucy, she figured, looked much like an angel awake. But Captain Jack Sparrow, infamous Scourge of the Caribbean, looked in sleep, with his wild locks and unusual clunky beads, like a highly decorated archangel who'd been sent to the earth to wander its farthest reaches.
Whatever had forced Anamaria to seek her out was obviously not bothering the man at the moment, she decided, leaving the bedside to stare at herself in the fancy mirror hooked to the far wall. Her hand slid to the flash of gold peeking at her hip, the butt-cap of the pistol she'd tucked into the holster hidden in her skirt. A thrill ran through her as her thumb grazed it and she closed her eyes.
Most of the company she kept scoffed at her frills. She let them. They had no idea what lurked under her beloved ruffles and bows. The dagger on her thigh, the pistol in her skirt, and the switchblade in an underside pocket cold between the swell of her cleavage they could not see. The pouch of powder in a pocket under the large bow above her backside didn't exist to them. For all they knew she was just another dainty rich woman.
Alice opened her eyes and studied her reflection. As it turned out, 'dainty rich woman' rather suited her. The new dress was simply stunning. Even if it had not held a secret stash, she would have been glad to wear it. Straightening the bow at her neck, she left the mirror to behold Jack's own finery. The man was as ardent about surrounding himself in luxury as she was-sumptuous silks, rich jewel tones, and an abundance of gold set the captain's quarters asparkle.
As she made her way back across the room, she ran a hand through a tray of the man's many jeweled accoutrements. Absentmindedly adorning herself with the dazzling trinkets, she looked at a sword she hadn't previously laid eyes on, and admired its make. It had been a gift from Turner, no doubt, she decided, picking it up. The decadence in simplicity gave away the blacksmith's work. Turning it this way and that, she admired its grace in the sunlight basking through the faceted stern windows. "Well, well Will Turner. Now how am I going to swindle you into creating a weapon equally fine?" The sword slid easily into the scabbard at her side. "I hope I don't have to be." she grimaced, "Nice."
A series of thumps drew her attention down to the floor. The sack she'd deposited had wriggled itself to her feet, and was squirming and hissing at her. "Stop fussing," she hissed back. In a huff, she flumped down beside the sleeping pirate to wait for his waking.
--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---
The Black Pearl disappeared. "William?"
"Dessert is served."
Looming over him was an impressively tall butler standing impeccably straight. The white-wigged fellow's nose was in the air and Jack remembered him as belonging to the Governor. He frowned, looking down at the table he sat at. It, too, was the Governor's. What purpose had he at the Swann residence? Dessert?
"Is there something wrong?"
Jack looked up, surprised to find himself alone in the cavernous room. To the left the table was empty, and to the right the same. The only thing at the other end of the table was an empty seat. Suspicious, he whipped his head around, fully expecting to catch someone standing behind him. He didn't.
"What's the problem, Sparrow?"
The Commodore. Blasted Norrington, and where was he? Jack's eyes narrowed. He pushed his chair back and bent to look under the table. Unless the Commodore had suddenly turned himself into a dustbunny-unlikely-he wasn't there. Frustrated, Jack cussed and sat up.
Well, the cheeky chum could play his games to his heart's desire. He, however, desired the date with dessert. Hopefully, it was something delicious. Picking up the tiny spoon that had been placed within reach of his fingertips, Jack looked down at the bowl in front of him.
"Well, well. There is something troubling you."
Jack dropped the spoon and stared down in horror at his dessert.
It was Norrington. Norrington's head. Norrington's head, complete with condescending scowl, made from what looked to be fine frozen custard. "Stop being such a ninny, and eat me!"
Jack's eyes popped open.
Grey eyes met his. Staring down at him was a silent Alice Witter.
"No no no," he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. "Not another nightmare!" The tug on his beard was real, however, and forced his eyes open. He scowled up at her. "You know, if one more person grabs hold of me hair, I'm going to seriously consider chopping every bit of it off."
"Not the worst idea you've ever had," she told him, letting go of the plaits.
Jack reached for his offended chin and rubbed it, wincing.
"Nightmares, Jack?"
He shuddered. "Trust me when I tell you that you don't want to know."
"I don't trust you when you tell me anything," she pointed out.
"And a good thing that is," he agreed, sitting up.
Little Lucy stirred, turning towards him and reaching for him in her sleep. When she couldn't find him, her lip curled in frustration. Sensing impending doom for his ears-not to mention the ears of everyone else in the Caribbean, Jack offered his hand to hers and watched her little girl arms wrap around his wrist. It was such a small but enormously heartwarming gesture. Not for the first time, he wondered how Will managed to be such a sour sort.
"Looks as if the little one's discovered the charms of Captain Jack Sparrow."
"Well," he said softly, mouth twitching up in a smile, "they are difficult to resist."
"Not entirely."
"Spoken by a woman who somehow always ends up on my ship, I'll not take it to heart."
"Have you a heart?"
