A/N: Okay, so this chapter gave my poor beta fits because she couldn't tell whose POV it was. I guess there were too many people involved to write it from one character's perspective. So please read it as third-person. I am sorry I haven't updated in a while! Thank you to Belphagor, master of time, and Manwathiel for your reviews! You're wonderful!
Disclaimer: POTC belongs to Disney!
One day later, the sun was setting on a deliciously expectant Port Royal. Everything was arranged to the happiness of all! That blacksmith boy–what was his name again?–had been granted clemency; what a generous governor Port Royal had! Of course, the pirates were to be hung, but only after their king. The noose would take Jack Sparrow's life first as was right; he had more style than a bunch of French courtiers could hope to possess and therefore deserved every kindness.
Out of the blood red sunset flew a single bird. Its breast was the same golden color as the setting sun's heart and its wings the pure blue of the fading sky overhead. It fluttered over the seething, smoking, glittering port, fluttering down, down to a dim, snakelike street with pigs rooting sleepily in the gutters. With a graceful swoop, it came to a landing on a sturdy sign. Extending from the side of an old barn, the sign bore the tools of a blacksmith and the letters J. Brown.
The brightly colored parrot peered down at the two people who sat on the barn's stoop, a young man and a young woman.
"Do you think you'll ever see Miss Swann again?" the blond girl asked softly.
"I am certain of it," the dark-haired man answered in a defeated voice. "We live in the same town…"
"I know," she sighed.
"Abbey, I've realized something," he said thoughtfully. "I forgot. When I saw Eliz-Miss Swann," he swallowed, "I forgot why I came here."
"Forgot what?" she asked, her frown fading into the dusky shadows.
"I came out here to find my father, Abbey, not to turn into a moonstruck calf. I used to feel… I used to know I would do absolutely anything to just see him."
"Do you still?"
"It's hard to tell what I feel right now," he said, "but I think I do. But I've realized, I do have a trade. I can turn my energy toward making enough money, and then search for him out there, on the water."
Abbey half-smiled. "You like the sea now."
He considered her for a moment, and then nodded. "I do."
She looked at her hands. He looked at the ground.
"We'd miss you," she finally said. "Even Mrs. Brown. She can't think well anymore, but she loves you."
"I know." He bowed his head to his knees. "But I also know that Jack is going to be dead by this time tomorrow, and El-Miss Swann will be married a month from now." He looked at her, his mouth a grim, straight line.
Abbey nodded sorrowfully. "You can't stay."
"I can't," he whispered.
She gently nudged his shoulder. "I'll give you another kernel of corn and then the chickens and I will be with you always."
The corners of his mouth twitched. "That would be most appreciated. I think I lost the one you gave me on a ship in Tortuga…dear God…" he trailed off, lifting his head to gaze sightlessly at the sky.
He was completely unaware of Abbey's tear-filled eyes and the way they traced his profile. She gently slid her hand into his and squeezed.
"Good night, Will," she murmured thickly, and quietly rose and walked away.
As soon as she was out of earshot, the parrot on the sign gave a soft squawk and Will leaped to his feet, hand scrabbling at his hip for a sword. When he saw the parrot, he went perfectly still. "Cotton!"
And Fate smiled.
The day of Jack's hanging dawned perversely bright and blissful. Seagulls gave picturesque cries as they soared over the rectangular arena of death that was Fort Charles. Some green grass grew cheerfully between the cobbles. A sweet breeze stirred the Union Jack.
It also caressed the inky mane of Captain Jack.
He stood alone in the center of the most unpleasant stage in the world, booted feet planted on the treacherous trapdoor that would pull his life out from under him. A sea of upturned faces was the last thing he'd see, or maybe that crooked stone in the wall across the way, who knew?
A rope knotted his wrists, an impressive combination of sailor's knots. The sun was a heavy, hot weight on his shoulders, but not as heavy as the gaze of the audience. A young woman dabbed her eye, how nice. Except the man beside her looked like he wanted to pull the trapdoor lever himself. The washerwoman beside him wasn't any more friendly-looking.
The packed courtyard was hushed. Marines stalked the walls and ringed the perimeter, a giant red sign of British paranoia. Those of high birth were allowed to stand in the shade, under the elevated portico at one end of the courtyard. Several British officers were present, as well as the Governor, his daughter, and Commodore Norrington.
