When Shadows Fall
Title: "When Shadows Fall"
Author: Tseek_Unique
Rating:R- sexual situations, violence.
Summary: Will must find the strength to let go, but is he sending Jack to his death? James Norrington struggles with bitter memories and an uncertain future.
Disclaimer: Property of Disney, I own nothing. They own me. *sigh*
Pairings:Jack/Will/Norrington
Warnings: Angst, character death.
Author's Notes: My first post here, after lurking for 9 months! Dark fic.
Feedback: Of course, but gently, luvs. This is my first time. *Offers cookies*
Credits: the Dala for the wonderful beta.
Link: Have to do it this way since I'm new:
Will leaned against the cold, brick wall of the monastery and sobbed as Father Mary Christopher lit his lantern and opened the door to the small cell. The acrid smell of gunpowder and gangrened flesh wafted in the thick air. Will gulped several deep breaths and tried to brace himself. He felt Gibbs' sturdy hand squeeze his shoulder.
"Steady, lad. We came as quick as we could. Jack himself could have come no faster."
The priest shone his lantern into the cell and motioned for the men to enter. Gibbs and Cotton picked up the litter and followed Will inside. The priest held up his lantern, stepped to the cot and turned the mantle back from the dead man's face.
Something fatal twisted inside Will's heart. He cried out and collapsed to the floor beside the bed, grasping Jack's cold, stiff hands in his own.
"We had no warning," said Father Mary Christopher. "The pirates fired on the port all night. No one knows who they are, not even the name of the ship. Over 70 wounded are here at the monastery and we are overwhelmed. There are no bandages or medicines. We are tending all of them as best we can. But last night, your captain began having heart pains. He died in the night. I am sorry."
Will's eyes searched Jack's face, now so small in death. His head was stripped of its red headscarf, his long hair parted at odd angles, leaving the frail skull bones mercilessly exposed. Gone from his skin were the heavy, musky odors of tar, opium smoke and sweat. Will noted, with some gratitude that someone had taken the care to wash his face, smooth his tangled hair and fold his hands across his breast.
Will felt a soft movement at his side as the priest produced a small bundle.
"Mister Sparrow's property."
The bundle contained Jack's pistol, sword, scarf, compass and hat. His shirt, still damp where someone had tried to rinse out the bloodstains, and his coin purse. All was wrapped up neatly in his threadbare coat.
"Come, lad!" whispered Gibbs. "Let's get it done."
Gently, Gibbs and Cotton folded the sheets around Jack's body and lifted it onto the litter. Will opened the coin purse and counted several gold coins into the priest's hand.
"I deeply appreciate everything you did for our friend," said Will. "Thank you, father."
The walk through the streets of Nassau seemed unreal to Will. Lanterns glowed feebly in the heavy smoke and fog. Wails of mourning assailed his ears, for there was not a house along this street in which there was not one dead.
Everywhere, he saw a memory. The way Jack drank, laughed, and caught all eyes with that marvelous swish of his. Will still felt Jack's kiss upon his lips, heard him pleading insistently for his tongue as a child pleads for candy.
"Give it t' me, luv!"
Always, Will blushed in such close quarters, and made Jack wait until they were alone in the dark. Then he would pin the pirate's wrists behind his back and oblige, letting the slow, sweet plunder of his mouth proceed.
But this night, there was no Jack, no teasing kisses, no whispered promises of gold and other delights to come. Instead, Will stood on the dock beside the litter and listened for the telltale splash of oars in the heavy fog. How, he wondered, could he go on living when the sparkle had been crushed from those dark eyes? How could his own heart go on beating when its counterpart had been stilled?
How did it come to this?
He watched in silence as Jack was lifted into the rowboat and the party returned to the Black Pearl. The litter was carried to Jack's cabin and the body lifted onto a cot. The crew of the Pearl gathered around silently.
"We will bury him at sea as he would have wanted," said Will.
Anamaria, her face streaked with tears, stepped forward with a wooden bucket of water, a cake of lye soap and a bundle of clean rags. She turned back the muslin cover and grimaced at the fearful sword cut that ran from Jack's right hip around the side of his body to the spine. Whoever the attacker was, he had tried to hack Jack in half.
She bit her lip, then soaped her rag and began washing Jack's face. Jack will at least have a decent bath before he's laid to rest, Will thought. Anamaria was heedless of the soapsuds that ran into Jack's eyes and had not Will's gaze been fixed so intently on the still face, he would have missed it.
An eyelid twitched. Will gasped and clutched at Anamaria's arm, then jerked a clean rag from her bundle. Tentatively, he wiped at the soap in Jack's eyes. Another twitch. Will pushed aside the muslin cover. Leaning over the cot, he placed an ear to Jack’s heart and his eyes widened in astonishment as he discerned a weak, unsteady heartbeat.
"Alive!" cried Will.
A murmur ran through the crew as Will jerked off his coat and spread it over Jack. Anamaria searched the wardrobe for more coverlets. She found three more tattered cloths and spread them over Jack's cold body.
"Bring more covers and a brazier!" said Will.
Will gripped Jack's cold hands in his own, trying to warm them. He bent and placed his ear to Jack's mouth, listening for breath, feeling for warmth, but detected only a fetid, dead smell.
Will moistened his fingers with rum and whetted the white lips, then soaked a rag and squeezed several drops between Jack's lips. Will rubbed the pirate's throat gently.
"Come on, Jack. You must swallow down."
Jack's throat hitched once, convulsively, then twice as he struggled to swallow. The sick man was trying to chew the cloth. Will kneaded his chest gently to stimulate his breathing.
Stampeding feet approached the cabin. Crewmembers burst in carrying blankets, warm cooking pots wrapped in cloth and a brazier. Anamaria and Gibbs worked quickly, wrapping Jack with great care.
For the next few hours, Will dribbled drops of warm water into Jack's mouth and watched as he choked at every spoonful. Warmth gradually seeped into Jack's cold body. His eyes blinked, but he was not seeing anything. The sickly, gray undertone of his tanned skin faded slightly. Now when Will put his ear to Jack's lips, he could feel warmth.
Jack's bleary eyes turned toward Will‘s voice. His breathing was raspy and he hugged his arms tight against his heart. Will cradled the fragile cheekbones in either hand, and turned Jack's face toward his own.
"Jack, I'm going to get you better! There still is a lot you have to teach me before I can be a proper pirate."
"Aye!" Gibbs agreed, clapping a hand on Will's shoulder. "I canna teach the whelp nothin', Captain. He needs a stronger hand than mine."
Jack's lips moved wordlessly, then his eyes closed as he sank into an exhausted sleep. Anamaria brought salve and clean bandages, and dressed his wounds. They lifted him from the cot and onto his bed, tucking him under the warmth of blankets and ignoring his moan of pain.
Anamaria frowned. "Do you see what he's doin'?"
"The priest said the pain in his heart began last night," replied Will.
A dreadful black vision nibbled at the corner of his mind's eye. "I've seen men in Port Royal, stricken with sickness of the heart. They almost always..." Will could not finish the words.
Will squeezed the purse in his hand until his knuckles were white. Then he opened it and began counting gold coins into Gibbs hand. "Gibbs, we need a doctor!"
"Aye, lad, we do. But where to find one in this port, who is not a butcher or a witch?" asked Gibbs.
"There must be a merchant in this port who sells remedies. See if you can find someone who will open his shop at this late hour."
Gibbs took the coins and nodded.
Someone shouted outside the door and the door swung open. "Top light comin' up on the horizon, sir!"
Will grabbed Jack's spyglass and he and Gibbs ran up the steps to the deck. Raising the spyglass, he peered in the direction the crewmember was pointing. Silently, he cursed the fog. He watched, but saw nothing.
"I know I saw it, sir," insisted the crewmember.
Then through the fog came a faint, wavering glow. A lantern! Will squinted as it rolled slowly up and down with the waves.
"It's a ship," said Will.
"Buccaneers?" asked Gibbs, clenching his fists.
"It's the Dauntless." Will's hands fell to his sides, still clutching the spyglass. He rubbed his aching forehead. "I might have known James would be hot on our heels. He's come to make safe the port."
Gibbs watched Will face carefully. "What do ye want us t' do, lad?"
Will collapsed the spyglass. "Hoist anchor and make ready to sail."
"All hands!" Gibbs shouted.
Feet thundered on the deck. Will strode briskly toward the stairs that led back down to Jack’s cabin. At Jack’s bedside, he stroked the pirate’s cheek, his heart heavy with a decision he never thought he’d have to make.
Gibbs‘ footsteps hammered down the stairs. “What you be thinkin', lad?" he muttered.
"I know where we can find a doctor, Gibbs."
Gibbs furrowed his brow. "Ye're thinkin' the Dauntless, lad? Ye would hand Jack over to Norrington, then? Will, it's a fool's errand. Ye know Norrington can't be trusted when it comes to Jack, an’ ye know why."
“If we sail from this port with Jack aboard, he will die,“ replied Will. “The Dauntless has a ship’s surgeon. If I can reason with Norrington, Jack may have a chance to receive the medicine he needs. It is his only hope, Gibbs.”
“What do ye want me to do, Will?”
Will rifled through Jack‘s old desk, searching for pen and parchment. His shaking hand dipped the quill into the inkwell and scribbled a message on the paper. “One of the crew must take this to Norrington as soon as he disembarks.”
Will folded the paper, and then held a stick of red wax close to the brazier. Several drops of blood colored wax pattered onto the letter. He handed it to Gibbs, and then pulled at one of the white muslin covers covering Jack. He tore a wide strip from the cloth.
“I’ll tie this to an oar to make a white flag. Lower two boats. I need help to get Jack to the dock. Once we’re off, get the Pearl out of port and go ’round to the cay. If Norrington lets me go, I will row the boat ‘round and meet you. Give me two hours to join you. If I don’t show up, stick to the code.”
***
Commodore James Norrington stood erect on the dock, hands clasped firmly behind his back as he surveyed the scene before him. Cold anger twisted in his stomach. Wreathed in fog and wood smoke, Nassau port lay in ruins. The smell of scorched and rotting flesh emanated from small wood fires that smoldered amongst shattered stone. Splintered masts, jutted out of the water at absurd angles, entangled in swollen rope. The smashed hulls of fishing boats and larger sailing vessels littered the shoreline.
James watched as his soldiers picked a hasty path between the stones and palm fronds, moving in ordered single file toward the heart of the city.
“Knock on every door,” James ordered. “Advise all citizens they are under the protection of the His Majesty’s navy. Arrest all looters.” James turned toward Lt. Gillette. “I want witnesses, Gillette. I will run down the pirates who did this and before God I will hang the lot of them.”
Gillette’s tricorn bobbed in affirmation. Then he paused and looked down at the parchment that Norrington gripped in his hand. Gillette stepped closer and lowered his voice. “And what about that, sir? I would advise you not to meet with Will alone. Let me and two soldiers accompany you.”
James drew himself up even straighter, willing backbone to turn to iron. “Very well. You may call out two of the men.”
Gillette barked a command and two red-coated soldiers came on the double, their bayonets held carefully aloft.
“Fall in!”
James strode toward the eastern dock with Gillette falling in behind him, and the two soldiers following.
Although James’ memory of the layout of port was excellent, many of the landmarks were missing. The public fountain was completely blown away, as was the harbormaster’s building.
“Sir!” whispered Gillette, pointing ahead.
James followed the waterline, noting there was indeed a dock ahead and there was a faint, yellowish glow in the mist. James’ leather, buckled shoe came down firmly upon wooden planking. Although he was at the very edge of the dock, he still couldn’t see Will. James and his entourage moved toward the lantern.
Then James caught a ghostly glimpse of a man waiting in the fog. He was holding and oar to which was tied a piece of white cloth: an unmistakable white flag of truce. His hooded garment was pulled across his face. James instinctively set his jaw, then his eyes wandered down to the man’s feet. A bundled form lay on the dock and beneath it was a litter.
Will lowered his cowl and James clenched his hands behind his back to keep them from shaking as a wave of fear and nausea raked him. He stopped about 6 feet from Will, which was as close as he cared to come with this body lying between them.
“It wasn’t us, James,” said Will.
“I know that, Turner. The Pearl was only a half-day ahead of us. And why has Jack sent his lover to speak with me? Does he not possess the fortitude to come speak with me himself?”
Silently, Will knelt and folded back the cloth from Jack’s face. Shock pierced James’ heart like a musket ball. He tried to steady himself as Will looked imploringly into his face.
“He bought passage here and came ahead of the Pearl to buy supplies. When the pirates sailed into port that night, Jack was caught in the fight.”