Jack laid his hand over it and turned sad eyes to her. They narrowed, however, on the many sparkly things he recognized as riches he'd acquired. The diamonds glittering at her throat he'd lifted off of the neck of a wide-eyed debutante. The glittering bracelet he'd taken from a chest that had belonged to a fat French woman. The big smoky gem set in silver on her index finger he'd plucked off of a livid merchant's finger, the band of diamonds on the other hand he'd fished out of a Governor's wife's jewelry box, and the dainty diamond set in delicate golden swirls on her ring finger he'd had made by a very flustered jeweler from a very religious and very pirate-intolerant Spanish colony before he and the crew sailed off under the nose of a very angry Spanish viceroy. Scowling, he held out his hand.
Alice beamed, admiring the sparkle on her wrist. "Oh Jack, I simply adore it!"
"Of course you do, love. It's worth a fortune." He smiled. "Which is what I happen to adore about it meself. Now give it back."
Pouting, she did.
"Necklace."
"You," she told him, sighing sadly as she unhooked the necklace, "are such a-"
"Pirate. And the rings." He watched her lip tremble with each ring less. The last one, the delicate diamond he'd nearly gotten noosed by, he shook his head at. "No, love. That one's all yours."
"But it's," she turned it in the light, "obviously the work of Emeraldo Emorro. The most sought after Spanish jeweler in the entire world! You must have gone to great lengths to get your hands on this."
"I was in the area."
"The area being a very heavily guarded Spanish port!" Alice frowned. "Why are you giving me this? What are your terms?"
Jack shrugged, tucking the jewelry in his pocket. For whatever reason, people just couldn't accept his generosity without questions asked. Alice was one of those people, and he suspected she always would be. If it was the pirate's blood in her, that instinctual bit of a pirate that insists upon the mistrust of other pirates, or the natural suspicion he seemed to arise from everyone, he didn't know.
Pretending to consider her, he wondered, quite naturally, what the best terms for the woman would be. It was instinctual, afterall. He was a pirate. "My terms, Miss Witter, are these." He stopped to study the ring. And really, it was a very lovely ring. Fine piece of work from the famous Emeraldo despite the man's incredible case of jitters. Worth quite a lot, he was sure. Positive it was worth. worth what? What was-that hissing sound-it worth? Frustrated for his apparent inability to place a price of worth on the thing, he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he sighed, flicking his fingers at the air as if it was what had irritated him. "That you wear it. That you enjoy wearing it. And that I enjoy your enjoying your wearing it."
She stared at him.
"The end. That's it. Those are my terms."
"That's it? That's all?" Her eyes narrowed on him. "No double entendre? No hidden agendas? No 'surprise, love, you're along for the toss on the high seas with my unfortunate crew and even less fortunate friends on a circumnavigal trip to find a terribly awful cursed treasure which is nothing but trouble and twice as difficult to leave behind for all its glittering glory'?"
"Well." he smiled. "No. I meant what I said."
"You did."
"I did." Jack nodded. "So. do we have an accord?"
Alice fell silent, studying the ring she slipped back on her finger.
"No, no." Panic gripped his gut and he grimaced. "Not that hand. The other one, love."
"Aye. We've an accord. I agree to your terms." She smiled at the ring she hadn't switched to her right hand and swatted his reaching fingers away. "And if you are to enjoy my enjoying my wearing it, it'll be this hand I wear it on. Otherwise I won't enjoy wearing it, you won't enjoy my enjoying my wearing it, and then we're both simply back to trying to find a good enough reason to give and accept what seems to be a priceless present."
Jack's eyes grew wide as the woman leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his mouth.
"Now," she said with a flicker of a smile as she sat back, "what has Anamaria so worked up as to wake me from my peaceful slumber? Are you going to let the cat out of the bag? Or am I going to have to drag it out?"
Jack frowned, the low sound of hissing once again loud in his ears. He glanced toward the edge of the bed and down, as if he might see the floor. "I was just about to ask the same thing."
Then it had been her eyes that had widened. Quick as a whip she reached for the bag, listening as Jack staggered through the account of all the trouble aboard the Pearl since they'd left Port Royal. T'was a rather entertaining story, she thought.
"And to end all, swear on me ship, love," Jack said, "he asks Elizabeth if t'was him truly fathered the chits!"
"Well, well, well." Alice paused in her petting of the striped grey cat perched on Jack's knee. "Perhaps Will Turner has-guts-afterall."
Jack rolled his eyes. They darkened. "So you see," he said, "I had no other choice but to knock some sense into him."
"Oh, I know the feeling."
Resuming her soothing strokes down Ash's soft fur, Alice watched the darker cat with the yellow eyes sniff, whiskers twitching curiously, at the trinkets in Jack's hair. Cinder knew every bauble in the pirate's mane, but his investigation upon Jack's appearance was always the same as was Jack's reaction to it-a chiding tsk-and neither ever failed to amuse her. She smothered a giggle as the cat stretched up to lick, with its pink tongue, the tip of the pirate's nose.
"Yes, hello to you too, dear Cinder." Jack traced his fingertips between the cat's ears. "I hope the ladies haven't given you too much trouble while I was off."
"Please," she scoffed. "As if men are any less trouble than women! Especially the two of you!"
