James calculated another three hours before they would catch sight of Shipwreck Cove, cursing at himself for needing to use Jack Sparrow's charts, Jack Sparrow's quills, Jack Sparrow's sextant.
"We're coming up on it, ain't we?"
"Mary, you startled me." At the table centered in the cabin of the Pearl, he sat face-to-face with Mary, able to see the door right through her. The riddle of her existence, the fact she was solid enough to touch others but still transparent boggled his mind enough to make him forget he was using Jack Sparrow's dividers, sitting in Jack Sparrow's chair.
"Sorry, 'tho it tends to be a habit with me, best be gettin' used to it, Admiral." She glided over to the cupboard, tinkling together a pair of glasses when she grabbed them. With her other hand, she took a bottle from the cupboard by its neck and proceeded to pour out the contents. "Wine, it seems. A pity it should go unused."
"Wine grows sweeter with age," James said, grimacing at his glass. "I, I think we've all taken enough advantage of Captain Sparrow's belongings." He rubbed his temple with his fingertips. Truly hell had frozen over if such statements were coming out of his mouth. Mary pushed the glass towards him. Chardonnay, he guessed, watching the delicate bubbles flutter up to the top of the glass. He took a swig. Jack Sparrow's Chardonnay. At least the bloody pirate had taste.
"There we are, Admiral! Puts a bit of hair on the chin and chest if ye ask me." She guzzled down a bit herself. "An angel's senses are a bit dulled. Can't rightly say I enjoy it as much as I did before. Ye know, there was a man we sailed with who you remind me of, right bit of handsome and danger. Rackham his name was. Hanged, the poor bugger. Now you, though, ye got a bit of brains about ye, and I don't see ye makin' as many mistakes as poor Calico Rackham did in his short time, God rest his…"
"Come to the point, Mary."
"Well, sir, I was just sayin' that if ye was to be the leader of all these pirates, there could be great things in store for ye is all." He stared back at her, knowing she was trying to gauge a reaction.
"You think I would do well in this kind of environment, is that what you're saying?"
"Could say it a thousand times, Admiral, and it would not lose one drop of me sincerity. Aye, sir, tis a pirate's life for ye."
"I don't think so," he snorted, returning to the chart.
"Maybe not," she sang, hopping onto the desk and crossing her legs, so weightless not even the feathers of the quill pen moved. "Maybe it's more a covert position that would be best for you. Do ye know the story of the Pirate King, Admiral?"
"Mary," James said, "When you have dealt with pirates in the manner I have, you learn quickly that they aren't the kind of people who would ever do as a King commanded, much less vote for one. There hasn't been a King for generations."
"Perhaps it be because no one has yet displayed the knack for it."
Knowing it was a childish reaction, James pretended he didn't hear her and immersed himself in the charts, his back arching at what consequences angering an appointed angel might be.
"Don't seem to matter much, though." She flew to the door, her hand encasing the knob. "I mean, ye know where Shipwreck Cove is. That's not something many an admiral is privileged to know, nor any lords of trading companies either. Yes, yes, I do think Lord Beckett would be very interested in knowing where Shipwreck Cove was, especially if he heard it from the lips of someone who was once respectable. God knows there ain't many what fit that on this old girl." She stroked the bulkhead of the ship. "A beauty, though, to be sure, and fast. Yes, I do think if Beckett could have the location of Shipwreck Cove and the Black Pearl he'd just about die."
She left him, opening the door and letting a thick ray of sunlight in before she departed, shrouding him back in the shadowy cabin.
Will sat in the galley alone, relaxed by the lurching of the ship on the waves. To think the motion used to make him seasick, he thought, letting out a small laugh. Second nature now, as was retreating to a quiet, unpopulated corner of the ship and temporarily forgetting about the past and what all lied ahead. Crossing his arms, he propped his legs up on the long built-in bench that provided seating and yawned.
He had almost succeeded in emptying his mind when he heard his name called with great excitement right outside the door. Mary threw it open and sat across from him on the other bench, copying his pose and staring at him with a satisfied smile.
"You look awfully proud of yourself," he said.
"I am. I don't want to tell you until it's all come to pass, but I know who can stab that heart for you."
"What?"
"Oh, a pirate I must make of him, but it shouldn't be too hard. He had already turned the heart in, turning pirate against all of ye, should be no trouble to get him a lordship."
"Norrington? Mary, what are you plotting?" Helpful, kind, clever, even…even beautiful, he still had some fear in his eyes when he looked at her. Her idea of a plan, although, he admitted, they did always work out in the end, usually involved the rest of them going to great pains.