A trio of Marines with drums had set up a deliberate, grave rhythm a while ago. Now a skinny, gray-haired man took his place near the top of the gallows stairs, holding a crisp, open scroll. Over the racket he began to read: "Jack Sparrow. Be it known that you . . ."
The prisoner gave the reader a scathing glance then rolled his eyes and head back. "Captain," he murmured, eyes half-closed, "Captain Jack Sparrow."
A man wearing a large, dashing hat wove his way slowly through the observers, the large gray hat feathers billowing over his shoulder-length brown hair. Silent, fluid, the wearer slipped past fixated commoners, unnoticed despite his proud height.
The reader droned on, "…for your willful commission of crimes against the Crown, said crimes being numerous in quantity and sinister in nature…"
The figure halted, seemed to take in the gallows, the guards, and the massive executioner standing by. Then, oddly, the brim of the hat turned toward the rear of the courtyard, where Governor Swann stood with his daughter.
William Turner's eyes were fixed on Elizabeth Swann's stormy countenance for a painful and then torn away.
"The most egregious of these to be cited herewith," the reader continued. "Piracy, smuggling . . ."
Beneath the portico, Miss Swann's jaw was set. "This is wrong," she said tightly.
Her father, standing between her and her future husband, didn't look at her. "Commodore Norrington is bound by the law. As are we all."
Miss Swann looked at her future husband, who glanced at his shoes before grimly lifting his face toward the gallows.
The reader and the nightmare continued. "…impersonating an officer of the Spanish Royal Navy, impersonating a cleric of the Church of England . . ."
Jack Sparrow grinned and whispered, "Ah, yeah." He beamed nostalgically at the executioner. The huge man glared back from under his helm, and Jack's expression turned sour before it vanished completely into blankness.
"…sailing under false colors, arson, kidnapping, looting, poaching, brigandage, pilfering, depravity, depredation and general lawlessness."
Mr. Cotton's gold and blue parrot landed on the crosspiece of a banner held aloft by Mullroy. Squawking, it pooped generously on Mullroy's shoulder. Indignant–as Murtogg watched from beside him–Mullroy hissed at the bird, trying to shake it loose. It wobbled up there but held on with its scaly feet. It squawked again, louder.
Will Turner and Jack Sparrow were the only ones who looked up at it.
"…and for these crimes," the reader paused, dramatically. The parrot shouted again, Will wheeled around. "You have been sentenced to be, on this day, hung by the neck until dead."
All eyes turned to Jack Sparrow. He showed absolutely no reaction whatsoever. Ah, he was simply stupendous! More than a few handkerchiefs dabbed at long-lashed eyes.
Elizabeth Swann was going to have to ply her own handkerchief soon, but she was resolved to fight her tears until the end. She took a deep breath to clear her tightening throat. And then William Turner stepped out of the crowd and stood below her.
"May God have mercy on your soul," the reader said in heartfelt tones to Jack Sparrow.
Elizabeth didn't hear him. This was a Will she had never seen. His waistcoat was fine cotton and his cloak long and deep red. His hat sat at the perfect angle on his brow and he had a sword on either hip. He was pale and there was a frightening intensity in his eyes.
Tears rose again and she lifted her gaze away.
"Governor Swann." Will nodded at the older man, who barely acknowledged Will before icily looking over his head.
"Commodore."
Norrington gave Will a polite nod.
"Elizabeth."
Startled, she looked at him again. He met her eyes straight on.
"I should have told you every day from the moment I met you," he said simply. "I love you."
Governor Swann and Commodore Norrington turned astonished gazes on Will, and then Elizabeth.
The sun had risen in her glorious eyes and her mouth formed a smiling O. Color was blooming on her cheeks but delight had already suffused her entire form.
Governor Swann turned away from his daughter's enraptured expression with a sigh of weariness. Norrington made himself turn away also, but his green eyes were dark.
The drums began a quick rat-a-tat and the atmosphere of the courtyard tightened like a spring. The clogs of Fate had started to mesh and turn, unstoppable, and the breeze itself went still.
Will quickly turned away in a whirl of magnificent cloak. The executioner roughly put the thick noose about Jack Sparrow's neck, and the pirate gave him a mildly hurt look. A flash of color caught Elizabeth's eye. She saw a familiar blue-gold parrot fluttering dramatically on a banner. Her wide eyes watched it lunged into the sunlit air.
The entire situation launched into a free fall.
