Chapter Summary – Abberline has a vision.
A/N – Anything in bold is either a vision or denotes another language. English translations are provided.
WARNING, WARNING, WARNING -- I do not condone drug use of any sort. I am not even a heavy drinker. THe most I have had is Bacardi Silver's and wine. In no way am I encouraging anyone to drink or do drugs. The only reason why such are in this story is because it has already been established by the writers and directors of the movie's in question.
Disclaimer -- I do not own a thing
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Treacherous Waters
Part 2 – Visions
I pretend to work and they pretend to pay me – Anonymous
--
He was asleep. At least, he was supposed to be asleep. However, he had somehow found himself roaming the streets of London for no apparent reason. Everything around him was a hazy green. Soon, he heard voices, but they weren't English.
"Ont fait vous trouver le?"
(Did you get it?)
"Pas de , il souvenir le fermer à tout moment."
(No, he keeps it on him at all times)
Abberline was left at a loss for what these two men were talking about. He could tell that they were completely French – which meant one or two things. But that wasn't important right now. Right now he had to concentrate on the vision.
"Si nous l'échec ça mission vous savez we'll être mor,"
(You know that if we do not complete this mission we will be dead…)
"Don't être tellement une minet we'll trouver là papiers d'identité et à cette époque-là Roi Louie can ôter Angleterre," the other man, who was more or less a young boy waved his hand at his partner.
(Don't be such a pussy, we'll get those papers and then King Louie can take out England,)
"Vous aviez mieux espérer nous trouver là papiers d'identité précédemment quelqu'un gets onto notre l'usine,"
(You had better hope that we get those papers before someone gets onto our plans )
The vision started to fade, even though Abberline tried to keep it.
He woke with a start; he was still in the bath tub where he had dozed off after work the night before. The water was still kind of warm so he hadn't been asleep for long. But maybe, just maybe he had seen something important. He got up, forgoing a towel as he went into his bedroom. He pulled on some trousers and a shirt before turning his mind over to the local political games of the day.
If his suspicions were true; there was more to this than there was to this.
--
Mrs. Starling Graves, wife to Naval Hero Captain Graves, looked as if she had been crying. Her eyes were red and she sniffled a bit. Her brown hair was pulled back in a bun and she wore a dressing gown over her night shift. Abberline and Godly averted their eyes.
"Oh, I'm s-sorry…ever since my husband died I haven't been myself," she said, sniffling into a handkerchief.
"I'm sorry 'bout your loss, ma'am," Godly said.
"Please, come in, you're the Inspector?" Starling asked.
"Yes, Mrs. Graves," Abberline replied. They stepped into the house. As impressed of the out side as they had been, Godly and Abberline were a bit more impressed with the inside.
Tapestries that were very old and very expensive hung on the walls; dark woods decorated the walls with a cadenza and a mirror. There was a bouquet of dead flowers in a crystal vase. Abberline noted that, apparently, Mrs. Graves was truly a grieving widow.
"I've called Abigail to bring in some tea," Mrs. Graves said.
"Thank you," Godly replied.
"Mrs. Graves, how often do you see your husband?" Abberline asked.
"His missions are important to the Crown. He's gone for long months at a time. At least, he was. Now, I'll never see him again…" she sniffed.
"How are you able to take care of the house?" Godly asked.
"I have a house account; money is put into it every week for expenses,"
"What are the expenses?" Abberline pushed.
"Well, the house payment to the bank, I have cleaning done twice a week, groceries, the normal – why?"
"Jut wondering. It's my job to sate my curiosity," Abberline replied.
"My husband is dead!" Starling replied angrily.
"And I'll get to the bottom of it and you shall have your closure. You'll find another man to settle down with and have children or what have you," Abberline said.
Godly rolled his eyes, sometimes he wanted to punch Abberline when he got like this.
"I won't ever marry anyone else! Jerald was the only man worth having!" Starling started sobbing with earnest now.
"Sorry, Mrs. Graves, we'll be going now," Abberline said.
--
Godly punched Abberline square in the nose; "I hate doing that, but that was inconsiderate and mean!"
"Good god, Godly!" Abberline closed his eyes and put his nose to rights.
"Serves you right," Godly said, continuing down the alley.
"If I didn't think I deserved that, you'd be out of a job," Abberline glared at his partners back.
--
Captain Jack Sparrow took one look at the town house and rolled his eyes. As a Kings Man, Jack expected his cousin to live in more of a wreck. But, the brick house did look pleasant. He knocked on the door. To the side there was an open window, he could smell traces of opium and heard someone splashing water.
A few moments later, a man with dripping hair covered in a thread bare robe (and making a pool of water on the wood floor) opened the door. He took one look at Jack before pulling him into a hug.
"Jack, I didn't expect you here," Frederick said.
"Freddy, why wouldn't I visit the only cousin who decided on a decent job?" Jack asked.
"Decent? Only because of the money Dad left me," Frederick replied.
"Oh, there is that," Jack said. He entered the house. "Does Aunt Mary know about your habit?" Jack asked. The opium pipe was still lit and Abberline picked it up for long slow draw.
"It's the only way I can focus my visions," Frederick said.
"Visions…ah, I forgot," Jack shrugged.
"Rum?" Frederick replied.
"Gladly,"
Frederick went to his liquor cabinet and pulled out a tall bottle. He always had something on hand for any visitors he might get. Personally, he didn't drink. He got high.
"So, what are you doing now-a-days? Last time I saw you, I had to get you out of jail," Frederick said.
"I work for the EITC now,"
"You work for those bastards?" Frederick glared.
"I want to sail, I just don't want to be a pirate," Jack shrugged, he took the proffered glass.
"Damn it, Jack. Do you know what those people do?" Frederick shook his head.