James tried to keep his gaze steady. “And what is it you want me to do, Turner?”
“I want you to take Jack and put him under the care of your ship’s physician. The wound may well be mortal and the priest at the monastery said Jack has a sickness of the heart. We can‘t help him, James. Look!”
Will pulled the cloth down further and revealed the wounds on Jack’s side.
James took several deep breaths and tried to quiet his hammering heart. He could look no longer and turned away. “So this is your plan then? Sail away with him when he’s well and return him to me when he’s nearly dead?”
James stiffened at Will’s touch on his shoulder. “James, please, for Jack’s sake, let’s put aside old quarrels.”
“He left me for you, Turner. He made his choice.”
“You have a house in Port Royal. You could take him there,” suggested Will.
Sudden fury flared in James Norrington’s breast. He lowered his voice to a strangled whisper. “And how do you propose I hide him? Governor Swann despises you for breaking Elizabeth’s heart and running off with Jack Sparrow! Nothing would give him more pleasure than to hang your lover.”
Jack moaned faintly. The sound tore at something buried in James’ soul. He dropped to one knee and touched Jack’s cheek gently, offering comfort.
Will drew his sword with one fluid motion. “Then draw your sword, James.”
Angry and uncertain, the commodore rose and drew his own fine blade, but the blacksmith did not move toward him. Will’s sword clanged to the dock at James’ feet and Will knelt before him, inclined his head, and proffered his neck.
“Kill me. Then tell Governor Swann that you killed me yourself,” said Will. “Let all jealousies die with me. I forfeit my life if only you’ll take him.”
There was a long beat of silence. Indeed, James, thought, it would fitting for Turner to die on the very sword he forged. The wind sang around James’ blade as he considered. Suddenly, he sheathed his sword.
“Get up, Turner. Enough people have died here already.” He turned away from Will. “Gillette! Take Sparrow aboard the Dauntless and put him in my cabin. He is under our protection as a witness. Summon Dr. Willoughby at once.”
Gillette nodded and James saw a glimmer of understanding in the lieutenant’s eyes. Gillette held the muskets as the sailors picked up the litter and departed. Will sighed and rose to his feet.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
James trembled with confusion and uncertainty. “This isn’t fair!” He hissed through clenched teeth.
Tears glistened on the boy’s cheeks. “I know,” he replied. “I give him to you, James. If he should recover, try to make him understand why I did this. Don’t let him think I --I--”
“And where to from here, Will?” asked James.
“We are sailing from here tonight to hunt down those who did this.”
“That is my task and I advise you to be well out of the way when we find them. Sail the Black Pearl for safer waters.”
James strode toward the end of the dock, abruptly ending the conversation. In a moment, he heard the splash of oars in the water. Will was leaving. Soon the Black Pearl would be at sea, leaving James with the shell of what was once Jack Sparrow
***
Part Two
James, Gillette and Mr. Murtogg watched silently as Dr. Willoughby probed the wounds in Jack’s side, then pulled off his wig, bent over the bed and pressed his ear to Jack’s heart. He listened intently for several minutes, then straightened up and pulled back the coverlet from Jack’s legs. He squeezed gently at the swelling in the ankles. He frowned and replaced his wig then motioned to James and Gillette to step outside the door.
“The wound in the side is most grievous, Commodore,” said Dr. Willoughby, “and his pulse is very rapid and weak He is suffering from dropsy, a collection of poisons in the blood. These poisons in turn have affected his heart.”
“And what treatment do you suggest, doctor?” asked James.
Willoughby’s man quickly brought a chair and the portly doctor eased down into it. “Well, a Scottish physician, Dr. Withering, has just published a medical paper giving over two hundred accounts of how he has successfully treated dropsical conditions with foxglove leaves.”
The doctor took out a white handkerchief and dabbed his forehead. “I will mix a remedy for Sparrow containing foxglove, bitter root and some other medicines. I will administer the first dose myself. Then I’ll send my man ‘round twice a day to dress his wounds and administer the syrup. He must have no water to drink at this time.”
Back in the room, Dr. Willoughby opened his wooden medicine chest. He took out a set of tiny spoons and measured the various powders and dried plants into his mortar and began to grind them. Within half an hour, James held Jack’s hands while the doctor dribbled the black syrup down Jack’s throat.
Jack coughed and struggled beneath James’ hands but the commodore held him firmly. He was alarmed at the weakness in the body beneath him. Sparrow had no more strength than the little bird that was his namesake.
Jack choked down the final drops and breathed heavily as James wiped a few drops from his chin with a handkerchief. James had once felt a sense of joy at listening to Jack’s quieting breathing, but now his lungs made a sodden, injured sound.
Dr Willoughby then cleaned Jack’s wounds and dressed them with salve and bandages. After three parts of an hour, Jack began to retch. Dr. Willoughby grabbed a basin. James pulled him upright onto the edge of the bed and held his head as Jack vomited a dark, foul smelling liquid into the basin. James looked questioningly at the doctor.
“Tis to be expected, Commodore. The foxglove is also a purgative to help remove the poisons. That substance he is spitting out is toxic.”
Jack's body went limp in James’ arms. Willoughby passed the basin to his man who hastened out of the cabin to empty it.
“That’s the worst of it for now, Commodore. He can rest now. I’ll be in my cabin if you need me.”
Willoughby took his leave and Gillette approached the bed to assist but James shook his head. “I will clean him up. Please go now.”
Gillette closed the door behind him softly. James laid Jack down and grabbed linens, soap and clean water. Jack sighed as a soapy cloth stroked gently down his limbs and chest.
James choked back the tears as the memories flooded forth...
Jack sat in James’ washtub and rubbed the cake of soap between his grimy hands.
“Drink up me ’earties, yo ho!” sang Jack.
How delicious, thought James as he sneaked up behind that tanned back, carrying a bucket of water in his hands.
“Yo-ho-o-o-o, a pirate’s life for -- awk!” Jack yelped as cold water deluged over him. He bounced to his feet. “What th’ bloody ‘ell--?”
James smiled. “Washing my pirate,” he answered, matter-of-factly.
He set the bucket down and wrapped his arms around Jack‘s smooth, slippery shoulders. “Do you realize how adorable you look with suds in your beard?”
Jack cocked an eyebrow, tilted his chin just so and the trinkets in his hair clicked softly. “For ye’re sake, luv, I’m sorry the water was cold. Just look what it’s done.”
James looked down. “Oh!”
Jack waved his hands dismissively. “Sorry to disappoint ye, luv.”
James swept the pirate up into his arms, loving the way Sparrow’s eyes bugged out whenever he was startled. He carried him toward the bed.
“I guess I’ll just have to work a little harder at preparing you, won’t I?” asked James.
He tossed Jack onto the sheets in a tangle of arms and legs...
A lifetime ago, thought James, as he finished drying Jack’s face. He picked up one of his own crisp, white shirts, unfolded it around Jack and pulled his thin arms through the sleeves. The garment was much too big for him. With a small knife, James made several strategic cuts, and then ripped the material to shorten the sleeves and tail.
The dark eyes flickered open and James searched them for any sign of recognition. A faint glimmer of light appeared in Jack’s eyes and James held onto it with all his heart.
A name trembled on Jack’s lips. He drew a breath as if to scream, but it died as it reached his lips and the scream was only a whisper. “Jamie?”
“Tis I,” James replied softly.
Jack frowned and squinted. His gaze flickered around the room. He clearly did not know where he was.
“Don’t be frightened. You’re aboard the Dauntless in Nassau port. Pirates raided the port two nights ago and you were wounded. We came as soon as word reached us.”
“Whose side was I on, luv?” Jack whispered.
James sighed. “I never know whose side you’re on, Jack.”
Jack looked down at the shirt covering his chest. “What’s this? Ye’ve cut up one of yer fine shirts for me.”
“I’d cut up my heart for you, Jack."
"I'd never ask so much of ye, mate." Jack licked his parched lips. "Bit o' water fer ol' Jack? Please, luv."
James hesitated, then poured a little water into a cup and held it to Jack's lips. "Just a sip and no more. Dr. Willoughby says we must restrict your fluids until your heart is stronger."
Jack trembled in James' arms as he gulped the mouthful of water. Gently, James eased him down onto the pillow and pulled the thick coverlet over his frail form. Within a few moments, the pirate was drowsy.
"Where's me Pearl, James?" he whispered.
James wrung cold water from a rag and held it to Jack's forehead. "At sea. No more questions tonight, Captain Sparrow. That's an order."
Jack's eyes closed and James watched as his chest heaved erratically beneath the sheets. James pulled his desk closer to the bed, opened the drawer and set out parchment, quill and inkwell. He dipped his quill, adjusted the lantern and hunched over his writings. He looked up at a soft tap at the door.
"Enter," said James.
Gillette nudged the door open with his elbow and entered, carrying a tray and a pot of tea. "The Emerald is sailing into port, sir. Thought you'd appreciate a little dinner before Admiral Stokes arrives."
Gillette set the tray down at the edge of the desk and James’ appetite perked up at the smoky odor of the ham and buttery biscuits. James folded the ham slice between the biscuits and took an enormous bite, manners most unbecoming a well-bred commodore. Gillette poured tea.
"Thank you, I was starving," said James through a mouthful of food. "And the report?"
"We have secured the port and are questioning witnesses. Water barrels and flour are being unloaded for the citizens," answered Gillette.
"Any looters?"
"None, sir. Anything that was worth stealing has already been taken.”
“Any buccaneers among the wounded?”
“None so far. We are still questioning the monks at the monastery.”
“It seems improbable that Jack would be the only one,” James replied.
“If they are any here, we will find them, sir. May I inquire as to what you are working on so late, sir?" Gillette nodded toward the papers on the desk.
"I'm writing a letter of marque for Captain Sparrow. Seeing as how no miracles appear to be coming our way, I will endeavor to create one. It may buy him a little time."
“Sir-- James.” Gillette lowered his voice. Tentatively, he clasped James’ shoulder and squeezed. “I know how difficult this must be for you. If you need to talk--”
James covered Gillette’s hand and squeezed back warmly. “Thank you. Unfortunately, we must first deal with some very pressing matters. Off you go, then.”
He grabbed his quill and began writing again. “Notify me as soon as the admiral is ready for report.”
James scribbled hastily on the paper: ...having received his Majesty's Commands to encourage all His Majesty's Subjects by every means in their power....
James dipped his quill again. ...the said Jack Sparrow in and with the said Ship called the Black Pearl to cruise against...
James’ wrist began to ache. Must finish, Jack‘s life depends on this document, he thought. Given under my Hand & Seal of Arms at Nassau this 6th day...
...the tangle of wet arms, legs and braids rolled over and tried to crawl away on the velvet bedspread. James, treated to a view of Jack’s lovely backside, muttered a soft curse, seized a tanned ankle and tugged rather harshly. Then he yelped as Jack whirled suddenly and sank his gold and silver teeth sharply into the web of the commodore’s right thumb.
“Brigand!”
He rapped Jack smartly across the cheek and the pirate rolled off the bed like a cat, landing noiselessly on the floor. James frowned and held a kerchief to his bleeding hand as the red headscarf and two enormous eyes peeked over the bedspread. James suddenly chuckled at the absurdity and reached for Jack. The eyes cringed.
“I won’t hit you again, I promise,” said James.
Jack pouted but stood up. His eyes were unfathomable as he swished one hip onto the bed. “Not your property, mate.”
“I know,” whispered James. He held out his arms and Jack melted into them. “But I’m your property, Jack. You’ve stolen me. “
Jack’s fingers traced delicate circles on James’ chest. “An’ what lovely property it ‘tis.”
Jack kissed him then, while the blood thundered in James’ ears and his hands roamed the scarred back. He felt Jack tug delicately at his breeches and James lay back, closed his eyes and waited with pounding heart.
Suddenly, James’ breath was forced out in a rush as Jack’s full weight thudded onto his chest. The pirate swore as he tore cloth and nipped James’ lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Jack was leaving no doubt who was in control here. James gasped when he looked into those eyes. They were like twin suns raging within a pool of blackest sin. James was swept into a whirlwind of smoke and fire.
*****
“So, the Dauntless is to return to Port Royal with all possible speed, then?” asked James.
Admiral Stokes nodded. “To keep the port safe. As of yet, we have no reason to believe the pirates have left the Caribbean. Possible targets could be Port Royal, Santo Domingo, Port Au Prince. They have no shortage of targets. The Emerald shall give chase, and God willing, we’ll capture these men and bring them to justice.”
