- Chapter 7: Josue Leocadio -

"I know I can't hold the hate inside my mind
'Cause what consumes your thoughts controls your life"

-What If, Creed-

-/-

"I've not seen one as impressive fer certain, all black and sleek as her. How did yeh come about a ship so fair?"

"Aye, Master Barbossa, the Black Pearl is without equal. Fastest ship in all the Caribbean. Unmatched. A man of your talents will be of great benefit to her crew," Jack said, electing not to answer his new first mate's question.

Their shadows stretched far behind them as they left the docks and headed into the depraved belly of Tortuga. Both Jack and Barbossa were gaining due notoriety as successful pirates and strode confident through the streets, unconcerned about the reprobates that littered them or of the ones at their intended destination, the infamous Faithful Bride Pub. Being favored by the wickedest of cutthroats, it was the ideal place to find additions for the crew.

The two turned into the heavily shaded alley that lead to the pub. Consumed in discussing matters of stocking the Black Pearl with men and supplies, they failed to notice that they were not alone and were being watched. It was when the last tip of their shadows became enveloped within the alley's obscurity that Jack found a hand closing around his throat, a pistol in his ribs, and his back slamming against a wall by a man who seemed to have materialized from the darkness itself.

"'Ello, Jackie," the man rumbled, his voice as foreboding as distant thunder.

"Teague," Jack sneered.

"Teague?" Barbossa stammered, but quickly recovered and spoke with respect. "Captain Teague, Keeper of the Code."

It wasn't until then that Teague turned his intimidating glare unto the first mate of his wayward son, a man of known reputation to him but of no current relevance, resulting in Barbossa realizing that he was interfering in a matter rather inconsequential to him.

"I shall be gettin' back to the ship, Captain," Barbossa said to Jack, although his eyes never left Teague.

Jack gave no response from where he remained pressed against the wall in Teague's grip, still staring angrily at his father.

"Captain Teague." Barbossa addressed the Keeper and left.

Not until Barbossa was out of view did Teague released Jack and return his pistol to his belt.

"Come," was all he said as he left the alley.

Jack knew it was an order best not ignored and followed without delay.

Not once did Teague turn to check if his boy had followed him or appear concerned to have his back turned to him. Jack followed a short distance behind, watching as his father walked the busy streets as if he owned them, the people seemingly parting to give the man a wide berth.

His destination was revealed soon enough. Teague led Jack into a private dining room located in the back of a tavern with furnished tables running along three of its walls, Unfortunately, the room smelled more of stale sweat and salt than the dinner being served in it.

Jack recognized many of the old Misty Lady crew strewn around the room, including Denning and Snodgrass, and judging by the varying looks they greeted him with, he was also far from forgotten in their memories, be they good or bad. It may have been only a simple coincidence, but Jack noticed that neither Petlock nor Bahr were present.

Teague crossed the room in the same manner as he walked the streets, each of his men greeting him with 'Captain'. He went to the table on the rear wall and it was with a simple twitch of his finger that he dismissed his men. Each rose from where they were perched to file out of the room without hesitating. Snodgrass, the last of the men to leave, lightly squeezed Jack's shoulder as he passed - be it with affection or sympathy, Jack could not decide.

When Snodgrass shut the door behind him, the only sounds in the room was gin being poured slowly into a glass.

To break the uncomfortable silence, Jack spoke first. "Didn't realize you were 'ere as I failed to see the Lady in the harbor."

"There be more places to make port than jus' the docks," Teague said flatly before turning and leaning against the table.

He brought the glass to his lips and stared at Jack from over the brim, studying him for a long moment with intense eyes that gave nothing away. After his unhurried drink had been emptied and the glass returned to the table behind him, Teague straightened where he stood and extended his right hand.

It was very apparent that Teague would make no effort to meet him halfway. Jack conceded to this display of superiority and made the steps to take his father's hand. Teague moved as fast and purposeful as a striking serpent, gripping his son's hand tightly and using his left hand to jerk up Jack's right sleeve to see the brand just above his wrist. He examined the brand for several seconds, twisting Jack's arm in order to see every scorched corner of the telltale 'P'.

"Welcome to the Brotherhood." There was no surprise or mockery in his voice, only affirmation.

Jack winced, realizing the brand told his father more than just were he stood legally. Not only did it confirm any, if not all, questions about his working with the Company, betraying Cutler Beckett, and the burning and sinking of the Wicked Wench as if he'd sewn the admission on his clothing, but it would no doubt raise questions of the origins behind the blackened ship he currently captained. Knowing his father was well as he did, Jack was certain that the man was already calculating different plausible scenarios.

Teague released his son's hand and leaned back against the table, forcefully casual. "It be smart to be more leery o'er who you shake hands with from here on out."

Jack gave the brand an accusing glance before shaking his sleeve back over it. "Evidently salutations are concluded." He backed to a table adjacent to the sidewall, making of show of not letting Teague out of his sight, and sat on top of it, picking from a plate of food that had been left there when the crew departed.

