Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or plotlines of "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl." If I did, I wouldn't be sitting here writing fanfiction; I'd be off making money. Which I am not doing with this work. I do, however, lay claim to the characters of Genesis Wolfe and Rosalyn O'Brien, and would be pleased as punch if you did not use them without my permission. Thank you, darlings.
Author's Note: Let's just say…Genesis and Barbossa have a rather strained relationship, and leave it at that, shall we? By the way, as a die-hard Norrington fangirl, I truly hated writing this chapter. My LizMuse is lucky that I love her, else I'd have written her ass straight into the water strapped to a concrete block.
Chapter 17: In Which Gen Prepares For the Terrors of Barbossa's Loins
Governor Weatherby Swann was overjoyed at the rescue of his only daughter, coddling her and draping his coat over her. Norrington was also distracted by his object of affection, until Jack, who was being watched over by the ever-suitable Murtogg and Mullroy, cleared his throat, throwing glances at Rosalyn with an "it seems there's another damsel on board, mate."
So Elizabeth and Rosalyn, wearing the Governor and Norrington's coats, respectively, were frantically trying to persuade the aforementioned men to pursue the Black Pearl.
"But we've got to save Will!" Elizabeth cried.
"No," Governor Swann said firmly. "You're safe now. We will return to Port Royal immediately, not go gallivanting after pirates!"
"Then we condemn him to death," Elizabeth said in disbelief.
"A horrible, torturous death," Rosalyn added helpfully. "The guilt of which will weigh forever on your very souls!"
Governor Swann looked at Rosalyn uncomfortably. "The boy's fate is regrettable," he said slowly. "But then, so was his decision to engage in piracy."
"To rescue me," Elizabeth exclaimed. "To prevent anything from happening to me!"
"Not to mention he's far less boring now," Roz piped up.
"If I may so bold as to inject my professional opinion," Jack spoke up, slipping from the soldiers' grasp and gently pushing Rosalyn to the side and stepping conspiratorially toward Norrington. "The Pearl was listing near scuppers after the battle."
"What are scuppers, and why are they enlisting?" Rosalyn whispered to Elizabeth, who rolled her eyes.
"It's very unlikely she'll be able to make good time," Jack continued. He gave Norrington a sly smile. "Think about it. The Black Pearl. The last real pirate threat in the Caribbean, mate. How can you pass that up?"
"By remembering that I serve others, Mister Sparrow, not only myself," the commodore replied. Roz frowned, then brightened suddenly.
"They have a hostage!"
Commodore Norrington raised an eyebrow, eyes falling to her. "Indeed?"
"A woman," she continued. "Barbossa is keeping her for…well…you can guess what he plans to use her for."
Norrington's face was center stage for a conflict of emotions, as if he wished for nothing more than to return to Port Royal, but couldn't find it in his gentleman's heart to leave a lady in the clutches of a deranged pirate. Of course, Elizabeth had to ruin it.
"You don't mean Genesis Morgan, do you?"
Norrington's face returned to its normal, stony expression. Rosalyn glared at Elizabeth, then cast a pleading look to Norrington.
"Please, we have to go after them!"
"You almost had me convinced, Miss O'Brien," he said. "A life of piracy will always end in just punishment."
Rosalyn's face paled, and Elizabeth strode forward.
"Commodore, I beg you, please do this," she said, almost reaching out to tug at his shirt sleeve. "For me."
She paused.
"As a wedding gift."
Norrington's jaw dropped slightly, his gaze holding Elizabeth's.
"Elizabeth," Governor Swann breathed excitedly. "Are you accepting the commodore's proposal?"
"I am."
It wasn't the acceptance of a girl in love. It was a negotiation. Rosalyn saw Norrington's face broadcast his emotions once again, and it almost made her want to hug the man. He had to know Elizabeth didn't love him, that she was trying to save Will. And yet he was still holding out hope.
"A wedding!" Jack cried out. "I love weddings! Drinks all around!"
Roz turned to see him flailing his arms happily and couldn't help but join in. She loved weddings as well, you see.
"It can be on the beach!" she said. "And…you can be barefoot." She pointed to Elizabeth's feet.
"And there can be rum!" Jack chirped He froze at Norrington's stern look.
