Author's Note: I come bringing tidings of great joy! The rest of the chapters of this story are completely written, my dears! There will be twenty-six chapters in all, including the epilogue. Alas! It's almost over…
On the bright side, updates will be far more frequent. That's good, yes? Oh, and of course: keep up the awesome reviewing work, mates!
Chapter Twenty—So You Want to Know the Truth, Jack?
The threesome all were exhausted by the time they reached the island; Elizabeth was depressed and worried over Will; Jack was depressed at losing his ship a second time; and Jessie was just tired. She threw herself down on the beach in the sand, closing her eyes and warming herself in the Caribbean sun. Jack sat down to get the water out of his gun. Elizabeth headed off down the beach alone.
"So," Jack began conversationally when Elizabeth had gone a bit away; he did not look at Jessie but at his gun. Jessie opened her eyes, wondering why in the world he seemed so willing to talk to her at the moment. She sat up.
"Yeah?"
Without even glancing at her, Jack smirked. "What's that you wear around your neck, luv?"
Jessie's eyes widened. Her hand delicately touched the chain of her necklace, feeling the lump off the medallion still miraculously under her shirt. "Why do you want to know?"
"Why don't you want me to know?" Jack put down his gun and studied her.
"It's not that I don't want you to know, I just—" But then before the words were entirely out her mouth, he was fingering the chain and pulling it out into view. Jessie tried to stop him, but he had already seen clearly the golden medallion.
"Yes, that's what I thought it might be," he said softly, looking thoughtful but still smirking. He turned it over in his hand. "Your friend isn't very good at talking in riddles, and neither of you realize when someone is hearing more than you'd like them to."
Jessie had no idea what to say. She could just sit in silence as he took the medallion off from around her neck so he could look at it more closely. "So this is the final piece, eh?" he said finally, "and yet Barbossa has two. One of the ones he has, then, is a fake."
"Amber's," Jessie replied. "But I don't anything about 'a missing piece', or how and why mine matters. Maybe it doesn't, even," she added hopefully.
Jack laughed faintly. "Oh, no, lass," he told her. "It matters. It matters perhaps more than you may know. Without this last piece, even with the whelp, Barbossa won't be able to life the curse." He smiled at the thought, and handed the medallion back to Jessie, which surprised her. "Keep this safe," he said, "until the opportune moment arises. You have a nice piece of leverage there, luv," he added appreciatively.
Jessie put the medallion around her neck and let it lay there. "So what happens now?" she asked. Jack looked like he was thinking hard, and Jessie's thoughts immediately went to the hidden rum on the island. But then Jack surprised her with:
"You're going to tell me the truth."
-o0o-
The moments of silence seemed to tick by. Jack was staring at her with a look she couldn't quite read. Jessie blinked hard a couple of times, coughed once, coughed twice, coughed three times. When she could think of no more delays or distractions, she finally just spat out, "what?"
"You've avoided telling me the truth nearly three times now, lass," Jack said. "And one can only wait so long. You're not who you claim to be."
"Jessica Montgomery?" Jessie asked, brows furrowed, genuinely confused.
"No," he scoffed, shaking his head. "A runaway from St. John—which doesn't even exist, by the way, luv, I've sailed the seas long enough to know. And, I figured it out back in the prison cell." He smirked a bit at the memory and then continued, "nor are you the sole survivor of a tragic shipwreck. So how did you get here?"
"I don't know," Jessie admitted honestly. Then she cocked her head. "I'm surprised you remember all that, Jack."
"Oh, I remember much more than you know, lass." He leaned in a little closer to her, whispering, "for instance, I remember a remark about something called a stand-up. I remember your remark just a bit ago about Bootstrap—who you couldn't possibly know. And I remember your little outburst before our second jailbreak—" He leaned back and added lazily, "you knew the truth about my compass, you knew of my debt with Jones, and you knew also of the Kraken."
Jessie groaned. Yes, even she remembered that one. But Jack hadn't finished yet. "And now," he said simply, "you hold the eight hundred and eighty-third piece from a cursed pirate chest hidden on an island nigh impossible to find. One doesn't just go out for a walk about and find one of those on the street, luv."
"No," Jessie agreed.
"I don't know everything that's going on with you, girl, but I know enough to know you're not from around here. Well, now we have a moment, while our friend over there wallows in angst—" he flicked a wrist casually at the direction Elizabeth's footprints went; she herself was out of sight. "And I want you to help settle my curiosity."