"Yeah,"
"No, Jack – they're slavers,"
Jack almost coughed up the rum; "What?"
"How long have you worked for them?" Frederick asked.
"About three months now,"
"Bloody hell, you're next shipment is going to be slaves," Frederick said.
"You sound so sure of yourself,"
"I don't have visions about murderous doctors only, I have all sorts. This past month they have mostly been about you, tell me, what about the bullet wounds? You got shot, twice, on the right side,"
"How'd you…?"
"I told you I am a clairvoyant!"
"Right, is that why Aunt Marry told you to leave Pirates Cove?" Jack asked.
"No, it was part of the reason, I see things but I can't stop them," Frederick replied.
"So, you left and changed you last name,"
"If my superiors knew I was a Sparrow, they'd use me to get the family,"
"I know how that is," Jack sighed.
"I know,"
"Is there anything you don't know?" Jack glared.
"No, one way or another I usually figure it out," Frederick sighed. By this time the bath water had gone cold but he still smoked his pipe. Jack could tell the man was high. Well, he'd be drunk here soon.
"Do you want to stay here?" Frederick asked.
"Sure, I have no where else to be," Jack nodded.
--
Jack woke with a snort. He slept in the one other bed room his cousin's house boasted. It was slightly small with a queen sized bed of old quilts, a threadbare rug and a window. The wash room was across the hall, and Jack utilized it. When he did how his face down stares, he found that Frederick had left a five pound note and a letter that explained he didn't have anything in the house and for Jack to feel free to pick some things up.
Not to mention, the Head Constable was holding a small dinner party that evening and Frederick had to go and was wondering if Jack would go with him. Jack knew how Frederick hated it, but he also mentioned how it would help Jack out a bit. Jack wasn't sure what his cousin was getting at. But, he figured that since he had nothing else to do…
--
"French? As in spies?" Godly asked. He and Abberline were making another round of the docks. They had already chatted with Commodore Norington – who only imparted to them that the papers were of national security. Which in turn made Abberline sure that the two men in his dream had to be spies of some sort.
"Just because a man speaks French does not make them a spy," Abberline replied. He hadn't seen neither boy nor man from his vision. However, he did tell the Commodore to keep the papers someplace safe. Someplace no one would think to look. Abberline figured that was what Captain Graves would have done.
"Right, it could be any body,"
"It could be a…naval hero,"
"Are you bloody mad!?" Godly asked. Abberline gave him a look that quite plainly said not to ask stupid questions, or questions of which one knew the answer too.
"Sir, I am merely speculating," Abberline said.
"Apparently," Godly just rolled his eyes.
--
The French Quarter of London was basically a slum, most of the people were French, some were English and most (if not all) the women were prostitutes. This didn't make his job any easier, but traipsing about and letting any spies know that someone was on to them would most likely make them run. The sooner the spies put their heels to the wind and fled London (without the plans) the better.
Frederick James Abberline made his way into a pub, he ordered a drink and sat at a corner table, He had a newspaper and his smokes to his right. Being left handed was terribly weird, but he had never liked writing with his right and so usually this oddity was over looked or was a conversation starter.
The best thing about seemingly being embroiled in your own business is the fact that you can keep tabs on others around you. Of course you had to look as if you aren't interested, which meant reading a bit and turning pages. Abberline had a method he used most regularly when on a case. He would look through the paper briefly before folding it to the first page and starting with the first article. Moving his eyes and reading silently to himself but moving his lips as he did so usually made his suspects over look him. If one isn't paying attention than one can't know anything.
It was ten minutes later that Abberline recognized he boy from the vision. He still wore a midshipman's uniform; he had blond hair and blue eyes and the boy seemed to squint a lot. The boy took out a pre-made cigarette and lit it up. He noted the people around him; he took a look at Abberline but dismissed the man as being nothing dangerous to him.
Soon, another man approached, this one was round, with meaty paws and ill fitting clothes.
"Taquiner , votre tardive!"
(Kid, you're late!)
"Vont à enfer." the boy replied.
(Go to hell)
"Se que autour de les papiers? les Principal nécessité leur précédemment il laisse."
(What about the papers? The Major needs them before he leaves town)
Both the boy and the man (who had remained un-named) looked around. Neither noted anyone who was listening in on them. Satisfied the boy went on.
"Les Contre-amiral fait prendre leur tout plus de. I've regardé à travers son mer torse et pelage quand il devait sortir one deck pour une moment ou deux."
(The Commodore doesn't have them any more. I've looked through his sea chest and coat when he had to go out on deck for a moment or two.)
"Peut-être il fait prendre le."
(Maybe he doesn't have it) the man replied. He stroked his chin while he thought.
"Qui would il élasticité le trop de à cette époque-là?"
(Who would he give it to then?) the man asked, more himself than the boy.
"MOI don't savons , mais vous devez prendre une de votre hommes suivre lui quand donc ils can."
(I don't know, but you should have one of your men follow him whenever they can.) the boy replied.
This seemed to trigger the ending of the conversation as the man walked away. Abberline watched the boy till he too left. However, Abberline waited another hour and a half before he left the pub.
--
Jack buttoned the shirt; it was one of Frederick's best. Frederick had gotten home early from work to get ready in a nice black suite. Jack wore a brown suite and for once since he had gotten into port, he had bathed.
"I can't believe I let you talk me into it," Jack muttered.
"Trust me on this one," Frederick smiled at his cousin in a friendly fashion.
"Fine, but if this turns out terribly, I'm going to keel haul you," Jack said.
"Sorry, cousin, not going to happen, I've seen my death and you being involved was no part of it," Frederick replied.
Jack's blood ran cold, he wondered how his cousin could be so free and joke about death when it scared the shit out of him.
--
A/N – Okay, there we go. I hope you all like it. Even if Boondocksaint's only reads it.