"I know," he said, extending his arms. "Clap 'im in irons, right?"
"Mr. Sparrow," Norrington said. "You will accompany these fine men to the helm and provide us with the bearings to Isla de Muerta. You will then spend the rest of the voyage contemplating all possible meanings of the phrase 'silent as the grave.' Do I make myself clear?"
Jack winced as Murtogg and Mullroy laid hands on him. "Inescapably."
As Jack was led away, Swann turned to Norrington. "Commodore, I must question the wisdom of this--"
"With all due respect, Governor," Norrington interrupted. "Mister Turner is a subject of the British crown, and therefore, under my protection."
Rosalyn and Elizabeth stood behind the men, both looking apprehensive. Roz could just tell by the look on Norrington's face that his words were clearly not the reason he was willing to help Will. And she could tell by the look on Elizabeth's face that the woman was feeling a bit badly about it; she was pale and looked about to throw up.
Clearly, Governor Swann had the same line of thought that Rosalyn had, regarding the young commodore. "Rightly so," he said, however, giving the younger man a small smile. He glanced at Elizabeth, then back at his now-future son-in-law. "Take care of her."
Norrington gave a short, understanding, tight smile, and Swann was gone. Norrington glanced over at the two women, catching Rosalyn's eye for a moment before turning his attention onto the pretty blonde next to her.
"Elizabeth?" he said, offering his arm. Elizabeth gave Rosalyn a look that seemed to say 'don't hate me.' Rosalyn's lips tightened a bit, but she nodded and stepped away, giving the newly betrothed couple some privacy. This could only end badly…
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The layout of the Black Pearl's brig was a rather odd thing to look at. One larger cell held almost the entirety of Jack's crew. Will and Genesis, however, each "earned" cells of their own. The Pearl's accursed crew loved having Genesis and Anamaria on board, though Anamaria fared much better, since she was able to stand in the middle of her own crew and avoid stares and prodding. Genesis was left to their mercy.
For a while.
It didn't take long for the undead pirates to realize this wasn't some helpless little tart they could take advantage of. She was unarmed, but those long legs of her could do some damage. Not to mention the riot the rest of her companions made when one attempted to get a good feel of her. The cell bars would rattle so loud they were afraid the ship would crumble, so Genesis was, for the most part, left alone.
Currently, Pintel and Ragetti were swabbing the floor. Genesis sat on an upturned bucket in her cell, as far from any wall as possible. Jack's crew were forced to stand like sardines, while Will leaned against the cell door, arms hanging out casually.
"Brawk, wind in your sails."
Gen glanced up at the colorful parrot on Cotton's shoulder.
"Cotton 'ere says you missed a bit," Gibbs quipped. Gen snorted back a laugh as Pintel swung the mop his way, splashing the crew with dirty water.
Will piped up. "You knew William Turner?"
Pintel looked up at the handsome young man and sneered. "Ol' Bootstrap Bill?" We knew him. Never sat well with Bootstrap what we did to Jack Sparrow, the mutiny and all. He said it wasn't right with the Code."
"Really?" Gen said coldly. "That's funny, because it's not right with human bloody decency, either."
"Quiet, you!" Ragetti said, splashing her with water from his mop. She stood and charged a bit, causing him to nearly fall backwards, sending the crew into a fit of laughter.
"That's why he sent of a piece of the treasure to you, as it were," Pintel said to Will. "He said we deserved to be cursed and remain cursed."
"Stupid blighter," Ragetti mumbled.
"Good man," Gibbs corrected, earning him a glare from Pintel.
"Well, as you can imagine," he continued. "That didn't sit too well with the captain."
"That didn't sit too well with the captain, at all," Ragetti said with a giggle. "Tell him what Barbossa did."
"I'm telling the story!" Pintel roared. After calming himself, he continued. "So what the Captain did, he strapped a cannon to Bootstrap's bootstraps."
"Bootstraps bootstraps," came Ragetti's snickered echo. Genesis looked at Will's face, his dark eyes were wide, and she suddenly had no trouble picturing him as a little boy.
"The last we saw of ol' Bill Turner," Ragetti continued, "he was sinking to the crushing black oblivion of Davy Jones' Locker. 'Course, it was only after that we learned we needed his blood to lift the curse."