"Barbossa's a very ambitious man. Made quite a name fer himself," Teague said flatly, yet his face twitched in a way that suggested he was implying more.

Knowing that as the Keeper of the Code, where he was to remain neutral in all pirate affairs, Teague was edging toward stepping over the line by talking with him on this subject. Jack took time to think before speaking, keeping his words careful. "For a man whom you speak of so favorably, you appear to be going out of your way to nonchalantly imply that he be an initiator of treachery."

Teague said nothing, only stared unblinking as he removed a cigarette from his pocket and slipped it between his lips.

Jack sighed and rolled his eyes, giving in. "What makes you so sure?"

"Fer one, if our standings'd been reversed in that alley, Denning would'ave shown you yer own entrails before that flintlock cleared yer belt," Teague answered while lighting the cigarette, his voice absent of sarcasm and heavy with warning. He breathed in a long drag. "'First mate' will not satisfy him," he exhaled, circles of smoke accenting his each word.

Teague held the cigarette and looked at the smoldering tip. Shaking his head, he muttered to himself in a dry chuckle, "The two of you on one ship...eh, she'll go down in flames."

Jack knew that Teague had chosen his words intentionally, referring to his previous command, and his defensive side bared its teeth. "Yer not one to intervene in my fate. What is it you want, exactly?"

Teague became visibly agitated, stiffened were he still leaned against the table, and snubbed the cigarette out in his palm. His eyes narrowed, searching and penetrating, and he asked with great seriousness, "It's said yer sailing from port to port in search of a crew for a voyage to a place that can only be found by those who know where it is. Do you know where it is?"

Jack took the appearance of being in deep thought. "Not yet," he said after a moment.

"If no one knows where it be, 'cept those who do know where it is, which you are not one of, how are you getting there? There's no map."

"Yes, with no map, but getting there jus' the same," Jack answered through a mouth full of food.

"Where yah getting yer bearings?"

"The usual, nautical way. Currents, sextant, sun dial..." Jack listed flippantly, even as Teague's face reddened, "spy glass, hour glass, compass-"

Annoyed by his son talking in circles and his insubordinate tone, Teague tore the compass from his belt and shook it. "Yer compass is... broken," he finished when the top flipped open. "It doesn't e'en point north, boy."

"Not going north, er...or am I?" Jack said impishly, finger tapping his chin. "Depends on where it directs me, really."

The lines on Teague's forehead furrowed. After a short second, his eyes went wide as he suddenly understood what Jack was implying.

"Where'd yah get this?" he rasped quietly, flinching at the compass in his palm.

As most pirates were, Teague was a superstitious man. If this compass was of the supernatural, it meant that its origin was of the same means, and no one who bartered with the supernatural were ever left unsullied.

Jack snatched the compass from Teague's hand and returned it to his belt. "Has naught to do with the Code. Nor does my heading or method of deciphering it. Don't see where yer in position to interfere or supplicate, benevolent or otherwise." His chin and tone rose with defiance. "Let us not forget our place."

Infuriated and cursing under his breath, Teague grabbed his boy by the shirtfront and ripped him off the table to his feet, roughly enough to knock several plates and Jack's tricorne to the floor. The dark leather caught Teague's attention from the corner of his eye and he glanced at it, recognizing it in that fleeting second as the one he'd given his son long before. Teague released Jack's shirt with a jerk and took a step back.

Still angry but in control, Teague strained to keep from shouting. "I speak as yer father-"

"Bit late fer that now, don't you agree?" Jack spat, interrupting. "Stand off, Keeper!"

His three words were as effective as drawing a line in the sand indicating the boundaries of their relationship.

Teague tried one last attempt at reasoning with his son. "The treasure you seek is said to be cursed. Jus' try not to do anythin'," his hands came up, groping the air for the right word,"... stupid."

He knew the word he'd found was wrong for as soon as it had cleared his lips, Jack pivoted on his heal, scooped up his tricorne, and stormed for the door.

"Jackie," Teague called quietly.

Jack hesitated in the doorway, barely long enough for his father to pass on the message.

"Yer mother sends her love."

-/-

Morning light spilled in through the single window of the small room announcing the night had come to its end. He'd watched the beam of light for what felt like hours, from when it first filtered in through the glass, its slow progression across the floor, to end pinpointed on his dilated eyes. The familiar sting coinciding with the morning after a night of over-indulgence and little rest. Not that the small amount of sleep he did get amounted to much for it had been fitful and restless. It seemed not even in Tortuga, the city of endless debauchery and wanton distraction, could he escape the tormenting visions that entered his mind when he slumbered.

The memory of speaking with his father for the first time after he'd turned pirate had not been overly disastrous, but he'd had always regarded it an ill-tasting milestone and one he should have handled with less antagonism. The advice that Teague had tried to give fell on the deaf ears of a defiant son set to make it on his own. In hindsight, if he had listened, Jack could have spared himself an extreme amount of misfortune. Live and learn.