Will plowed through the crowd, shouldering others aside and leaving a disarranged path leading straight for the raised gallows. Norrington's eyes landed on him just as Elizabeth's did.
He frowned and started down the steps. "Marines," he called to his troops softly, and they tensed.
Elizabeth began gasp shallowly. She looked frantically to her father. "I can't breathe," she wheezed, then toppled right over onto her back, trying not to wince when she hit the cobblestones.
The executioner reached for the lever. Jack watched Will.
"Elizabeth!" Her father knelt down beside her and worriedly waved his green-feathered hat over her face. Norrington joined him, his face hard as his troops waited without a leader.
Deep in the crowd, Will wrenched free one of his swords with a ringing that set the people around him to shrieking. Ferociously elbowing aside one scrambling figure after another, he glanced up and saw the executioner's arm tense at the trapdoor's lever.
Jack's eyes were huge and round.
"Move!" Will bellowed, and finally they all parted for him, revealing the gallows yards away.
Elizabeth sat up like a shot and tried to find Will again while her father and fiancé stared at her in surprise.
The executioner pulled the lever. With a grating sound of death the trapdoor swung down, and Jack jerked downward, feeling the rope's cut into his windpipe–
Like a red gale Will burst free of the crowd and hurled his sword. It sang straight under the gallows and speared though the trapdoor just in time to catch Jack's descending boots.
Jack stopped falling, just as the rope was going in for the kill. He tried to look down at the slender strip of metal that was keeping him alive, but then he slipped sideways and had to compensate in a hurry. Teeth clenched, he focused on keeping his trembling boots on the blade's narrow length.
Oblivious to the scene in the courtyard, Governor Swann gazed at his daughter in confusion. "What . . .?"
Norrington was already gone.
Elizabeth met her father's gaze without shame, and realizing, he shut his eyes with a pained moan.
Will sprinted up the gallows steps, followed by the tumultuous cries of the crowd. Between Will and the executioner stood wobbling Jack, and Will rushed to cut the rope waiting to strangle his friend.
The executioner bent and then straightened with a massive, wicked axe in his meaty fist. Will approached Jack; the executioner easily swung his weapon in a deadly arc. Will quickly met the axe with his sword. The executioner drew back and hacked at Will from the other side and again Will parried, but his blade trembled and his arms ached at the impact. Jack half-spun and swayed helplessly between them, his eyes huge.
"Move!"
Commodore Norrington's shout did not have the same effect Will's had had, for the crowd, in a united spirit of helpless worry, seemed content to watch the combat. So he shoved his way brutally through them, a trail of red uniforms following him like baby ducks.
Will heard the Commodore's shout as he met that horrid axe with his blade for a third time. Urgently he spun to the right as the executioner brought his axe around Jack, and the weapons collided viciously. Will had miscalculated in his panic, and his sword twisted right out of his hand.
The executioner howled as he swung his axe in a savage half-circle made to carve Will's head from his shoulders. Defenseless, Will ducked and the axe careened into the gallows' single column. It sliced straight through the tightly looped rope that was holding Jack up and choking, Jack fell out of sight. The rope hissed from the gallows' arm and followed him.
Livid now, Commodore Norrington forced his way past the last few observers–
"Commodore!" One of his troops' voices made him look up.
Will charged across the platform, lowered his shoulder and tackled the executioner, straining with all his strength. The mountain of a man, taken by surprise, flew up over the chain rail and straight for Norrington and his men and the audience around them.
There was a wild flurry of cries and elbows, and then an impact of three hundred pounds. It was more effective than a cannon ball.
Jack Sparrow came to his feet beneath the gallows, lurching and disoriented in the shade. Frowning, he turned to the sword that had saved his life and sliced apart the ropes binding his wrists. Then he darted into the sunlight, pulling the noose off him, the length of rope writhing after him like a snake.
He was faced with an open stretch of courtyard leading to stairs that climbed to shaded colonnade and beyond that, sunlight and possible exit options. Only if he could get past the soldiers beginning to appear underneath those columns-
Will made a spectacular somersault off the gallows and landed some yards away from Jack. The pirate tossed the noose-end of his rope to Will and they were off, running for the steps.
Bayonets flashing, three Marines clattered down the steps and straight into the rope stretched between the escapees. Caught in the chests, they flipped onto their backs in a cloud of sunlit dust. Will and Jack had barely gained the first step when three more Marines appeared from behind a stone column. They tried to somersault over the rope.
