A/N: This chapter is living (living?) proof that your feedback is important to me - I was originally going to leave the rest of Elizabeth's adventures on the Dutchman to the imagination, but if people like to read about pretty girls going tete-a-tete with squiddy monsters, then here's how I think it went down...
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Jones managed to storm out of the room to lessen the chance that he would lash out and kill her with his bare hands. He vented his rage all over the ship and only came back to the organ room when he felt calmer.
He took his seat. "I appreciate pluck," he said at last, in a steely voice that kept his feelings mostly hidden. "But I do not appreciate liars. Now. I am going to ask you some questions and I want to hear only the truth. Is that understood?"
Not trusting herself to speak, Elizabeth just nodded.
"You're not in love with Jack Sparrow?"
Elizabeth shook her head no.
"But he did play a part in the story you just told me."
Elizabeth nodded yes.
"The one you are in love with...Will Turner?"
Yes.
"The one you abandoned was the Navy man, the Commodore?"
Yes. But how could he know that?
"And it's him you're asking me to pardon."
That sounded suspiciously like the beginnings of a bargain coming on, and Elizabeth was extremely reluctant to start bargaining with Davy Jones. "I'm not asking anything," she said quickly. "I just wanted you to know: James Norrington has had an extremely rough time and you shouldn't judge him too harshly, that's all. I'm not looking to make a deal."
That made him laugh. "I see you've got instructions not to start horse-trading with me."
"No instructions – just common sense." Elizabeth risked a small smile. "Even Barbossa is afraid to negotiate with you, and that's saying something."
It was hard to tell because of his lack of discernable facial features, but Jones seemed pleased. "And well he should be." He leaned closer to her suddenly. "I don't give away people's lives for nothing. If you won't bargain...will ye bet?"
Elizabeth's eyes lit up. "Deception? Will told me all about that game."
"You had a poor teacher," Jones laughed. "That boy was the worst player I've seen in many a year."
It wasn't a direct question, so Elizabeth felt she wasn't really lying if she just shrugged. Will might have explained the rules of the game to her, but it was Barbossa who had played her round after round, until she far surpassed her fiance's infantile grasp of Deception strategy.
Obviously she still couldn't be as good as Davy Jones, but he would underestimate her terribly and that would work to her advantage.
"Tell you what," she offered, "I'm new to this, so I need a bit of practice. Let's play for markers or something tonight, and then when I feel better we'll make the bet."
The blowhole on the side of Jones's face fluttered excitedly. "And what am I betting your friend's life against?" Habit had him expecting her to offer a year of servitude as a sailor...possibly two, if she wanted Norrington badly enough.
But she tossed her hair and surprised him again. "If you can't think of a single thing to ask a beautiful young woman before her marriage, then you're not the man I thought you were, Captain." Her tone turned mocking. "Or did you put that in the chest as well as your heart?"
Jack had implied more than once that Davy Jones was, ahem, incapable of responding to this sort of suggestion, and sure enough, after a terrifyingly long pause he shook his head and made a counteroffer. "Again with the mouth, Miss Swann! Well, if it's the mouth I keep noticing, it's the mouth I want." He sounded a little bit angry and a good bit amused. "When you're ready, we'll bet your friend Norrington's life against a kiss." Because he liked to see her flinch, he added: "A nice wet one."
"Agreed."
She was impertinent and insulting, but Jones decided to let it pass unpunished. He felt completely confident that he would win the game and then he would really have an advantage. There was no way this girl would let a friend die for her failure – she would beg for a deal then, and agree to any demands Jones cared to make.
He thought he might begin with a heartfelt apology, made on her knees in a puddle of flaming lantern oil, on behalf of herself and of all fickle, teasing females who left their men in the lurch without a single thought of remorse fluttering through their pretty heads.
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Jones had not been lying when he warned Elizabeth about his relentless, dispassionate cruelty. He planned out a mindful of horrific things to do to her once she was in his power, but the whole night she read only stiff politeness in his face and voice. She didn't trust him per se, but certainly had no inkling that he fully intended to make her choose among his next set of prisoners who got to live and who had to die (he already knew that even the most soft-hearted people rarely failed to make a choice, when threatened with the deaths of the whole group. And whatever choice they made rarely failed to haunt them.).
When she had played – and lost – Deception until her eyes would barely stay open, he pronounced it bedtime and led her to the area he had reserved for the odd living guest he took aboard. The chamber was sealed off, so that the person could breathe even if the Dutchman submerged for a while, and was scrubbed endlessly by the crew to keep the barnacles and anemones to a minimum.
"Oh!" Elizabeth was clearly surprised by the normalcy of the place. "Is this your room?"
"It's for guests."
"Do you have many?"
"There've been a few."