"That's what you call ironic," Ragetti said wistfully.
"That what you call kharma," Gen muttered.
The door to the brig swung open, and Genesis stood as Barbossa stepped in. He looked her over, then tossed a ring of keys to Ragetti. "It's time, Mister Turner," he said with a sneer. Ragetti went to work removing Will, and Barbossa turned to Genesis. His eyes burned into hers, but she refused to look away.
His eyes narrowed, and he pulled another key out of his pocket, slowly unlocking her cell door. She moved to run, but he caught her easily, laughing mockingly. His arm pinned hers down, and he made a vulgar show of their closeness to her fellow crewman, brushing the backs of his fingers over her curves and causing the other pirates to explode in angry yells and curses to his name. He merely laughed, dragging her kicking and screaming up the stairs.
Her eyes were squeezed shut in her efforts to escape, and she didn't realize he had dragged her into his cabin. He suddenly released her, and she instantly scrambled away from him. He blocked the exit, so she had no choice but to move deeper into his cabin, edging against the opposite wall, her back to it. Her actions showed her fear of him, and he chuckled. However, she stood straight as a rail, sea-colored eyes burrowing into his. He smirked at her, and moved to a chest near his large, ornate desk. Her eyes followed him, and he took a moment to take a good look at her. He expected her to shrink from his gaze, but she remained still, standing solidly, though she still looked like a fawn under a hunter's watchful aim. He opened the chest, bending at the waist and pulling out a mass of silk.
She inched away as he approached, though he only moved to lay out the fabric on the massive four-poster bed. It was an elaborate gown, lavender in color. She thought momentarily that it was a color she wore often when she wanted to bring out the green of her eyes. She looked back to him, to see him looking directly into her eyes, and she realized he had picked that color for a reason.
"What's that for?" she said suddenly, though she was sure she knew the answer.
"Well, Miss Morgan," he replied, contemplating her from across the bed. "While my crew is partial to your less-than-modest attire, I prefer a lady in my bed."
"Then I suggest you find one."
He chuckled again, shaking his head. "That's quite a tongue you have there, Miss Morgan," he commented. "No wonder Jack kept you around." He gave her a look that showed that his comment on her tongue did not merely refer to her witty repertoire.
At her lack of a retort, and the momentary fall of her stubborn expression, he took a deep breath, a small smile playing at his lips. "Aye, there's the weak bit," he said thoughtfully. "In love with Sparrow, are you?"
"No."
He raised an eyebrow, unsure of whether she was lying or not. "Then what is it then, Miss Morgan?" he asked. "What is it about Jack Sparrow that's got you so worked up?"
"He's my captain," she said, jaw set. "I'll be loyal to him 'til I die." She tilted her head, brown curls falling to one side. "But you wouldn't know about loyalty, would you, Barbossa?"
His amused look fell away to one of annoyance, and the smile that had graced his face was now on hers. He moved to the door in a huff, turning back to her before leaving.
"You will be wearing that dress when I return," he said menacingly. "Or I'll have the pleasure of putting it on you, and taking it off."
He reached over to a nail pegged to the wall next to the door, grabbing the dagger that hung there. His face broke into another sinister smile.
"Now, to attend to your dear brother."
Her eyes widened, and she ran to the door, reaching it just in time to hear him lock it from the other side.
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Rosalyn was currently perched on a dresser, watching Elizabeth rant and rave around the room they were locked in. Ten minutes ago, they had been pushed in by naval officers under the Commodore's insistence, which had his new fiancée's blood burning.
"How dare he!" Elizabeth fumed. "He can't just lock me away in his ship!"
"Actually, that very thing may just be in his job description," Roz replied. "He is the Commodore."
"We've got to get out of here," Elizabeth said. She spotted the bed sheets, and the light bulb clicked on. Roz hopped down from the dresser, much more comfortable in the breeches and boots she was provided with (she kept the corset on top. She sort of liked it.), and began to help Elizabeth tie the sheets together.
"We're going to need more than two women," Elizabeth said, rushing to secure the end of a sheet to the bedpost.
"Aye," Rosalyn said. "We'll need three."