It didn't work.
Will and Jack caught their knees and heaved them up so they tumbled to the cobbles, hats lost. Will and Jack were already at the top of the steps. They darted around each other, trading places as two more valiant Marines charged them. Will punched one with both fists and Jack neatly forced the other off-balance by bringing the rope against the Marine's waist. As one, Jack and Will scrambled around their dazed attackers and met on the shady side of the arch, trapping the soldiers on the other side in a circle of rope. Jack and Will wrenched on the rope, slamming the Marines against the rock.
As the Marines slumped down the steps, Will and Jack were running for sunlight. Across the shady way a second row of columns faced them, the last obstacles. They somersaulted past a baffled Marine and rolled smoothly to their feet, turning to put their backs against another column to see what faced them from behind.
Marines were advancing up the stairs and into the shade quickly. Will and Jack punched and shoved away the two nearest, then spun together around to the other side of their arch and into the sunlight. Will barely avoided being skewered; as the man's sword rushed into view, Will grabbed the sword's handle and knocked Marine in the face with it. The sword was relinquished from the Marine's stunned hand.
But now the Marines were pouring through arches on both sides. The grim men spread in a circle about Will, Jack, and the column. Will and Jack spun back-to-back, and Will's sword clinked against the vicious circle of bayonets.
Their turn finished when Will came face-to-face with the thunderous Commodore Norrington, who raised a sword to his neck. Behind Will, Jack twisted awkwardly and blew Will's hat feather away from his face.
Deadly quiet fell.
"I thought we might have to endure some ill-conceived escape attempt," Norrington ground out, "but not from you."
Governor Swann appeared behind Norrington in a breathless rush. Elizabeth wasn't far behind. "On our return to Port Royal, I granted you clemency," Swann said. "And this is how you thank me? By throwing in your lot with him? He's a pirate!"
"And a good man," Will retorted, dropping his sword.
Jack smiled smugly at the surrounding Marines and gestured to himself.
"If all I have achieved is the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it." Will gazed into the Commodore's jade eyes with all the firmness he could muster, surprised when the pain in his heart made it easy. "At least my conscience will be clear."
Norrington scowled. "You forget your place, Turner."
"It's right here," Will stated quietly. "Between you and Jack."
Silence fell as the two men stared each other down.
Suddenly, in a rustle of luxurious fabric, Elizabeth moved past her father and her fiancé. Shaking, she slid her hand into Will's, feeling his calluses rasp against her fingers. She turned bravely and met Norrington's eyes. "As is mine."
"Elizabeth!" Governor Swann's voice was weak as he watched his daughter look up into Will's carefully blank face. "Lower your weapons," he ordered the Marines. "For goodness' sake, put them down!"
The troops obeyed, encouraged by an impatient gesture from Jack.
Commodore Norrington looked back and forth between Elizabeth and Will, struggling for words. "So-this is where you heart truly lies–then."
Her eyes were so beautiful when they were bright with hope. Curls blowing across her cheeks, she inclined her head tensely. "It is."
He gazed at her for an empty second, then blinked rapidly and averted his eyes.
Blood roaring in her ears, Elizabeth struggled to keep her back straight. She moved closer to Will, sliding her hand under his arm. The fingers of his free hand encircled her wrist in a comforting grasp.
Jack, intently observing all of this from over Will's shoulder, saw Mr. Cotton's parrot alight suggestively on the muzzle of a nearby cannon.
"Well!" his voice broke the agonizing spell. He sauntered Elizabeth and Will. "I'm actually feeling rather good about this." He nodded briskly at the couple, and then his eyes fastened onto Governor Swann. "I think we've all arrived at a special place, aye?"
He leaned very close to the flustered man who leaned back, turning aside in dazed disgust. "Spiritually." J ack leaned to the side with him. "Ecumenically..." he grimaced. "Grammatically," he added hopefully, but Swann only winced and refused to face him.
Jack moved on. Intense, he pressed close to the empty-eyed Norrington. "I want you to know that I was rooting for you, mate." He squinted, pointing a finger. "Know that."
He turned and began to march away, but stopped. "Elizabeth."
She turned.
"It never would have worked between us, darling," he said heavily, bowing his head. "I'm sorry." Just as quickly he straightened and proceeded, leaving a bemused Elizabeth behind.
Then he halted again and turned back. "Will."
