Disclaimer: Disney... It's always belonged to you. But don't worry. I'll keep it safe.
(A/N:) Scratch that bit about it not taking as long this time. I apologize. I had a bit of writer's block towards the middle- I knew what I wanted to happen, but had some difficulty with getting the wording just right. Sorry. :-/ Oh, and I also had to take the ACT. Now I get to sit around waiting for the mail truck every day in hopes that my scores will come. Won't THAT be fun. (- sarcasm) Anyhoo, enjoy! And reviews are always very much appreciated! :)
Mr. Gibbs held up a hand to the four weary crew members trudging behind him, silently ordering them to halt. They had come to a small house that stood a few hundred yards back from the second clearing, down yet another dirt path. In the faint grey light starting to stream in through the dense forest, it appeared to be quite well-kept and liveable, as opposed to the rest of the buildings they had seen so far. They could just make out the faint glow of a light somewhere within.
"Wot do we do now?" Matthew asked, for what must have been the hundredth time since they had come ashore. Gibbs sighed and turned to face the boy. He had always been somewhat of a pain, and was being even more aggravating than usual over the past few hours. But he was a good, loyal worker, as far as they could tell, and chose to keep him around. Who else would put up with him?
"I'd say our best bet be ta go on inside," he replied, his voice severely lacking the confidence his words attempted to convey. He took a few tentative steps towards the house, but his comrades lingered behind. "Well? Wot are ye waitin' fer?" he prodded, motioning for them to follow him. Exchanging wary looks, they did as they were told, traipsing along behind him towards the front door.
Upon reaching the entrance, Gibbs gathered all the courage he possibly could, squeezing his rabbit's foot for luck, and lifted a gnarled old hand to knock. Swallowing anxiously, he rapped on the door once, twice, three times.
There was no answer.
Mr. Gibbs moved to look through the window again. Sure enough, he could still see a faint light from upstairs, and could have sworn he had heard footsteps. He knocked again. Suddenly, he heard a voice from merely a few inches beside him, a deep baritone with a thick, rich accent. "Welcome. We've been expecting you."
Anya huddled under the thin, scratchy material of her blanket. Though she could not see outside, she figured that it was early morning by now. She could not help but wonder what might have transpired amongst the rescue party sent earlier; no one had seen Mr. Gibbs and his band of helpers since they had departed the day before. Abruptly, she sat straight up, nearly knocking her hat off in the process. Glancing about to be sure that no one was suspicious of her blunder, she settled back down, struggling to remain still. Oh, how she hoped they hadn't found that place. She shuddered at the thought. If they found it, surely they would leave immediately, and who knows what might become of little Jonathan? She found herself struggling with her mixed emotions, and beads of sweat appeared on her creased brow. There were so many things here that they simply could not see. How would Elizabeth react if she learned of the secrets tucked away throughout the island? What about Will? And if Sarah or Kristie were to see some of the horrors here- no, she could not think such things. She would simply have to protect the children from such things. It was such a blessing that they had remained aboard; she did not know if she could take care of two more people.
As she continued to ponder over those she had to hide everything from, an image of Robin entered her mind, and refused to leave. This particular image was that of him as he slept, messy auburn curls strewn over his pillow, murmuring gibberish about Jack and a secret plan. She was still astonished that he had not been angry with her upon discovering her secret. But then, neither had Sarah, she mused. Why? Surely anyone else would have been infuriated with her; how could they not? Perhaps it was merely because she had cared for Robin so faithfully after he was injured that he accepted the truth so well.
Presently Will, whom she had believed to be asleep, wakened the others and announced that they needed to be on their way. Ragetti cowered in the corner, refusing to move until Pintel convinced him with a smack on the shoulder. Will, who had slept by the door, moved the stone at the entry just a sliver, then peered out, scanning the area for danger. When he was satisfied that it was safe enough, he fully removed the rock, and they crawled out one by one and gathered again behind the boulder. Will glanced over at her and whispered, "We need to find Jonathan." He then nodded at her, gesturing for her to lead the way.
She took a shaky breath, making sure her hat was secure, then crawled over to a tree that was still encased in shadows in the dim morning glow, but nearly stumbled and collapsed on her way. She inwardly scolded herself as she straightened out behind the tree and peered down into the thick foliage, pulling back leaves here and there in search for that old path- ah, there it was. She drew back the curtain of leaves and sighed in trepidation. For just a moment, she allowed her eyes to fall closed. She knew this island so well, had traveled its length so many times. She had been inside most of the buildings, knew what went on here, even knew some of the people here. What trouble should it be to lead this little band of pirates through it? When her eyes reopened, they held a look of determination. Beckoning for the others to follow, she plunged through the leaves and down the path.
