Sparrington oneshot
Title: Can You Sail Under the Command of a Pirate?
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Sparrington (Jack Sparrow x James Norrington)
Length: 3,382 words
Warning: At World's End spoilers.
Status: Complete
Can You Sail Under the Command of a Pirate?
“Good day, Admiral.” James looked at the man’s back carefully.
“Good day.” And it was; amazingly, there was some sunlight. The days seemed to be positively dreary nowadays. It had been dreary on the day you arrested him, remember?
He came and stood beside the head of the East India Trading Company, surveying what the man had created. It seemed to be like any other port, save for the complete lack of the Navy and the occasional… member of Davy Jones’ crew.
You talked to the Governor about it. And then he got away from you again.
“I wanted to congratulate you for your… promotion.” He could hear the sarcasm in the man’s voice; imagine, the EITC’s pawn promoted in the Navy. An oxymoron if ever he saw one. Yet, he couldn’t quite bring himself to smile. Standing next to the most powerful man in the Caribbean was much too chilling for such humorous thoughts.
“Thank you.” Sir, his brain added, but his tongue refused to move.
“Davy Jones is making requests again.” James immediately felt irritable, and fighting the urge to run away and just float in the green water he turned to his real commanding officer.
“He has no leverage, surely?”
Beckett smiled. “Not exactly.”
James decided not to enquire. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer. “Besides that, seeing as we have Davy Jones secure, shouldn’t we focus on stepping out Sparrow’s little renegade band?”
Beckett turned to him, and for the first time James was hit with a definite sense of dread. “Sparrow is dead.” James’ throat dried. He couldn’t… he wouldn’t… it wasn’t… He tried so so hard to keep his head, but he wanted to scream. “Ah. I see.” It was the only thing he thought he could say without screaming.
“It seems our little pawn had something to do with that. Well, more precisely his pet.”
James’ throat constricted more, if that was possible. “Ah.”
“So his little band is effectively destroyed. Unless you count Miss Swan, who we have reason to believe is currently in Singapore.” James didn’t enquire about Turner. He didn’t think to.
He was finding it increasingly difficult to do so. He felt numb. Totally, utterly numb, with everything senseless, apart from his heart which felt like it had roared into life, and was making his ears ring. He desperately needed to get away from Beckett. Now. But he couldn’t, not without making the man think… something. Something bad. And God knows, if he was to think something bad… James was dead. Very, very dead.
This meant he was incredibly pleased when Beckett appeared to take the initiative and retreat inside, leaving him to inspect the port. He stepped forwards slightly, his hands grabbing the rail of the balcony. His knuckles became white.
If you had just given that heart to him… he wouldn’t have died. You murdered him, James Norrington. You murdered him, and now you’re a pawn, like Jones. How does that make you feel? Is that what you wanted? Is that what you planned? James was beginning to realise why having a conscience and pursuing a spell of piracy didn’t mix.
“Can you sail under the command of a Pirate, or can you not?”
James still wasn’t sure if he could answer that question.
“James!” Elizabeth was screaming at him. He clutched his sword, glanced behind him and turned to her again. “James, Jack is still alive!” His heart leapt. He pulled her into a kiss. This is what Jack wants. He wants Elizabeth. She has to get away. She climbed onto the rope and started to shimmy down it. She screamed at him again, but he ignored her, turning and shooting the rope. She fell into the water.
As the blade sunk into his chest, he took a slight comfort in the fact that Jack would get what he wanted.
Let’s see how you like it, Sparrow. He smiled and stared up into nothing.
“Elizabeth!” the voice called over from the other side of the boat, and she found herself faced with a lurching pirate. “You never did tell me what happened to whassisface, you know, Commodore thingamabob.” Jack grinned, showing off his full complement of gold teeth that glittered dangerously in the half-light.
She flinched - a sign he fortuitously took to be bad. He was right. “He fell behind,” she murmured, and with a hurt look he flounced off.
“Oh,” he said quietly to himself, trying to understand the concept. “Oh.”
James had been right. Elizabeth had been what he wanted. But James had been someone he wanted so much more.
“What shall we die for?”