Ash blinked her agreement.
Jack winced. "They're teaming up on us, mate."
"Look at the trouble that you and Will have recently caused for each other as well as those around you." Her eyes narrowed at him. "Not to mention those affected who were not in the vicinity-like me and my being yanked from a warm, comfortable bed. Though, under the circumstances, I can't say I blame you."
Jack looked as if he were about to sigh, when another sigh drew his attention to the little girl at his side. Little Lucy's dark eyes squinted up at him as she woke from her slumber. Giggling, she squirmed to hide under the covers. Alice arched a brow at Jack, who winked at her and promptly yanked the cover back from the girl child's head, issuing another burst of giggles from the little chit. A tug of war ensued, until Little Lucy went mad with the giggles. Chuckling, Jack scooped her up in his arms and plunked her down on his lap, sending both indignant cats to safe hiding.
Alice glanced over her shoulder at the animals huddled behind the poof of her skirt. Blue and yellow eyes glared up at her. She glared back. Ash and Cinder promptly curled up, purring together, against her rump. When she turned back to the pirate in front of her, she wasn't surprised to see him accepting a tiny kiss on the cheek from the little girl. Nor was she surprised to see the man brighten and peck the girl's cheeks in return. For whatever reason, children agreed with Jack Sparrow. And as much as he insisted otherwise, he was good with them-a trait she couldn't help but envy, as it seemed to escape her. Feeling auspiciously out of place, she fidgeted with the ring on her finger.
"If only every lass was as agreeable in the morning," he lamented.
Alice shot him a warning look.
Jack smiled. Someone cleared his throat, and he frowned, looking up at Cook who stood at the top of the stairs, tray in his hands. "Well it's about time you've made an appearance! Is that my breakfast? At this late an hour it may as well be lunch." He eyed the fidgeting, spectacled man as he descended the steps and came closer. "What's taken so long?"
"Sorry Captain." Cook set the tray on the table beside his captain and exchanged glances with Alice, who gave a slight shake of her head. The older man forced a smile on his face and nodded brightly at the captain, whose gaze had hooked to the syrupy rolls he'd piled on one of the plates. "Distractions and the like."
"Distractions?" Jack offered the little girl a roll and when she shook her head, he shrugged and took a big bite out of it. Cheeks puffed, he pointed a wagging finger at Cook and uttered something that could not be deciphered through his mouthful of walnuts and molasses.
"Aye aye!" Cook grinned, adjusting his glasses. "Thought you'd say that!" When Jack, still chewing, nodded at him and waved him away, he went up the stairs, hesitated at the top, and raised an exuberant hand in salute before disappearing altogether.
Alice stared at Jack, wondering if what he'd said was worth the trouble of translation.
"Help yourself," he told her. "I'm sure Anamaria didn't fix your breakfast. Not that you'd eat it if she did and not to say I'd blame you." He frowned. "For all her seaworthiest skills, she never did master the galley."
"Nor did I," she reminded him, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Or Elizabeth, as I hear the story about the owl pudding is quite a hoot. Some women are less than skillful with a spoon."
"The three of you take less than skillful to a whole new level, I assure you." Jack winced. "Cook and I decided it best to hide every last spoon after the owl pudding incident."
"Owl pudding," Little Lucy whimpered. She shook her head vehemently. "No, never."
"Aye," Jack agreed, handing her a bunch of plump grapes, "we're unanimous in that, little love."
Alice laughed, despite herself, and Little Lucy eyed her curiously. Popping a grape into her tiny mouth, the little girl's dark eyes shifted away and she turned her head. But if all of her years of spending time with Jack Sparrow had taught her anything, it was never to underestimate even the slightest gesture-and Alice didn't. When the little girl turned away her eyes had shifted back to study her in secret. In the instant Alice noticed, she pretended not to. Encouragement for the girl to engage her in conversation was not something she wished to give. If she pretended to ignore Little Lucy and Little Lucy pretended to ignore her, so much the better.
"Well you look piqued, love. Something the matter?"
Jack's question jolted Alice from her thoughts, but she recovered quickly, steeling herself against his gaze. She shrugged, sipping her coffee. "Of course not." A quick glance up at the man and she knew by the pucker of his lips that he did not believe her.
"Liar."
Alice was about to tell him off when she realized that the voice that had uttered the dig at her had been much too high and light to have came from his mouth. She paused, seeing the corner of his mouth twitch up, and puckered her own lips. Following his gaze down to the little girl sitting on his lap, she found Little Lucy's steady, gauging gaze upon her. The knowledge that the girl had seen through her and had actually made the judgement call unnerved her, and she found herself suddenly only able to swallow.
"You know, little love," Jack said, patting the girl on the head, "that trick might come in handy one of these days. As for now, well after we've-and by we I mean I-finished off Cook's cinnamon rolls. I think perhaps we would-and by we I mean we-benefit from a step or two outside."
Alice sighed, relieved. "Yes, I do agree." The morning miracle was still fresh in her mind. She could not fight the fond smile that tugged at her lips. "A breath of fresh air is always most helpful when one finds themselves in a spot of trouble."