"Oh, Will! He's in there right now wonderin' if it t'would be better for him to alert Lord Beckett Shipwreck Cove's location, or at least promise it to him. Any minute he'll jump ship, and when he's alone, he'll think about freein' Calypso. Won't take much. Your brig can only hold her until she grows restless."
"A pirate lord has to free Calypso," Will argued.
"Right. And there is a fresh Piece of Eight for the taking over on the Endeavor. I can always sense when someone I've guarded has died." She waited for him to react. Clever, he thought, easing back. Norrington would find the Piece of Eight and would get to Shipwreck Cove by whatever means necessary. Only one question remained.
"And then he'll be convinced to stab the heart, just like that?"
"That might take a bit more convincing, I'm sure, but it don't take a cracked soul to do it. I told ye I'd help you. I doubt the other pirate lords would dare do such a thing."
Will could not take his eyes off her, so pleased with herself.
"How, how do you know that's what he'll do? You haven't known any of us for a long period of time."
"It don't take long to learn what a man can do and what a man can't do, Will. When you've been pirating a little longer, you'll understand."
He grunted at the irony. James Norrington as the captain of the Flying Dutchman? "You seem to have it all figured out."
"Yes, and this leaves you to do as ye please, go where ye want, be with yer father." She crawled around to be closer to him. "It's right enviable the kinds of adventures the two of ye will find together, off explorin' new things, goin' new places, but always with someone, always home, in a way. Aye, t'will be an enviable life for ye, Will. For him, too, seein' as how anything beats bein' on the Dutchman for so long. What did ye do before ye became a pirate?"
"I'm not a…I was a blacksmith. I had just made the shop I was an apprentice in my own before I…became a pirate, as you say."
"That's a trade what might come in handy anywhere for ye," Mary whispered, glancing down at his hands. She looked as if she were about to say more, but was transfixed on the rough calluses and scars up and down his hands. "I thought you was something like that. Calypso had visions of ye, holdin' the metal over fire, somethin' out of myth, ye was. Vulcan. Handsomer, though, with tongs and anvils everywhere. She'd tell it to me, that her Vulcan with a touch of destiny was on his way. But ye see, now yer fate's yer own. Freedom, Will."
"It could work, if he wanted to," he breathed, his heart racing, maybe at relief of not leaving its home. The clarity of her words seized him from his seat and placed him high above the clouds, looking at the whole world as one looked down over a map, master of whatever little spot he wanted to claim as his own.
"With her free, would you be able to end your servitude to her?" he asked, braving her etherealness to caress her wrist. Like cold satin, he traced up the back of her hand. Undaunted, he reached for one of her wings next. Solid, feathery wings that ruffled at his touch. "You would be free, too, free to do what you want." He could see her on some schooner or sloop, singing to herself catching fish, her skin able to bask in the sunshine, able to smell the salt in the air just as anyone else could. "I'll help you, too, Mary."
It was right after he said it that she leapt onto him and gave him a kiss, such a light, careful one he could barely feel it.
"I'm sorry!" she cried, purple returning to her. "I didn't…"
Will leaned over and found her lips, not moving once he reached them so the kiss would last.
"Mr. Turner."
Will leapt back to the edge of the galley bench, gasping at the shock of hearing his name called. His hand flew to his lips while his eyes averted meeting Barbossa's.
"I had thought as of late ye were the only one on board this ship who wasn't insufferable. A word, before you're too far gone?"
"No need to be goin' out with the crew. I know when I hear men that's smitten with privacy, I do. I'll just be seein' to what skies we'll be sailin' under." Mary flew out the door with an alarming speed, her head ducked down into her chest. What was he doing? Surely after calling off an engagement he needed time to himself. He nodded, assuring himself he could provide himself an appropriate amount of time. Yes. And no girls that were enslaved by goddesses either. That was just inviting trouble.
"Hmm, I don't suppose Miss Swann's departure warranted that bit of ardor?" Barbossa seated himself across from Will, elbows folded out in front of him on the table.
"We're no longer engaged," Will croaked out. "What is it you want?"
"Gettin' rid of me in an awful hurry, ain't ye?" he laughed. "Mr. Turner, I never would have thought you was the insatiable kind. Believe me, lad, as one who for ten years could do nothin' about the earthly pleasures—good things'll come to those who wait. Now, point and purpose. We've lost the Admiral."
"He's jumped ship."