James poured two glasses of brandy. The admiral unbuttoned his brocade coat and sank down into one of James’ padded chairs.
“And who is this man I hear you are keeping in your cabin, commodore?”
“Jack Sparrow,” replied James. “A pirate of little significance, but I feel he may be a valuable witness to the Crown in this case-- if he recovers.”
James presented the letter of marque to Admiral Stokes.
Stokes adjusted his spectacles down on his nose and examined the document briefly. “Ah, yes, and the ink is barely dry. Well, James, I will trust your judgment on this. God speed and safe journey.”
“God speed sir.” James Norrington bowed as Stokes took his leave.
***
James was grateful for the cover of nightfall as the Dauntless docked in Port Royal. “Misters Murtogg and Mullroy,” said James.
The two stepped forward and stood at attention.
“Hasten up the hill to my house and rouse the servants,” ordered James. “Tell them to prepare my bed for a guest and send the carriage immediately. Do not answer any questions, especially about Captain Sparrow. “
The sailors jogged away into the darkness and Dr. Willoughby joined James on the deck. He handed James a rolled up cloth.
“These are Mister Sparrow’s medicines, Commodore. The powders are already mixed. I have included a measuring spoon and written instructions on how to administer the elixir.”
The doctor then produced a small, glass stoppered bottle and a slender glass rod, both wrapped in a separate towel. “ This is a quieting draught-- laudanum. If he should start having heart pains again, measure two drops into a spoonful of water, place it in his mouth and send for me at once.”
James nodded and took the items. Presently, hoof beats and the rumble of carriage wheels approached.
“Bring Sparrow!” said James.
Gillette disappeared below decks and within several minutes, soldiers came up the steps, bearing Jack’s litter. Gillette carried the pirate’s belongings and followed the soldiers as walked up the ramp toward the carriage.
“Do you want me to come with you, sir?” Gillette whispered to the commodore as they approached the coach.
James took Jack‘s belongings from Gillette. “No, I need you to stay here for now. Governor Swann will be calling soon, I’m sure. If I require anything, I’ll send for you.”
***
Grasping Jack in his arms, James pulled him up a little higher in the feather bed as Sarah, the maid, filled the bed warmer with warm coals from the fireplace. James heard Fanny’s heavy tread on the stairs. She tapped softly on the door, then entered carrying a tray of warm food.
“Just broth and bread, sir,” Fanny said in her husky voice as she set the tray on the bedside table. She stirred the contents of the bowl. “Soft and nourishin’ fer an invalid.”
Then her eyes widened in surprise as she looked into Jack’s face. “Why, it’s him, isn’t it, sir? Been gone fer three years, but I still recognize ‘im!”
“Captain Sparrow is our guest until further notice, Fanny. Not one of you is to say a single word to anyone about his presence here. Do I make myself clear?”
The women curtsied. Fanny’s thick fingers stroked Jack’s moist forehead.
“Bit o’ fever, ‘ere, sir.”
“Fetch a pan of cold water and some clean cloths,” said James.
The women took their leave and James stroked Jack’s grizzled cheek, trying to rouse him.
“Jack, wake up. That’s right, open your eyes and look at me.”
Jack‘s eyelashes fluttered slightly on his cheeks. “Aye?”
“You’re in Port Royal.”
Jack frowned. His fingers tightened on the heavy bedspread. “Gonna ’ang me, then?”
James grabbed his hands and squeezed them. “Calm yourself. No one is going to hang you. Open your mouth and swallow down.”
James spooned a bite of food into Jack’s mouth. Jack struggled several moments, and then to James’ relief, he swallowed.
“Thank God you can eat,” muttered James.
Jack choked down two more bites, then turned his head aside. “Please! No more,” he whispered.
James moistened the napkin, wiped broth from Jack’s beard and poured a dram of water into a cup. He held it to Jack’s lips and the pirate gulped it and sank back amongst the pillows, exhausted. His breath came in short gasps and his heart raced against James’ palm. So weak. How fragile the heart that beat within this mortal cage.
“Why so good t’ me, Jamie? ”
“Don’t you know, Jack? Can’t you guess?”
A darker knowledge flickered in Jack’s eyes, but he said nothing. Damn the man, thought James. He still isn’t going to accept it.
James turned away from the bed and grasped his hands behind his back. He stepped to the French doors that led to the balcony and peered through the gap in the thick curtains. He fixed his gaze on the sea pulsing in the moonlight. Looking at anything except the confusion and pain in Jack’s eyes.
“I-I see no reason for animosity between us,” said James. “You made a choice which I have long since accepted and you are in a position to help the Crown bring some men to justice.”
“An’ how am I t’ do that?”
I’ve written a letter of marque for you. That gives you a reprieve from the noose.”
“I didna sign any letter,” growled Jack.
“I took the liberty of making your mark.”
“I can sign me own name, Commodore. So that’s what it’s down to, aye? Helpin’ ye to hunt down my own kind? An’ what ‘appens to me after you get what you want? You can’t keep me ‘ere. I’m a pirate, not a bloody lapdog.”
James sighed and turned to face him. “If you prefer, I can send you to a house on another island and hire a staff to wait on you while you recover. Where you choose to go from there is your affair. I’m not entirely without means, Jack.”
Jack tried to lift himself up on his elbows, then grimaced and fell back. He put his right hand to his hip and James was alarmed to see bright red blood on his fingers. The commodore stepped to the bed and pulled back the bed linen. The sword wound had reopened and was oozing blood. James pressed a folded cloth to the bloody bandages. God’s eyeteeth, thought James, it’s been bleeding for days. He can’t have that much blood left.
“Will-“ groaned Jack. Tears of pain welled in his eyes.
Carefully, James eased his arms around the wounded man and lifted him. He let the warmth of his breath caress Jack’s cheek. A deep, aching sensation inside of James worsened. How it pained him to hear Jack call for another man.
“Will isn’t here, Jack. He and the Pearl are safe.”
Tears spilled from Jack’s glossy eyes. “He’s taken my ship an’ left me to die.”
James shifted him in his arms then looked into his eyes. “Jack, I will not allow you to disparage Will. He was forced by circumstance to make this decision. You must find it within yourself to forgive him.”
Jack breathed heavily against James’ cheek. So hot, James thought, touching his fingers to Jack’s forehead. Raging with fever...
...Smoke and fire. A sudden gust of flame washed over James, scorching his nostrils and rousing him to consciousness. He coughed. His breath became agony. Guns and screams of the dying raged around him.
The Spanish bastards were sailing under false colors and fired upon the H.M.S. Wellington without warning. The first volley ignited the powder magazine.
James had gone down in a whirlwind of splinters and fire. Suddenly, above the din he heard a familiar voice shouting orders. Strong hands gripped him by his coat and lifted him. His wig fell off and the ribbon binding his hair loosened, spilling his hair about his shoulders. James opened his eyes. Jack Sparrow held James Norrington across his hip like a sack of grain.
A shot from Jack’s pistol nearly deafened James. An approaching pirate fell at Jack’s feet, the breast of his faded shirt drenched with blood. Jack tucked his spent pistol into his sash and jerked at yet another weapon concealed there. James heard leather sing as Jack swung the cat o’ nine tails over his head. Another pirate’s pistol was jerked from his hand and the next blow of the lash fell across his face, cutting eyes and splintering teeth.
The Black Pearl put the Spanish pirates to the sword that day. James never truly understood why Jack Sparrow came to his aid. He was taken aboard the Pearl and dumped unceremoniously from Jack’s hip.
James lay on a cabin floor and tried to pluck splinters from his bleeding flesh when the murderous creature approached him.
James noted that now Jack wore the cat knotted about his slender waist. His wary eyes probed the commodore’s flesh in a manner that made James shiver in disgust.
“Anamaria!” Jack growled.
A woman came swiftly to attend James wounds. Then left alone again with Jack, James found his terror mounting as the brigand approached him. Hip to hip, eye to eye they stood. James grimaced at the odor that assaulted his nostrils and Jack grinned.
“Ye’ve no more belly than that?” Jack chuckled.
The pirate’s lips brushed James’ in the most tender of kisses. James jerked away and Jack bared his gold and silver teeth in frustration. Jack moved slightly and James heard the solid click of a pistol. He swallowed hard as the muzzle brushed his left temple. Jack’s eyes danced with mischief.
“Jamie, the only rules that really matter are these. What a man can do and what a man can’t do. But in either case, it’s best to give ol’ Jack what he wants, savvy?”
Then Sparrow kissed him again and James let his lips part beneath the insistent probing of Jack’ tongue…
Jack had reduced him to ashes.
For two years Jack sneaked into Port Royal for intimate liaisons with James. There were moments of passion and companionship between them that James counted among some of the happier moments of his life. But the more he tried to grasp the pirate, the more Jack slipped though his fingers.
After making love, Jack would lie awake and listen to the pounding surf outside the commodore’s balcony, his eyes veiled in shadows and unreadable.
Then one morning, James awoke to an empty bed. Jack and his effects were gone. Typical, thought James. He came and went as he pleased. Then word came that Will Turner was missing and his wife, Elizabeth, was furious. Sparrow came to the Turner house that morning before sunrise and had taken the lad from his bed.
James Norrington remained behind. Tethered like a dog to honor and duty, he attended parties, watched drills, processed stacks of paperwork and hanged pirates. Again and again, he watched the men before him die on the gallows, but there was only one neck he truly wished to see in the noose. That man was Jack Sparrow.
Something like a knife twisted in James’ gut as he felt Jack’s blood soaking into his shirtsleeves. James looked down and gently he kissed the tears from Jack’s cheek.
“Jack, I forgive you everything,” he whispered. “I know how you like pretty things and Will is a pretty thing. He’s young, impressionable and free-spirited. So much like you. You didn’t want to be tied to someone beaten down by duty.” Someone like me, thought James.
“And what did it profit me to run away with Will?” Jack asked quietly.
“Is there anything in life that you do not measure by profit, Jack?”
A fresh wave of tears surged onto Jack’s face. James rocked him gently.
“Don’t cry, love.”
There came a soft tap at the door. It was Sarah, carrying a pitcher of cold water, a washbasin and cloths. Silently, James nodded toward the bureau and she placed the articles there. She picked up the food tray and curtsied.
“That will be all, Sarah. Thank you.”
Jack grimaced in pain as the cold cloth touched his forehead. His breathing changed. Now it came in short gasps as great drops of sweat formed on his forehead. “James--I--”
“Where does it hurt, Jack?” asked James. When he didn’t answer, James became more insistent. “Damnit, Jack, tell me where it hurts! Sarah!”
At the commodore’s shout, Sarah appeared at the door. James unwrapped the laudanum. “Run to the fort as fast as you can and summon Dr. Willoughby. Tell him Jack Sparrow is having heart pains again!”
With shaking hands, James guided the glass rod into the bottle of medicine. He mixed one drop, then another into a dram of water. James spooned it between Jack’s lips.
Jack frowned at the odor and taste of the medicine. “Druggin me, aye?”
“Tincture of opium, Jack. More potent than the opium you smoke.”
“I smoke opium?”
***
Part Three
Governor Weatherby Swann was the last person James wanted to see in his parlor at the first light of dawn. The stubborn set of his jaw and the manner in which he choked his walking cane as he spoke made it clear to James that he’d grown weary of listening.
“Commodore! You’ve done nothing in the past half hour but exhaust my patience by talking in circles. If Sparrow is up in that room I have a right to know. You are not the only one who has some authority in this matter. Now is Sparrow upstairs or isn‘t he?”
James knew that the struggle was pointless. “Yes, Governor Swann. Jack Sparrow is upstairs. I placed him under my protection in hopes that he will aid our investigation of the attack on Nassau Port.”
“Well, have you questioned him? What has he told you?”
“Nothing as of yet. Unfortunately, he is very seriously wounded. We do not know yet if he will recover.”
“Just as well that he dies of his wounds then. Whatever testimony he cares to give will not be enough to save him from the gallows,” replied Swann.
James stepped to his desk and picked up a folded document. He opened it and handed it to Governor Swann. The governor examined the writing curiously.
“What sort of trickery is this?” demanded Swann. “Sparrow would never consent to serve the Crown!”
James pointed to an “X” on the document, a mark that he, himself, had made. “There is Sparrow’s signature.”
Swann shoved the document back into James’ hands and dismissed it with an impatient wave of his hand. “Commodore, this is obviously your doing. God knows what led you to such a misguided judgment. If he has testimony regarding the attack on Nassau, then let him give it immediately. I will write the admiralty on this matter.”
“The patient is no condition to give testimony at this time!” a voice said sharply.
