The Gift

Chapter 13: Falsetto

Setting: Post POTC 3

Characters: Norrington/ OFC

The spy is named! The 'real' chapter 13.

lj-cut text Falsetto

" 'Ello missy!"

The cell door clanked opened to reveal two pirates, one stocky and snarling, the other skinny.

"Cap'n says you'll be dining with 'im tonight, and he wants you to wear this."

The rotting man thrust a purple dress into her hand. She took the dress, her face belying the repulsion she felt.

"And if we refuse?"

The skinny man giggled.

"The you'll eat with the crew. Naked!"

"Fine. We'll dine with Barbossa," she said, moving deeper into the cell.

"Agh!!...Why do they always say that!?" the skinny man cried. "And this is for the cappie."

He moved toward her and thrust a second package of clothing into her hands, along with a clay jar. A "And we'll be wantin' the grease back," he said, leaning in so close so she could smell the stench of his breath.

"Fine!" She answered, and with pleasure slammed the cell door shut behind them.

Opening Gillette's package, she found his coat, wig, and tricorn and turned to Andrew who lay on a nearby bench.

"They sent ointment for your wounds," Lucy assessed, sniffing the open jar. Reluctantly, he sat up.

"Help me dress then, Lucy."

And the two captives began to prepare for dinner.

They were making love, pounding into one another with heated need...

"Lucy….Lucy…"

Norrington moaned her name again and again. Then, in the darkness of their lovemaking, Mister Gagliano called, "Lucy! Lucy!"

James twisted, and his conscious brain assessed that her father shouldn't be there.

"Where is she?" the violin master cried.

"You can't go in there!" yelled his footman in a very civilized tone.

Norrington opened his eyes, just as his bedroom door flew open.

"Where is my daughter?" the Italian man yelled, his words breathing flames.

However, Lucy wasn't in the Admiral's bed. At this moment, she was gently smoothing a putrid ointment over Andrew's wounds.

"Aye Lucy, this is common enough medicine amongst common sailors. It will heal," he said flatly. She stopped.

"Do you hear something?"

Crunch. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Andrew listened intently.

"Footsteps overhead." His brown eyes held hers curiously, as it was the first movement they had heard all day. Handing the pot to Andrew, Lucy stood on the bench and moved her ear against the rotting wood of the ceiling. Voices!

"It's Barbossa!"

Her eyes lit up. Andrew stepped up onto the bench, as well, and they leaned their ears towards a mouse hole in the ceiling.

"I believe our plan has worked."

It was the voice of an older woman.

"Damn complex if you ask me, mother," said Barbossa.

"I didn't ask, dearest Eduardo."

"So are we to shoot them after dinner?" Then he added giddily, "Or shall I use my new invention? The men call it 'walking the plank.' It's loads o' fun!"

Crack! It was the sound of hand meeting cheek.

"Stupid boy. These are two innocent souls of our faith! They shall at least be allowed to live out the rest of their lives on our coffee plantation in Columbia in servitude. Do you really wish to have their names marked against you on God's list?"

Silence.

"No, mother."

Realization suddenly flooded Lucy's mind, and she whispered frantically to Gillette, "That's Maria Gravely! Barbossa is her son!?"

Andrew put his finger to his lips.

"Shhh…"

"We shall make course for Santa Marta this evening, mother."

"You are my best boy...At dinner, I will have Miss Gagliano pen the Admiral's letter telling of her elopement with Captain Gillette as well as her confession that the man has secret ties to you and to his brothers of faith in Rome and Spain."

Andrew's mouth formed an indignant little 'o'.

"That should persuade the Admiral that the spies are no more. You will move on to plunder the new eastern shipping lanes, and your sister Antonia will be primed to marry Norrington."

Lucy's jaw dropped.

"I can't think of a happier outcome for all! Until tonight, my dearest boy."

Crunch. Thump. Thump. Thump…..And the voices fell silent.

"I can't believe this! Ms. Gravely was the spy you told Norrington about."

Andrew's face was knotted in thought.

"She must have an inside man."

"They are to have me write a letter? Well, I shan't do it!" she exclaimed, stepping down from the bench with tears welling in her eyes.

Whispering to himself, Gillette finally said aloud, "Santa Marta is 4, 35´, 56´´.57 North." His warm eyes turned to hers in haste. "It's the latitude and longitude of where they're taking us, Lucy. You must encode it in the letter!"

" 4, 35´,56´´.57 North ?" she said more to herself than Gillette. The her face lit up. "I have the perfect code that only James will understand. We are saved, Andrew!"

"Where is my daughter?!"