The whole crew had been bristling with it. It took Jack a moment to recognise he was being addressed. His eyes drifted to the horizon. James, he thought but as he turned to Gibbs with a customary smirk the only word that left his mouth was “Freedom.”
Jack stepped onto the island with an understandable amount of wariness. However, him being Jack Sparrow and this being the Fountain of Youth curiosity quickly overcame him and after tucking the map under his arm and checking his compass he sauntered into the jungle. What surprised Jack the most was the tangibility of the island. He had expected it to be mystical, unearthly, but he could smell the sweat of all the bloody monkeys scampering around and he kept getting hit in the face by these bloody creepers. He eyed the closest monkey distastefully, wondering whether they were ‘undead’ or whether being this annoying just came with the monkey job description.
The trees didn’t part mystically to reveal a shining clearing flooded with light. They just got bloody hard to chop, and when Jack found himself tangled again he kicked a nearby tree with understandable annoyance. He slumped down on a log and peered at his compass. It pointed off to his left, but whether that was where he came from or the way he had wanted to go he had no bloody clue. Before Jack could make a decision, the ground swallowed him.
He hated it when it did that.
He landed with a curse - well, he was a pirate after all - and then yelped, leaping aside to avoid the log he’d been sitting on. He slumped into whatever slimy stuff this was - he really did not want to know - and glared balefully at an earthy wall, before the whole process repeated itself.
“Bugger bugger bugger bugger bugger!” he yelled as he landed very hard on a sensitive part of his anatomy. “Stupid bloody island with stupid bloody monkeys and stupid bloody holes in the bloody floor!” he resisted the urge to kick something and looked down at his compass, which was very helpfully pointing at the solid earth wall beside him. He patted his waistcoat. “Matches, matches…” His hope lasted for thirty seconds before he turned his face in a general upwards direction and yelled “Bloody monkeys!” In the faint gloom he decided that one direction looked decidedly less solid than the other three surrounding walls and set off, muttering curses as he went.
The tunnel cheerfully curved round on itself, which didn’t improve Jack’s mood. This time, however, the earth did part magically, and he found himself in a clearing, staring at what appeared to be a water pump. He looked at it warily. “That’s it? No sacred guardians of the treasure?” Jack began to walk towards it, and his hopes didn’t exactly fall as he saw what he expected to see; a mystical figure standing beside the Fountain.
“Ah,” he began. “Hello, um… is there something I can do for you? A mystical quest?” There was no reply. Jack sauntered closer, continuing to gabble. “How about I give you some of me plunder, eh? 75:25. Don’t say fairer than that. Alright, 70:30. You strike a hard bargain, you do. How about - ” He broke off as he came close enough to see the figure’s face. “Bloody hell,” he whispered.
Norrington smiled. “Hello, Jack.”
James’ eyes were never wrong. He knew that. But for some reason he still couldn’t believe that this was real. Jack was looking rather… disturbed, but the brightness in his eyes hadn’t faded. James hesitated for a moment. His brain provided him with only one argument, which consisted entirely of “oh, sod it.” He easily closed the distance and wrapped his arms around him. “Thank God you’re alive.” Jack was stiff against him. “I’m so sorry,” the Admiral whispered in his ear. “So, so sorry.”
Jack stared at him in confusion, but it was quickly removed when the safety catch clicked off behind him. “Good day, Mr Sparrow. ”
Jack was quickly and efficiently winded, and James secured. The latter writhed against their hold. “Don’t hurt him! You promised not to hurt him!”
And Jack’s eyes never left his own as James was struck into unconsciousness.
James awoke to find himself not in a prison cell, which was a nice change. He also appeared to have kept all his clothing, which is always a positive thing. In fact, all things considered, life was rather behaving itself. He recognised the ship instantly - spending 6 months of your life on a hunk of wood does that to you - and quietly navigated his way to the cells. Jack was alone on the right, the rest of his crew on the left. He ignored the look Gibbs was giving him and crouched beside Jack, who was sprawled along the grating nearest the door. “Jack?”
“Eh?” He caught James’ eye, and guilt very quickly swam into his mind. Guilt was an emotion James didn’t like dealing with. He gestured for the guard to open the cell, which happened with surprisingly little objection. Jack ignored the hand James offered him and followed quietly onto the deck.
“I’m sorry, Jack.”