There was a silence that seemed somehow ominous. "Might I ask what happened to them?"
Jones's tentacles moved gleefully. "Did you notice all those candleholders growing out of my walls...?"
Elizabeth's eyes widened in horror and he laughed. "My guests are fine," he assured her, but it had a sinister sound. "Nobody dies on this ship, remember?"
He slammed the door behind him and Elizabeth wished desperately that she were somewhere else.
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That night, Elizabeth had a dream. One of those dreams. It was not really a surprise - since having been so rudely deprived of her wedding night, and then sailing for weeks upon weeks with pirates who showered her with lewd remarks and insinuations, lately Elizabeth had found her mind wandering into the bedroom pretty regularly.
The dream always took place on a ship. She was cowering alone in some cabin, until he burst in, barred the door for her, swore to protect her against the horrors lurking outside, and then happily ravished her by the fire (in her dreams there was always a fireplace in the cabin, and she thought it unfortunate that in real life ships didn't have them.) This night on the Dutchman, it was the same dream, and wonderful as always until she woke up and realized with shock and disgust that this time, her hero had most definitely notbeen Will.
Or even Jack.
"Oh, no, but he's so old and dirty," she moaned aloud. It was so unacceptable that she pulled the covers over head and buried her face in the pillow to block out the image.
But something about the pillow and blanket smelled distinctly familiar. She stayed where she was and inhaled a few more times. Yes. She had spent enough nights in Barbossa's bed wrapped in his coat that there was no mistaking it now.
Well, that explained the dream, at least. But it created other questions, most importantly: Why has Barbossa been hanging about on the Flying Dutchman, and why didn't he tell me?
One place to look for answers was Davy Jones – unappealing though the idea was. Elizabeth practiced breathing through her mouth, knowing that Jones probably got offended every time she retched at the foul stench of his presence.
No, she corrected herself, he probably loves it. The awful creature.
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Jack was sprawled out on deck, hat down over his eyes, snoring loudly. Pretending to fall into a drunken stupor was the best way to get people to leave him alone long enough to think.
And he had to think. If he didn't beat Barbossa to a workable plan now, he could kiss goodby his chance to wrangle permanent control of the Pearl from the old pirate. The Pearl was all Jack wanted out of life at the moment, and it was the ship where Barbossa had spent the ten worst years of his life, so common sense said Jack should get to keep it. The problem was, Barbossa was (understandably) extremely doubtful of Jack's abilities. A good plan could perhaps help lay those doubts to rest.
Jack was trying hard to get useful planning done, but his mind kept wandering and after a while he found himself taking a break from planning to just remember...
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Jack heard the mob gathering outside his cabin door. He knew that hesitation now would mean death, so he drew his gun, cocked it, and kicked the door open – completely ready to put this mutiny down by shooting whomever stood nearest.
But at the head of the pack was none other than former Captain Barbossa, and Jack was so shocked he just let his pistol fall from his hand.
"Arrrrr!"
Unarmed. This is it. Frozen though his mind might be, Jack's instinct for self-preservation took over and he stumbled backwards into the cabin, away from the mutineers.
Barbossa followed him in and kicked the door closed behind them. The pirates outside started to chant and cheer.
"Idiot! You're through," Barbossa hissed. He grabbed a bottle from the table and hurled it against the wall. "Your only chance was to shoot me - or the one next to me - and scare the rest. You're an idiot, a child!"
"What do you want from me?" Naked desperation. Even now Jack winced to remember it.
Barbossa stepped up very close, towering over him, and jammed something into his belt. "I want you to carry that pistol," he snarled, "til you have the stomach to use it!" He strode over to the door and then turned back to face the young man whose life he had just ruined. There was silence for a moment.
Barbossa raised his hand and drew an X over his heart. He opened his arms and froze there a moment. When it became obvious that Jack was not drawing the gun, his lip curled in disgust and he shook his head. "Until then I have no use for ye, Jack Sparrow. You're nothing."
He shoved the door open and called, in full hearing of the crew, "You're not even worth killing!"
The crew laughed with him, eating up his every word and gesture, and Jack knew right then that they actually were going to let him live. Oddly enough, he didn't find the thought comforting.
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"Are ye awake?" Speak of the devil.
Jack didn't move. "No."
Barbossa settled down next to him anyway and said, "Turner and I have been discussin the possibility of getting Elizabeth back somehow. I have a plan, and I think we need her for it."
"Try asking good old Davy Jones - without promising your soul to him. I think it's a good shot, how about you?" Jack asked darkly from under his hat.
"Actually I found Davy Jones to be a reasonable man," Barbossa answered. "Other than bein a little too much the sadist for my taste."