Jessie blew through her lips and spread out on her stomach across the sand. She cupped her face in her hands, thinking hard, and closed her eyes. Jack waited silently. She wasn't trying to delay answering this time around, but was merely trying to come up with words to explain it all. But what would Jack think if she really told him the truth?
"You wouldn't believe me," she finally said, miserably.
"Try me."
Should she tell him the truth? Jack would know if she was lying to him again; he was amazingly good at telling things like that, as he just proved, and Jessie was a horrible liar anyway. But if she did tell him the truth, would he still think she was lying? Jack Sparrow had some experience with the supernatural—undead pirates, fish people, cursed coins, ships sailing from one world to the next—surely he would believe in a little bit of time travel?
"I don't even know myself, Jack," Jessie said, rolling over on her back and looking up at him. "But I'll tell you what I can. It'll sound way more absurd than the lies, though. You sure you don't just want to go with the shipwrecked runaway?"
Jack's mouth lifted into something a smile, and Jessie relaxed. "Actually," she said, "I don't even know if you're real. Well, you are now, obviously, but back where I come from you—all of this, these people, this place, what's happening—it was all just a story.
"And anyway, if you can believe this, I come from a time and place a lot different from this. It's like…the future. Hundreds of years into the future."
Jack raised his eyebrows. "You're completely crazy," he said, "but you're not lying."
"No." Jessie smiled slightly. "I'm not. And anyway, in my world, you were a character in a story. People all around the world knew your story—this story—and also about your life in the next year. Umm, that's how I know your debt with Jones is approaching and about Bootstrap and…uh, stuff." Jessie cleared her throat. "Well, everyone loved the story of you and Will and Elizabeth, and especially you. They all adored you."
"Ooh," Jack hummed, "I like the sound of that."
"So, yeah. That's where the stand-up came from. It's a like a life-size portrait of you. And they made other things from your story, too. That ring, for example." Jessie pointed out the emerald stoned ring Jack wore on his forefinger. Jack gazed at it, as if seeing it for the first time in his life. "And the medallions." Gently playing with her own, Jessie continued. "Somehow, I got transported from my world to yours. I'm not exactly sure how, or why, but I'm sure the medallions definitely had something to do with this—mine and my friend Amber's." Jessie looked down at her medallion much like Jack had looked at his ring.
Jack shook his head. "You sound so stupid," he told her. "And yet I'm beginning to believe what you say is the truth."
"It is!" Jessie said. She did sound mental, she knew, but Jack did seem to be giving her his full attention. So she jumped at the chance to say aloud all the thoughts she had been thinking in her head, now that she had an audience. "In your original story, there were only eight hundred and eighty-two cursed medallions. But then when me and Amber got here, we realized there were eight hundred and eighty-three. I think mine is the extra one, because it looks and feels like all the others."
"And the other girl's?"
"Looks like it did when we bought it. Like a child's toy, lightweight, fake gold, with words inscribed on the back. 'Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean'; they're the people who told your story," she explained.
"Why did yours change when your friend's did not?" Like a child hearing a bedtime story, Jack's head was cocked to one side, mouth slightly parted, completely entranced with the teller's words.
Jessie sighed. "That's the thing," she said. "I have no idea." Jack nodded thoughtfully, and the conversation ended.
-o0o-
It was only a few minutes after Jessie told her story to Jack until Elizabeth appeared. Jessie thought she had been gone longer than she should, if the island was really that small. It felt like hours had passed since Jack had first saw her medallion, but Jack said it had only been one hour, maybe an hour and half. Time had seemed to stop for awhile.
When Elizabeth returned, still looking down and depressed, she just stood staring down at Jack, the wind blowing her hair, the waves crashing in the background. Jessie thought she looked like she wanted to say something, anything, but didn't know what.
"It's not as big as it looks, is it?" Jack finally asked her, gesturing around with his head at the island. He picked up his gun out of the sand, where it had been lying forgotten since Jessie started talking. Elizabeth didn't reply at first, but the question seemed to help her find her voice.
"If you're going to shoot me, please do so without delay," she said. Jack smiled and lowered his gun again.
"Is there a problem between us, Miss Swann?" he asked casually. Jessie got up and brushed the sand off her pants and arms, feeling slightly forgotten at the moment. But Jack had given her enough of his attention, and now he was talking to Elizabeth. Feeling like a pouting three-year-old, Jessie walked a bit away and began wandering between some of the palm trees.