“Sticks and stones, mate.” James tried to look at him, but for some reason his head refused to turn.
“They were going to kill you.” Jack slowly took his eyes off the horizon, where his ship followed just out of view. “When they first found you. They were just going to kill you.”
“And you managed to persuade ‘em not to, so they could haul me back to Port Royal and hang me instead.”
James tried to answer. “I needed to get you more time. I - ”
“And how did you manage to… persuade them?”
James felt the blush creep hotly into his cheeks. “I - um, I - ”
(James found himself waking on damp sheets again. The man smirked, ruffled his hair. “Come, come, you enjoy it really,” he murmured with a smirk.)
“I used my powers of persuasion,” he finished, looking away from the annoying, stupid, ungrateful pirate in front of him. And he realised then he couldn’t love him any more if he tried.
Jack wasn’t stupid, contrary to popular belief. He understood what James was trying to say - or rather, what James was trying very hard not to say. “And who’s ‘them’? I thought Beckett died when - ”
“Beckett is dead.”
“Then who?” James mumbled something Jack couldn’t quite hear, and he rolled his eyes in annoyance.
James took the hint and repeated it. “Gillette.”
Jack’s eyes went wide. “Blimey. That Gillette?”
James’ eyes narrowed. “Yes, that Gillette.”
“I’m sorry, mate.” James didn’t dare look at him in case he’d been wrong, and someone else had said that, but when Jack’s fingers brushed the hem of his sleeve he knew it had to be him.
James felt himself smile. “It was nothing.” He was staring at his feet, so didn’t notice the pirate’s glance around as he suddenly grabbed James’ shoulder and kissed him. And James couldn’t open his eyes, or move, or breathe because he’d wanted this for so damn long if he did it might go away again.
Of course, it did go away again, but Jack’s hot hands on his forearms and his forehead resting gently against his was enough of a compromise. “How… why are you alive?”
James smiled softly. “That’s a very hypocritical question, Jack.” He grinned at Jack’s baleful look, before sighing. “I don’t know. Gillette said he’d tell me, but he never did and I doubt he will now. For now, I’ll settle that I’m alive because you are.”
As they walked back below deck, James wanted to say it, but when the door to the cell shut and he looked into Jack’s eyes he knew he didn’t need to.
The rope bit into his back one more time. “I asked you where the map is. I’d much appreciate it if you gave me an answer.” Jack still said nothing. Gillette snarled under his breath. “You know what to do,” he muttered to the two officers, and swept out of the room.
Jack bit his tongue to keep from screaming.
James ran to the door of his cabin and pulled it open. He looked with wide eyes at the three figures in the doorway. “Oh, God,” he whispered. “Put him on the bed,” he snapped, and the officers did so before turning and marching out of the room. He hurried beside him. “Jack? Jack?” The Captain opened his eyes and stared at him blearily. James found himself swearing again, striding across the cabin and kicking open a trunk to pull out a shirt and some whisky. Jack looked at the bottle hopefully, but James soaked the shirt in it before handing Jack it. Jack looked at the small trickle of fluid balefully.
“Ahh… hah!” He couldn’t help but say something. James located one hand and grabbed it tight, gently swabbing with the other. Jack gritted his teeth, breath coming in sharp daggers. It took painstakingly long, but James eventually became satisfied that the cuts were relatively clean and he grabbed another shirt, tearing it into bandages.
“I’m so sorry, Jack,” James murmured as he wrapped his arms around him. Jack smiled and let his head fall back onto James’ shoulder.
“It’s alright. They’ve probably done worse to you.” That’s beside the point, Jack, he thought. “What did I get to?”
“Eighty-eight. Then you passed out.”
Jack chuckled softly. “How’s about that? A new record.” He felt James’ hands tighten for a moment. “It’s fine. You’d better be getting me back to me cell, or we’ll both be in trouble.” When James attempted to protest, Jack silenced him efficiently with his mouth. “It’s better. Trust me.”
And James could never deny the pirate that.
James had made his decision long ago.