"Aye, a longboat's missin,' flagrant hothead. Next thing ye know, he'll be pullin' up the stakes once more and settlin' into the name Lord Norrington. How'd ye know he'd be gone?"
"I…I had my suspicions."
"Well, if the Empress don't catch him, there be no way to stop him from reachin' the Endeavor." He rose and scanned the galley. "Ye sure ye and the lady are no longer an item?"
"Why so interested?" Will asked, balling his hands up into fists under the table. It had to be what a brother would feel to hear Hector Barbossa of all people show an interest in his sister, not to mention the image alone repulsed him. The memory of watching him take a dirty knife and slit her palm open tugged at him. She could do so much better.
"Don't be gettin' no ideas about me!" He wagged a finger at him. "Just thought I'd look after the wellbeing of the lass, make sure her fiancé was not dippin' into every honey jar he came across."
"You wouldn't have been so protective of her last year," Will snorted.
"She was a means to an end which proved false and nothin' more. Now, I can't speak for those who do show interest in her, though. Lord knows there're plenty of them about. But if it is no-never-mind to you, we'll just be concentratin' on the one of the lot that's gone and commandeered one of our longboats then."
"It doesn't change our objective." Will stood, once more pawing at his lips. "Shipwreck Cove is still where we need to go."
"Right." Outside, the held their hands up over their eyes to block out the blinding sun. Mary stood near the bow, mop in hand, swabbing the deck along with a few other crewmen. His eyes danced at how she always needed to be busy, always seeing to what someone else needed. Her form was so pale it almost looked as if the mop were moving on its own against the sunshine. Only three years left in serving Calypso. It had to be like the story of Tantalus, fresh ripe fruit and cool sparkling water always just beyond his reach. He ought to do it, for her and his father both, keep to his original promise to pierce the heart of Davy Jones.
"So ye and the angel wench?"
"Shut it," Will snapped, deciding not to follow Barbossa up the steps to the helm.
"A word of advice then—let's not get this one marooned with dear Jack, shall we?"
Elizabeth patted down the gold stitching of her shirt, a dark blue material almost as soft and light as silk, a massive leather belt hugging her, but still allowing her to breathe. The detail of everything made her love it even more, a proper captain's ensemble, she decided, crossing to the chair to put on her boots. Cloth-covered buttons near the end of her sleeves would take some getting used to, she thought, twisting her arms around while she laced her boots.
"Elizabeth? How's it coming?"
"You can come in, Father!" she called to the door, not even attempting to suppress her grin. "How do I look?"
"Like a lioness," he said with a proud smile. "Much as a captain should, I should think."
Saving her sword for last, she sheathed it and took a few steps, testing how agile she could be. Breathing a sigh of relief that she was just as nimble in Chinese or Singaporean garb as stolen Englishmen's shirts and trousers, she pulled her hair back to knot into a bun.
"How did steering the ship go?"
"Illuminating," she thought he said in a strained manner. Well, all of this has been quite an ordeal for him, she thought.
"Where's Jack?"
"At the helm now. Elizabeth, there's something I wish to…"
"Captain!" A young boy, probably no more than eighteen or nineteen, Elizabeth guessed, ran down to her. "We need you on deck. The men have found something!"
Elizabeth dashed up to the main deck and found the gaggle of men standing at the railing, covering whatever their discovery was. The loud foreign voices made her raise her eyebrow at them, giving them a stern look. If they were debating whether or not to hide something from her already, it would be a long journey to the Cove for them, locked away in a cold dark brig…
"Here, Captain." The boy yanked a bottle from one of the men and presented it to her.
"What's your name?" she asked, eyeing the greenish, short-necked bottle.
"Heng."
"Thank you, Heng." Uncorking the bottle, she pulled out a rolled-up scroll. Her father came closer to peer at the contents. Rolling open the rough parchment, she recognized the handwriting. "It's from Will." Her eyes ran down the single page. "Good God!"
"What's happened?" her father asked. She ran to the helm where Jack now had Gibbs with him.
"James took one of your longboats to go back to Beckett."
"How's that now?" Jack half-turned towards her with an utterly bewildered expression. Gibbs took the scroll from her.
"We got ourselves plenty to be worried about, and now this," Gibbs grumbled. Elizabeth glanced over at Jack, knowing his silence to mean nothing but the most pure and resolute frustration.
"Unless he has a plan," she sighed.
"If you mean a plan to lead them right to Shipwreck Cove," he finally said.
"If he meant to betray us, he wouldn't have been found out."