James and the governor looked up as Dr. Willoughby descended the stairs. His brows were knit together in a frown under the white cap of his wig. He set his leather medical case down at the governor’s feet, pulled out a white handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead.
“Captain Sparrow is to have no visitors except for myself and those who administer his care. He is suffering from a serious malady of the heart and has been given a narcotic. He was in a hallucinogenic state prior to falling asleep. Anything he would say at this time would have no basis in reality. I am ready to defend my position to the admiralty if need be.”
James’ gaze shifted from Dr. Willoughby to Governor Swann. The governor thudded his walking stick on the polished floor in exasperation then set his tricorn hat atop his curled wig.
“Gentlemen, I take my leave. It is clear to me there is a conspiracy here to protect Sparrow, though for what purpose I cannot guess. Do keep me informed of his condition.”
James bowed. “Of course, Governor Swann.”
The governor marched out the front doors and Willoughby plopped into one the plush chairs. James poured a glass of claret for him.
“He is sleeping, then?” asked James.
“Yes, but Im afraid ‘tis only a matter of time, Commodore.”
“The medicines are not helping?”
The doctor drained his glass and shook his head. “They helped initially. He has suffered a tremendous setback with this second attack. We must turn our efforts towards his comfort now, Commodore. I suspect he may be in the first stages of tetany. He will require meticulous care.”
Dr. Willoughby’s words echoed like a gunshot in the room.
"The laudanum may be administered thrice daily for the angina. He may also have small drinks of spiritous liquors. Mental stress will worsen his condition, so the environment must be kept tranquil. If sitting up eases the pain, then he may sit up as he can tolerate. I will return tonight to dress his wounds again.”
James stood in the drive like a man frozen and watched as the coach rumbled through the front gate. He was barely aware that someone was talking to him. He’d lost all sense of time. Then he looked up. Mister Murtogg and Mister Mullroy were staring at him.
“Sir?” asked Mister Murtogg. “Captain Sparrow is not doin’ well, then?”
Apparently the two had been listening to the conversation from their posts at the front door.
James shook his head and whispered, “No.”
“Very sorry to ‘ear that, sir,” Mister Mullroy replied.
“No one is to enter the house save for myself, the servants, naval officers and Dr. Willoughby. If either of you wishes to pay your respects to Captain Sparrow, I will notice you when he is awake and you may come upstairs one at a time.”
James returned to the parlor and stared up the stairs. His footsteps fell heavily on the steps, almost as if there were anchors tied to his shoes.
***
Jack was not yet awake. James noted a dusky color to his lips, which had not been present previously, and his right ankle was red and more swollen. His breath came and went like a tired child’s.
James propped the leg up on a pillow and positioned a cold, wet cloth on the inflamed flesh. Leaning over the bed, he pressed a tender kiss to Jack’s forehead. Jack made a soft sound in his throat, but continued sleeping.
James pulled a chair to the bed and sat down. He drew one of Jack’s hands into his own. Fatigue weighed James down like an invisible set of irons. He soon nodded off…
…He was never so beautiful as when he thought he was unobserved. His eyes were always so wide and innocent as his fingers danced softly across James’ bare chest. James kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, just peeking out from beneath his lashes as Jack wiggled out of bed and went about poking his nose into everything in James’ room.
He rifled through the drawers of the bureau first, pocketing bits of paper and a polished stone paperweight. The pockets of James’ coat were next, which yielded only a small piece of hard candy that Jack popped into his mouth. He pulled the commodore’s sword from its scabbard and grimaced as the blade sang. He glanced towards the bed. James didn’t move. Then it was on to the wig stand. Jack pulled the wig on over his red scarf and cautiously peeked in the mirror.
Ah, yes, thought James. In the end, it always comes down to the wig.
“It will never work,” James stated matter-of-factly.
Instantly, the child-like eyes became wary.
“The sword is much too heavy to tie in your hair.”
Carrying his prizes, Jack dropped the sword on the rug with a heavy thud, pranced across the room and bounded onto the bed. The wig flew askew on his head and James’ could not suppress a chuckle.
“Ow’s that? Did I hear you snicker, commodore?”
James righted the wig on Jack’s head, pried open the fingers of his right hand and cocked an eyebrow in disapproval. “What’s this? The pocket watch my father gave me! How many times must I remind you to keep your grubby hands off my watch?”
Jack pouted. “Doesn’t count. I never made it out of th’ room with it, as it were.”
James stood up and pulled on his breeches. He tucked the watch into a pocket as Jack’s eyes widened in growing alarm.
“Where ye goin’?” asked Jack.
“To the kitchen. That noxious drug you smoke has made my stomach quite queasy.”
He pointed overhead to the cloud of opium smoke curling over his bed. The naked Jack leaped onto James’ back and clenched his tanned arms around the commodore’s neck.
“Giddy up, Commodore!” Jack growled into James’ ear. He grabbed his own battered tricorn as James carried him out the door.
He was whispering delicious obscenities into James’ ear when they encountered an astonished Fanny on the stairs. She gaped wordlessly at the sight of a half-dressed James Norrington standing on the stairs with a naked pirate on his back.
Jack landed on the steps with an undignified thud as the red-faced James dropped him like a rock and retreated quickly to his room. Jack stood up, held his hat in a strategic position and faced Fanny.
“Apologies, miss,” he muttered. He turned, held his hat over his bare backside and followed James.
James nearly suffocated from suppressed laughter as Jack rubbed his posterior.
“Left bruises on me, ye did,” Jack pouted.
“Well, come here and show them to me. I guess I’ll have to kiss them all, won’t I?” asked James, getting down on his knees.
“Indeed ye will, mate.”
Jack rested one bare thigh over James’ left shoulder, rolled his head back and sighed deeply as James’ lips met velvety flesh…
Part Four
James awoke to the sound of spasmodic coughing. He frowned momentarily-his neck ached from having fallen asleep in the chair, then he realized it was Jack. Jack couldn’t breathe.
James leaped to his feet and reached over the bed. Taking great care to avoid the wounds on Jack’s side, James eased his arms around the pirate’s ribcage and pulled him into a sitting position. The bluish tinge to Jack’s lips deepened and his eyes seemed to be rolling back in the sockets.
“Come on, Jack! Breathe for me!” James gave him a hard shake. “Slow, deep breaths. “
Jack’s breathing evened out. He blinked several times and then his eyes focused on James’ face.
“Jamie,” he whispered. “Sorry, luv. ‘Twas a bad dream.”
James managed to force a small smile. “Was it I chasing you with a noose?”
“Nay. ‘Twas nothing so harmless as that, mate.” Jack grimaced. “ ‘Twas about someone I once knew.”
“I think I know just the thing to cheer you up,” replied James.
Propping Jack on an extra pillow, James went to the French doors and opened them. Jack’s eyes grew misty at the sound of ocean waves and the scent of salty air.
“Would you like to sit out on the balcony for a little while?” asked James. “Dr. Willoughby thinks that you might benefit from sitting up.”
A smile tugged at Jack’s lips. “If you and the good doctor think I should.”
James went to the closet and returned to the bed carrying a bundle.
“Captain Sparrow, your effects.”
James unbuttoned the shirt he’d dressed Jack in and eased it off. He unfolded Jack’s freshly laundered shirt and placed it on Jack. A pair of James’ breeches was next. He eased Jack into a sitting position on the side of the bed and reached for the red headscarf. James folded the scarf, captured as many braids under it as he could and tied it. He pulled Jack’s trinkets into their familiar positions.
Next he picked up a small twig about the size and thickness of his writing quill and held it before Jack’s face.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to do this honor, Captain Sparrow. I’m not as adept at it as you are.”
Jack took the end of the twig in his mouth and chewed it until it the fibers formed a little fan. James dipped the homemade brush into a tiny stone jar filled with a mixture of grease and wood ashes. Using short, painstaking strokes, he painted along the edges of Jacks eyelashes.
“We’re just about finished,” said James. “Let’s get you to the chair, shall we?”
James pulled Jack’s left arm around his neck. Although Jack could bear weight, he was very unsteady and was not able to move his feet at all.
“Put your arm around my neck,” said James.
He swept Jack up into his arms, carried him onto the balcony and set him down gently into the chair. A few minutes more and James tied Jack’s belt around his waist, placed his cutlass in it’s sheathe and tucked both his pistol and his compass into the belt. He flung Jack’s threadbare coat about his shoulders and finished the job by carefully positioning Jack’s battered tricorn atop the red scarf.
James stepped back to assess his work and choked back tears. Thank God I am able to restore some of his dignity, he thought.
“Sorry to be so much trouble, mate,” said Jack. " 'Twould ‘ve been better if you had left me to die. Sooner or later, they’ll ‘ang me and your letter of marque won’t matter one spit.”
Jack leaned back in the chair, brought his right arm across his chest and held his left shoulder. His breathing became more labored and the bluish tinge to his lips deepened.
James held a glass of water to his lips. Jack wrinkled his nose at the odor of laudanum and pushed glass away.
“Jack, please. It will ease the pain.”
Jack heaved a tired sigh but drank.
James pressed a wet cloth to Jack’s cheek. “I swear by all I hold sacred that I will find the men who did this to you and I will punish them. Jack, do you know anything about the pirates who raided Nassau that night? A description of the man who wielded the sword against you would--”
“I know th’ man who did this t’ me. “
James frowned but waited for Jack to catch his breath.
“Tis been many years an’ I thought I’d never see ‘im again” Jack whispered between breaths and James saw a faint gleam of murder in Jack’s dark eyes.
“I was but a lad when I was taken away in a raid and I’d naught seen ‘im since. Then on Nassau I saw ‘im comin’ fer me. His ‘air an’ beard were all grown out but I knew him.”
James struggled with a growing sense of rage. He held the arm of Jack’s chair in a death grip. “Who is this man?”
Jack leaned his head back, sighed and closed his eyes. “T'was me brother.”
James was speechless for several moments. “You have family then,” James stated.
“Aye, my brother Jonah. I went back after I was grown but me family was gone. Plague took ‘em all.”
“So he is the younger brother?” asked James.
Jack was growing drowsy from the laudanum. “Aye, I’m the eldest by a quarter of an hour.”
James’ heart stood still. He stood up and turned away from Jack to stare at the sea. He struggled with the implications of what he’d just been told. Somewhere in the Caribbean prowled a scalawag with a heart ten times blacker than Jack’s, a man so cruel he had put his twin brother to the sword.
James captured the tears at the inner corners of his eyes and crushed them into silence. “Jack, I- I have a gift for you.”
Jack’s eyes widened in child-like wonder. “A present? For me?”
James hastened into the bedroom and then returned, carrying a small muslin bag. He poured the contents into his hand and blushed awkwardly. “I bought this for you-before you left. That is, three years ago-and I never had the chance to give it to you before-“
“Before I ran away with a man half me age,” Jack finished quietly. “Why don’t you just get on with it then?”
James knelt by the chair and pressed the jewel into Jack’s palm. The pirate’s eyes grew wide in astonishment for James was sure not even Jack had seen a stone as fine as this one.
“It’s the most perfect piece of jade ever to come out of China,” James whispered in Jack’s ear as his own hands slid down to cradle Jack’s.
The eyes that gazed into James’ lost all their cunning as if Jack could see clearly for the very first time.
“It’s like your eyes, Jamie,” Jack whispered.
James took the bead from his hand gently. “Shall I tie it in your hair then?”
“Please, mate.”
James carefully threaded a strand of Jack’s hair through the bead and fashioned a clumsy braid. “Again, not as good at this as you are, but this will do for right now.”
Jack closed his eyes and smiled contentedly as James drew back to admire his handiwork.
Tears lumped together in James’ throat and spilled out of his soul. “Can you not see, Jack, that I love you?”
Not more than a few seconds after James’ spoke, the light faded from Jack’s eyes. With shaking hands, James pushed aside the faded shirt and placed his palm upon Jack’s heart but he felt nothing. Hands that once spoke a language of their own lay limply in Jack’s lap, forever stilled.
“Rest in peace, my love,” whispered James.
For the final time, he touched his lips to Jack’s. Then he stood and turned to face the ocean waves. In the distance he could see the majestic masts of the Dauntless. Returning to the bedroom, he strapped on his sword and reached for his wig. He called for Sarah and the maid quickly appeared.
“Send for the undertaker. Captain Sparrow has expired.”
The girl gasped, then covered her mouth with her hands and curtsied.
James drew his blade and examined the length of it in the sunlight that streamed into the room.
“Jonah Sparrow,” James muttered. “Pray that Death will come quickly for you. Better He finds you than I.”
