The Raptors of Misdirection and Waxing Gibberish - Chapter 16
Title: The Raptors of Misdirection and Waxing Gibberish
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean; Sparrington
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I have no claim on POTC or the lovely characters who populate it, even if it seems that James Norrington is making himself quite at home in my head, the snarky British bastard.
Summary:At last, we reach that fabled meeting upon the shore, of rescuers and rescuees. Barbossa is less than thrilled. Elizabeth and Will are a little scandalized. Some mad and mysterious plans are being put into motion.
Note: This chapter contains my all-time-favorite scene with Elizabeth in it. Seriously.
Chapter Sixteen
When Barbossa and his cadre washed up onto the shore of the Locker, amidst the wreckage of Sao Feng’s ship and what remained of its crew after falling over the edge at World’s End, most everyone looked discouraged. Tia Dalma, not among the ranks of the discouraged, knelt for a moment, a small white crab leaping into her palm. She stood up again and pet it, smiling her most unnerving smile.
Most of the others, to the benefit of their already rattled nerves, weren’t looking.
“Truly this is a godforsaken place,” Gibbs panted, tired from the swim ashore.
“I don’t see Jack, or James. I don’t see anyone,” Elizabeth said.
“He’s here,” Barbossa assured. “Davy Jones never once gave up that what he took.”
“Does it matter?” snapped Will. “We’re trapped here by your doing, no different than Jack and Norrington.”
More crabs appeared around Tia Dalma’s feet. “Dey ships, along wit’ clever-James and witty-Jack, are closer dan you t’ink,” she taunted.
As everyone stared at her in confusion, the very tops of a familiar set of black sails rose over the tops of the tall sand dunes looming nearby. Then, beside them, a set of cream-colored sails appeared, with main-mast glinting faintly gold in a highly recognizable fashion. An awestruck silence followed as the two ships advanced, borne aloft on the backs of thousands of egg-white stony little crabs.
Standing on the topsails of their respective ships, Jack Sparrow and James Norrington eyed the wreckage and assorted personages strewn about on the beach ahead. James had finished his tale to his men: of Calypso, of his deal with her, of the nature of his ship, and had been met with surprisingly positive response, and was thus quite elated. Jack was just wickedly amused.
James flicked open his small spyglass with his free hand and peered through it at the crowd on the beach. He looked suddenly quite wickedly amused, too, which led Jack to believe that the looks on their faces must be truly grand, but the pirate was unwilling to spoil his picturesque pose in order to see for himself.
“Impossible,” one of Sao’s men groaned.
“Is that...are those...” Will trailed off helplessly.
“Crabs,” Elizabeth finished for him. “Lots...and lots...of little crabs.”
“Boats,” Ragetti said in a dully stunned tone, pointing at the two ships as they hit the water, the crabs continuing to carry them, out towards deeper water.
“Slap me thrice and hand me to me mamma. It’s Jack!” Gibbs grinned.
“And Captain-Devil Norrington,” added Pintel.
Jack’s longboat reached shore first, as Norrington was somewhat delayed by giving one more meaningful little speech to his recently-thawed crew.
He paused to gaze expectantly at the approaching crowd. “Ah, will the wonders never cease?” He ignored most of them, walked straight up to Tia Dalma and, doffing his hat, bowed low. He went to reach for her hand to kiss it, but saw the pinchy crab already in residence there and thought better of it. “Thank you, my darling. I really do appreciate it.” He smiled up at her, charmingly roguish to the nth degree.
She smiled back coldly and glanced over his shoulder.
Jack winced at the sound of Barbossa’s voice as his mutinous first mate boomed, “Jack! Good to see that you’ve taken care of my ship--ignoring the matter of getting her sent to the Locker and all.”
Slowly, Jack straightened and turned to face him, grinning with open malice now, his dark eyes narrowed. “Hector. Glad to see you, which is to say that I’m glad so see you in the afterlife, here. I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay as I sail off in my ship.” His smile dropped. “Because she’s not yours anymore, mate, not with the effects of that curse from you an’ yours taken off of her when I shot you,” Jack warned, his dark gaze cold and grave: the same look he had worn when he had shot the other man on the Isla de Muerta
Barbossa seemed to hesitate: truly disconcerted, if only for just a moment.
“Jack, he led us here to rescue you,” Elizabeth said.
Jack spun on her with a cold, unimpressed look that James had helped him perfect, for just such an occasion as this. “Ah. Well, that’s kind of you. But, seeing as I happen to be the only one ashore currently in possession of a ship, it would seem to me that all of you are the ones in need of rescuing.” He looked at all of them critically. “And I’m not sure as I’m in the mood.” He turned as if to walk away, but found himself soon swarmed.
Will caught up with him first, “Jack, Cutler Beckett has the heart of Davy Jones.”
Elizabeth, second in the swarm, added, “He controls the Flying Dutchman; he’s taking over the seas!”
“Oh, really? What a surprise, considering how badly he wanted it and how conveniently it vanished shortly before any of us had a chance to use it,” Jack remarked sharply. “Who ever would have guessed?”
Then Tia caught his arm. “The song has been sung. The Brethren Court is called.”
Jack snorted, shaking his head at them irritably, but he did not pull away from Tia’s grip, even as he glared at the others and retorted, “I leave you people alone for a minute, and look what happens! It’s all gone to pot.” He gestured luridly with one hand. He relaxed almost imperceptibly when Tia let him go. He started to step away again.
“Aye, Jack, the world needs you back somethin’ fierce,” Gibbs called.
“And you need a crew,” William added.
Jack stopped, turning to face the crowd again with a scowl, and ignoring the sounds of another longboat coming ashore and the calculated, precise footsteps of James Norrington approaching. The crowd, for there part, did not notice the other man in the least, riveted as their collective attention was on Captain Jack Sparrow.
Jack critically eyed the four people at the crowd’s fore and drawled, “Why should I sail with any of you? Four of you have tried to kill me in the past.” He looked at Elizabeth sharply. “One of you succeeded.” He then crossed his arms over his chest and watched the fireworks.
Will appeared confused, then the realization struck and he paled, turning to give Elizabeth a questioning look, while Elizabeth looked distinctly nettled and guilty.
Jack grinned again. “Oh, she’s not told you?” He took a few cocky steps toward them. “You’ll have loads to talk about while you’re here.”
James Norrington, his palm resting casually on the pommel of his sword, took this opportunity to loudly clear his throat, alerting everyone to his presence. Jack spun around to face him. Everyone else noticed him with a bit of shock and, in Will and Elizabeth’s cases, relief, as they shouted “James!” and “Norrington!” in unison, the two names combining into something incoherent between them, but the ex-commodore’s gaze was fixed steadily on the dark-skinned woman with the crab in the palm of her hand.
James’ eyebrows raised as recognition struck and then he stepped up to her, doffing his hat with a short bow. “Hello, again,” he greeted, and smiled up at her in a soft, gracious manner.
A wide variety of people exchanged confused and questioning glances, before fixing their bewildered stares once more on Norrington.
James lifted Tia’s less crab-inhabited hand and brushed his lips chastely over her knuckles. “Thank you, m’lady,” he said simply, with great depth of sincerity, and straightened, releasing her hand.
Tia Dalma smiled at him. “James Norr-ing-ton. Already you are on de hunt.”