He struck the guard with all the military expertise he possessed, and snatching the keys he quickly strode forward. Jack was woken by the jingle, and looked at James in confusion. James pressed a finger to his lips, and once Jack was out of the cell he bent close to whisper in his ear. “The crew’s already on the ship. There’s a boat waiting for us on starboard. Don’t breathe a sound.” Jack nodded and they crept out, moving towards the side of the boat quickly, before the dreaded noise of the safety catch rang across the silent deck.
“Out for a midnight stroll, gentlemen?” James’ heart filled with dread. If Jack ran for it, he might still be able to make it…
“Run, Jack!” he yelled, then gasped as the shot was fired and a bullet smashed into his leg. He watched Jack’s eyes widen as the other man hesitated. “Jack, get out of here!” He could hear the footsteps approaching him from behind. Please, please, run! “Jack!” The pirate finally took his leave, diving overboard with practiced ease, but James didn’t forget his eyes as the musket hit him around of the back of the head. He knew exactly what they were saying.
James didn’t bother to struggle as he was rested down in the cell. He ignored the pain in his leg, ripping part of his shirt and bandaging it firmly, the bullet already having fallen out when they moved him.
James propped his head back and smiled. He was safe. That was all that mattered.
James’ hands were tied too tightly, his leg was killing him and his head was pounding in the harsh heat of the sun, but he felt strangely calm. A sense of resignation dominated him; he listened patiently as his ‘crimes’ were listed to him, remembering Governor Swann’s words. Perhaps on the rare occasion pursuing the right course demands an act of piracy. Piracy, itself, can be the right course.
And James never understood those words until now. He realised it was over when the noose was placed around his neck. The officers in the first row were looking at him suspiciously, but he had decided not to struggle. He stared at the azure sky for one more time before closing his eyes and smiling softly.
The drums stopped.
Jack knew being in the crowd was stupid, especially as James was only here in his place. But he just couldn’t stay away. The fact James was there was tearing at his stomach, and he just hoped this would work. James’ face was strangely peaceful as he gazed happily at the sky, and a small smile was across his lips. Jack didn’t cry. Jack never cried. But damn, he felt like screaming now.
The drums stopped. The hangman’s arm moved. He closed his eyes and prayed. The familiar patter of gunfire reached his ear, and he snapped his eyes open to see the hangman’s arm still resting on the lever, the officers looking at their superior in confusion, and James looking directly at him, with accusation, hope and happiness in his eyes. Jack winked at him, and mouthed ‘duck!’ At that precise moment in time the hangman finally pulled the lever, Jack began to run and a cannonball span across and smashed the gallows.
The crowd was screaming in confusion, but Jack quickly fought them aside and scurried under the wreckage. James was buried deep inside of one of the piles, and together they managed to shift most of the wood. After they had cleared it, they sat and stared at each other for a moment. “Hello,” said Jack quietly.
James stared. “You are bloody mad!”
Jack winked at him. “Comes with the job description, love.” He pulled them to their feet. “Come on, let’s get out of here before someone realises that something’s definitely not right.”
As they ran together James frowned. “Are those the Pearl’s guns?” Jack only had time to reply with a wink as they neared the shore, clambering into a boat where Pintel and Ragetti were waiting for them. “How the devil did you manage to get her back?”
“I used my powers of persuasion, love,” he replied with a wink. James just stared at him.
(Barbossa cursed again, kicking the sand at his feet angrily and realising just how annoying it was to watch someone sail away with his own ship.)
They climbed on board, coming face to face with a Gibbs who looked rather annoyed at having to risk their lives to save the man who had put them all in a crummy little cell. He seemed to be suppressing said anger by the fact that James had been the one who let them out again. “I could kiss you,” James said seriously to him, and Gibbs’ blanching made him start to laugh. Next to him, Jack chuckled, which quickly drew out into a chortle, until they were both were roaring with laughter.
“You’re both mad!” he snapped at them, turning to give the crew orders, but his face was soft and he had a small smile.
Jack and James looked at each other for a moment. “Comes with the job description,” James murmured softly, and Jack grinned.
Gibbs was watching them both carefully, with Marty and Cotton flanking him. The Captain had his hands on the wheel, but the former Admiral-cum-Commodore was standing behind him, his own hands resting softly on Jack’s waist.
“Well… I’d never have expected Jack was a dandy.”
But he smiled gently, turned around with a shake of the head and walked away.