Unlike the one from years ago, this stop in Tortuga had not been a scheduled one. A miserable and off-season squall forced the Misty Lady west and off-course. Although it cut into the little precious time he had until his rendezvous in Plymouth, the side stop proved to not be in waste for he gained some very useful material.

The first was a set of fine new linens he purchased for his bed on the Misty Lady. The old ones were promptly tossed overboard.

The second was news delivered to him by Denning when the first mate returned from shore leave. The Sterling had yet to make it to a Caribbean shore, but word that its captain had been found dead in his cabin midway in its voyage from England had.

A pesky thorn in the Brethren's side, no sympathy would be let for Leocadio, by the next morning he'd be dismissed completely. The importance of Denning's news was that it confirmed the Caribbean was about to be introduced to the Virginal Widow. Unlike the Brethren, Laura'd never forget what the man had done. Her vengeance was complete, but she still had a part to play in his. Laura was not one to deviate from plan.

At the advent of this good fortune, and still reveling his successful torturing of Gillette, he set out with the crew for celebration. But as the evening progressed, his mood dampened. Potentially troublesome information was revealed to Jack, not from hearsay or by other word of mouth, but from his own hip. The Black Pearl had suddenly changed course and was now moving south at a fast pace. Jack knew that there could be several plausible reasons for the abrupt new heading, such as a target too fat to pass, but Jack remained wary and was determined to monitor the Pearl's movements closely until her destination became clear.

Yet more curious and alarming, was that his compass no longer followed the Pearl with a steadfast and unwavering conviction. Several times now, when checking his ship's location, the needle would flit about the compass's face before finding target. It was unsettling that what he 'wanted the most' was, again, in apparent question.

Thus, the night's drinking, which had started out as celebratory, turned into one of unease.

Now as he lay awake, squinting from the rays of an overeager sun, he found himself in this current position of hungover and contemplative.

He'd been weighing rallying the Misty Lady's crew behind him, to intercept and take on the Pearl, but time would not allow such a volley and risk of damage or the total destruction of one or both ships was very likely. He decided that pursuing her now would be irresponsible.

' Irresponsible... bloody worrisome Gibbs needs to fret less.'

Jack grunted where he lay, causing the warm body next to him to stir in her sleep but not wake. Silently now, Jack mulled his recent talk with Gibbs. Even with Gibbs being a man who he'd always been able to trust completely, one of few who he'd call friend, it had still been difficult for Jack to ask for the man's help. Jack was having a hard time not interpreting Gibbs' open reluctance as a lack in confidence in him. Considering the abundant amount of faith the man bequeathed in the Code, it seemed reasonable that some could be bestowed on ol' Jack, especially when taking into account their past accomplishments.

Jack had to roll his stinging eyes at himself at that moment. There was an equal amount of failures mixed in with those loosely called accomplishments. Beyond that was the certain fact that Gibbs was now a happily married man and Jack knew well that the love for a woman could cause a man to do uncharacteristic things.

Even if sending Gibbs to speak with Johannes appeared to be a simple matter on the surface, Jack knew there must be a reason behind the apprehension that was also inside of him. Perhaps there was validity in Gibbs' reluctance, especially if he was second guessing himself. He'd give Gibbs the benefit of the doubt for his doubt. He sighed mentally, thinking his conscience always picked the most conflicting times to make itself heard.

He knew he had to keep his mind clear of uncertainties, at least as much as possible, for he had to focus on Commodore Greitzer, a man who could prove to be an astute adversary.

It was extremely unusual for a man to rise in rank as fast as Greitzer reportedly had, especially considering his lack of battlefield experience, unless he was a man backed by a powerful family or possessed a solid source of blackmail against a Nobel. Even if it wasn't Greitzer himself who pulled the trigger on his father, being it occurred at New Shipwreck, Jack knew in his bones that the man was somehow involved, to what magnitude was still uncertain. He was determined to make good on the message that Gillette was surely to pass on to Greitzer and pay the man a visit, though he'd yet to figure out how'd he make it past the barricades of Fort Charles.

Before he did any of that, he needed to get up and back to the Misty Lady. He rolled over, out of the light's grip, and found himself blanketed in Giselle's golden curls. He propped himself up on an elbow and looked down over her sleeping form. Her dainty hands were tucked up under her chin, clutching the blanket tightly, giving her a child's innocence. Her usually painted face was clean of cosmetic, allowing the natural rosy hue of her cheeks to warm her face. She was truly lovely laying there -bare, in so many ways- in the morning's light. With a gentlemen's touch, he gently swept a lock away from her forehead and kissed her there tenderly. He breathed her in, the scent of her perfume redolent of visits past, and the pirate in him grinned back.

'Another port boarded and plundered and all done with but a single weapon. I'm what legends are made from.' He thought to himself, self-satisfied smirk in place. 'And like all great conquests, a swift and evasive exit insures victory.'

He slithered quietly out of Giselle's bed without waking her, pulled on his breeches, left her payment on the nightstand, and climbed out her window to the street below where Hector sat patiently as he finished dressing and adjusted his effects.

"Come," Jack ordered Hector and walked down the street towards the docks without giving a single look back.