The ghost of a smile touched his lips, but only very briefly before his mask returned. “That was and still is our deal, m’lady. I plan to carry it out, now that I’ve a clearer view of all that it entails.” Under his breath, he added, “Thanks to that bird you mentioned.”
Tia glanced at Jack, then back to James with a playful grin. “A fine hunter, indeed.”
James nodded respectfully to her and stepped back as he straightened up and put his hat back on his head, eyeing the rest of the crowd with an imperturbable curiosity and faint amusement. “What...interesting company, you have,” he mused.
“James, since Jack is apparently refusing to let us sail with him-” Will began.
“He’ll come around, I’m sure. I have my crew, recently awoken from a preservative slumber as they are, and my ship has, at present, only enough supplies for them, I’m afraid. Even then, the liquor stores have run quite regrettably low.” He looked over the crowd again passively, but then his expression turned suddenly sharp and dark. His eyes narrowed, gaze lingering on a particular face: the leader of the crew Sao Feng had provided. James approached him at a slow, deliberate pace, his hands behind his back with his right wrist held in his left hand, in intimidating commodorial fashion. “You. We’ve met, I think. Once before. You threatened a brother of mine, now deceased. Tuan, was it? I’m afraid that I do not recall your last name.”
“Huang,” The man said automatically, then his eyes darted from side to side fearfully, seeking aid from his men and finding none, as they collectively took a small step back from him. “Er...did I? You do not look very familiar. I do not recall.” He gave what he hoped was a disarming smile.
James smirked with open malice. “Well. When you see Sao Feng again, as I have little doubt that you will, would you mind giving him a message for me?”
Tuan stifled a squeak, not liking the look on the man’s face. Foggy memories stirred, but they were of no help. He cleared his throat and asked with open suspicion, “What message?”
“Tell him that Captain James Norrington sends his regards.”
Tuan’s eyes widened and he took an almost-stumbling step back, muttering an obscenity.
James’ smirk widened. “I would say that I hope he is not of the ‘shoot the messenger’ variety, but I well and truly do not care, in your case; however, I would suggest that you be sure to deliver that message, or else I may change my personal policy about shooting messengers, just in your special case.” His smirk showed teeth and Tuan gulped audibly.
Jack approached the two men, flailing in a scolding fashion at both of them. “James, Quit scaring the man; he’s one of my better bets--asides from Gibbs, Cotton, Marty and the wonder twins Pintel and Ragetti--for stringing together a half-decent crew for myself to get me out of here,” Jack barked.
James glanced at him with an expression of pity. “My sincerest condolences.” He stepped aside, and let Jack approach. If the pair of them seemed to move oddly in sync, as if dancing to the same rhythm, that was probably just due to spending too much time in the locker, surely.
“Where do yours and your men’s loyalties lie?” Jack demanded of the Singapore men.
Tuan Huang seemed to get some of his nerve back, and said firmly, with an unpleasant smile, “To the highest bidder.”
“I have a ship, and I’m not so Naval as him,” Jack said, jabbing a thumb towards Norrington with a toothy grin. For his part, Norrington only raised an eyebrow and turned away.
“That makes you the highest bidder,” Tuan assured, shooting the ex-commodore a wary glance, his smile wavering for a moment.
Jack pretended not to notice. “Good man!” Then he turned away and shouted, as he stepped away, “Weigh anchor! All hands! Prepare to make sail!” He paused to open his compass as his new crew ran off to obey his orders. He frowned at what he saw, then snapped it shut when he heard approaching footsteps.
“You aren’t really planning to leave them, are you Jack?” James drawled, stepping up beside him again, but keeping a formal distance between them; it felt foreign to him, now, to have that distance there.
“They tried to kill me,” Jack grumbled, his tone petulant.
“I don’ recall you complainin’ at de time,” Tia teased, blatantly suggestive.
Norrington’s eyebrows raised and he shot a curious look in Jack’s direction, but Jack ignored him and only smirked, playfully lecherous as he placed a hand on Tia’s shoulder. “Fair enough. You’re definitely in, love. And welcome aboard, as always.”
“I’d betta be, witty Jack,” she warned, and headed for the longboats.
“And where exactly shall we head then, Jack? You probably have a better idea of how to get out of this place than I do,” James mused.
Jack frowned at his compass. “Well...”
Cue interruption: “Jack,” Barbossa chimed. Jack and James both looked up, eyeing the rolled-up bamboo chart in Barbossa’s hands, and the defiant looks of Elizabeth and William standing on either side of the man. “Which way are you going, Jack?” Barbossa smiled nastily.
The pirate hunter and pirate captain exchanged glances, seemingly just to confuse everyone by having a strange sort of silent conversation. Then Jack looked away and muttered a curse under his breath. “Fine. I’ll take them.”
“Good. Then I won’t have to shoot you,” James mused, a playful edge to his smirk belying the dry delivery. “I’ll even give them a lift to your ship, shall I?” His smirk became deliberately irritating and smug, making Jack scowl. Then James turned away, intending to head for the longboat, but then paused as he recalled one more bit of business to attend to.
Barbossa’s eyes narrowed when James shot him a particularly predatory glare. The older pirate lord stepped up to him, undaunted, and mused loudly, “Here I was expectin’ to see you still wearin’ that fine blue coat, but it seems that the infamous Commodore James Norrington of His Majesty’s Navy went pirate on us all while I was dead? Funny that no one quite mentioned that part to me.” He glared at William and Elizabeth, who both made a point of looking surprised and innocent.
“That would be because I have not done so,” Norrington corrected. “I simply defected from the British Royal Navy and the wishes of it’s incompetent Admiralty in order to become a freelance pirate-hunter with a vendetta against the East India Trading Company, against which I plan to fight even with pirates as my only allies,” he explained, turning to face Barbossa squarely, not unruffled by how the man leaned toward him a bit, deliberately annoying. James had about three inches of height over the other man and used it to look down his nose in scathing disapproval as only a former British military officer can.
Barbossa chuckled. “And ye think we won’t be killin’ ya then?”
Norrington only grinned fiercely, his green eyes blazing. “I welcome you to try.”
Giving him an appraising look, Barbossa snorted. “Cocky, ain’t ye, lad?”
Jack nearly bit a hole in his tongue to keep from commenting. James could almost hear it happening, and carefully masked his expression again to hide his own amusement.
With cutting diplomacy, James explained to Barbossa, “I have a deal with the current captain of the Black Pearl-” he gestured towards Jack -wherein my ship--which can keep up with the Pearl as Mr. Turner and the rest of the Pearl’s more senior crewman can tell you, because they have seen it--will not shoot his down, and I will instead fight alongside him, his ship, and his crew, at least while we are all after essentially the same goal. In exchange, he is aiding me in the fulfillment of my deal with that lovely woman over there.” He gestured towards Tia Dalma. “I owe her because she has provided me with my ship and the way out of here; and in return, I am to do some hunting for her.” He was not smiling, or smirking, his stoicism making his words all the more cold. “Just in case you were wondering, Mr. Barbossa.”
Barbossa’s eyes narrowed, and James could see the wheels turning as he processed the hinted threats in that statement. “I think I be gettin’ your point, Captain,” he sneered.
“Very good. To the longboat, then?” James inquired, gesturing towards the one he had arrived in. Barbossa, Pintel, Ragetti, Tia, and Will headed for it, as Jack stepped aboard his own to join his newly acquired crewman heading for the Pearl. Elizabeth stopped in front of James and looked up at him as though expecting a scolding.