"What do you think it all meant?" Kristie sat forward, listening intently to Elizabeth and Robin as they reluctantly told the girls of their adventures on shore.
"No idea," Robin admitted, shaking his head in bewilderment.
"I'm guessing that it's got something to do with destroying the Pearl," Elizabeth mused. "I don't know why it would say 'Sparrow,' though- after that last little incident, many people believe Jack to be dead!" After a moment's pause, she chuckled softly and said bemusedly, "Careful, Kristie, they're probably after you." The girl grinned mischievously.
Sarah, who had not spoken even a word up to this point, inquired hesitantly, "Were the papers written in the same hand as the note on the map?"
Elizabeth looked to her in surprise, not having thought of this herself. "I- I believe so," she said, trying to retrieve an image of the papers in her mind's eye and wishing she had kept one. She remembered that it was not written in cursive, but the letters were oddly shaped. "Yes," she said confidently. The letters on the note had had all the same oddities, down to the crookedly crossed T's.
Her daughter bit her lip, thinking hard. "Well," she began, speaking slowly, "The note was slightly smeared from rubbing against Uncle Jack's pocket, which means it did not have time to dry before being placed there. To get to Tortuga from here, he must have had a ship, and that's where Jonathan would have been taken, since he kidnapped him there. Since the Pearl is the fastest ship in the world, he couldn't have gotten here as fast as we did, and would have arrived sometime over the past few days. So- why haven't we seen his ship?"
Elizabeth, Robin and Kristie all stared at the girl incredulously. Kristie was the first to speak. "Maybe they got a secret port somewhere?"
"It would have to be somewhere we can't see from here," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. "Perhaps we were looking in the wrong place? If they've already arrived, they must have made port on the other side of the island."
Robin nodded his agreement. "One problem- how do we tell the others that? One of us will have to go ashore." He tried to keep the hopeful note out of his voice, but couldn't deny that he wanted to be the one elected to do so. He was sick and tired of being cooped up on the Pearl.
Suddenly Elizabeth's head snapped up. Her brow furrowed, and the others gave her questioning looks. Speaking slowly, she said, "What about Jacob? He knows his way around. Maybe he'll be able to lead the others there?"
Robin felt his stomach tighten into a cold knot at her words. He felt an overwhelming wave of guilt at the thought of keeping secrets from them, but could not bear to upset Anya by breaking her trust. He swallowed hard, his mind and heart tormented with indecision. Should he tell Elizabeth? She was, after all, his superior here, and the sense of duty instilled in him from a young age demanded that he inform her. However, his heart stubbornly refused to do so, blatantly rejecting the idea of betraying someone he considered a friend. He couldn't, not after all she'd done for him. He would not tell.
This being decided, he forced his face to reveal nothing of his inner thoughts, and lifted his bowed head to rejoin the conversation. He was surprised to find that Elizabeth, Sarah and Kristie had apparently called an end to their impromptu meeting, and that he was the only one left. He bit his lip- how much had he missed? Oh, he hoped he hadn't missed out on an opportunity to go back ashore. With a sigh, he straightened himself out and headed over to the railing. He stared longingly down at the island, wondering what was going on there at that moment, and wishing he could be a part of it. He wanted to find out how Anya knew so much about this place. She would certainly be an interesting person to get to know, he reasoned. Maybe he could do just that- maybe.
Sarah flopped down on her bunk, sighing dramatically. She immediately regretted this, not wanting to attract Kristie's attention. Fortunately, the younger girl seemed not to have noticed, as there was no movement to be heard from the creaky old structure, and Sarah assumed that she had simply continued to pore over her beloved maps. Being careful not to make much noise, she dug out her diary and writing utensils, settling back against the pillow and resting the little book in her lap, her knees bent. Making sure not to blur the ink, she began to write.
Saturday, October 5th
This evening Robin returned to shore. Despite our troubles in Tortuga, I wish I could go with him. I don't know anything of what's going on, and am stuck with nothing to do. Even in October, the air is hot and damp, as if even the world has ceased to move. Even though everyone else is as busy as ever, my life is unbearably dull here. Poor Kristie is far, far worse off, though- she is even more on edge than usual, and spends an increasing amount of time pacing back and forth on the top deck, glancing out over the railing as if she's waiting for someone to appear. We don't play much anymore. It's just not as fun without the cheerful busyness all around us. Anyway, it just seems wrong to engage in such fun activities when so much has gone terribly wrong.
