Chapter 12, everybody! We made it! :D
So the next DS/PotC rewrite I plan to do probably won't be until next June, I want to give myself time to get it done and also be in the piratey mood, in the meantime I'll be back to working on my other fics (one day...).
Back to the last chapter...thanks to Don't Starve shenanigans Maxwell is very unconcerned about hangings, the dude canonically walked off crumbling into dust for pity's sake. Other than that, that's pretty much it—hope you all enjoyed! :D
Don't Starve © 2013 Klei Entertainment
Pirates of the Caribbean © 2003 Disney
It was an insultingly glorious, sunny day in Port Royal.
Personally he'd rather have overcast, or even rainy! Rainy might end with his particular punishment being postponed, people wanted to see a hanging and dangit they demanded a hanging.
Saying all that, Maxwell had personally been hoping for some shadows to work with, annoyed by the fact that Norrington had not left him unattended the whole way back. Apparently, he was fairly certain Maxwell would try to slip off the moment he took his eyes off him. Which, while true, hey.
Sigh, sorting through his options…well it wasn't the first time he had his neck stretched, was also worth mentioning that it wasn't the first death he had walked off; it was just, you know, massively inconvenient and it wasn't like he didn't have other things to be preoccupied with. Maybe he'd be lucky and they'd take a while with listing out all his crimes, that'd take the better part of a day—could have at least called him captain, though, he was pretty sure he had earned that much. Hunt for something to take his mind off of everything—hey, that one parrot seemed familiar….
Dismiss that option—likely Winona wanted to see him hang, and he doubted a crew of pirates would risk Port Royal and a fort full of navy men for him.
But it did have him hoping.
Good news, Willow was not expected to wear a corset for this.
This felt like where the good news ended, though; sure she was safe and sound back in Port Royal and Wilson wasn't standing on the gallows next to Maxwell, but….
"This is wrong," she said finally, unable to hold it in anymore. Wilba nodded, looked to Warbucks—
"We are all bound to the law, my dears," Warbucks told them, maintaining a serious mien. Norrington, stone-faced beside him, nodded as well—
She blinked, looking beyond them at the sight of a familiar garish parrot, wondering if that could possibly be the same bird—
"Willow."
Willow blinked, all of them looking to see Wilson standing before them, dressed to the nines with a nice hat and cloak on. He gave the others a very serious nod, looking as he always did—
Something changed when he looked at her, though—the sort of briefly unguarded expression she'd spot when he thought no one was looking, only this time he wasn't trying to hide it.
"I should have told you this every day, from the first moment I met you," he told her. "I love you."
She blinked, stunned, aware that she probably looked taken aback but unable to process, Wilba gasping and grabbing her hand—
By the time her brain restarted, Wilson was gone in the crowd—look for him, realizing that he had probably worn the hat to hide his hair—
Realized what he was doing right as Wilba did—run forward as Wilba gasped "I can't breathe—" and fell backwards, distracting Warbucks and Norrington—
And then everything went crazy.
Wilson's logic, in the moment, was that he likely wouldn't make it out of this alive and, being nervous enough about his planned course of action as-is, might as well take advantage and just tell her. Whether or not he felt lighter for doing so, he didn't know, but at least he would go out with no regrets.
As for this…he had thought long and hard about this on the way back to Port Royal, debating on whether or not he could live with himself either way, if it was truly worth going out on a limb for a man who'd probably happily saw it off once he was out there…did finally come to the conclusion that his conscience would not let him stand by.
Hence why, when the drums stopped and the hangman dropped Maxwell, Wilson was throwing a sword to stop his downward momentum, the other man barely able to catch his boots on the sword and keep his neck from snapping. Barrel up the steps, drawing another sword to fight off the hangman as Maxwell got the ropes off—
And then they were both running, at one point using the ropes that had bound Maxwell to trip up some navy men, ducking and dodging and sword fighting—
Until they were hemmed in on all sides, Wilson barely aware of Maxwell puffing an irritated shot of air at the feather in his hat, more focused on his disappointment that they hadn't gotten any further than the balcony Willow had fallen off of that day…it wasn't even that long ago, but at the same time felt like a lifetime past.
"I expected some form of ill-advised escape attempt," Norrington said, arching an eyebrow as he came through the ring of navy soldiers and bayonets, a blustering Warbucks right behind. "But not from you."
"I granted you clemency upon return to Port Royal," Warbucks thundered. "And this is the thanks I get? You throwing in your lot with him? He's a pirate!"
"And a good man!" burst out of Wilson before he could stop it—could practically feel the startled looks from everyone involved, even as he threw his sword down at Norrington's feet. "If that means the hangman earns two sets of boots instead of one, then so be it."
"You forget your place, Higgsbury," Norrington growled, stepping closer.