Hit Counter
Author: Tseek_Unique
Rating:R- sexual situations, violence.
Summary: Will must find the strength to let go, but is he sending Jack to his death? James Norrington struggles with bitter memories and an uncertain future.
Disclaimer: Property of Disney, I own nothing. They own me. *sigh*
Pairings:Jack/Will/Norrington
Warnings: Angst, character death.
Author's Notes: My first post here, after lurking for 9 months! Dark fic.
Feedback: Of course, but gently, luvs. This is my first time. *Offers cookies*
Credits: the Dala for the wonderful beta.
Link: Have to do it this way since I'm new:
Will leaned against the cold, brick wall of the monastery and sobbed as Father Mary Christopher lit his lantern and opened the door to the small cell. The acrid smell of gunpowder and gangrened flesh wafted in the thick air. Will gulped several deep breaths and tried to brace himself. He felt Gibbs' sturdy hand squeeze his shoulder.
"Steady, lad. We came as quick as we could. Jack himself could have come no faster."
The priest shone his lantern into the cell and motioned for the men to enter. Gibbs and Cotton picked up the litter and followed Will inside. The priest held up his lantern, stepped to the cot and turned the mantle back from the dead man's face.
Something fatal twisted inside Will's heart. He cried out and collapsed to the floor beside the bed, grasping Jack's cold, stiff hands in his own.
"We had no warning," said Father Mary Christopher. "The pirates fired on the port all night. No one knows who they are, not even the name of the ship. Over 70 wounded are here at the monastery and we are overwhelmed. There are no bandages or medicines. We are tending all of them as best we can. But last night, your captain began having heart pains. He died in the night. I am sorry."
Will's eyes searched Jack's face, now so small in death. His head was stripped of its red headscarf, his long hair parted at odd angles, leaving the frail skull bones mercilessly exposed. Gone from his skin were the heavy, musky odors of tar, opium smoke and sweat. Will noted, with some gratitude that someone had taken the care to wash his face, smooth his tangled hair and fold his hands across his breast.
Will felt a soft movement at his side as the priest produced a small bundle.
"Mister Sparrow's property."
The bundle contained Jack's pistol, sword, scarf, compass and hat. His shirt, still damp where someone had tried to rinse out the bloodstains, and his coin purse. All was wrapped up neatly in his threadbare coat.
"Come, lad!" whispered Gibbs. "Let's get it done."
Gently, Gibbs and Cotton folded the sheets around Jack's body and lifted it onto the litter. Will opened the coin purse and counted several gold coins into the priest's hand.
"I deeply appreciate everything you did for our friend," said Will. "Thank you, father."
The walk through the streets of Nassau seemed unreal to Will. Lanterns glowed feebly in the heavy smoke and fog. Wails of mourning assailed his ears, for there was not a house along this street in which there was not one dead.
Everywhere, he saw a memory. The way Jack drank, laughed, and caught all eyes with that marvelous swish of his. Will still felt Jack's kiss upon his lips, heard him pleading insistently for his tongue as a child pleads for candy.
"Give it t' me, luv!"
Always, Will blushed in such close quarters, and made Jack wait until they were alone in the dark. Then he would pin the pirate's wrists behind his back and oblige, letting the slow, sweet plunder of his mouth proceed.
But this night, there was no Jack, no teasing kisses, no whispered promises of gold and other delights to come. Instead, Will stood on the dock beside the litter and listened for the telltale splash of oars in the heavy fog. How, he wondered, could he go on living when the sparkle had been crushed from those dark eyes? How could his own heart go on beating when its counterpart had been stilled?
How did it come to this?
He watched in silence as Jack was lifted into the rowboat and the party returned to the Black Pearl. The litter was carried to Jack's cabin and the body lifted onto a cot. The crew of the Pearl gathered around silently.
"We will bury him at sea as he would have wanted," said Will.
Anamaria, her face streaked with tears, stepped forward with a wooden bucket of water, a cake of lye soap and a bundle of clean rags. She turned back the muslin cover and grimaced at the fearful sword cut that ran from Jack's right hip around the side of his body to the spine. Whoever the attacker was, he had tried to hack Jack in half.
She bit her lip, then soaped her rag and began washing Jack's face. Jack will at least have a decent bath before he's laid to rest, Will thought. Anamaria was heedless of the soapsuds that ran into Jack's eyes and had not Will's gaze been fixed so intently on the still face, he would have missed it.
An eyelid twitched. Will gasped and clutched at Anamaria's arm, then jerked a clean rag from her bundle. Tentatively, he wiped at the soap in Jack's eyes. Another twitch. Will pushed aside the muslin cover. Leaning over the cot, he placed an ear to Jack’s heart and his eyes widened in astonishment as he discerned a weak, unsteady heartbeat.
"Alive!" cried Will.
A murmur ran through the crew as Will jerked off his coat and spread it over Jack. Anamaria searched the wardrobe for more coverlets. She found three more tattered cloths and spread them over Jack's cold body.
"Bring more covers and a brazier!" said Will.
Will gripped Jack's cold hands in his own, trying to warm them. He bent and placed his ear to Jack's mouth, listening for breath, feeling for warmth, but detected only a fetid, dead smell.
Will moistened his fingers with rum and whetted the white lips, then soaked a rag and squeezed several drops between Jack's lips. Will rubbed the pirate's throat gently.
"Come on, Jack. You must swallow down."
Jack's throat hitched once, convulsively, then twice as he struggled to swallow. The sick man was trying to chew the cloth. Will kneaded his chest gently to stimulate his breathing.
Stampeding feet approached the cabin. Crewmembers burst in carrying blankets, warm cooking pots wrapped in cloth and a brazier. Anamaria and Gibbs worked quickly, wrapping Jack with great care.
For the next few hours, Will dribbled drops of warm water into Jack's mouth and watched as he choked at every spoonful. Warmth gradually seeped into Jack's cold body. His eyes blinked, but he was not seeing anything. The sickly, gray undertone of his tanned skin faded slightly. Now when Will put his ear to Jack's lips, he could feel warmth.
Jack's bleary eyes turned toward Will‘s voice. His breathing was raspy and he hugged his arms tight against his heart. Will cradled the fragile cheekbones in either hand, and turned Jack's face toward his own.
"Jack, I'm going to get you better! There still is a lot you have to teach me before I can be a proper pirate."
"Aye!" Gibbs agreed, clapping a hand on Will's shoulder. "I canna teach the whelp nothin', Captain. He needs a stronger hand than mine."
Jack's lips moved wordlessly, then his eyes closed as he sank into an exhausted sleep. Anamaria brought salve and clean bandages, and dressed his wounds. They lifted him from the cot and onto his bed, tucking him under the warmth of blankets and ignoring his moan of pain.
Anamaria frowned. "Do you see what he's doin'?"
"The priest said the pain in his heart began last night," replied Will.
A dreadful black vision nibbled at the corner of his mind's eye. "I've seen men in Port Royal, stricken with sickness of the heart. They almost always..." Will could not finish the words.
Will squeezed the purse in his hand until his knuckles were white. Then he opened it and began counting gold coins into Gibbs hand. "Gibbs, we need a doctor!"
"Aye, lad, we do. But where to find one in this port, who is not a butcher or a witch?" asked Gibbs.
"There must be a merchant in this port who sells remedies. See if you can find someone who will open his shop at this late hour."
Gibbs took the coins and nodded.
Someone shouted outside the door and the door swung open. "Top light comin' up on the horizon, sir!"
Will grabbed Jack's spyglass and he and Gibbs ran up the steps to the deck. Raising the spyglass, he peered in the direction the crewmember was pointing. Silently, he cursed the fog. He watched, but saw nothing.
"I know I saw it, sir," insisted the crewmember.
Then through the fog came a faint, wavering glow. A lantern! Will squinted as it rolled slowly up and down with the waves.
"It's a ship," said Will.
"Buccaneers?" asked Gibbs, clenching his fists.
"It's the Dauntless." Will's hands fell to his sides, still clutching the spyglass. He rubbed his aching forehead. "I might have known James would be hot on our heels. He's come to make safe the port."
Gibbs watched Will face carefully. "What do ye want us t' do, lad?"
Will collapsed the spyglass. "Hoist anchor and make ready to sail."
"All hands!" Gibbs shouted.
Feet thundered on the deck. Will strode briskly toward the stairs that led back down to Jack’s cabin. At Jack’s bedside, he stroked the pirate’s cheek, his heart heavy with a decision he never thought he’d have to make.
Gibbs‘ footsteps hammered down the stairs. “What you be thinkin', lad?" he muttered.
"I know where we can find a doctor, Gibbs."
Gibbs furrowed his brow. "Ye're thinkin' the Dauntless, lad? Ye would hand Jack over to Norrington, then? Will, it's a fool's errand. Ye know Norrington can't be trusted when it comes to Jack, an’ ye know why."
“If we sail from this port with Jack aboard, he will die,“ replied Will. “The Dauntless has a ship’s surgeon. If I can reason with Norrington, Jack may have a chance to receive the medicine he needs. It is his only hope, Gibbs.”
“What do ye want me to do, Will?”
Will rifled through Jack‘s old desk, searching for pen and parchment. His shaking hand dipped the quill into the inkwell and scribbled a message on the paper. “One of the crew must take this to Norrington as soon as he disembarks.”
Will folded the paper, and then held a stick of red wax close to the brazier. Several drops of blood colored wax pattered onto the letter. He handed it to Gibbs, and then pulled at one of the white muslin covers covering Jack. He tore a wide strip from the cloth.
“I’ll tie this to an oar to make a white flag. Lower two boats. I need help to get Jack to the dock. Once we’re off, get the Pearl out of port and go ’round to the cay. If Norrington lets me go, I will row the boat ‘round and meet you. Give me two hours to join you. If I don’t show up, stick to the code.”
***
Commodore James Norrington stood erect on the dock, hands clasped firmly behind his back as he surveyed the scene before him. Cold anger twisted in his stomach. Wreathed in fog and wood smoke, Nassau port lay in ruins. The smell of scorched and rotting flesh emanated from small wood fires that smoldered amongst shattered stone. Splintered masts, jutted out of the water at absurd angles, entangled in swollen rope. The smashed hulls of fishing boats and larger sailing vessels littered the shoreline.
James watched as his soldiers picked a hasty path between the stones and palm fronds, moving in ordered single file toward the heart of the city.
“Knock on every door,” James ordered. “Advise all citizens they are under the protection of the His Majesty’s navy. Arrest all looters.” James turned toward Lt. Gillette. “I want witnesses, Gillette. I will run down the pirates who did this and before God I will hang the lot of them.”
Gillette’s tricorn bobbed in affirmation. Then he paused and looked down at the parchment that Norrington gripped in his hand. Gillette stepped closer and lowered his voice. “And what about that, sir? I would advise you not to meet with Will alone. Let me and two soldiers accompany you.”
James drew himself up even straighter, willing backbone to turn to iron. “Very well. You may call out two of the men.”
Gillette barked a command and two red-coated soldiers came on the double, their bayonets held carefully aloft.
“Fall in!”
James strode toward the eastern dock with Gillette falling in behind him, and the two soldiers following.
Although James’ memory of the layout of port was excellent, many of the landmarks were missing. The public fountain was completely blown away, as was the harbormaster’s building.
“Sir!” whispered Gillette, pointing ahead.
James followed the waterline, noting there was indeed a dock ahead and there was a faint, yellowish glow in the mist. James’ leather, buckled shoe came down firmly upon wooden planking. Although he was at the very edge of the dock, he still couldn’t see Will. James and his entourage moved toward the lantern.
Then James caught a ghostly glimpse of a man waiting in the fog. He was holding and oar to which was tied a piece of white cloth: an unmistakable white flag of truce. His hooded garment was pulled across his face. James instinctively set his jaw, then his eyes wandered down to the man’s feet. A bundled form lay on the dock and beneath it was a litter.
Will lowered his cowl and James clenched his hands behind his back to keep them from shaking as a wave of fear and nausea raked him. He stopped about 6 feet from Will, which was as close as he cared to come with this body lying between them.
“It wasn’t us, James,” said Will.
“I know that, Turner. The Pearl was only a half-day ahead of us. And why has Jack sent his lover to speak with me? Does he not possess the fortitude to come speak with me himself?”
Silently, Will knelt and folded back the cloth from Jack’s face. Shock pierced James’ heart like a musket ball. He tried to steady himself as Will looked imploringly into his face.
“He bought passage here and came ahead of the Pearl to buy supplies. When the pirates sailed into port that night, Jack was caught in the fight.”