Nicholas Gagliano was now standing beside Norrington's bed in full fury, and James sat up, bewildered.

"Lucy... is not here. Which begs the question, why are you?"

He managed to keep his voice calm, although his anger was slowly rising.

Gagliano walked around his bed in inspection, making sure his suspicions were indeed wrong.

"If she is not here, Admiral, then I fear the worst."

His dark eyes were tear-swollen. Dressed only in his nightshirt, Norrington pulled himself out of bed and approached the small Italian man.

"What do you mean, sir."

"She has been kidnapped."

Norrington dressed in haste, as Gagliano told of the circumstances that surrounded his unusual visit.

"So naturally, I assumed she was here." He hung his head between his hands. "This is grave indeed, Admiral."

"Perhaps she's visiting a sick friend, or some other emergency arose in your absence?" Norrington asked, tying his neck cloth.

"No. We had a system. We left notes for each other on the counter, and there was nothing there….But this."

He held up a small ring bearing a single flawless pearl, and James felt as if he had been kicked in his stomach. It was the ring he'd given Lucy at the Gravely's party -- a symbol of his affection and of their engagement. She had sworn that she would never remove it from her finger. Taking the ring from Gagliano, his green eyes turned hard.

"We must search for her immediately."

"You can't go in there!" he heard his doorman say to an unknown visitor for the second time that night.

"Sir! Captain Norrington!"

It was young Lieutenant Mowett, and the man touched his forehead in distress, catching his breath.

"Apologies for disturbing you, sir."

"Well, what is it?" Norrington barked in irritation.

"Sir, it's Captain Gillette. We can't find him. We were supposed to make leave at six bells, but he's disappeared, sir."

Andrew and Lucy sat shackled at the captain's table, Mrs. Gravely now known to them.

"Not hungry, Captain?"

"No," Andrew answered with a piercing retort. "I have not the stomach for your meat."

"Well, I've heard that vigorous exercise can arouse hunger," Barbossa answered, licking brown gravy from his lips. "Perhaps I can find a diversion for you this evening."

Gillette did not look away, and his upper lip curled in defiance.

"Enough!"

Mrs. Gravely stopped the bickering by jerking Lucy up by the shoulder.

"Come Miss Gagliano! Time to write a letter to your recent fiancée."

Situating the young woman forcibly into a rough chair in the corner, she shoved pen and paper into shackled hands.

"You will tell him that you can not marry him, because he is beneath you spiritually."

Barbossa smirked.

"Because he's a Proddie, dear."

"He's an unbeliever of Rome's true faith. Also, you will speak of your love for Captain Gillette, of his dignity and honor in assisting Spain, of his success in disrupting England's shipping lanes."

"He'll never believe that!" Andrew quipped.

Crack! Barbossa took pleasure in backhanding the shackled captain once again.

"Tell him that you do not hold him to any promise, as you plan to marry Captain Gillette as soon as possible. And you encourage him to marry right away." Mrs. Gravely smiled like a Cheshire cat. "Suggest Antonia Gravely."

"Never!"

Mrs. Gravely's hand flew against Lucy's cheek. And after a moment of anger held in check, Lucy put her pen to the paper and began to write. Mrs. Gravely watched with interest.

"What's this? 'Andrew was always a finer musician than you, as well. His performance of Bach's 4th concerto, Opus 51 was flawless and his playing of Hayden's 56th and 57th Sonatinas was soul-stirring. Your musicianship could Never obtain such passion..."

The N in 'never' was heavily underlined. After studying the paper, Gravely looked at Lucy.

"You said you wanted it to sound authentic. It will only sound like me if I speak of music." She was holding her breath, hoping neither were intimately acquainted with the opus numbers of the masters. "If he thinks that I favor Captain Gillette's flute playing, then he will be truly wounded."

Looking down at the paper weakly, she added, "If I can not have him, then at least I want his heart to be free to love again."

And Mrs. Gravely smiled manically.

"I think we're coming to an accord, Miss Gagliano."

At that moment, the door opened and there stood Donaldson, Theodore Grove's footman.

"Well, is it done?" he asked in a thick Scottish brogue.

"So it's you! You're the spy!" Andrew said, shaking his head in dismay. But Donaldson only laughed.

"You English are such pompous goat pricks!" said the man as he walked closer to the chained captain, his dark eyes seething in rage and madness. "You may have deported our King, but Scotland will be free again, even if we must do our fighting in the English way -- through trickery and buggery!"

The man laughed loudly and bitterly, and Andrew hung his head as the master plan revealed itself. Donaldson was the spy, and now he and Lucy would have to pay for England's sins.

lj-cut