James merely gave her a sympathetic look and sighed. “Elizabeth--”
She knew him well enough to hear the forgiveness in his voice and read it in his expression. Elizabeth trembled, then clung to him in a fierce hug. “Thank you, James,” she whispered into his coat, her arms around his waist squeezing tightly as he returned the hug with a little awkwardness, somewhat stunned as, by all appearances, he truly was. “I’m so glad that you’re alright.”
A soft, rather fraternal-looking smile touched his features. “You only say that because you missed my sparkling wit,” James teased lightly.
Elizabeth chuckled once, helplessly and glared up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, but for now they were from relief and unexpected joy. “You say ‘sparkling’ but I think you meant ‘insufferable’, James,” she countered.
James smiled, even as he said in mock-commanding tones, “To the boat with you, wicked and piratical woman.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly and released him. Then she looked him over, pausing when she glimpsed something just above his collar, where the top two or three shirt-buttons had apparently been left undone; there was a large, visible mark that could have only one cause behind it; it was red and purple, with a few distinct tooth-imprints. Elizabeth’s eyes widened a little, then met James’ as she blushed. “Uhm...”
James managed to keep a wholly innocent expression on his face. “What?”
She bit her lip, turning redder, and shook her head. “I...” She cleared her throat, looking skyward for a moment as if trying to recall something, or forget it. “I suppose that the two of you...had, er, some free time, here, while you were waiting for us?” she squeaked hesitantly, glancing at the hickey again.
To her immense shock and perturbation, James smirked quite smugly, and with a wicked bit of mischief. “Actually, no. We found ourselves quite busy indeed.” He raised his eyebrows in much the same fashion as he had done once before, long ago, after suggesting that the Navy give Jack Sparrow ‘one day’s head start.’ Then he walked past her toward the boat.
Elizabeth gaped openly for a few seconds before following him, wearing a rather haunted look. She sat next to Will in the boat and cleared her throat quietly. “Will, I am very sorry that we have not spoken very much at all lately, and that I have hidden things from you. To be fair, you’ve done similarly to me ever since you returned from Jones’ ship. Right now, however, please comfort me, for James has just traumatized me, and I think that I need a hug,” she said.
Despite himself, Will found himself stifling a laugh. “Once we’re aboard...”
“We shall talk seriously. Yes. But for now: hug,” Elizabeth demanded, still speaking in a small, haunted-sounding voice as she held out her arms.
Will shook his head, feeling bemused and irritated, as well as a bit playfully amused despite himself, all at the same time, as he pulled Elizabeth closer until she was nearly in his lap, wrapping her in a warm embrace. He was surprised to feel himself relaxing, just from holding her, until his previous anger and irritation seemed less important. The resentment and anger seemed to fizzle out. God, how he’d missed this--missed her. He clung to the warmth of the moment when he realized that he was smiling softly, in a way that almost hurt as though the muscles had suffered from disuse.
“How, exactly, were you traumatized?” Will whispered.
“Take a good look at James,” she whispered back.
Will did, feeling the usual dissonance as the image of the aristocratic commodore in his memory clashed loudly with the predatory rogue James Norrington had become. Then he looked closer, at the man’s face with its neatly trimmed beard and the mostly-healed wound on his brow: nothing altogether out of place there. Will glanced over the rest of the man, and noticed something odd. He squinted a bit, then his eyes went wide as he realized quite what that vivid purple marking was. “Oh,” Will said quietly, not quite squeaking, but coming very close.
“Yes, but that’s only part of it,” Elizabeth whispered. “Guess who made that mark?”
Will gulped audibly. “But he--you’re saying you think--with Jack?” It was a struggle to keep his voice low.
“Yes, I’m quite sure that was from Jack, but that’s still only part of it,” she repeated.
Will lifted his head and shot her an incredulous look.
Elizabeth leaned up and whispered into his ear, telling him of her exchange with James after she had noticed the mark.
Will’s face turned a funny color. “Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry that I’ve been moody and distant, and that I’ve unfairly expected you to share your worries and burdens when I have not been willing to offer my own. Right now, however, please comfort me, for you and James have just traumatized me.”
Elizabeth giggled softly and slid deeper into his embrace, her arms twining around his waist. “I love you, Will,” she said softly, sounding bemused and relieved and sincere. “More than anything, you silly man.”
Will’s eyes fell shut and he squeezed her tighter, relief momentarily choking him until he could not speak. He had never heard sweeter words in his life, and never had he been so desperate to hear her say them until recent; although he only now realized it. “I love you, too,” he whispered, losing himself in the feel of her warm embrace and the smell of her hair.
At the rear of the longboat, Barbossa seemed to be sneering at the young couple and their insufferable sugariness, until water splashed his face. Jack the monkey chittered irritably. Barbossa spun and glared toward the source of the water, only to find a stoic-looking ex-commodore staring back at him in a sardonic and mildly questioning fashion, as though he had no idea why on earth the pirate should be looking at him. Barbossa did not notice that one of the Norrington’s shirt-sleeves was wet and slightly dripping; instead, he assumed that it had been sea-spray, but he took the opportunity to glare at Norrington anyway, and asked, “How, exactly, did an upstanding gentleman such as yerself end up allied with a selfish pirate cur the likes of Jack Sparrow?”
From Will, Elizabeth, Ragetti, and Pintel, there came an automatic correction, “Captain.”
Barbossa glowered at them. Pintel and Ragetti, currently rowing, looked meek and apologetic. Will and Elizabeth simply looked amused and adorable. Damn them.
“To answer your question,” James began, catching Barbossa’s attention again, “I do believe that it was, in fact, your fault.”
That made the older man scowl. “And how’s that?” he inquired warily.
James looked down at his own surprisingly clean fingernails, buffing them momentarily on his sleeve as he drawled, “It began, as you may recall, when you attacked Port Royal and stole Elizabeth Swann, to whom I had proposed earlier that day, and with whom young William Turner was enamored. Mr. Turner recognized that one Jack Sparrow, who was at the time incarcerated in my fort, might have information about your whereabouts; I dismissed his theory, and was proved wrong, most especially when we found the island upon which you had marooned both Captain Sparrow and Miss Turner. I was proved wrong further by Captain Sparrow’s actions as compared to those of you and your...” he cleared his throat with a look of disgust momentarily crossing his features “men, if they could be called that. Also, the skirmish aboard the Dauntless, after you ordered your men to take her over, allowed for the escape of the Black Pearl without its taking Jack Sparrow first, forcing me to attempt to have the man hanged. He escaped anyway, and my attempt to kill him, unfairly and unsuccessfully, allowed him to make up for unfairly stealing--and leading to the ultimate destruction of--my ship, the Interceptor; that destruction was also, I believe, had at your hands, wasn’t it? But I digress. It was thusly that we have been able to relate on civil terms, having squared away our debts of malice toward one another, thus allowing us to form an alliance of sorts against our mutual enemies both supernatural and man-made, and it is all because of you, Mr. Barbossa.” He smiled beatifically.
Barbossa’s face was dark with rage. He said something eloquent-sounding in Portuguese.
James raised an eyebrow. “Did you really just tell me to go to Hell and play marbles?”
“Aye.”
James considered this, and nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve been there. I had no marbles at the time, but should I ever visit again, I may take that advice into consideration.”