"Oh, and just how well do you know him? Shared any special bonding experiences I don't know about? I've always wondered what he uses those tentacles for, if you know what I mean," Jack droned. He was still immobile, and it made Barbossa feel like he was talking to himself.
So he whisked off Jack's hat, and Jack shouted and covered his eyes against the sunlight.
"I had to spend a month aboard the Dutchman - not all of us have friends to come sail us home from World's End," Barbossa reminded.
"You could have swum." Jack squinted out at the sea. "Listen, I'd advise against fetching Elizabeth, if we predict our adventures are going to take us anywhere near Port Royal." He didn't elaborate. Making Barbossa beg for information was a pleasure that he never got tired of.
After a moment Barbossa rolled his eyes and gave Jack what he wanted. "And why not, if you please?"
"Because then we'll have to rescue her father."
"Governor Swann? What's happened to Governor Swann?" Will had appeared out of nowhere, as anxious and high-strung as ever.
Strategy discussions were taking place, and Will would only make them more difficult, so Jack tried to shoo him away. "Off you go then, son, go play in the rigging or something." When Will didn't disappear, he added, "That's an order." He nudged Barbossa. "Tell him it's an order, mate."
"Out, Will."
"But-"
"Out! Just because Elizabeth's not here at the moment doesn't mean I can't beat her when she gets back! Now-"
"I can't believe you!" Will was so angry he sounded out of breath. "After all we've been through! God!"
He stormed off.
Jack glanced a question in Barbossa's direction, and Barbossa answered him aloud: "Aye. Just once. It did wonders for the boy's attitude. Now, what was that about Elizabeth's father?"
"He's been jailed for springing her from jail, and considering she was sentenced to die for springing me from jail, me being sentenced to die, therefore Governor Swann is also sentenced to die for springing her. Got it?"
"Frighteningly enough, I do." Barbossa considered it for a moment. "And she doesn't know?"
"No. She's been away."
"So have you," Barbossa pointed out. "How did you find out?"
Jack leaned close as though about to divulge a secret. "I," he breathed, "am Captain Jack Sparrow."
Barbossa cuffed him upside the head, and he revised his answer. "Ow. All right," he sulked, "I asked for news from the man you took from the pirate hunters. He told me all about it."
Barbossa frowned. "Who?" When Jack pointed him out, he went over to get a better look. "Who are you?"
"You hired me, sir. Remember? There were four of us, but three got eaten by that monster at World's End, and now it's just me."
"Oh." Barbossa had meant to feed all the Navy men to the monster, but apparently this one had got lucky while another poor pirate had been eaten in his stead. Such a shame. Anyway, there were more important matters.
He turned back to Jack, supremely annoyed. "All right, I believe you. So now what? I suppose you've got a better plan?"
Jack backed a safe distance away before answering. "Of course, mate," he lied. He was about to add, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, but decided Barbossa was probably not in the mood.
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But whatever mystery plan Jack had concocted, it too required Elizabeth. So, barely a week after having given her up as a hostage, they hailed the Dutchman to ask for her return.
While they waited for Davy Jones to pull alongside, Will hassled Barbossa for the spyglass to get the earliest possible glimpse of Elizabeth. She was standing beside Jones, looking pale and terrified.
Will watched through the glass as they exchanged words - Elizabeth seeming to plead for something, Jones arguing with her and then finally giving in. He had a bad feeling.
When they were in shouting distance, Barbossa greeted the Dutchman and then got straight to the point. "We have a plan to get to that heart but we're going to need Elizabeth. You'll have to take another hostage for the time being, and give her back to us."
Jones said something to Elizabeth, and she drew closer to him, behind him... almost as though she didn't want to go. He laughed at her and pushed her forward. "Very well, but the lady has something to tell you first. A message for young William."
Will stepped to the rail. "Elizabeth?" he prompted, knowing full well that his voice was too quiet for her to hear.
She looked like she was about to cry. "Will, I'm so sorry," he read from her lips, but her voice did not carry.
So Jones helped her. "Will: I'm so sorry," he repeated at the top of his voice. "Your father - I tried - I'm so sorry." He made no effort to hide his amusement, and an overpowering urge to kill swept through Will.
"W- What about my father? What have you done to him?" Will shouted as soon as he could.
Jones waved his claw and his men put a plank across. "Why don't you come over and see for yourself?"
Will glanced to Barbossa for permission. The captain's eyes were narrowed thoughtfully, and rather than wait for an answer Will just decided to hell with it and just ran straight over.
"You might want to try and stop him," Jack suggested, "Before he does something stupid." Barbossa growled and went across.
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TBC. Sorry for the cliffhanger, and for the typos if there were any. I would have liked to spend more time on this chapter, but I'm going away for the weekend and I wanted to get something up before I leave. Leave me some love for when I get back!