James tried to keep his gaze steady. “And what is it you want me to do, Turner?”
“I want you to take Jack and put him under the care of your ship’s physician. The wound may well be mortal and the priest at the monastery said Jack has a sickness of the heart. We can‘t help him, James. Look!”
Will pulled the cloth down further and revealed the wounds on Jack’s side.
James took several deep breaths and tried to quiet his hammering heart. He could look no longer and turned away. “So this is your plan then? Sail away with him when he’s well and return him to me when he’s nearly dead?”
James stiffened at Will’s touch on his shoulder. “James, please, for Jack’s sake, let’s put aside old quarrels.”
“He left me for you, Turner. He made his choice.”
“You have a house in Port Royal. You could take him there,” suggested Will.
Sudden fury flared in James Norrington’s breast. He lowered his voice to a strangled whisper. “And how do you propose I hide him? Governor Swann despises you for breaking Elizabeth’s heart and running off with Jack Sparrow! Nothing would give him more pleasure than to hang your lover.”
Jack moaned faintly. The sound tore at something buried in James’ soul. He dropped to one knee and touched Jack’s cheek gently, offering comfort.
Will drew his sword with one fluid motion. “Then draw your sword, James.”
Angry and uncertain, the commodore rose and drew his own fine blade, but the blacksmith did not move toward him. Will’s sword clanged to the dock at James’ feet and Will knelt before him, inclined his head, and proffered his neck.
“Kill me. Then tell Governor Swann that you killed me yourself,” said Will. “Let all jealousies die with me. I forfeit my life if only you’ll take him.”
There was a long beat of silence. Indeed, James, thought, it would fitting for Turner to die on the very sword he forged. The wind sang around James’ blade as he considered. Suddenly, he sheathed his sword.
“Get up, Turner. Enough people have died here already.” He turned away from Will. “Gillette! Take Sparrow aboard the Dauntless and put him in my cabin. He is under our protection as a witness. Summon Dr. Willoughby at once.”
Gillette nodded and James saw a glimmer of understanding in the lieutenant’s eyes. Gillette held the muskets as the sailors picked up the litter and departed. Will sighed and rose to his feet.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
James trembled with confusion and uncertainty. “This isn’t fair!” He hissed through clenched teeth.
Tears glistened on the boy’s cheeks. “I know,” he replied. “I give him to you, James. If he should recover, try to make him understand why I did this. Don’t let him think I --I--”
“And where to from here, Will?” asked James.
“We are sailing from here tonight to hunt down those who did this.”
“That is my task and I advise you to be well out of the way when we find them. Sail the Black Pearl for safer waters.”
James strode toward the end of the dock, abruptly ending the conversation. In a moment, he heard the splash of oars in the water. Will was leaving. Soon the Black Pearl would be at sea, leaving James with the shell of what was once Jack Sparrow
***
Part Two
James, Gillette and Mr. Murtogg watched silently as Dr. Willoughby probed the wounds in Jack’s side, then pulled off his wig, bent over the bed and pressed his ear to Jack’s heart. He listened intently for several minutes, then straightened up and pulled back the coverlet from Jack’s legs. He squeezed gently at the swelling in the ankles. He frowned and replaced his wig then motioned to James and Gillette to step outside the door.
“The wound in the side is most grievous, Commodore,” said Dr. Willoughby, “and his pulse is very rapid and weak He is suffering from dropsy, a collection of poisons in the blood. These poisons in turn have affected his heart.”
“And what treatment do you suggest, doctor?” asked James.
Willoughby’s man quickly brought a chair and the portly doctor eased down into it. “Well, a Scottish physician, Dr. Withering, has just published a medical paper giving over two hundred accounts of how he has successfully treated dropsical conditions with foxglove leaves.”
The doctor took out a white handkerchief and dabbed his forehead. “I will mix a remedy for Sparrow containing foxglove, bitter root and some other medicines. I will administer the first dose myself. Then I’ll send my man ‘round twice a day to dress his wounds and administer the syrup. He must have no water to drink at this time.”
Back in the room, Dr. Willoughby opened his wooden medicine chest. He took out a set of tiny spoons and measured the various powders and dried plants into his mortar and began to grind them. Within half an hour, James held Jack’s hands while the doctor dribbled the black syrup down Jack’s throat.
Jack coughed and struggled beneath James’ hands but the commodore held him firmly. He was alarmed at the weakness in the body beneath him. Sparrow had no more strength than the little bird that was his namesake.
Jack choked down the final drops and breathed heavily as James wiped a few drops from his chin with a handkerchief. James had once felt a sense of joy at listening to Jack’s quieting breathing, but now his lungs made a sodden, injured sound.
Dr Willoughby then cleaned Jack’s wounds and dressed them with salve and bandages. After three parts of an hour, Jack began to retch. Dr. Willoughby grabbed a basin. James pulled him upright onto the edge of the bed and held his head as Jack vomited a dark, foul smelling liquid into the basin. James looked questioningly at the doctor.
“Tis to be expected, Commodore. The foxglove is also a purgative to help remove the poisons. That substance he is spitting out is toxic.”
Jack's body went limp in James’ arms. Willoughby passed the basin to his man who hastened out of the cabin to empty it.
“That’s the worst of it for now, Commodore. He can rest now. I’ll be in my cabin if you need me.”
Willoughby took his leave and Gillette approached the bed to assist but James shook his head. “I will clean him up. Please go now.”
Gillette closed the door behind him softly. James laid Jack down and grabbed linens, soap and clean water. Jack sighed as a soapy cloth stroked gently down his limbs and chest.
James choked back the tears as the memories flooded forth...
Jack sat in James’ washtub and rubbed the cake of soap between his grimy hands.
“Drink up me ’earties, yo ho!” sang Jack.
How delicious, thought James as he sneaked up behind that tanned back, carrying a bucket of water in his hands.
“Yo-ho-o-o-o, a pirate’s life for -- awk!” Jack yelped as cold water deluged over him. He bounced to his feet. “What th’ bloody ‘ell--?”
James smiled. “Washing my pirate,” he answered, matter-of-factly.
He set the bucket down and wrapped his arms around Jack‘s smooth, slippery shoulders. “Do you realize how adorable you look with suds in your beard?”
Jack cocked an eyebrow, tilted his chin just so and the trinkets in his hair clicked softly. “For ye’re sake, luv, I’m sorry the water was cold. Just look what it’s done.”
James looked down. “Oh!”
Jack waved his hands dismissively. “Sorry to disappoint ye, luv.”
James swept the pirate up into his arms, loving the way Sparrow’s eyes bugged out whenever he was startled. He carried him toward the bed.
“I guess I’ll just have to work a little harder at preparing you, won’t I?” asked James.
He tossed Jack onto the sheets in a tangle of arms and legs...
A lifetime ago, thought James, as he finished drying Jack’s face. He picked up one of his own crisp, white shirts, unfolded it around Jack and pulled his thin arms through the sleeves. The garment was much too big for him. With a small knife, James made several strategic cuts, and then ripped the material to shorten the sleeves and tail.
The dark eyes flickered open and James searched them for any sign of recognition. A faint glimmer of light appeared in Jack’s eyes and James held onto it with all his heart.
A name trembled on Jack’s lips. He drew a breath as if to scream, but it died as it reached his lips and the scream was only a whisper. “Jamie?”
“Tis I,” James replied softly.
Jack frowned and squinted. His gaze flickered around the room. He clearly did not know where he was.
“Don’t be frightened. You’re aboard the Dauntless in Nassau port. Pirates raided the port two nights ago and you were wounded. We came as soon as word reached us.”
“Whose side was I on, luv?” Jack whispered.
James sighed. “I never know whose side you’re on, Jack.”
Jack looked down at the shirt covering his chest. “What’s this? Ye’ve cut up one of yer fine shirts for me.”
“I’d cut up my heart for you, Jack."
"I'd never ask so much of ye, mate." Jack licked his parched lips. "Bit o' water fer ol' Jack? Please, luv."
James hesitated, then poured a little water into a cup and held it to Jack's lips. "Just a sip and no more. Dr. Willoughby says we must restrict your fluids until your heart is stronger."
Jack trembled in James' arms as he gulped the mouthful of water. Gently, James eased him down onto the pillow and pulled the thick coverlet over his frail form. Within a few moments, the pirate was drowsy.
"Where's me Pearl, James?" he whispered.
James wrung cold water from a rag and held it to Jack's forehead. "At sea. No more questions tonight, Captain Sparrow. That's an order."
Jack's eyes closed and James watched as his chest heaved erratically beneath the sheets. James pulled his desk closer to the bed, opened the drawer and set out parchment, quill and inkwell. He dipped his quill, adjusted the lantern and hunched over his writings. He looked up at a soft tap at the door.
"Enter," said James.
Gillette nudged the door open with his elbow and entered, carrying a tray and a pot of tea. "The Emerald is sailing into port, sir. Thought you'd appreciate a little dinner before Admiral Stokes arrives."
Gillette set the tray down at the edge of the desk and James’ appetite perked up at the smoky odor of the ham and buttery biscuits. James folded the ham slice between the biscuits and took an enormous bite, manners most unbecoming a well-bred commodore. Gillette poured tea.
"Thank you, I was starving," said James through a mouthful of food. "And the report?"
"We have secured the port and are questioning witnesses. Water barrels and flour are being unloaded for the citizens," answered Gillette.
"Any looters?"
"None, sir. Anything that was worth stealing has already been taken.”
“Any buccaneers among the wounded?”
“None so far. We are still questioning the monks at the monastery.”
“It seems improbable that Jack would be the only one,” James replied.
“If they are any here, we will find them, sir. May I inquire as to what you are working on so late, sir?" Gillette nodded toward the papers on the desk.
"I'm writing a letter of marque for Captain Sparrow. Seeing as how no miracles appear to be coming our way, I will endeavor to create one. It may buy him a little time."
“Sir-- James.” Gillette lowered his voice. Tentatively, he clasped James’ shoulder and squeezed. “I know how difficult this must be for you. If you need to talk--”
James covered Gillette’s hand and squeezed back warmly. “Thank you. Unfortunately, we must first deal with some very pressing matters. Off you go, then.”
He grabbed his quill and began writing again. “Notify me as soon as the admiral is ready for report.”
James scribbled hastily on the paper: ...having received his Majesty's Commands to encourage all His Majesty's Subjects by every means in their power....
James dipped his quill again. ...the said Jack Sparrow in and with the said Ship called the Black Pearl to cruise against...
James’ wrist began to ache. Must finish, Jack‘s life depends on this document, he thought. Given under my Hand & Seal of Arms at Nassau this 6th day...
...the tangle of wet arms, legs and braids rolled over and tried to crawl away on the velvet bedspread. James, treated to a view of Jack’s lovely backside, muttered a soft curse, seized a tanned ankle and tugged rather harshly. Then he yelped as Jack whirled suddenly and sank his gold and silver teeth sharply into the web of the commodore’s right thumb.
“Brigand!”
He rapped Jack smartly across the cheek and the pirate rolled off the bed like a cat, landing noiselessly on the floor. James frowned and held a kerchief to his bleeding hand as the red headscarf and two enormous eyes peeked over the bedspread. James suddenly chuckled at the absurdity and reached for Jack. The eyes cringed.
“I won’t hit you again, I promise,” said James.
Jack pouted but stood up. His eyes were unfathomable as he swished one hip onto the bed. “Not your property, mate.”
“I know,” whispered James. He held out his arms and Jack melted into them. “But I’m your property, Jack. You’ve stolen me. “
Jack’s fingers traced delicate circles on James’ chest. “An’ what lovely property it ‘tis.”
Jack kissed him then, while the blood thundered in James’ ears and his hands roamed the scarred back. He felt Jack tug delicately at his breeches and James lay back, closed his eyes and waited with pounding heart.
Suddenly, James’ breath was forced out in a rush as Jack’s full weight thudded onto his chest. The pirate swore as he tore cloth and nipped James’ lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Jack was leaving no doubt who was in control here. James gasped when he looked into those eyes. They were like twin suns raging within a pool of blackest sin. James was swept into a whirlwind of smoke and fire.
*****
“So, the Dauntless is to return to Port Royal with all possible speed, then?” asked James.
Admiral Stokes nodded. “To keep the port safe. As of yet, we have no reason to believe the pirates have left the Caribbean. Possible targets could be Port Royal, Santo Domingo, Port Au Prince. They have no shortage of targets. The Emerald shall give chase, and God willing, we’ll capture these men and bring them to justice.”