Barbossa glanced down near James’ collar, taking note of the vivid love-mark there. His grin was malicious. “I suspect that you had games aplenty, anyhow. Then again, I suppose that I should hardly be surprised, what with Jack being Jack and you...bein' Navy.”
Will and Elizabeth exchanged glances, torn between worry and morbid amusement.
But James only shrugged passively, his stoic mask unaffected. “It was a far sight better than playing marbles. I take it that your stay in Hell was more lonely,” he deadpanned, ignoring the faint but distinct sounds of two jaws creaking as they fell open in unison: Elizabeth and Will gaping at him in shock.
Barbossa threw back his head and laughed raucously, startling everyone except the unflappable James, who merely arched an eyebrow imperiously. When his laughter ran out, Barbossa shot Norrington a grudgingly respectful look, and growled, “You’re more than you look t’be, Navy-man, I’ll give ya that.”
“Ex-Navy, to be fair, and with good reason,” James corrected.
Barbossa chuckled. “I’ll bet.”
James nodded and turned around, reaching out to grab hold of a rope being lowered over the side of the Black Pearl for them. He boarded first, helped aboard by Jack himself, who raised his eyebrows in a silent question. James smirked and held Jack’s gaze pointedly as he proceeded to button up his shirt by two more buttons, covering up the visible hickey just before Elizabeth climbed aboard after him, aided by Mr. Gibbs.
Jack grinned, first at James, then more smugly at Will and Barbossa as they made it onto the deck. “Welcome aboard, mates. Hector, lets see those charts, aye?”
Barbossa straightened his coat indignantly, the monkey on his shoulder chattering in a manner that showed its teeth. “Aye,” he snapped with visible reluctance.
Jack looked at James with a ‘follow’ gesture, and led both of the taller men up to the quarter-deck, and the wide chart-table waiting there. Turning and gesturing toward the table with a grin at Barbossa, Jack sat down in the only chair, looking utterly at home and more confident than Hector Barbossa recalled having ever seen him before: nothing nervous or hesitant in his manner, no slouch interfering with his stance, no trace of meekness, his eyes dark and unflinching when they met Hector’s gaze. Jack, of course, knew exactly why he was confident: he had his ship back, he had a number of very clever plans that he was setting into motion, he was not dead (or at least soon would escape death) and he’d been having a lot of really good sex lately--with a former officer of the British Royal Navy and Boogeyman to pirates across the Caribbean, no less, and one whom Jack had apparently charmed enough to receive rare treasures from, including trust and passion and devotion; Jack was still abuzz with all of it, and thus his possessiveness regarding the Black Pearl was strengthened by the easy self-assurance that the whole matter had given him; and, of course, more than ten years had made the man far less of a fool than when Hector Barbossa had long ago first cried mutiny against him, and knowing that the older pirate lord was prone to underestimation just made Jack all the more smug about it.
Barbossa was put off, his pride a bit stung even as the more devious parts of him mind begun to start cogs turning. He was further hindered from regaining his bearings by how the Black Pearl herself seemed: the very boards beneath his feet felt different than he recalled, and somehow it was distinctly unwelcoming, the whole ship almost seeming to hum with irritation at his very presence. Jack was apparently, as the other pirate lord grudgingly had to admit, right: the Pearl was not Hector Barbossa’s ship anymore. How the devil Jack had done it was a mystery for another day, but that day, Hector thought, would hopefully come soon.
With a hint more aggression than necessary, the taller pirate unfurled the chart, letting it roll open across the chart table. James leaned in to peer at it and watched Jack murmur over it, turning different sections with visible fascination. Sometimes, the man was more like a raven than a raptor, considering his fascination with all things shiny, but his metaphorical beak and talons were too sharp and curved too wickedly to belong to a mere scavenger, as Barbossa had learned all too well, when they had dealt him a mortal wound on that damned island.
The charts before them were clearly the map that Jack had thought they would be, based on rumors he’d heard: belonging to a relative of Sao Feng and leading to a variety of otherwise impossible-to-find places, some of which were very interesting indeed. James caught a glimpse of the words Aqua de Vida and restrained the urge to smirk in an evil fashion. Damned pirates. Bad influences, truly.
And then all three men were arguing about the vague phrases that passed thinly for directions on how to leave the Locker.
“You start out lookin’ at it like this.” Barbossa adjusted it.
“Over the Edge, Over Again,” Jack mused. “I take it that has something to do with your ship having wrecked then, ay, Hector?” He grinned and adjusted the map further.
“Sunrise sets, flash of green,” James observed. “Flash of green?”
Jack explained succinctly.
“Aye, and that’s our ticket out,” Barbossa growled. “For all the sense this thing makes of how we’re to go about it.”
“Sunrise sets,” James muttered.
“Don’t suppose you’ve ever been keen on riddles, Norrington?” Barbossa grinned.
“Actually yes. It passed the time during doldrums at sea whilst I was a midshipman,” James replied idly, ignoring the hint of a knowing grin on Jack’s face as the pirate recalled other things the pair of them had discussed concerning how James had ‘passed the time’ in his younger days as the navy’s most secretive mischief-monger, including a dalliance with a ship’s navigator on a chart table. Jack leaned an elbow on his own chart table, which wobbled just a little and gave a faint creak, reminding James of what they had both done to it...on it. James’ expression did not change, but Jack’s now-experienced eye took note of how the man’s pupils dilated just a little and his ears turned slightly pink, just for a second.
Barbossa glanced down at the creaking noise, saw the look on Jack’s face, and removed his hands from where he had been leaning on the table. He felt the highly unusual urge to actually wash his hands.
James cleared his throat, mastering himself once more, and looked at the map again, still blatantly ignoring Jack. “Is there any further hint provided by the map?”
To humor him, Jack adjusted the chart further. His brow furrowed. “Up is down,” he read. “Well, isn’t that just maddeningly unhelpful. Why are these things never clear?”
“Clear as mud it is,” Barbossa muttered with a snort. Then he straightened up to his full height, straightening his coat-lapels regally. “Well, it’s you who have the distinction of bein’ famous for your clever madness, Jack. See if you can’t work this one out, then,” he taunted, with a hateful grin, and sauntered off.
James and Jack watched him go with a mixture of relief, disgust, and urge to kill. Then the pair exchanged glances and stared back down at the map with interest. They muttered over it for a while in solemn tones, both of their brows creased with confusion. Then Jack’s suddenly cleared. He stood abruptly with an “Aha” and reached for the middle of the chart, which depicted a boat. Jack turned it upside-down. “Sunrise sets.”
James’ brows raised. “Ah. Very good. So at sunset...” James used one hand in a gesture to indicate being turned upside-down.
“Aye,” Jack grinned.
James smirked, and for a moment they looked at each other as if they were about to test just how sturdy the chart-table still was, even after all it had been through. James went so far as to visibly wet his lips, which made Jack’s grin widen, even as he said, very reluctantly, “‘S not the time, love.”
“I know,” James mused. “That does not stop me me from thinking.” He glanced toward the helm, clearly recalling the time that he Jack pinned against it and made him...
That really had been a good session, even if they had almost broken a few parts of the helm in the process.
This time it was Jack’s face that reddened and he cleared his throat. He distracted himself by rolling up the charts and tucking them into one of a number of surprisingly deep hidden pockets on the interior of his coat. “Get back to your bloody ship before you drive me madder than I am already, Jamie.”
James laughed. “As you wish, Captain,” he rumbled, shooting Jack an utterly wicked leer, but then he turned away, heading for his longboat, and from there making his way back to the Gold Hawk.