Sometimes, piracy was the right course.
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Sparrington (Jack Sparrow x James Norrington)
Length: 3,382 words
Warning: At World's End spoilers.
Status: Complete
Can You Sail Under the Command of a Pirate?
“Good day, Admiral.” James looked at the man’s back carefully.
“Good day.” And it was; amazingly, there was some sunlight. The days seemed to be positively dreary nowadays. It had been dreary on the day you arrested him, remember?
He came and stood beside the head of the East India Trading Company, surveying what the man had created. It seemed to be like any other port, save for the complete lack of the Navy and the occasional… member of Davy Jones’ crew.
You talked to the Governor about it. And then he got away from you again.
“I wanted to congratulate you for your… promotion.” He could hear the sarcasm in the man’s voice; imagine, the EITC’s pawn promoted in the Navy. An oxymoron if ever he saw one. Yet, he couldn’t quite bring himself to smile. Standing next to the most powerful man in the Caribbean was much too chilling for such humorous thoughts.
“Thank you.” Sir, his brain added, but his tongue refused to move.
“Davy Jones is making requests again.” James immediately felt irritable, and fighting the urge to run away and just float in the green water he turned to his real commanding officer.
“He has no leverage, surely?”
Beckett smiled. “Not exactly.”
James decided not to enquire. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer. “Besides that, seeing as we have Davy Jones secure, shouldn’t we focus on stepping out Sparrow’s little renegade band?”
Beckett turned to him, and for the first time James was hit with a definite sense of dread. “Sparrow is dead.” James’ throat dried. He couldn’t… he wouldn’t… it wasn’t… He tried so so hard to keep his head, but he wanted to scream. “Ah. I see.” It was the only thing he thought he could say without screaming.
“It seems our little pawn had something to do with that. Well, more precisely his pet.”
James’ throat constricted more, if that was possible. “Ah.”
“So his little band is effectively destroyed. Unless you count Miss Swan, who we have reason to believe is currently in Singapore.” James didn’t enquire about Turner. He didn’t think to.
He was finding it increasingly difficult to do so. He felt numb. Totally, utterly numb, with everything senseless, apart from his heart which felt like it had roared into life, and was making his ears ring. He desperately needed to get away from Beckett. Now. But he couldn’t, not without making the man think… something. Something bad. And God knows, if he was to think something bad… James was dead. Very, very dead.
This meant he was incredibly pleased when Beckett appeared to take the initiative and retreat inside, leaving him to inspect the port. He stepped forwards slightly, his hands grabbing the rail of the balcony. His knuckles became white.
If you had just given that heart to him… he wouldn’t have died. You murdered him, James Norrington. You murdered him, and now you’re a pawn, like Jones. How does that make you feel? Is that what you wanted? Is that what you planned? James was beginning to realise why having a conscience and pursuing a spell of piracy didn’t mix.
“Can you sail under the command of a Pirate, or can you not?”
James still wasn’t sure if he could answer that question.
“James!” Elizabeth was screaming at him. He clutched his sword, glanced behind him and turned to her again. “James, Jack is still alive!” His heart leapt. He pulled her into a kiss. This is what Jack wants. He wants Elizabeth. She has to get away. She climbed onto the rope and started to shimmy down it. She screamed at him again, but he ignored her, turning and shooting the rope. She fell into the water.
As the blade sunk into his chest, he took a slight comfort in the fact that Jack would get what he wanted.
Let’s see how you like it, Sparrow. He smiled and stared up into nothing.
“Elizabeth!” the voice called over from the other side of the boat, and she found herself faced with a lurching pirate. “You never did tell me what happened to whassisface, you know, Commodore thingamabob.” Jack grinned, showing off his full complement of gold teeth that glittered dangerously in the half-light.
She flinched - a sign he fortuitously took to be bad. He was right. “He fell behind,” she murmured, and with a hurt look he flounced off.
“Oh,” he said quietly to himself, trying to understand the concept. “Oh.”
James had been right. Elizabeth had been what he wanted. But James had been someone he wanted so much more.
“What shall we die for?”
The whole crew had been bristling with it. It took Jack a moment to recognise he was being addressed. His eyes drifted to the horizon. James, he thought but as he turned to Gibbs with a customary smirk the only word that left his mouth was “Freedom.”