Maybe before, but not now. "My place is right here, between you and Max."
"As is mine."
Both of them broke from their glaring contest to see Willow stepping next to Wilson, tipping her chin defiantly. "Willow, no—" Wilson started.
"Sorry, you don't get to make dramatic declarations like that and then storm off," she told him, glancing at him before focusing her attention on Norrington. Next to him, Wilba muscled her way through to stand between him and Warbucks.
"Both of you," Wilba announced, hands on her hips. "Need to remember that the crown values loyalty, to each other as well as the king. Isn't that what you said, Daddy, right before you pardoned Wilson? That you couldn't fault a man's convictions when they struck him so strongly?"
"There's a difference between saving a young lady and saving a pirate," Warbucks tried to argue.
"Without whom none of us would have been able to save the young lady," Wilba argued, gesturing at Wilson. "Wilson had at least a day's head start and they still barely made it in time."
"Need I remind you that we were late in setting off thanks to them?" Norrington asked her.
"Remind me again how much wheedling I had to do."
Norrington glanced at Warbucks, perhaps for appeal—was as startled as he was by Maxwell popping up between them, hands on their shoulders.
"Well I think we've all learned something from this, don't you? Spiritually, religiously…ecumenically." Tapped Norrington on the chest as he circled around. "Just know that I was rooting for you the whole time, pal. Ladies…you both scare me. Wilson—" Wilson looked sharply at being called by his name instead of some nonsense moniker—"Nice hat."
With that, Maxwell leaped up to the balcony's edge, turned to face the rest of them. "As for the rest of you all gathered, you shall always remember this as the day that you almost caught—"
Didn't get to finish, considering his heel slipped—they ran up to the edge just in time to see him hit the water.
"Idiot," Left-tenant Gillette said. "He's nowhere to go but back to the noose!"
A call prompted them to look up, to see what Wilson had suspected but not expected—the Shadowchaser heeling around so Maxwell didn't have as far to swim. Unless the navy ran out the guns quickly, one Maxwell Carter would make a clean getaway, and Wilson doubted Norrington would tolerate that egg on his face.
Had it confirmed when Norrington said "Mr. Higgsbury."
Willow caught his arm as he turned. "My actions were my own," he told her. "I might as well face the consequences for them." Turned to Norrington as the latter drew his sword—
And examined it, like he was contemplating life's deep mysteries within the steel Wilson had folded and pounded into shape himself. "This is a beautiful sword," Norrington said finally. "I would hope that the man who made it took similar care with all aspects of his life." Looked pointedly at Willow, back at Wilson…sheathed his sword, turned, and walked away.
"Sir!" Left-tenant Gillette called. "What about Mr. Carter?"
Norrington briefly considered this. "I suppose we can afford him one day's head start. Miss Wilba, there were other things we were intending to discuss over tea that I'd like to address; I expect we'll have company later."
Wilba just about squealed with delight—hugged both Wilson and Willow before trotting after Norrington. Warbucks turned to follow…paused to look at them before finally addressing Willow. "Are you sure about this? He is a blacksmith."
"No," Willow said, hugging Wilson. "He's a pirate."
"I actually prefer gentleman scientist," Wilson admitted, taking his hat off. Willow laughed, ruffling his hair—
It was all over but the kissing, and in surviving it all Wilson had to admit that the happy ending truly was worth it.
The swim had been brief, thankfully—caught the rope and held on tight as the crew hoisted him out of the water, into the air, over the deck—
Touched down next to Woodlegs.
"Cap'n," Woodlegs greeted.
"Pal," Maxwell returned, wringing out his shirt tails. "Remind me what happened to keep to the code. Not that I'm complaining," he added, gesturing at the fort.
"Well…we figured they was more guidelines than actual rules," Woodlegs admitted.
"I will happily take it," Maxwell said, also accepting a blanket to wrap around his shoulders as his clothes dried. "Winona."
"Captain," Winona said, stepping back and indicating the helm. "The Shadowchaser is yours."
Finally. Step up to the helm, running his hand along the wood, pausing only to accept his hat back—ah bless, he had been wondering where that had gone—decided everyone was looking too sappy for his tastes. "On deck, you scabrous dogs! Man the braces!"
Everyone quickly hopped to, the parrot squawking what was possibly man the braces in French—leaving him to finally, finally stand at the helm of his own ship, to absorb what he had worked long and hard to get back to. It had been a bit more convoluted than he would have liked, but at least he was here now.
Now bring him that horizon.
Absently hum 'A Pirate's Life for Me' as he fished out his compass, checking the heading. "And really bad eggs." Turn the wheel a little, grinning as he focused on the adventure ahead. "Drink up, me hearties—yo-ho!"
Finis
Final chapter count: 12
Final page count: 68
Final word count: 29,408