The young man turned narrowed eyes on Jack.
Jack dipped charmingly. "Nice hat."
Will cracked a smile as Jack whirled and bounced up some steps before turning. "Friends!" He twisted and danced back from the Marines who were slowly emerging from the crowd. He stopping a small distance from a low wall that was the only barrier between mankind and the sea, which was a rather long distance below; Elizabeth would know.
He faced them all, with a hand on the bell tower frame beside him.
"This is the day that you will always" –he proclaimed, his hand lightly gesturing over them all as he sidled back– "remember as the day that y–"
He hit the wall and flipped straight over it before his audience could react–
They reacted.
There was a mad, yet polite, rush to the ledge; Will pulled Elizabeth up next to the bell tower and Marines crowded around Norrington, and Swann, who had gotten there first.
They all watched Jack Sparrow shrink to a tiny doll that made a white spot in the blue below.
"Idiot," Gillette, Norrington's second-in-command sneered. "He has nowhere to go but back to the noose."
Jack Sparrow broke from the cool, wet world that seemed to favor him, huffing and sputtering in a decidedly unharmed manner. Gracefully he began to tread water, bobbing in the waves deflected from the cliff.
"Sail, ho!"
The faint cry reached him from high above, murky through his waterlogged ears. Right after, he felt a ghost-tap on the shoulder of his mind, and turned toward it-
Glory. Across the harbor, around the spectacular domed arm of the island, slid the Black Pearl.
She had thrown off her mourning raiment and the joy of her freedom spread over the water in glittering sunlight. Her tall masts tickled the sky, holding aloft the brazen Jolly Roger and rich, dark sails. Her bowsprit sliced the waves toward Jack; reached for him like the hand of a long-lost lover, and he smiled and smiled as he swam to meet her.
Lieutenant Gillette crouched, open air inches from his boots, and watched the tiny Sparrow-arrow shoot toward the nautical vision of beauty that had just revealed itself as an incoming slap to many British faces, including his.
He looked up at the Commodore, who stood rigid beside him, staring out. "What's your plan of action?"
Nothing came but silence. Gillette ground his teeth.
Governor Swann saw Norrington's tightly furrowed face. "Perhaps," he said gently, "on the rare occasion, pursuing the right course demands an act of piracy." He looked at the Black Pearl. "Piracy itself…can be the right course?"
Norrington smiled bitterly and nodded. Then his jaw tensed and he spun away. "Mr. Turner!"
Will grimly turned, but Elizabeth's hand restrained him. He looked into her frightened face, and then stepped close.
"I will accept the consequences of my actions," he said softly. When he pulled away and stepped down in front of the Commodore, she reluctantly let him go.
As brown and green eyes met, Norrington pulled free his sword. The blade sang quietly in a voice that Will Turner knew very well. Norrington lifted the blade that Will's hands had made, holding it inches from his brown hair.
Will held his chin high, his hands loose at his sides.
"This is a beautiful sword." Norrington's eyes followed the liquid length of the weapon. "I would expect the man who made it to show the same care and devotion in every aspect of his life."
He looked to Will. Will's gaze was steady with understanding and deep respect. "Thank you."
Commodore Norrington lowered the blade and retreated, stonily descending the steps.
"Commodore!"
Norrington wearily turned toward his second-in-command.
"What about Sparrow?" Gillette demanded.
"Oh, I think we can afford to give him one day's head start." Norrington quirked an eyebrow and then marched away into the shadows. His dejected men filed after him.
Disbelieving, breeze-brushed, and radiant, Will and Elizabeth faced each other.
"This is the path you've chosen, is it." A grave Governor Swann stood some feet away, his hands clasped behind his back.
Elizabeth looked at him, and then looked at Will, who met her eyes warmly.
"After all," Swann added, "he is a blacksmith."
Elizabeth smiled at Will, who had begun to examine the stones about her father's feet. "No."
Her soft statement brought his eyes up. Carefully, she pulled off his grand hat and beamed at his beloved face. "He's a pirate."
They grinned at each other, but their smiles quickly softened and forgotten, Governor Swann turned away in retreat.
Miss Elizabeth Swann and William Turner gazed at each other; hesitated.
And then . . . this could be.
Will slid his hand along Elizabeth's smooth cheek and caught her, drawing her willing lips to his in a deep, thorough kiss that lasted for a long time.
YAY! Thank you for reading!