Jack stepped onto the island with an understandable amount of wariness. However, him being Jack Sparrow and this being the Fountain of Youth curiosity quickly overcame him and after tucking the map under his arm and checking his compass he sauntered into the jungle. What surprised Jack the most was the tangibility of the island. He had expected it to be mystical, unearthly, but he could smell the sweat of all the bloody monkeys scampering around and he kept getting hit in the face by these bloody creepers. He eyed the closest monkey distastefully, wondering whether they were ‘undead’ or whether being this annoying just came with the monkey job description.
The trees didn’t part mystically to reveal a shining clearing flooded with light. They just got bloody hard to chop, and when Jack found himself tangled again he kicked a nearby tree with understandable annoyance. He slumped down on a log and peered at his compass. It pointed off to his left, but whether that was where he came from or the way he had wanted to go he had no bloody clue. Before Jack could make a decision, the ground swallowed him.
He hated it when it did that.
He landed with a curse - well, he was a pirate after all - and then yelped, leaping aside to avoid the log he’d been sitting on. He slumped into whatever slimy stuff this was - he really did not want to know - and glared balefully at an earthy wall, before the whole process repeated itself.
“Bugger bugger bugger bugger bugger!” he yelled as he landed very hard on a sensitive part of his anatomy. “Stupid bloody island with stupid bloody monkeys and stupid bloody holes in the bloody floor!” he resisted the urge to kick something and looked down at his compass, which was very helpfully pointing at the solid earth wall beside him. He patted his waistcoat. “Matches, matches…” His hope lasted for thirty seconds before he turned his face in a general upwards direction and yelled “Bloody monkeys!” In the faint gloom he decided that one direction looked decidedly less solid than the other three surrounding walls and set off, muttering curses as he went.
The tunnel cheerfully curved round on itself, which didn’t improve Jack’s mood. This time, however, the earth did part magically, and he found himself in a clearing, staring at what appeared to be a water pump. He looked at it warily. “That’s it? No sacred guardians of the treasure?” Jack began to walk towards it, and his hopes didn’t exactly fall as he saw what he expected to see; a mystical figure standing beside the Fountain.
“Ah,” he began. “Hello, um… is there something I can do for you? A mystical quest?” There was no reply. Jack sauntered closer, continuing to gabble. “How about I give you some of me plunder, eh? 75:25. Don’t say fairer than that. Alright, 70:30. You strike a hard bargain, you do. How about - ” He broke off as he came close enough to see the figure’s face. “Bloody hell,” he whispered.
Norrington smiled. “Hello, Jack.”
James’ eyes were never wrong. He knew that. But for some reason he still couldn’t believe that this was real. Jack was looking rather… disturbed, but the brightness in his eyes hadn’t faded. James hesitated for a moment. His brain provided him with only one argument, which consisted entirely of “oh, sod it.” He easily closed the distance and wrapped his arms around him. “Thank God you’re alive.” Jack was stiff against him. “I’m so sorry,” the Admiral whispered in his ear. “So, so sorry.”
Jack stared at him in confusion, but it was quickly removed when the safety catch clicked off behind him. “Good day, Mr Sparrow. ”
Jack was quickly and efficiently winded, and James secured. The latter writhed against their hold. “Don’t hurt him! You promised not to hurt him!”
And Jack’s eyes never left his own as James was struck into unconsciousness.
James awoke to find himself not in a prison cell, which was a nice change. He also appeared to have kept all his clothing, which is always a positive thing. In fact, all things considered, life was rather behaving itself. He recognised the ship instantly - spending 6 months of your life on a hunk of wood does that to you - and quietly navigated his way to the cells. Jack was alone on the right, the rest of his crew on the left. He ignored the look Gibbs was giving him and crouched beside Jack, who was sprawled along the grating nearest the door. “Jack?”
“Eh?” He caught James’ eye, and guilt very quickly swam into his mind. Guilt was an emotion James didn’t like dealing with. He gestured for the guard to open the cell, which happened with surprisingly little objection. Jack ignored the hand James offered him and followed quietly onto the deck.
“I’m sorry, Jack.”