Previous || Story Index || To be Continued...
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean; Sparrington
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I have no claim on POTC or the lovely characters who populate it, even if it seems that James Norrington is making himself quite at home in my head, the snarky British bastard.
Summary:At last, we reach that fabled meeting upon the shore, of rescuers and rescuees. Barbossa is less than thrilled. Elizabeth and Will are a little scandalized. Some mad and mysterious plans are being put into motion.
Note: This chapter contains my all-time-favorite scene with Elizabeth in it. Seriously.
Chapter Sixteen
When Barbossa and his cadre washed up onto the shore of the Locker, amidst the wreckage of Sao Feng’s ship and what remained of its crew after falling over the edge at World’s End, most everyone looked discouraged. Tia Dalma, not among the ranks of the discouraged, knelt for a moment, a small white crab leaping into her palm. She stood up again and pet it, smiling her most unnerving smile.
Most of the others, to the benefit of their already rattled nerves, weren’t looking.
“Truly this is a godforsaken place,” Gibbs panted, tired from the swim ashore.
“I don’t see Jack, or James. I don’t see anyone,” Elizabeth said.
“He’s here,” Barbossa assured. “Davy Jones never once gave up that what he took.”
“Does it matter?” snapped Will. “We’re trapped here by your doing, no different than Jack and Norrington.”
More crabs appeared around Tia Dalma’s feet. “Dey ships, along wit’ clever-James and witty-Jack, are closer dan you t’ink,” she taunted.
As everyone stared at her in confusion, the very tops of a familiar set of black sails rose over the tops of the tall sand dunes looming nearby. Then, beside them, a set of cream-colored sails appeared, with main-mast glinting faintly gold in a highly recognizable fashion. An awestruck silence followed as the two ships advanced, borne aloft on the backs of thousands of egg-white stony little crabs.
Standing on the topsails of their respective ships, Jack Sparrow and James Norrington eyed the wreckage and assorted personages strewn about on the beach ahead. James had finished his tale to his men: of Calypso, of his deal with her, of the nature of his ship, and had been met with surprisingly positive response, and was thus quite elated. Jack was just wickedly amused.
James flicked open his small spyglass with his free hand and peered through it at the crowd on the beach. He looked suddenly quite wickedly amused, too, which led Jack to believe that the looks on their faces must be truly grand, but the pirate was unwilling to spoil his picturesque pose in order to see for himself.
“Impossible,” one of Sao’s men groaned.
“Is that...are those...” Will trailed off helplessly.
“Crabs,” Elizabeth finished for him. “Lots...and lots...of little crabs.”
“Boats,” Ragetti said in a dully stunned tone, pointing at the two ships as they hit the water, the crabs continuing to carry them, out towards deeper water.
“Slap me thrice and hand me to me mamma. It’s Jack!” Gibbs grinned.
“And Captain-Devil Norrington,” added Pintel.
Jack’s longboat reached shore first, as Norrington was somewhat delayed by giving one more meaningful little speech to his recently-thawed crew.
He paused to gaze expectantly at the approaching crowd. “Ah, will the wonders never cease?” He ignored most of them, walked straight up to Tia Dalma and, doffing his hat, bowed low. He went to reach for her hand to kiss it, but saw the pinchy crab already in residence there and thought better of it. “Thank you, my darling. I really do appreciate it.” He smiled up at her, charmingly roguish to the nth degree.
She smiled back coldly and glanced over his shoulder.
Jack winced at the sound of Barbossa’s voice as his mutinous first mate boomed, “Jack! Good to see that you’ve taken care of my ship--ignoring the matter of getting her sent to the Locker and all.”
Slowly, Jack straightened and turned to face him, grinning with open malice now, his dark eyes narrowed. “Hector. Glad to see you, which is to say that I’m glad so see you in the afterlife, here. I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay as I sail off in my ship.” His smile dropped. “Because she’s not yours anymore, mate, not with the effects of that curse from you an’ yours taken off of her when I shot you,” Jack warned, his dark gaze cold and grave: the same look he had worn when he had shot the other man on the Isla de Muerta
Barbossa seemed to hesitate: truly disconcerted, if only for just a moment.
“Jack, he led us here to rescue you,” Elizabeth said.
Jack spun on her with a cold, unimpressed look that James had helped him perfect, for just such an occasion as this. “Ah. Well, that’s kind of you. But, seeing as I happen to be the only one ashore currently in possession of a ship, it would seem to me that all of you are the ones in need of rescuing.” He looked at all of them critically. “And I’m not sure as I’m in the mood.” He turned as if to walk away, but found himself soon swarmed.
Will caught up with him first, “Jack, Cutler Beckett has the heart of Davy Jones.”
Elizabeth, second in the swarm, added, “He controls the Flying Dutchman; he’s taking over the seas!”
“Oh, really? What a surprise, considering how badly he wanted it and how conveniently it vanished shortly before any of us had a chance to use it,” Jack remarked sharply. “Who ever would have guessed?”
Then Tia caught his arm. “The song has been sung. The Brethren Court is called.”
Jack snorted, shaking his head at them irritably, but he did not pull away from Tia’s grip, even as he glared at the others and retorted, “I leave you people alone for a minute, and look what happens! It’s all gone to pot.” He gestured luridly with one hand. He relaxed almost imperceptibly when Tia let him go. He started to step away again.
“Aye, Jack, the world needs you back somethin’ fierce,” Gibbs called.
“And you need a crew,” William added.
Jack stopped, turning to face the crowd again with a scowl, and ignoring the sounds of another longboat coming ashore and the calculated, precise footsteps of James Norrington approaching. The crowd, for there part, did not notice the other man in the least, riveted as their collective attention was on Captain Jack Sparrow.
Jack critically eyed the four people at the crowd’s fore and drawled, “Why should I sail with any of you? Four of you have tried to kill me in the past.” He looked at Elizabeth sharply. “One of you succeeded.” He then crossed his arms over his chest and watched the fireworks.
Will appeared confused, then the realization struck and he paled, turning to give Elizabeth a questioning look, while Elizabeth looked distinctly nettled and guilty.
Jack grinned again. “Oh, she’s not told you?” He took a few cocky steps toward them. “You’ll have loads to talk about while you’re here.”
James Norrington, his palm resting casually on the pommel of his sword, took this opportunity to loudly clear his throat, alerting everyone to his presence. Jack spun around to face him. Everyone else noticed him with a bit of shock and, in Will and Elizabeth’s cases, relief, as they shouted “James!” and “Norrington!” in unison, the two names combining into something incoherent between them, but the ex-commodore’s gaze was fixed steadily on the dark-skinned woman with the crab in the palm of her hand.
James’ eyebrows raised as recognition struck and then he stepped up to her, doffing his hat with a short bow. “Hello, again,” he greeted, and smiled up at her in a soft, gracious manner.
A wide variety of people exchanged confused and questioning glances, before fixing their bewildered stares once more on Norrington.
James lifted Tia’s less crab-inhabited hand and brushed his lips chastely over her knuckles. “Thank you, m’lady,” he said simply, with great depth of sincerity, and straightened, releasing her hand.
Tia Dalma smiled at him. “James Norr-ing-ton. Already you are on de hunt.”
The ghost of a smile touched his lips, but only very briefly before his mask returned. “That was and still is our deal, m’lady. I plan to carry it out, now that I’ve a clearer view of all that it entails.” Under his breath, he added, “Thanks to that bird you mentioned.”
