Scarlett & Giselle Series - 14: Three Against One
Author: mamazano
Title: Three Against One
Rating: R (overall series)
Characters: Jack, Scarlett, Giselle… with some special guest appearances
Disclaimer: Disney owns them, I just play with them
Summary: It appears Giselle was not the only one in need of rescuing.
As always, profound thanks goes out once again to my beta-wizard,
compassrose7577 , for all her help, inspiration and guidance.
A continuation of the saga of Scarlett and Giselle. Previous episodes can be found here.
( Index to all Episodes )
Three Against One
****
The landlord of the Faithful Bride told Thomas what details he could about the sordid deed.
“One of the local fishmongers found ‘er out back, beat up something awful. Thought she were dead at first.” Hawkins took a long swallow of ale, wiping the froth from his mouth with his sleeve. “Woke me ‘fore the sun were up, told me he’d found one of my whores.”
Thomas nodded and signaled to the serving girl for another round of drinks. Seated with the portly tavern keeper in an alcove off the main room, it was a space where more intimate or clandestine matters could be pursued. Once Thomas had made it clear he would compensate the tradesman for his troubles, there had been no problems with gleaning the details of the previous evening.
“She - ‘er name’s Giselle, were here later than usual,” Hawkins continued his tale, fortified by another pint of ale. “I was over there, just cleaning up when they came in.”
“Did you get a good look at them?” Thomas took a sip of his own drink. “See how many of them there were?”
Hawkins nodded. “Oh, I saw ‘em good enough. There were three of ‘em, strangers to these parts, or at least the Bride. Blond feller appeared t’ be the leader of the bunch, ex-Navy from the looks of it.” He leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Could tell they were up t’ no good the minute I laid eyes on ‘em. Shifty bastards, didn’t order nothin’, just lookin’ for a wench to bugger, I take it.”
Thomas kept an impassive face but his gut clenched. He knew the type: predators, land sharks looking for easy prey. The worse sort, preying on the weak, wenches, beggars, and the elderly. Their sport was torment and torture, their reward the fear and pain they spread. The dregs of society, masquerading as ordinary citizens.
“Would you recognize them again?” Thomas asked, maintaining a calm voice.
Hawkins gave Thomas a suspicious look. “Mebbe. Why?”
Thomas reached in his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, placing several on the table. “Perhaps I just don’t fancy seeing the wenches roughed up like that.” He pushed two of the coins toward the landlord.
The other man’s face lit up and he licked his lips.
Thomas slid forward three more coins. “And perhaps, I might just happen to want to return them the favor they so generous bestowed on the poor lass back there.”
Hawkins took the coins, with a conspirical wink. “I’m imaginin’ you’ll be wantin’ t’ know the minute they set foot in here again.”
“Exactly.” Thomas nodded and rose to go. “My ship’s the Griselle. You’ll find me there.”
“Pleasure to be of help.” Hawkins rose as well and wiped his hand on his apron before extending it to Thomas. “Giselle’s a good egg, ne’er caused a lick of trouble. Certainly didn’t deserve what she got.”
****
Scarlett sat on the dank floor next to Giselle, keeping watch over her friend while Captain Thomas had gone to speak to the landlord. Giselle had drifted off again, a blessing, considering the condition she was in. From Scarlett’s hurried examination, it appeared nothing was broken, nor had she been cut, praise be. But Giselle’s thin frame was battered, her gown in tatters, and she’d been sorely abused.
Scarlett bit her lip and fought back the tears that welled behind her eyes. Giselle was the closest thing she had to family, an unlikely friendship that had blossomed into so much more. Scarlett hadn’t fully realized the depth of their connection, until the news came that Giselle had been attacked. Now, sitting here in the gloom, she wished she could take back some of the harsh things she’d said in the past, had shown more patience with her, and been more attentive. The girl was so naïve in many ways, and way too trusting.
She looked up as the door opened and the tall captain rejoined her. Scarlett had no idea why this stranger was being so kind. She wondered what might be his motives; she had lost faith in random kindness a long time ago.
“How is she?” Thomas asked, quietly.
Scarlett looked up at him and whispered back. “She’s asleep.”