"You were going to tell Barbossa about Will in exchange for a ship," Elizabeth spat out.
"We could use a ship!" Jack pointed out smartly. "The fact of the matter is, I was not going to tell him about bloody Will. Because as long as he didn't know about bloody Will, I had something to bargain with! Which now, no one has! Thanks to bloody stupid Will!"
Elizabeth looked embarrassed. "Oh."
"Oh," Jack mocked.
"He still risked his life to save ours!" she said desperately. At this point, Jessie was out of earshot of the conversation, and she walked on in silence, touching each tree thoughtfully, reflecting on how much freer she felt, relieved, just because someone else knew what was happening. It felt great, actually.
"But you were marooned on this island before, weren't you? So we can escape in the same way that you did then!" Elizabeth was shouting as she and Jack came into view. Jack didn't really look like he cared. He was on that rum hunt of his, studying each tree intently. Jessie leaned back against the tree she stood by and crossed her arms, watching them.
"To what point and purpose, young missy?" Jack snapped. "The Black Pearl is gone. And unless you've got a rudder and lot of sails hidden in that bodice—" He made a sound in the back of his throat, fluttering his hands around her; "—unlikely—then young mister Turner will be dead long before you can reach him."
"But you're Captain Jack Sparrow!" Elizabeth exclaimed, and Jessie rolled her eyes, amazed—why did everyone seem to think that solved EVERYTHING? But she kept her mouth shut, because she knew Jack wouldn't appreciate a remark like that.
"You vanished from under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Company. You sacked Nassau Port without even firing a shot. Are you the pirate I've read about or not?!" She took a deep breath to calm herself, and while Jack poked Jessie in the shoulder, fluttering her away from the tree she had been leaning on, Elizabeth asked quietly, "how did you escape last time?"
"Yes, this is the one," Jack whispered so inaudibly Jessie wasn't sure he actually said it. "Last time," he began, then paused. "Last time…I was here a grand total of three days, all right?" He opened the cache, and climbed down inside. "Last time, the Rum Runners used this island as a cache. They came by, and I was able to barter a passage off."
Jessie looked horror-struck, like a kid who just found out there was no Santa Claus. "You mean you didn't ride SEA TURTLES?!"
"Well, you know, in piracy, what really happened and what people say happen often vary remarkably," Jack replied, still hidden out of sight inside the cache. "But," he said, and Jessie had the feeling this was more to Elizabeth than her; "from the looks of things, they have long since been out of business. Probably have your bloody friend Norrington to thank for that," he said, popping back up with his hands full of rum bottles.
"So that's it, then," Elizabeth started slowly, nodding. "That's the secret grand adventure of the infamous Jack Sparrow. You spent three days, lying on a beach…drinking rum." Jack grinned.
"Welcome to the Caribbean, luv!" He sashayed his hips for her, put a bottle of rum in her hand, and then set off back to the beach. He settled himself down comfortably in the sand. Jessie followed, glaring at him indignantly.
"And what about me, then?" she said with fake anger. "Don't I get a proper welcome and a gift?" She sat down in the beach beside him, crossing her arms. Jack laughed.
"Well, well, luv," said, "I never knew you had it in you. Rum doesn't really seem your drink of choice." But he rolled a bottle of rum at her—he had two more for himself—so that it landed in the sand at her feet. He stood up then, and grabbed her hand; this surprised her so much that Jessie felt her mouth drop.
"Welcome to the Caribbean, lass," he said mockingly, bowing over her hand with fake gallantry. He let her hand drop back to her side a moment later, and picking up his own rum bottles, sat back down in the sand just before Elizabeth came out from amongst the palm trees with her own rum bottle, looking thoughtfully at Jack as she stood in front of him.
"So, is there any truth to the other stories?" she asked him softly. Jessie's breath sounded much louder than normal in the silence that followed.
"Truth?" Jack finally repeated, standing up to stare at her. His face cleared of expression, almost emotionless, he pulled the sleeve on his arm up to show her an ugly looking scar. Elizabeth's eyes widened, but Jack hadn't finished. He showed her a long, nasty scar on his other arm, and two bullet holes in his chest; by this time, Jessie was wincing and staring at the sand, and Elizabeth had backed a few steps away.