Tia glanced at Jack, then back to James with a playful grin. “A fine hunter, indeed.”
James nodded respectfully to her and stepped back as he straightened up and put his hat back on his head, eyeing the rest of the crowd with an imperturbable curiosity and faint amusement. “What...interesting company, you have,” he mused.
“James, since Jack is apparently refusing to let us sail with him-” Will began.
“He’ll come around, I’m sure. I have my crew, recently awoken from a preservative slumber as they are, and my ship has, at present, only enough supplies for them, I’m afraid. Even then, the liquor stores have run quite regrettably low.” He looked over the crowd again passively, but then his expression turned suddenly sharp and dark. His eyes narrowed, gaze lingering on a particular face: the leader of the crew Sao Feng had provided. James approached him at a slow, deliberate pace, his hands behind his back with his right wrist held in his left hand, in intimidating commodorial fashion. “You. We’ve met, I think. Once before. You threatened a brother of mine, now deceased. Tuan, was it? I’m afraid that I do not recall your last name.”
“Huang,” The man said automatically, then his eyes darted from side to side fearfully, seeking aid from his men and finding none, as they collectively took a small step back from him. “Er...did I? You do not look very familiar. I do not recall.” He gave what he hoped was a disarming smile.
James smirked with open malice. “Well. When you see Sao Feng again, as I have little doubt that you will, would you mind giving him a message for me?”
Tuan stifled a squeak, not liking the look on the man’s face. Foggy memories stirred, but they were of no help. He cleared his throat and asked with open suspicion, “What message?”
“Tell him that Captain James Norrington sends his regards.”
Tuan’s eyes widened and he took an almost-stumbling step back, muttering an obscenity.
James’ smirk widened. “I would say that I hope he is not of the ‘shoot the messenger’ variety, but I well and truly do not care, in your case; however, I would suggest that you be sure to deliver that message, or else I may change my personal policy about shooting messengers, just in your special case.” His smirk showed teeth and Tuan gulped audibly.
Jack approached the two men, flailing in a scolding fashion at both of them. “James, Quit scaring the man; he’s one of my better bets--asides from Gibbs, Cotton, Marty and the wonder twins Pintel and Ragetti--for stringing together a half-decent crew for myself to get me out of here,” Jack barked.
James glanced at him with an expression of pity. “My sincerest condolences.” He stepped aside, and let Jack approach. If the pair of them seemed to move oddly in sync, as if dancing to the same rhythm, that was probably just due to spending too much time in the locker, surely.
“Where do yours and your men’s loyalties lie?” Jack demanded of the Singapore men.
Tuan Huang seemed to get some of his nerve back, and said firmly, with an unpleasant smile, “To the highest bidder.”
“I have a ship, and I’m not so Naval as him,” Jack said, jabbing a thumb towards Norrington with a toothy grin. For his part, Norrington only raised an eyebrow and turned away.
“That makes you the highest bidder,” Tuan assured, shooting the ex-commodore a wary glance, his smile wavering for a moment.
Jack pretended not to notice. “Good man!” Then he turned away and shouted, as he stepped away, “Weigh anchor! All hands! Prepare to make sail!” He paused to open his compass as his new crew ran off to obey his orders. He frowned at what he saw, then snapped it shut when he heard approaching footsteps.
“You aren’t really planning to leave them, are you Jack?” James drawled, stepping up beside him again, but keeping a formal distance between them; it felt foreign to him, now, to have that distance there.
“They tried to kill me,” Jack grumbled, his tone petulant.
“I don’ recall you complainin’ at de time,” Tia teased, blatantly suggestive.
Norrington’s eyebrows raised and he shot a curious look in Jack’s direction, but Jack ignored him and only smirked, playfully lecherous as he placed a hand on Tia’s shoulder. “Fair enough. You’re definitely in, love. And welcome aboard, as always.”
“I’d betta be, witty Jack,” she warned, and headed for the longboats.
“And where exactly shall we head then, Jack? You probably have a better idea of how to get out of this place than I do,” James mused.
Jack frowned at his compass. “Well...”
Cue interruption: “Jack,” Barbossa chimed. Jack and James both looked up, eyeing the rolled-up bamboo chart in Barbossa’s hands, and the defiant looks of Elizabeth and William standing on either side of the man. “Which way are you going, Jack?” Barbossa smiled nastily.
The pirate hunter and pirate captain exchanged glances, seemingly just to confuse everyone by having a strange sort of silent conversation. Then Jack looked away and muttered a curse under his breath. “Fine. I’ll take them.”
“Good. Then I won’t have to shoot you,” James mused, a playful edge to his smirk belying the dry delivery. “I’ll even give them a lift to your ship, shall I?” His smirk became deliberately irritating and smug, making Jack scowl. Then James turned away, intending to head for the longboat, but then paused as he recalled one more bit of business to attend to.
Barbossa’s eyes narrowed when James shot him a particularly predatory glare. The older pirate lord stepped up to him, undaunted, and mused loudly, “Here I was expectin’ to see you still wearin’ that fine blue coat, but it seems that the infamous Commodore James Norrington of His Majesty’s Navy went pirate on us all while I was dead? Funny that no one quite mentioned that part to me.” He glared at William and Elizabeth, who both made a point of looking surprised and innocent.
“That would be because I have not done so,” Norrington corrected. “I simply defected from the British Royal Navy and the wishes of it’s incompetent Admiralty in order to become a freelance pirate-hunter with a vendetta against the East India Trading Company, against which I plan to fight even with pirates as my only allies,” he explained, turning to face Barbossa squarely, not unruffled by how the man leaned toward him a bit, deliberately annoying. James had about three inches of height over the other man and used it to look down his nose in scathing disapproval as only a former British military officer can.
Barbossa chuckled. “And ye think we won’t be killin’ ya then?”
Norrington only grinned fiercely, his green eyes blazing. “I welcome you to try.”
Giving him an appraising look, Barbossa snorted. “Cocky, ain’t ye, lad?”
Jack nearly bit a hole in his tongue to keep from commenting. James could almost hear it happening, and carefully masked his expression again to hide his own amusement.
With cutting diplomacy, James explained to Barbossa, “I have a deal with the current captain of the Black Pearl-” he gestured towards Jack -wherein my ship--which can keep up with the Pearl as Mr. Turner and the rest of the Pearl’s more senior crewman can tell you, because they have seen it--will not shoot his down, and I will instead fight alongside him, his ship, and his crew, at least while we are all after essentially the same goal. In exchange, he is aiding me in the fulfillment of my deal with that lovely woman over there.” He gestured towards Tia Dalma. “I owe her because she has provided me with my ship and the way out of here; and in return, I am to do some hunting for her.” He was not smiling, or smirking, his stoicism making his words all the more cold. “Just in case you were wondering, Mr. Barbossa.”
Barbossa’s eyes narrowed, and James could see the wheels turning as he processed the hinted threats in that statement. “I think I be gettin’ your point, Captain,” he sneered.
“Very good. To the longboat, then?” James inquired, gesturing towards the one he had arrived in. Barbossa, Pintel, Ragetti, Tia, and Will headed for it, as Jack stepped aboard his own to join his newly acquired crewman heading for the Pearl. Elizabeth stopped in front of James and looked up at him as though expecting a scolding.