If I'm completely honest, I don't even know why I am writing this. There is maddeningly little to report. Perhaps tomorrow I shall be bursting with news from land, and will be satisfied by knowledge on Jonathan's situation. I doubt it. More likely, I shall be even more frustrated and restless. What if I never hear anything at all? What if everyone is killed, and it's all my fault? I believe I would simply curl up and cry until my death. Oh, dear God, keep them safe.
Always,
Sarah Turner
She heaved a sorrowful sigh, blowing gently on the ink to dry it. Glancing over the short entry, she considered tearing it out, but decided against it. She was to write down how she felt, and she had done just that. Closing her diary, she tucked everything away again, carefully hiding everything between her bunk and the wall. She then rolled over onto her side, tucking the covers around her cozily, then shaking them off instead, then pulling them around her again. Sighing again in discontentment, she curled up, clutching her knees up to her chest and closing her eyes. As she had predicted, sleep did not come.
Mr. Gibbs whirled around, finding himself face-to-face with a strange man. "Where is our friend Jack?" he asked smoothly, as though he were an old friend. On the contrary, one look at him easily proved otherwise. His neat queue was dark brown and curled under at the ends. His clean-shaven face wore an evilly cordial expression, hospitable, yet sinister. His eyes were dark brown, with flecks of black scattered throughout the irises. He was dressed well, suggesting no small amount of wealth. His demeanor and attire were impeccable. Gibbs immediately decided he hated this man.
"Why d'ye ask?" he retorted, then quickly added, "Methinks 'e should be comin' round 'ere soon." Though he wanted to be gruff with him, he was no longer young and agile, and didn't want to risk getting into a fight with anyone.
"Oh, did you have trouble finding us? I'm terribly sorry. Shall we go inside? It is far more comfortable, and we can have a drink while we wait for Jack to catch up."
The pirate shook his head slowly, keeping a wary eye upon the stranger and taking a step back. "We're perfectly happy out 'ere," he announced.
The man nodded graciously. "Suit yourself." He gestured to a bench on the porch, as if offering it as a place to rest for a moment. Never taking his eyes off the stranger, Gibbs sat there, followed by his crew members, who had remained silent since this man's arrival. As they made themselves as comfortable as possible, he inquired politely if he might join them. Without waiting for a response, he seated himself beside Gibbs, leaning casually against the back of the bench. "Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly, abruptly standing back up. "How remiss of me. I do apologize, I've forgotten to introduce myself. I am Commadore Kovalsky. And you are?"
"Mister Gibbs," he replied simply.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mister Gibbs." He bowed slightly. "What brings you here today?"
"I believe ye demanded that we come here, so I think we should be askin' ye that, seeing as yer what brings us here today, and ye know exactly what ye want us for, so ye are the reason we come, and we don't know ye." The voice came from the woods nearby, and the men glanced over to find Jack swaggering towards them. He was soon followed by Will, Ana, Pintel, Ragetti and Jacob.
"I suppose that is understandable," Kovalsky conceded, after pausing a moment to translate Jack's scrambled logic.
"Awright, then, down to business," Jack said grandly, marching up to him boldly until he stood mere inches away. "Where is my son?"
An evil smirk spread briefly over Kovalsky's face, but vanished as quickly as it had come. "Don't worry, he has not been harmed, nor will he be-" he paused momentarily- "as long as you cooperate."
As Anya stepped out of the thick undergrowth, a stately white mansion came into view, and a cold knot formed in her stomach. Though she had known that the usual rush of emotions would flood her, she hadn't realized the effect this particular mission would have on her. Jack pushed ahead, obviously eager to get to Jonathan. She began to follow him towards the house, then hesitated as another issue came to mind. Would she be recognized? As this nauseatingly frightening thought occurred to her, she shrank back, slowing her pace significantly. Even so, the building came closer and closer, looming over her like a monster, and she gulped, discreetly pulling her hat closer around her face.
There he was.
It had been three years since she'd last seen him. Part of her wanted to run to him, and throw her arms around his neck, but she knew she couldn't. That would ruin everything. She had worked so hard on this, and she wasn't about to blow it. He had matured considerably, that much was obvious. His manner was regal; his posture silently commanded respect. From a glance, one would probably guess he was far older than his meager twenty-two years. His grin was gone, of course, replaced by a calm, collected stare, and she bit her lip, her brow furrowing. Oh, how he'd changed.
Despite a slight bout of nausea, she survived the trek to the porch quite well, but chose to remain at the bottom step, just to be on the safe side. Maybe it made her a wimp, but even so, she'd prefer being labeled as such to being killed.