James poured two glasses of brandy. The admiral unbuttoned his brocade coat and sank down into one of James’ padded chairs.
“And who is this man I hear you are keeping in your cabin, commodore?”
“Jack Sparrow,” replied James. “A pirate of little significance, but I feel he may be a valuable witness to the Crown in this case-- if he recovers.”
James presented the letter of marque to Admiral Stokes.
Stokes adjusted his spectacles down on his nose and examined the document briefly. “Ah, yes, and the ink is barely dry. Well, James, I will trust your judgment on this. God speed and safe journey.”
“God speed sir.” James Norrington bowed as Stokes took his leave.
***
James was grateful for the cover of nightfall as the Dauntless docked in Port Royal. “Misters Murtogg and Mullroy,” said James.
The two stepped forward and stood at attention.
“Hasten up the hill to my house and rouse the servants,” ordered James. “Tell them to prepare my bed for a guest and send the carriage immediately. Do not answer any questions, especially about Captain Sparrow. “
The sailors jogged away into the darkness and Dr. Willoughby joined James on the deck. He handed James a rolled up cloth.
“These are Mister Sparrow’s medicines, Commodore. The powders are already mixed. I have included a measuring spoon and written instructions on how to administer the elixir.”
The doctor then produced a small, glass stoppered bottle and a slender glass rod, both wrapped in a separate towel. “ This is a quieting draught-- laudanum. If he should start having heart pains again, measure two drops into a spoonful of water, place it in his mouth and send for me at once.”
James nodded and took the items. Presently, hoof beats and the rumble of carriage wheels approached.
“Bring Sparrow!” said James.
Gillette disappeared below decks and within several minutes, soldiers came up the steps, bearing Jack’s litter. Gillette carried the pirate’s belongings and followed the soldiers as walked up the ramp toward the carriage.
“Do you want me to come with you, sir?” Gillette whispered to the commodore as they approached the coach.
James took Jack‘s belongings from Gillette. “No, I need you to stay here for now. Governor Swann will be calling soon, I’m sure. If I require anything, I’ll send for you.”
***
Grasping Jack in his arms, James pulled him up a little higher in the feather bed as Sarah, the maid, filled the bed warmer with warm coals from the fireplace. James heard Fanny’s heavy tread on the stairs. She tapped softly on the door, then entered carrying a tray of warm food.
“Just broth and bread, sir,” Fanny said in her husky voice as she set the tray on the bedside table. She stirred the contents of the bowl. “Soft and nourishin’ fer an invalid.”
Then her eyes widened in surprise as she looked into Jack’s face. “Why, it’s him, isn’t it, sir? Been gone fer three years, but I still recognize ‘im!”
“Captain Sparrow is our guest until further notice, Fanny. Not one of you is to say a single word to anyone about his presence here. Do I make myself clear?”
The women curtsied. Fanny’s thick fingers stroked Jack’s moist forehead.
“Bit o’ fever, ‘ere, sir.”
“Fetch a pan of cold water and some clean cloths,” said James.
The women took their leave and James stroked Jack’s grizzled cheek, trying to rouse him.
“Jack, wake up. That’s right, open your eyes and look at me.”
Jack‘s eyelashes fluttered slightly on his cheeks. “Aye?”
“You’re in Port Royal.”
Jack frowned. His fingers tightened on the heavy bedspread. “Gonna ’ang me, then?”
James grabbed his hands and squeezed them. “Calm yourself. No one is going to hang you. Open your mouth and swallow down.”
James spooned a bite of food into Jack’s mouth. Jack struggled several moments, and then to James’ relief, he swallowed.
“Thank God you can eat,” muttered James.
Jack choked down two more bites, then turned his head aside. “Please! No more,” he whispered.
James moistened the napkin, wiped broth from Jack’s beard and poured a dram of water into a cup. He held it to Jack’s lips and the pirate gulped it and sank back amongst the pillows, exhausted. His breath came in short gasps and his heart raced against James’ palm. So weak. How fragile the heart that beat within this mortal cage.
“Why so good t’ me, Jamie? ”
“Don’t you know, Jack? Can’t you guess?”
A darker knowledge flickered in Jack’s eyes, but he said nothing. Damn the man, thought James. He still isn’t going to accept it.
James turned away from the bed and grasped his hands behind his back. He stepped to the French doors that led to the balcony and peered through the gap in the thick curtains. He fixed his gaze on the sea pulsing in the moonlight. Looking at anything except the confusion and pain in Jack’s eyes.
“I-I see no reason for animosity between us,” said James. “You made a choice which I have long since accepted and you are in a position to help the Crown bring some men to justice.”
“An’ how am I t’ do that?”
I’ve written a letter of marque for you. That gives you a reprieve from the noose.”
“I didna sign any letter,” growled Jack.
“I took the liberty of making your mark.”
“I can sign me own name, Commodore. So that’s what it’s down to, aye? Helpin’ ye to hunt down my own kind? An’ what ‘appens to me after you get what you want? You can’t keep me ‘ere. I’m a pirate, not a bloody lapdog.”
James sighed and turned to face him. “If you prefer, I can send you to a house on another island and hire a staff to wait on you while you recover. Where you choose to go from there is your affair. I’m not entirely without means, Jack.”
Jack tried to lift himself up on his elbows, then grimaced and fell back. He put his right hand to his hip and James was alarmed to see bright red blood on his fingers. The commodore stepped to the bed and pulled back the bed linen. The sword wound had reopened and was oozing blood. James pressed a folded cloth to the bloody bandages. God’s eyeteeth, thought James, it’s been bleeding for days. He can’t have that much blood left.
“Will-“ groaned Jack. Tears of pain welled in his eyes.
Carefully, James eased his arms around the wounded man and lifted him. He let the warmth of his breath caress Jack’s cheek. A deep, aching sensation inside of James worsened. How it pained him to hear Jack call for another man.
“Will isn’t here, Jack. He and the Pearl are safe.”
Tears spilled from Jack’s glossy eyes. “He’s taken my ship an’ left me to die.”
James shifted him in his arms then looked into his eyes. “Jack, I will not allow you to disparage Will. He was forced by circumstance to make this decision. You must find it within yourself to forgive him.”
Jack breathed heavily against James’ cheek. So hot, James thought, touching his fingers to Jack’s forehead. Raging with fever...
...Smoke and fire. A sudden gust of flame washed over James, scorching his nostrils and rousing him to consciousness. He coughed. His breath became agony. Guns and screams of the dying raged around him.
The Spanish bastards were sailing under false colors and fired upon the H.M.S. Wellington without warning. The first volley ignited the powder magazine.
James had gone down in a whirlwind of splinters and fire. Suddenly, above the din he heard a familiar voice shouting orders. Strong hands gripped him by his coat and lifted him. His wig fell off and the ribbon binding his hair loosened, spilling his hair about his shoulders. James opened his eyes. Jack Sparrow held James Norrington across his hip like a sack of grain.
A shot from Jack’s pistol nearly deafened James. An approaching pirate fell at Jack’s feet, the breast of his faded shirt drenched with blood. Jack tucked his spent pistol into his sash and jerked at yet another weapon concealed there. James heard leather sing as Jack swung the cat o’ nine tails over his head. Another pirate’s pistol was jerked from his hand and the next blow of the lash fell across his face, cutting eyes and splintering teeth.
The Black Pearl put the Spanish pirates to the sword that day. James never truly understood why Jack Sparrow came to his aid. He was taken aboard the Pearl and dumped unceremoniously from Jack’s hip.
James lay on a cabin floor and tried to pluck splinters from his bleeding flesh when the murderous creature approached him.
James noted that now Jack wore the cat knotted about his slender waist. His wary eyes probed the commodore’s flesh in a manner that made James shiver in disgust.
“Anamaria!” Jack growled.
A woman came swiftly to attend James wounds. Then left alone again with Jack, James found his terror mounting as the brigand approached him. Hip to hip, eye to eye they stood. James grimaced at the odor that assaulted his nostrils and Jack grinned.
“Ye’ve no more belly than that?” Jack chuckled.
The pirate’s lips brushed James’ in the most tender of kisses. James jerked away and Jack bared his gold and silver teeth in frustration. Jack moved slightly and James heard the solid click of a pistol. He swallowed hard as the muzzle brushed his left temple. Jack’s eyes danced with mischief.
“Jamie, the only rules that really matter are these. What a man can do and what a man can’t do. But in either case, it’s best to give ol’ Jack what he wants, savvy?”
Then Sparrow kissed him again and James let his lips part beneath the insistent probing of Jack’ tongue…
Jack had reduced him to ashes.
For two years Jack sneaked into Port Royal for intimate liaisons with James. There were moments of passion and companionship between them that James counted among some of the happier moments of his life. But the more he tried to grasp the pirate, the more Jack slipped though his fingers.
After making love, Jack would lie awake and listen to the pounding surf outside the commodore’s balcony, his eyes veiled in shadows and unreadable.
Then one morning, James awoke to an empty bed. Jack and his effects were gone. Typical, thought James. He came and went as he pleased. Then word came that Will Turner was missing and his wife, Elizabeth, was furious. Sparrow came to the Turner house that morning before sunrise and had taken the lad from his bed.
James Norrington remained behind. Tethered like a dog to honor and duty, he attended parties, watched drills, processed stacks of paperwork and hanged pirates. Again and again, he watched the men before him die on the gallows, but there was only one neck he truly wished to see in the noose. That man was Jack Sparrow.
Something like a knife twisted in James’ gut as he felt Jack’s blood soaking into his shirtsleeves. James looked down and gently he kissed the tears from Jack’s cheek.
“Jack, I forgive you everything,” he whispered. “I know how you like pretty things and Will is a pretty thing. He’s young, impressionable and free-spirited. So much like you. You didn’t want to be tied to someone beaten down by duty.” Someone like me, thought James.
“And what did it profit me to run away with Will?” Jack asked quietly.
“Is there anything in life that you do not measure by profit, Jack?”
A fresh wave of tears surged onto Jack’s face. James rocked him gently.
“Don’t cry, love.”
There came a soft tap at the door. It was Sarah, carrying a pitcher of cold water, a washbasin and cloths. Silently, James nodded toward the bureau and she placed the articles there. She picked up the food tray and curtsied.
“That will be all, Sarah. Thank you.”
Jack grimaced in pain as the cold cloth touched his forehead. His breathing changed. Now it came in short gasps as great drops of sweat formed on his forehead. “James--I--”
“Where does it hurt, Jack?” asked James. When he didn’t answer, James became more insistent. “Damnit, Jack, tell me where it hurts! Sarah!”
At the commodore’s shout, Sarah appeared at the door. James unwrapped the laudanum. “Run to the fort as fast as you can and summon Dr. Willoughby. Tell him Jack Sparrow is having heart pains again!”
With shaking hands, James guided the glass rod into the bottle of medicine. He mixed one drop, then another into a dram of water. James spooned it between Jack’s lips.
Jack frowned at the odor and taste of the medicine. “Druggin me, aye?”
“Tincture of opium, Jack. More potent than the opium you smoke.”
“I smoke opium?”
***
Part Three
Governor Weatherby Swann was the last person James wanted to see in his parlor at the first light of dawn. The stubborn set of his jaw and the manner in which he choked his walking cane as he spoke made it clear to James that he’d grown weary of listening.
“Commodore! You’ve done nothing in the past half hour but exhaust my patience by talking in circles. If Sparrow is up in that room I have a right to know. You are not the only one who has some authority in this matter. Now is Sparrow upstairs or isn‘t he?”
James knew that the struggle was pointless. “Yes, Governor Swann. Jack Sparrow is upstairs. I placed him under my protection in hopes that he will aid our investigation of the attack on Nassau Port.”
“Well, have you questioned him? What has he told you?”
“Nothing as of yet. Unfortunately, he is very seriously wounded. We do not know yet if he will recover.”
“Just as well that he dies of his wounds then. Whatever testimony he cares to give will not be enough to save him from the gallows,” replied Swann.
James stepped to his desk and picked up a folded document. He opened it and handed it to Governor Swann. The governor examined the writing curiously.
“What sort of trickery is this?” demanded Swann. “Sparrow would never consent to serve the Crown!”
James pointed to an “X” on the document, a mark that he, himself, had made. “There is Sparrow’s signature.”
Swann shoved the document back into James’ hands and dismissed it with an impatient wave of his hand. “Commodore, this is obviously your doing. God knows what led you to such a misguided judgment. If he has testimony regarding the attack on Nassau, then let him give it immediately. I will write the admiralty on this matter.”
“The patient is no condition to give testimony at this time!” a voice said sharply.