“Sticks and stones, mate.” James tried to look at him, but for some reason his head refused to turn.
“They were going to kill you.” Jack slowly took his eyes off the horizon, where his ship followed just out of view. “When they first found you. They were just going to kill you.”
“And you managed to persuade ‘em not to, so they could haul me back to Port Royal and hang me instead.”
James tried to answer. “I needed to get you more time. I - ”
“And how did you manage to… persuade them?”
James felt the blush creep hotly into his cheeks. “I - um, I - ”
(James found himself waking on damp sheets again. The man smirked, ruffled his hair. “Come, come, you enjoy it really,” he murmured with a smirk.)
“I used my powers of persuasion,” he finished, looking away from the annoying, stupid, ungrateful pirate in front of him. And he realised then he couldn’t love him any more if he tried.
Jack wasn’t stupid, contrary to popular belief. He understood what James was trying to say - or rather, what James was trying very hard not to say. “And who’s ‘them’? I thought Beckett died when - ”
“Beckett is dead.”
“Then who?” James mumbled something Jack couldn’t quite hear, and he rolled his eyes in annoyance.
James took the hint and repeated it. “Gillette.”
Jack’s eyes went wide. “Blimey. That Gillette?”
James’ eyes narrowed. “Yes, that Gillette.”
“I’m sorry, mate.” James didn’t dare look at him in case he’d been wrong, and someone else had said that, but when Jack’s fingers brushed the hem of his sleeve he knew it had to be him.
James felt himself smile. “It was nothing.” He was staring at his feet, so didn’t notice the pirate’s glance around as he suddenly grabbed James’ shoulder and kissed him. And James couldn’t open his eyes, or move, or breathe because he’d wanted this for so damn long if he did it might go away again.
Of course, it did go away again, but Jack’s hot hands on his forearms and his forehead resting gently against his was enough of a compromise. “How… why are you alive?”
James smiled softly. “That’s a very hypocritical question, Jack.” He grinned at Jack’s baleful look, before sighing. “I don’t know. Gillette said he’d tell me, but he never did and I doubt he will now. For now, I’ll settle that I’m alive because you are.”
As they walked back below deck, James wanted to say it, but when the door to the cell shut and he looked into Jack’s eyes he knew he didn’t need to.
The rope bit into his back one more time. “I asked you where the map is. I’d much appreciate it if you gave me an answer.” Jack still said nothing. Gillette snarled under his breath. “You know what to do,” he muttered to the two officers, and swept out of the room.
Jack bit his tongue to keep from screaming.
James ran to the door of his cabin and pulled it open. He looked with wide eyes at the three figures in the doorway. “Oh, God,” he whispered. “Put him on the bed,” he snapped, and the officers did so before turning and marching out of the room. He hurried beside him. “Jack? Jack?” The Captain opened his eyes and stared at him blearily. James found himself swearing again, striding across the cabin and kicking open a trunk to pull out a shirt and some whisky. Jack looked at the bottle hopefully, but James soaked the shirt in it before handing Jack it. Jack looked at the small trickle of fluid balefully.
“Ahh… hah!” He couldn’t help but say something. James located one hand and grabbed it tight, gently swabbing with the other. Jack gritted his teeth, breath coming in sharp daggers. It took painstakingly long, but James eventually became satisfied that the cuts were relatively clean and he grabbed another shirt, tearing it into bandages.
“I’m so sorry, Jack,” James murmured as he wrapped his arms around him. Jack smiled and let his head fall back onto James’ shoulder.
“It’s alright. They’ve probably done worse to you.” That’s beside the point, Jack, he thought. “What did I get to?”
“Eighty-eight. Then you passed out.”
Jack chuckled softly. “How’s about that? A new record.” He felt James’ hands tighten for a moment. “It’s fine. You’d better be getting me back to me cell, or we’ll both be in trouble.” When James attempted to protest, Jack silenced him efficiently with his mouth. “It’s better. Trust me.”
And James could never deny the pirate that.
James had made his decision long ago.
He struck the guard with all the military expertise he possessed, and snatching the keys he quickly strode forward. Jack was woken by the jingle, and looked at James in confusion. James pressed a finger to his lips, and once Jack was out of the cell he bent close to whisper in his ear. “The crew’s already on the ship. There’s a boat waiting for us on starboard. Don’t breathe a sound.” Jack nodded and they crept out, moving towards the side of the boat quickly, before the dreaded noise of the safety catch rang across the silent deck.