"No truth at all," he said, and sat back down. Elizabeth said nothing, looking guilty. "We'll stay alive a month, maybe more," he said after a moment, staring off to the horizon; "keep a weather eye open for passing ships and our chances to improve."
"What about Will?" Elizabeth said. "We have to do something to save him." Jack lowered the rum bottle he'd been about to drink from, and pointed it instead at her.
"You're absolutely right," he said, and raised his bottle again. "Here's luck to you, William Turner." He finished the toast with a long swig. Elizabeth and Jessie could only watch as he lowered the mouth of the bottle from his own and made a face of appreciation. "Rum's good," he said happily, the heavy mood he had set a few minutes before now completely gone.
Elizabeth looked at her bottle of rum, and Jessie hers. She was wondering what in the world to do with it (after all, she couldn't really drink it, could she?) when Elizabeth sighed, uncorked hers, and took a small sip. "Drink up me hearties, yo ho," she said to herself, sinking down to sit on the other side of Jack.
"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!" finished Jessie excitedly, sitting up a little straighter to grin at Elizabeth. "I love that song!"
Jack looked at the both of them curiously. "What was that?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing," Elizabeth answered, while Jessie hummed the tune under her breath. "Just a song I learnt when I was little, when I actually thought it would be exciting to meet a pirate." She laughed under breath.
"Well, let's hear it," Jack coaxed. Elizabeth shook her head.
"No."
Jack turned to Jessie. "Well, girl?" he said, "do you know it? Let's hear it," he said again. Jessie stopped her humming, thinking.
"I don't know all of the words," she said finally. Jack shook his head in disgust.
"We've got the time, girls!" he pointed out, with a "why don't you just sing it?" look on his face. He took a swig of rum to make himself feel better.
"I'd have to have a lot more to drink," Elizabeth finally said.
Jack paused a moment, and then smirked. "How much more?" he said, raising his eyebrows suggestingly. Jessie chuckled and stood up.
"I'll go get more rum," she said happily, skipping off.
-o0o-
Roughly half an hour later, maybe more, Jessie could be found sitting comfortably in the sand beside a pile of wood, not yet having begun to burn—they were going to wait for night to make a fire, though her two companions had not waited for night to drink the rum. She was fairly certain Jack had gone through at least one bottle, maybe two; Elizabeth, on the other hand, was still sipping her first. Maybe that was why she still hadn't taught Jack the song.
"Come on now, lass," he was saying for what had to be the sixteenth time that evening, "give us a song!" But Elizabeth just shook her head stubbornly, an evil sort of smile on her lips. Jessie was beginning to suspect she just liked having something to hold over Jack.
Smiling to herself, Jessie looked down at her own long-necked bottle in her hands. She'd been holding onto it for a bit now, turning it over in her hands, studying it, watching the way the golden liquid sloshed around in the bottle. She'd never had anything remotely alcoholic in her life, she was only fourteen. Should she dare?
As if reading her mind, Jack was suddenly right beside her and flopped down next to her with an over exaggerated "oof!". He gazed intently down at her bottle. "You plannin' on havin' a taste tonight, lass?" he asked.
Jessie merely shrugged.
Jack chuckled under his breath. "What's stopping yeh? Why, I remember my first taste o' rum. I was younger 'an you. And besides;" here he spread his arms out wide to take in the whole island; "what have you got to lose? We're stranded on an island with no food, no water, and little chance of escape." He took a large swig from his bottle. "I'd say if there was ever a time for drinkin', it's now."
Jessie smiled. "Yeah, I guess you're right." And imagining the look on Amber's face when she told her she'd been talked into trying rum by Jack Sparrow, she uncorked the bottle she'd stared at for so long (not without difficulty, mind you), took a large, long swig…
…and started choking. Coughing, spluttering, blubbering. They didn't call it liquid fire for nothing—it burned all the way down her throat, until it seemed to be burning her very stomach away. And all the time this sensation was taking place, she was still heaving. Distantly, as if from far away, she heard Jack laugh.
"Should've warned yeh beforehand, luv," he said, clapping her on the back. "For first timers, it's best to break it in with sips—get used to the fire, see."
With one last cough, Jessie sat up straight. She stared down at her bottle, with less interest and far more caution than before. "Wow," was all she could say. Jack grinned and got to his feet, and he was in such a good mood, he helped her up as well.