James and the governor looked up as Dr. Willoughby descended the stairs. His brows were knit together in a frown under the white cap of his wig. He set his leather medical case down at the governor’s feet, pulled out a white handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead.
“Captain Sparrow is to have no visitors except for myself and those who administer his care. He is suffering from a serious malady of the heart and has been given a narcotic. He was in a hallucinogenic state prior to falling asleep. Anything he would say at this time would have no basis in reality. I am ready to defend my position to the admiralty if need be.”
James’ gaze shifted from Dr. Willoughby to Governor Swann. The governor thudded his walking stick on the polished floor in exasperation then set his tricorn hat atop his curled wig.
“Gentlemen, I take my leave. It is clear to me there is a conspiracy here to protect Sparrow, though for what purpose I cannot guess. Do keep me informed of his condition.”
James bowed. “Of course, Governor Swann.”
The governor marched out the front doors and Willoughby plopped into one the plush chairs. James poured a glass of claret for him.
“He is sleeping, then?” asked James.
“Yes, but Im afraid ‘tis only a matter of time, Commodore.”
“The medicines are not helping?”
The doctor drained his glass and shook his head. “They helped initially. He has suffered a tremendous setback with this second attack. We must turn our efforts towards his comfort now, Commodore. I suspect he may be in the first stages of tetany. He will require meticulous care.”
Dr. Willoughby’s words echoed like a gunshot in the room.
"The laudanum may be administered thrice daily for the angina. He may also have small drinks of spiritous liquors. Mental stress will worsen his condition, so the environment must be kept tranquil. If sitting up eases the pain, then he may sit up as he can tolerate. I will return tonight to dress his wounds again.”
James stood in the drive like a man frozen and watched as the coach rumbled through the front gate. He was barely aware that someone was talking to him. He’d lost all sense of time. Then he looked up. Mister Murtogg and Mister Mullroy were staring at him.
“Sir?” asked Mister Murtogg. “Captain Sparrow is not doin’ well, then?”
Apparently the two had been listening to the conversation from their posts at the front door.
James shook his head and whispered, “No.”
“Very sorry to ‘ear that, sir,” Mister Mullroy replied.
“No one is to enter the house save for myself, the servants, naval officers and Dr. Willoughby. If either of you wishes to pay your respects to Captain Sparrow, I will notice you when he is awake and you may come upstairs one at a time.”
James returned to the parlor and stared up the stairs. His footsteps fell heavily on the steps, almost as if there were anchors tied to his shoes.
***
Jack was not yet awake. James noted a dusky color to his lips, which had not been present previously, and his right ankle was red and more swollen. His breath came and went like a tired child’s.
James propped the leg up on a pillow and positioned a cold, wet cloth on the inflamed flesh. Leaning over the bed, he pressed a tender kiss to Jack’s forehead. Jack made a soft sound in his throat, but continued sleeping.
James pulled a chair to the bed and sat down. He drew one of Jack’s hands into his own. Fatigue weighed James down like an invisible set of irons. He soon nodded off…
…He was never so beautiful as when he thought he was unobserved. His eyes were always so wide and innocent as his fingers danced softly across James’ bare chest. James kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, just peeking out from beneath his lashes as Jack wiggled out of bed and went about poking his nose into everything in James’ room.
He rifled through the drawers of the bureau first, pocketing bits of paper and a polished stone paperweight. The pockets of James’ coat were next, which yielded only a small piece of hard candy that Jack popped into his mouth. He pulled the commodore’s sword from its scabbard and grimaced as the blade sang. He glanced towards the bed. James didn’t move. Then it was on to the wig stand. Jack pulled the wig on over his red scarf and cautiously peeked in the mirror.
Ah, yes, thought James. In the end, it always comes down to the wig.
“It will never work,” James stated matter-of-factly.
Instantly, the child-like eyes became wary.
“The sword is much too heavy to tie in your hair.”
Carrying his prizes, Jack dropped the sword on the rug with a heavy thud, pranced across the room and bounded onto the bed. The wig flew askew on his head and James’ could not suppress a chuckle.
“Ow’s that? Did I hear you snicker, commodore?”
James righted the wig on Jack’s head, pried open the fingers of his right hand and cocked an eyebrow in disapproval. “What’s this? The pocket watch my father gave me! How many times must I remind you to keep your grubby hands off my watch?”
Jack pouted. “Doesn’t count. I never made it out of th’ room with it, as it were.”
James stood up and pulled on his breeches. He tucked the watch into a pocket as Jack’s eyes widened in growing alarm.
“Where ye goin’?” asked Jack.
“To the kitchen. That noxious drug you smoke has made my stomach quite queasy.”
He pointed overhead to the cloud of opium smoke curling over his bed. The naked Jack leaped onto James’ back and clenched his tanned arms around the commodore’s neck.
“Giddy up, Commodore!” Jack growled into James’ ear. He grabbed his own battered tricorn as James carried him out the door.
He was whispering delicious obscenities into James’ ear when they encountered an astonished Fanny on the stairs. She gaped wordlessly at the sight of a half-dressed James Norrington standing on the stairs with a naked pirate on his back.
Jack landed on the steps with an undignified thud as the red-faced James dropped him like a rock and retreated quickly to his room. Jack stood up, held his hat in a strategic position and faced Fanny.
“Apologies, miss,” he muttered. He turned, held his hat over his bare backside and followed James.
James nearly suffocated from suppressed laughter as Jack rubbed his posterior.
“Left bruises on me, ye did,” Jack pouted.
“Well, come here and show them to me. I guess I’ll have to kiss them all, won’t I?” asked James, getting down on his knees.
“Indeed ye will, mate.”
Jack rested one bare thigh over James’ left shoulder, rolled his head back and sighed deeply as James’ lips met velvety flesh…
Part Four
James awoke to the sound of spasmodic coughing. He frowned momentarily-his neck ached from having fallen asleep in the chair, then he realized it was Jack. Jack couldn’t breathe.
James leaped to his feet and reached over the bed. Taking great care to avoid the wounds on Jack’s side, James eased his arms around the pirate’s ribcage and pulled him into a sitting position. The bluish tinge to Jack’s lips deepened and his eyes seemed to be rolling back in the sockets.
“Come on, Jack! Breathe for me!” James gave him a hard shake. “Slow, deep breaths. “
Jack’s breathing evened out. He blinked several times and then his eyes focused on James’ face.
“Jamie,” he whispered. “Sorry, luv. ‘Twas a bad dream.”
James managed to force a small smile. “Was it I chasing you with a noose?”
“Nay. ‘Twas nothing so harmless as that, mate.” Jack grimaced. “ ‘Twas about someone I once knew.”
“I think I know just the thing to cheer you up,” replied James.
Propping Jack on an extra pillow, James went to the French doors and opened them. Jack’s eyes grew misty at the sound of ocean waves and the scent of salty air.
“Would you like to sit out on the balcony for a little while?” asked James. “Dr. Willoughby thinks that you might benefit from sitting up.”
A smile tugged at Jack’s lips. “If you and the good doctor think I should.”
James went to the closet and returned to the bed carrying a bundle.
“Captain Sparrow, your effects.”
James unbuttoned the shirt he’d dressed Jack in and eased it off. He unfolded Jack’s freshly laundered shirt and placed it on Jack. A pair of James’ breeches was next. He eased Jack into a sitting position on the side of the bed and reached for the red headscarf. James folded the scarf, captured as many braids under it as he could and tied it. He pulled Jack’s trinkets into their familiar positions.
Next he picked up a small twig about the size and thickness of his writing quill and held it before Jack’s face.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to do this honor, Captain Sparrow. I’m not as adept at it as you are.”
Jack took the end of the twig in his mouth and chewed it until it the fibers formed a little fan. James dipped the homemade brush into a tiny stone jar filled with a mixture of grease and wood ashes. Using short, painstaking strokes, he painted along the edges of Jacks eyelashes.
“We’re just about finished,” said James. “Let’s get you to the chair, shall we?”
James pulled Jack’s left arm around his neck. Although Jack could bear weight, he was very unsteady and was not able to move his feet at all.
“Put your arm around my neck,” said James.
He swept Jack up into his arms, carried him onto the balcony and set him down gently into the chair. A few minutes more and James tied Jack’s belt around his waist, placed his cutlass in it’s sheathe and tucked both his pistol and his compass into the belt. He flung Jack’s threadbare coat about his shoulders and finished the job by carefully positioning Jack’s battered tricorn atop the red scarf.
James stepped back to assess his work and choked back tears. Thank God I am able to restore some of his dignity, he thought.
“Sorry to be so much trouble, mate,” said Jack. " 'Twould ‘ve been better if you had left me to die. Sooner or later, they’ll ‘ang me and your letter of marque won’t matter one spit.”
Jack leaned back in the chair, brought his right arm across his chest and held his left shoulder. His breathing became more labored and the bluish tinge to his lips deepened.
James held a glass of water to his lips. Jack wrinkled his nose at the odor of laudanum and pushed glass away.
“Jack, please. It will ease the pain.”
Jack heaved a tired sigh but drank.
James pressed a wet cloth to Jack’s cheek. “I swear by all I hold sacred that I will find the men who did this to you and I will punish them. Jack, do you know anything about the pirates who raided Nassau that night? A description of the man who wielded the sword against you would--”
“I know th’ man who did this t’ me. “
James frowned but waited for Jack to catch his breath.
“Tis been many years an’ I thought I’d never see ‘im again” Jack whispered between breaths and James saw a faint gleam of murder in Jack’s dark eyes.
“I was but a lad when I was taken away in a raid and I’d naught seen ‘im since. Then on Nassau I saw ‘im comin’ fer me. His ‘air an’ beard were all grown out but I knew him.”
James struggled with a growing sense of rage. He held the arm of Jack’s chair in a death grip. “Who is this man?”
Jack leaned his head back, sighed and closed his eyes. “T'was me brother.”
James was speechless for several moments. “You have family then,” James stated.
“Aye, my brother Jonah. I went back after I was grown but me family was gone. Plague took ‘em all.”
“So he is the younger brother?” asked James.
Jack was growing drowsy from the laudanum. “Aye, I’m the eldest by a quarter of an hour.”
James’ heart stood still. He stood up and turned away from Jack to stare at the sea. He struggled with the implications of what he’d just been told. Somewhere in the Caribbean prowled a scalawag with a heart ten times blacker than Jack’s, a man so cruel he had put his twin brother to the sword.
James captured the tears at the inner corners of his eyes and crushed them into silence. “Jack, I- I have a gift for you.”
Jack’s eyes widened in child-like wonder. “A present? For me?”
James hastened into the bedroom and then returned, carrying a small muslin bag. He poured the contents into his hand and blushed awkwardly. “I bought this for you-before you left. That is, three years ago-and I never had the chance to give it to you before-“
“Before I ran away with a man half me age,” Jack finished quietly. “Why don’t you just get on with it then?”
James knelt by the chair and pressed the jewel into Jack’s palm. The pirate’s eyes grew wide in astonishment for James was sure not even Jack had seen a stone as fine as this one.
“It’s the most perfect piece of jade ever to come out of China,” James whispered in Jack’s ear as his own hands slid down to cradle Jack’s.
The eyes that gazed into James’ lost all their cunning as if Jack could see clearly for the very first time.
“It’s like your eyes, Jamie,” Jack whispered.
James took the bead from his hand gently. “Shall I tie it in your hair then?”
“Please, mate.”
James carefully threaded a strand of Jack’s hair through the bead and fashioned a clumsy braid. “Again, not as good at this as you are, but this will do for right now.”
Jack closed his eyes and smiled contentedly as James drew back to admire his handiwork.
Tears lumped together in James’ throat and spilled out of his soul. “Can you not see, Jack, that I love you?”
Not more than a few seconds after James’ spoke, the light faded from Jack’s eyes. With shaking hands, James pushed aside the faded shirt and placed his palm upon Jack’s heart but he felt nothing. Hands that once spoke a language of their own lay limply in Jack’s lap, forever stilled.
“Rest in peace, my love,” whispered James.
For the final time, he touched his lips to Jack’s. Then he stood and turned to face the ocean waves. In the distance he could see the majestic masts of the Dauntless. Returning to the bedroom, he strapped on his sword and reached for his wig. He called for Sarah and the maid quickly appeared.
“Send for the undertaker. Captain Sparrow has expired.”
The girl gasped, then covered her mouth with her hands and curtsied.
James drew his blade and examined the length of it in the sunlight that streamed into the room.
“Jonah Sparrow,” James muttered. “Pray that Death will come quickly for you. Better He finds you than I.”
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