James merely gave her a sympathetic look and sighed. “Elizabeth--”
She knew him well enough to hear the forgiveness in his voice and read it in his expression. Elizabeth trembled, then clung to him in a fierce hug. “Thank you, James,” she whispered into his coat, her arms around his waist squeezing tightly as he returned the hug with a little awkwardness, somewhat stunned as, by all appearances, he truly was. “I’m so glad that you’re alright.”
A soft, rather fraternal-looking smile touched his features. “You only say that because you missed my sparkling wit,” James teased lightly.
Elizabeth chuckled once, helplessly and glared up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, but for now they were from relief and unexpected joy. “You say ‘sparkling’ but I think you meant ‘insufferable’, James,” she countered.
James smiled, even as he said in mock-commanding tones, “To the boat with you, wicked and piratical woman.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly and released him. Then she looked him over, pausing when she glimpsed something just above his collar, where the top two or three shirt-buttons had apparently been left undone; there was a large, visible mark that could have only one cause behind it; it was red and purple, with a few distinct tooth-imprints. Elizabeth’s eyes widened a little, then met James’ as she blushed. “Uhm...”
James managed to keep a wholly innocent expression on his face. “What?”
She bit her lip, turning redder, and shook her head. “I...” She cleared her throat, looking skyward for a moment as if trying to recall something, or forget it. “I suppose that the two of you...had, er, some free time, here, while you were waiting for us?” she squeaked hesitantly, glancing at the hickey again.
To her immense shock and perturbation, James smirked quite smugly, and with a wicked bit of mischief. “Actually, no. We found ourselves quite busy indeed.” He raised his eyebrows in much the same fashion as he had done once before, long ago, after suggesting that the Navy give Jack Sparrow ‘one day’s head start.’ Then he walked past her toward the boat.
Elizabeth gaped openly for a few seconds before following him, wearing a rather haunted look. She sat next to Will in the boat and cleared her throat quietly. “Will, I am very sorry that we have not spoken very much at all lately, and that I have hidden things from you. To be fair, you’ve done similarly to me ever since you returned from Jones’ ship. Right now, however, please comfort me, for James has just traumatized me, and I think that I need a hug,” she said.
Despite himself, Will found himself stifling a laugh. “Once we’re aboard...”
“We shall talk seriously. Yes. But for now: hug,” Elizabeth demanded, still speaking in a small, haunted-sounding voice as she held out her arms.
Will shook his head, feeling bemused and irritated, as well as a bit playfully amused despite himself, all at the same time, as he pulled Elizabeth closer until she was nearly in his lap, wrapping her in a warm embrace. He was surprised to feel himself relaxing, just from holding her, until his previous anger and irritation seemed less important. The resentment and anger seemed to fizzle out. God, how he’d missed this--missed her. He clung to the warmth of the moment when he realized that he was smiling softly, in a way that almost hurt as though the muscles had suffered from disuse.
“How, exactly, were you traumatized?” Will whispered.
“Take a good look at James,” she whispered back.
Will did, feeling the usual dissonance as the image of the aristocratic commodore in his memory clashed loudly with the predatory rogue James Norrington had become. Then he looked closer, at the man’s face with its neatly trimmed beard and the mostly-healed wound on his brow: nothing altogether out of place there. Will glanced over the rest of the man, and noticed something odd. He squinted a bit, then his eyes went wide as he realized quite what that vivid purple marking was. “Oh,” Will said quietly, not quite squeaking, but coming very close.
“Yes, but that’s only part of it,” Elizabeth whispered. “Guess who made that mark?”
Will gulped audibly. “But he--you’re saying you think--with Jack?” It was a struggle to keep his voice low.
“Yes, I’m quite sure that was from Jack, but that’s still only part of it,” she repeated.
Will lifted his head and shot her an incredulous look.
Elizabeth leaned up and whispered into his ear, telling him of her exchange with James after she had noticed the mark.
Will’s face turned a funny color. “Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry that I’ve been moody and distant, and that I’ve unfairly expected you to share your worries and burdens when I have not been willing to offer my own. Right now, however, please comfort me, for you and James have just traumatized me.”
Elizabeth giggled softly and slid deeper into his embrace, her arms twining around his waist. “I love you, Will,” she said softly, sounding bemused and relieved and sincere. “More than anything, you silly man.”
Will’s eyes fell shut and he squeezed her tighter, relief momentarily choking him until he could not speak. He had never heard sweeter words in his life, and never had he been so desperate to hear her say them until recent; although he only now realized it. “I love you, too,” he whispered, losing himself in the feel of her warm embrace and the smell of her hair.
At the rear of the longboat, Barbossa seemed to be sneering at the young couple and their insufferable sugariness, until water splashed his face. Jack the monkey chittered irritably. Barbossa spun and glared toward the source of the water, only to find a stoic-looking ex-commodore staring back at him in a sardonic and mildly questioning fashion, as though he had no idea why on earth the pirate should be looking at him. Barbossa did not notice that one of the Norrington’s shirt-sleeves was wet and slightly dripping; instead, he assumed that it had been sea-spray, but he took the opportunity to glare at Norrington anyway, and asked, “How, exactly, did an upstanding gentleman such as yerself end up allied with a selfish pirate cur the likes of Jack Sparrow?”
From Will, Elizabeth, Ragetti, and Pintel, there came an automatic correction, “Captain.”
Barbossa glowered at them. Pintel and Ragetti, currently rowing, looked meek and apologetic. Will and Elizabeth simply looked amused and adorable. Damn them.
“To answer your question,” James began, catching Barbossa’s attention again, “I do believe that it was, in fact, your fault.”
That made the older man scowl. “And how’s that?” he inquired warily.
James looked down at his own surprisingly clean fingernails, buffing them momentarily on his sleeve as he drawled, “It began, as you may recall, when you attacked Port Royal and stole Elizabeth Swann, to whom I had proposed earlier that day, and with whom young William Turner was enamored. Mr. Turner recognized that one Jack Sparrow, who was at the time incarcerated in my fort, might have information about your whereabouts; I dismissed his theory, and was proved wrong, most especially when we found the island upon which you had marooned both Captain Sparrow and Miss Turner. I was proved wrong further by Captain Sparrow’s actions as compared to those of you and your...” he cleared his throat with a look of disgust momentarily crossing his features “men, if they could be called that. Also, the skirmish aboard the Dauntless, after you ordered your men to take her over, allowed for the escape of the Black Pearl without its taking Jack Sparrow first, forcing me to attempt to have the man hanged. He escaped anyway, and my attempt to kill him, unfairly and unsuccessfully, allowed him to make up for unfairly stealing--and leading to the ultimate destruction of--my ship, the Interceptor; that destruction was also, I believe, had at your hands, wasn’t it? But I digress. It was thusly that we have been able to relate on civil terms, having squared away our debts of malice toward one another, thus allowing us to form an alliance of sorts against our mutual enemies both supernatural and man-made, and it is all because of you, Mr. Barbossa.” He smiled beatifically.
Barbossa’s face was dark with rage. He said something eloquent-sounding in Portuguese.
James raised an eyebrow. “Did you really just tell me to go to Hell and play marbles?”
“Aye.”
James considered this, and nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve been there. I had no marbles at the time, but should I ever visit again, I may take that advice into consideration.”
Barbossa glanced down near James’ collar, taking note of the vivid love-mark there. His grin was malicious. “I suspect that you had games aplenty, anyhow. Then again, I suppose that I should hardly be surprised, what with Jack being Jack and you...bein' Navy.”