"Have to admit, though," he said thoughtfully as she stood up; "I don't believe I've ever seen one cough so much or so loud 's you…" Jessie managed a half-hearted glare, and determined not to be beaten by the golden liquid, she took a smaller sip, her lips pressed rather close together. This time the rum in her mouth was warm and smooth, coating her throat with a tingling sensation, and settling down in her stomach almost peacefully; all in all, not an unpleasant experience.
"That's the way," Jack encouraged, "much better." Despite herself, Jessie grinned.
Elizabeth saw her taking another drink, and came over to stare menacingly at Jack. The pirate responded with his own stony look. "What?" he demanded.
"You're just going to stand there a let her drink that?" she said, taking about Jessie as if she weren't there. "She's just a child!"
Both Jessie and Jack protested at her words, but each to a different one. "Well, you're drinking it," Jack pointed at smartly, and before Elizabeth could say that it wasn't the same thing, Jessie cut in: "I'm not a child! I'm only a few years younger than you!"
Elizabeth looked like she wanted to throw up her hands in frustration. "I will not let you get that girl drunk, Jack Sparrow," she said, and Jessie looked even more insulted. Elizabeth, however, paid her no mind; as if she were a baby, unable to decide for herself.
"Let's just light the fire now, okay?" Elizabeth continued, no doubt trying to make them forget about the rum; "and I'll teach you two the song."
Jack looked slightly satisfied by this, and Jessie nodded, forgetting her annoyance for the moment. And so, as Elizabeth began to recite the lyrics to "A Pirate's Life for Me" for Jack's memorization, all three of them worked on starting a fired (actually, Jack worked while Elizabeth talked and Jessie watched).
-o0o-
"We're devils and blacksheep, and really bad eggs, DRINK UP ME HEARTIES, YO HO!"
How many times had they song that same line? Jessie couldn't remember—not because she was drunk; in fact, she hadn't had another sip since before Elizabeth got onto Jack. Her bottled had sat forgotten in the sand, until Jack found it and finished it off. Jessie didn't need the drink to get act drunk. Singing—screaming, more like—and dancing in circles around a campfire was enough to get everyone a little loopy.
They had been through the song many times. Jessie had lost count, not particularly caring, anyway; this last verse seemed to be the last for awhile though, because when Jack stumbled and said, "ouch!" grabbing onto her for support, they both toppled down in the sand, and Elizabeth sat beside them, giggling.
Jessie scrambled off Jack and sat on his other side, so he was in between her and Elizabeth; when he got his thoughts back in order from the fall, he said, not without some slurring: "When I get the Pearl back, I'll teach it to the whole crew, and we'll sing it all the time!"
"And you'll be positively the most fearsome pirate in the Spanish Main!" Elizabeth declared, sounding slightly pathetic and a little bit drunk.
"Not just the Spanish Main, luv." Jack shook his head. "The entire ocean. The entire world. Wherever we'll want to go, we go. Because that's what a ship is, you know. I mean, it's not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails…that's what a ship needs." Even in his drunken state, Jack's speech sounded wonderful to Jessie. "What a ship is…what the Black Pearl really is…is freedom."
With a happy sort of sigh, Jessie fell onto her back in the sand and listened to the fire cackling, and her companions' breathing. It was rare to find feel moments of such contentment where you feel like everything was okay, but looking up at the dark Caribbean night, Jessie felt that this moment was worth at least five of those moments.
"Jack, it must have been really terrible for you to be trapped here on this island," she heard Elizabeth say sympathetically. Jack hummed his agreement.
"Oh, yes," the pirate said, ""But the company is far better than last time…and the scenery has definitely improved…" Jack sounded like he wanted to laugh, but Elizabeth sat upright.
"Mr. Sparrow!" she said indignantly. "I don't believe I've had enough rum for you to allow that kind of talk."
"I know exactly what you mean, luv."
Jessie laughed softly under her breath. Elizabeth raised her nearly full rum bottle, and said seriously, "to freedom."
"To the Black Pearl." Jack raised his own bottle, clicking against hers, and from her spot on Jack's other side, laying nearly forgotten in the sand, Jessie raised up her arm, holding an imaginary rum bottle (since her original one had disappeared).
"To FREEDOM!" she declared loudly. She lowered her arm, feeling as she did so dreadfully worn-out, given the sort of day she'd had and the singing and dancing just a moment ago, and filled with that laziness you get after eating a good, nice meal (though she hadn't one of those in God knows how long). Jessie rolled over on her side in the sand, closing her eyes, suddenly very sleepy…