"Out in open water with only longboats as transportation doesn't leave one much choice, love. What else does William say?"
"This is where it gets a bit muddled," she warned.
"Oh, we haven't come about anything muddled lately?" She returned his grin only for a moment, meditating at what exactly he might mean.
"Mary may have talked him into it."
"Got a funny way of protectin' all of us, don't she?" Gibbs said. "What ye make of it, Jack?"
"May have talked him into it?"
"It says she came to Will to tell him that James would be leaving them soon, that she was happy about it, and the next thing he knew…" She threw up her arms, looking over at her father for some guidance. But he had been on this ship with them the whole time. Far from the first letter she had read from Will, it seemed more laconic than the rest, like there were details he didn't want her to know.
"I don't know what to make of that little faerie queen half the time," Jack admitted, hardly above a whisper. "What's she planning?" He tilted his face up to gaze up at the clouds, overcome with thought. It was nice to be on this end of his ideas, Elizabeth thought, so used to them running afoul and then learning about them after they'd happened. She looked forward to a glimpse at his process. "Mary wants Norrington on the Endeavor, which is tied to the Dutchman as of now. Which one does it strike her fancy more? It may depend where the heart is…Gibbs." He motioned for Gibbs to take the helm, allowing him to pace. "She talks him into leaving and she comes to break the news to Will…" He stopped in mid-step and his eyes bored into the floorboards beneath him. His lips moved without voice. "Of course."
"Mind tellin' us?" Gibbs asked.
"She wants Norrington to stab the heart," he gave out a desperate laugh. "Of course! Oh, she's a sly, ambitious ghost, she is."
"Why on earth would she want that?" Swann finally spoke, mouth agape.
"So no one else will have to," Jack said simply, gesturing for the helm. He took it back from Gibbs and peered out into the horizon, calmer. "Lizzie, our brave Admiral just may be getting in over his head."
"I cannot be summoned like some mongrel pup." Davy Jones entered the main cabin of the Endeavor, glowering at Beckett, wanting nothing more than to take his claw and snap the little man's head right from his spine. The fop sipped from his tea cup, a circle of high-backed, velvet chairs surrounding the table that held the silver serving set.
"Apparently you can. We have a guest."
"Ah, so Admiral Norrington has returned to us," Jones said, sneering at James after he leaned his head out from the back of the chair. "Welcome back to hell."
"I've already been to your hell, Jones. Cheers." He took a sip from his porcelain cup, saucer in hand. "Oh, by the way, not that I make it a point to be acquainted with the man, but I'm sure Jack Sparrow sends his regards."
"What's this? What are you spouting at me?" He held his breath. It was not possible. It was not possible.
"We somewhat interrupted his rescue party, I daresay. But Lord Beckett was just filling me in on what all the two of you have been doing while I was gone. Ammand the Corsair? Tsk, tsk. I probably would have rated him dead last among the pirate lords…before I learned just what a pitiful pirate Sparrow really is, however. I still can't get over the fact it took you thirteen years to be rid of him and even then you failed."
"Well," Jones sniffed. "At least Ammand the Corsair lies dead as a doornail now. What else have ye not cared to tell me?" Soon, he promised himself. Soon the measly git would be sorry for wielding his own heart against him.
"You're acquainted with a person named Calypso, is that right?"
No. No, it can't be.
"N-not a person," he stammered. "She is a heathen goddess, a flighty, uncaring, hedonistic goddess and nothing more. The brethren court took care of her long ago. The world is well rid of her."
"That's odd," James said. "I just saw her in the Black Pearl's brig. I do believe the pirates are considering releasing her."
"What? They cannot!" Pirates. Filthiest, dirtiest of Satan's devices to pollute the world. "The first court promised to imprison her forever! That was our agreement!"
"Your agreement?" Beckett repeated.
"Er…I was the one who showed them how to bind her. There is not a pirate lord among them who would dare free her!"
"If you felt that way, there would be no need to raise your voice, would there?" James asked. "I want Ammand the Corsair's Piece of Eight. You will free William Turner and the rest of your crew."
Jones once thought him a kindred spirit, one who wanted to understand the sea and yet didn't want to understand it but rather bask in it. And now here he stood before him making demands. One of his tentacles lifted and smacked his teacup right out of his hand.
"Those are steep demands, Admiral Norrington, particularly from one such as yourself who has been more than unclear about where his loyalties lay," Beckett said. "What is it you plan to give us in exchange?"
"Shipwreck Cove."
A/N: "Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven" is from John Milton's Paradise Lost. Please leave a review!