Will and Elizabeth exchanged glances, torn between worry and morbid amusement.
But James only shrugged passively, his stoic mask unaffected. “It was a far sight better than playing marbles. I take it that your stay in Hell was more lonely,” he deadpanned, ignoring the faint but distinct sounds of two jaws creaking as they fell open in unison: Elizabeth and Will gaping at him in shock.
Barbossa threw back his head and laughed raucously, startling everyone except the unflappable James, who merely arched an eyebrow imperiously. When his laughter ran out, Barbossa shot Norrington a grudgingly respectful look, and growled, “You’re more than you look t’be, Navy-man, I’ll give ya that.”
“Ex-Navy, to be fair, and with good reason,” James corrected.
Barbossa chuckled. “I’ll bet.”
James nodded and turned around, reaching out to grab hold of a rope being lowered over the side of the Black Pearl for them. He boarded first, helped aboard by Jack himself, who raised his eyebrows in a silent question. James smirked and held Jack’s gaze pointedly as he proceeded to button up his shirt by two more buttons, covering up the visible hickey just before Elizabeth climbed aboard after him, aided by Mr. Gibbs.
Jack grinned, first at James, then more smugly at Will and Barbossa as they made it onto the deck. “Welcome aboard, mates. Hector, lets see those charts, aye?”
Barbossa straightened his coat indignantly, the monkey on his shoulder chattering in a manner that showed its teeth. “Aye,” he snapped with visible reluctance.
Jack looked at James with a ‘follow’ gesture, and led both of the taller men up to the quarter-deck, and the wide chart-table waiting there. Turning and gesturing toward the table with a grin at Barbossa, Jack sat down in the only chair, looking utterly at home and more confident than Hector Barbossa recalled having ever seen him before: nothing nervous or hesitant in his manner, no slouch interfering with his stance, no trace of meekness, his eyes dark and unflinching when they met Hector’s gaze. Jack, of course, knew exactly why he was confident: he had his ship back, he had a number of very clever plans that he was setting into motion, he was not dead (or at least soon would escape death) and he’d been having a lot of really good sex lately--with a former officer of the British Royal Navy and Boogeyman to pirates across the Caribbean, no less, and one whom Jack had apparently charmed enough to receive rare treasures from, including trust and passion and devotion; Jack was still abuzz with all of it, and thus his possessiveness regarding the Black Pearl was strengthened by the easy self-assurance that the whole matter had given him; and, of course, more than ten years had made the man far less of a fool than when Hector Barbossa had long ago first cried mutiny against him, and knowing that the older pirate lord was prone to underestimation just made Jack all the more smug about it.
Barbossa was put off, his pride a bit stung even as the more devious parts of him mind begun to start cogs turning. He was further hindered from regaining his bearings by how the Black Pearl herself seemed: the very boards beneath his feet felt different than he recalled, and somehow it was distinctly unwelcoming, the whole ship almost seeming to hum with irritation at his very presence. Jack was apparently, as the other pirate lord grudgingly had to admit, right: the Pearl was not Hector Barbossa’s ship anymore. How the devil Jack had done it was a mystery for another day, but that day, Hector thought, would hopefully come soon.
With a hint more aggression than necessary, the taller pirate unfurled the chart, letting it roll open across the chart table. James leaned in to peer at it and watched Jack murmur over it, turning different sections with visible fascination. Sometimes, the man was more like a raven than a raptor, considering his fascination with all things shiny, but his metaphorical beak and talons were too sharp and curved too wickedly to belong to a mere scavenger, as Barbossa had learned all too well, when they had dealt him a mortal wound on that damned island.
The charts before them were clearly the map that Jack had thought they would be, based on rumors he’d heard: belonging to a relative of Sao Feng and leading to a variety of otherwise impossible-to-find places, some of which were very interesting indeed. James caught a glimpse of the words Aqua de Vida and restrained the urge to smirk in an evil fashion. Damned pirates. Bad influences, truly.
And then all three men were arguing about the vague phrases that passed thinly for directions on how to leave the Locker.
“You start out lookin’ at it like this.” Barbossa adjusted it.
“Over the Edge, Over Again,” Jack mused. “I take it that has something to do with your ship having wrecked then, ay, Hector?” He grinned and adjusted the map further.
“Sunrise sets, flash of green,” James observed. “Flash of green?”
Jack explained succinctly.
“Aye, and that’s our ticket out,” Barbossa growled. “For all the sense this thing makes of how we’re to go about it.”
“Sunrise sets,” James muttered.
“Don’t suppose you’ve ever been keen on riddles, Norrington?” Barbossa grinned.
“Actually yes. It passed the time during doldrums at sea whilst I was a midshipman,” James replied idly, ignoring the hint of a knowing grin on Jack’s face as the pirate recalled other things the pair of them had discussed concerning how James had ‘passed the time’ in his younger days as the navy’s most secretive mischief-monger, including a dalliance with a ship’s navigator on a chart table. Jack leaned an elbow on his own chart table, which wobbled just a little and gave a faint creak, reminding James of what they had both done to it...on it. James’ expression did not change, but Jack’s now-experienced eye took note of how the man’s pupils dilated just a little and his ears turned slightly pink, just for a second.
Barbossa glanced down at the creaking noise, saw the look on Jack’s face, and removed his hands from where he had been leaning on the table. He felt the highly unusual urge to actually wash his hands.
James cleared his throat, mastering himself once more, and looked at the map again, still blatantly ignoring Jack. “Is there any further hint provided by the map?”
To humor him, Jack adjusted the chart further. His brow furrowed. “Up is down,” he read. “Well, isn’t that just maddeningly unhelpful. Why are these things never clear?”
“Clear as mud it is,” Barbossa muttered with a snort. Then he straightened up to his full height, straightening his coat-lapels regally. “Well, it’s you who have the distinction of bein’ famous for your clever madness, Jack. See if you can’t work this one out, then,” he taunted, with a hateful grin, and sauntered off.
James and Jack watched him go with a mixture of relief, disgust, and urge to kill. Then the pair exchanged glances and stared back down at the map with interest. They muttered over it for a while in solemn tones, both of their brows creased with confusion. Then Jack’s suddenly cleared. He stood abruptly with an “Aha” and reached for the middle of the chart, which depicted a boat. Jack turned it upside-down. “Sunrise sets.”
James’ brows raised. “Ah. Very good. So at sunset...” James used one hand in a gesture to indicate being turned upside-down.
“Aye,” Jack grinned.
James smirked, and for a moment they looked at each other as if they were about to test just how sturdy the chart-table still was, even after all it had been through. James went so far as to visibly wet his lips, which made Jack’s grin widen, even as he said, very reluctantly, “‘S not the time, love.”
“I know,” James mused. “That does not stop me me from thinking.” He glanced toward the helm, clearly recalling the time that he Jack pinned against it and made him...
That really had been a good session, even if they had almost broken a few parts of the helm in the process.
This time it was Jack’s face that reddened and he cleared his throat. He distracted himself by rolling up the charts and tucking them into one of a number of surprisingly deep hidden pockets on the interior of his coat. “Get back to your bloody ship before you drive me madder than I am already, Jamie.”
James laughed. “As you wish, Captain,” he rumbled, shooting Jack an utterly wicked leer, but then he turned away, heading for his longboat, and from there making his way back to the Gold Hawk.
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