Carefully disguising her voice, and being sure to use her very best British accent- though it was still tainted with Russian- she asked, "Captain, should I wait here?"
Without ceasing the stare-down he was having with the Commodore, he mumbled that that would be all right. She was relieved to be let off the hook, and turned to dutifully watch for any interruptions in the forest's eerie serenity. Every few minutes, she glanced quickly over her shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on without being seen. After a few minutes of attempting in vain to hear the whispered conversation, she heard the door open, then footsteps as her friends entered the mansion. The door closed heavily, and she turned to see if anyone else had remained on the porch. No one had. With a deep, shaky sigh, she settled uneasily on the steps, clasping and unclasping her hands and fidgeting nervously.
She sat there for what seemed like an eternity, not knowing what was going on inside, and torn between wanting to be there and wanting to run away. It occurred to her that something might have happened inside, and that her new friends might be in peril. After a few moments, however, she decided that this was not likely- she would have probably heard something.
Just as she was beginning to fear for her sanity, she heard a rustling in the leaves. Startled out of her anxious thoughts, she leaped to her feet, yanking her hat down firmly and clutching at the hilt of her sword. Though she was not exactly skilled with the blade, she liked to have it with her, if only to look more confident. She turned about in a semicircle, eying every possible hiding place warily. Upon hearing a muffled grunt from the tunnel they had come through earlier, she whirled about to face the intruder. As he stumbled rather unceremoniously out of the undergrowth and began to brush the mud and leaves off of his clothes, her jaw dropped. "Robin?"
He glanced up, seeming to notice her there for the first time. "Oh! Hullo! Uh- where are the others?"
"They're inside," she replied, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Of course he hadn't come to see her. She had lied to him, and though he had promised to keep her secret, that had probably been a mere gesture of thanks for caring for his injuries. "I am to stay here and watch for trouble."
He nodded, not sure whether he should be upset that she was left alone to face whatever troubles might arise, or grateful that she would not be around for any troubles with the mysterious Ivan. True enough, no one else knew of her true identity, at least that he had been told, and they would have no reason to treat her with any more care than the others. Nevertheless, he could not help but worry for her safety. Would that bother her? He honestly didn't know. She certainly seemed to be self-sufficient, but how would he know? Would she mind if he addressed her as Anya now, since no one else was around? Was she upset with him for discovering her secret? Or worse, did she think he had divulged said secret to another?
At some point he had apparently sat down beside her on the steps, though his brain had not bothered to let him know at the time. As his focus returned to reality, he found that they were sitting together in companionable silence, her resting her elbows on her knees, him resting his forearms on the step behind him. Wishing to make conversation before someone else came along, he inquired, "So what have I missed?"
She shrugged casually. "Not much, really. We had a close call with some guards last night, but all is well now."
"Good, good," he replied. A few more moments of silence. Then, "No one else has- um- found out, have they? You know- about you being- you know."
He regretted his words instantly, despite the stormy debate he had had with himself before speaking them, for her shoulders instantly tensed, and beneath the ever-present hat he could see her bite her lip anxiously. How could he have been so stupid? He mentally smacked his forehead. "Not- not that I know of," she answered coolly. "Why? Do they have reason to?"
"I was just wondering," he replied quickly. "I'm glad." He was also glad when he noticed her rigid posture relax slightly.
Just then, the door swung open above them, causing them both to jump to attention. Mark, one of Gibbs' expedition- a lad of perhaps twenty-five- peered out. At first he appeared surprised at the sight of Robin there, but quickly recovered. "Jack says to come out 'ere and tell ye to come on in, jest in case," he announced.
They both stood. "We'll be right in," Robin said, nodding to the boy. He nodded back quickly, then disappeared back into the house. Wordlessly, Robin offered Anya his cutlass. She shook her head, motioning to her own sword, which hung at her waist, ready for action, but whispered her thanks anyway. He smiled at her warmly, albeit nervously, and together they began to climb the steps.
Her heart was pounding loudly enough that she was surprised Robin couldn't hear it as they turned towards the door. So there would be no avoiding a confrontation. She subconsciously tugged her hat further down over her face for what must have been the thousandth time since coming ashore. Being caught on board the Pearl was one thing, but this was another entirely. Robin climbed the first few steps quickly, as though nothing was wrong, before looking to where she stood, frozen in place, with brow furrowed and eyes full of concern. Maybe words were exchanged, maybe not; she honestly wouldn't have known. But he extended his hand tentatively- almost as if he expected to be scolded for such an action, it seemed- and she gladly took it. Steeling her nerves, she climbed the all-too-familiar stairs to the house.