“Out for a midnight stroll, gentlemen?” James’ heart filled with dread. If Jack ran for it, he might still be able to make it…
“Run, Jack!” he yelled, then gasped as the shot was fired and a bullet smashed into his leg. He watched Jack’s eyes widen as the other man hesitated. “Jack, get out of here!” He could hear the footsteps approaching him from behind. Please, please, run! “Jack!” The pirate finally took his leave, diving overboard with practiced ease, but James didn’t forget his eyes as the musket hit him around of the back of the head. He knew exactly what they were saying.
James didn’t bother to struggle as he was rested down in the cell. He ignored the pain in his leg, ripping part of his shirt and bandaging it firmly, the bullet already having fallen out when they moved him.
James propped his head back and smiled. He was safe. That was all that mattered.
James’ hands were tied too tightly, his leg was killing him and his head was pounding in the harsh heat of the sun, but he felt strangely calm. A sense of resignation dominated him; he listened patiently as his ‘crimes’ were listed to him, remembering Governor Swann’s words. Perhaps on the rare occasion pursuing the right course demands an act of piracy. Piracy, itself, can be the right course.
And James never understood those words until now. He realised it was over when the noose was placed around his neck. The officers in the first row were looking at him suspiciously, but he had decided not to struggle. He stared at the azure sky for one more time before closing his eyes and smiling softly.
The drums stopped.
Jack knew being in the crowd was stupid, especially as James was only here in his place. But he just couldn’t stay away. The fact James was there was tearing at his stomach, and he just hoped this would work. James’ face was strangely peaceful as he gazed happily at the sky, and a small smile was across his lips. Jack didn’t cry. Jack never cried. But damn, he felt like screaming now.
The drums stopped. The hangman’s arm moved. He closed his eyes and prayed. The familiar patter of gunfire reached his ear, and he snapped his eyes open to see the hangman’s arm still resting on the lever, the officers looking at their superior in confusion, and James looking directly at him, with accusation, hope and happiness in his eyes. Jack winked at him, and mouthed ‘duck!’ At that precise moment in time the hangman finally pulled the lever, Jack began to run and a cannonball span across and smashed the gallows.
The crowd was screaming in confusion, but Jack quickly fought them aside and scurried under the wreckage. James was buried deep inside of one of the piles, and together they managed to shift most of the wood. After they had cleared it, they sat and stared at each other for a moment. “Hello,” said Jack quietly.
James stared. “You are bloody mad!”
Jack winked at him. “Comes with the job description, love.” He pulled them to their feet. “Come on, let’s get out of here before someone realises that something’s definitely not right.”
As they ran together James frowned. “Are those the Pearl’s guns?” Jack only had time to reply with a wink as they neared the shore, clambering into a boat where Pintel and Ragetti were waiting for them. “How the devil did you manage to get her back?”
“I used my powers of persuasion, love,” he replied with a wink. James just stared at him.
(Barbossa cursed again, kicking the sand at his feet angrily and realising just how annoying it was to watch someone sail away with his own ship.)
They climbed on board, coming face to face with a Gibbs who looked rather annoyed at having to risk their lives to save the man who had put them all in a crummy little cell. He seemed to be suppressing said anger by the fact that James had been the one who let them out again. “I could kiss you,” James said seriously to him, and Gibbs’ blanching made him start to laugh. Next to him, Jack chuckled, which quickly drew out into a chortle, until they were both were roaring with laughter.
“You’re both mad!” he snapped at them, turning to give the crew orders, but his face was soft and he had a small smile.
Jack and James looked at each other for a moment. “Comes with the job description,” James murmured softly, and Jack grinned.
Gibbs was watching them both carefully, with Marty and Cotton flanking him. The Captain had his hands on the wheel, but the former Admiral-cum-Commodore was standing behind him, his own hands resting softly on Jack’s waist.
“Well… I’d never have expected Jack was a dandy.”
But he smiled gently, turned around with a shake of the head and walked away.
Sometimes, piracy was the right course.