“We best let her rest for a little while longer before moving her, then.” He ran a weary hand through his hair.
Scarlett stood and stretched her stiff limbs. “Did you find out anything?”
“As I suspected,” he began, his demeanor hardening. “Three of them, cruising the taverns for an easy target.” His tone was bitter. “Bit of a sport with them, I imagine.”
Scarlett shuddered and rubbed her arms to ward off a sudden chill. “Giselle would never have seen it coming. Always so trusting, she’d have thought they were just out for fun.” Her voice caught and she turned away, tears welling up once more.
Thomas came over and put a hand on her shoulder. “It won’t happen again if I catch the bastards.” He spoke with firm confidence. “The landlord got a good look at them. He thinks their leader might have been in the Navy at some point, possibly a deserter.”
Scarlett gasped. “Light-haired?”
Thomas narrowed his eyes. “Yeeesss.” His blue eyes were fixed on hers, suspicious. “You know these chaps?”
She shook her head. “‘No. But they might be the same ones that approached me, a few weeks ago. Would have done the same to me if it weren’t for Jack showing up,” she added in a frightened whisper,
“Jack?” Thomas asked, his eyes twinkling with recognition. “That wouldn’t happen to be Jack Sparrow you’re speaking of, would it?”
Scarlett gave him a surprised look. “Yes, how did you know?”
Thomas laughed, a deep rumbling sound of mirth. “I’ve known Jack Sparrow more years than I can count. Saving damsels in distress is a specialty of his. Going to be his downfall some day, if he ain’t careful,” he added, still chuckling.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Scarlett smiled finally. “You remind me of him, in many ways.”
Thomas shook his head, his eyes still smiling. “Daft like Jack, eh?” He glanced over at Giselle, who stirred and moaned in her sleep. “We best be getting your friend off that damp floor.”
He squatted down and scooped Giselle up in his arms, her thin frame barely a strain to his muscular arms. Signaling to Scarlett, they left by way of the back door and headed down the street toward the waterfront.
“After we get her settled on the Griselle, I’ll send one of my men to fetch the doctor. Happen to know of one in town?”
Scarlett nodded. “Dr. Mulhoney; catch him sober and he’s the best doctor on the island.”
“He’ll have to do,” Thomas said with a grim set to his mouth. “We’ll sober him up, if we have to.”
****
Jack Sparrow found himself wishing he hadn’t sobered up. Or, perhaps it was all just a bad dream. Opening his eyes he found, none other than that hand-roving dressmaker, Pierre Bouspeut, staring at him with a simpering smile. And worse, the blighter was in his bunk on the Pearl, which was most definitely under sail, as attested by the rocking movement beneath him.
“Ah, you awaken, how fortuitous!” Pierre declared with eager enthusiasm. “I was beginning to think the blow to the head, it might have been, how do you say…? Fatale.” Pierre batted his eyes and smiled.
Jack groaned as he tried to sit up, only to realize that he was not wearing a stitch of clothing under the thin blanket. Bugger!
Pierre seemed to find all quite amusing. “The great Captain Jack Sparrow, oui? You live up to your reputation! Magnifiquement.”
It was Jack’s turn to blink.
What the bloody hell happened? Last thing I’m remembering is leaving the tavern with Gibbs, heading back to the Pearl. How the bloody hell did HE end up here as well?
Jack closed his eyes and groaned louder. And what the bloody hell did I do?
“Bugger!”
“Exactement!”
Not good!
Jack looked around for his clothes, spying them neatly folded upon a chair, his effects - baldric, hat, coat-- hanging on another. Grabbing the blanket around his hips, Jack stood up, swaying as the room spun. Sitting down abruptly, he put his head in his hands and moaned.
“You were quite fierce last night, even more so when the third man joined in,” Pierre said, beaming with unabashed admiration. “You were so strong, so spirited!”
Jack cringed. Three? No wonder I feel like I’ve been trampled.
“They were determined to have their way with you,” Pierre went on, relishing the tale. “I could not stop them. There were too many and their swords, they were so… énorme. Like bulls, they were.”
The throbbing in Jack’s head grew worse as Pierre continued to relate the events.
“I was wringing my hands, not knowing what to do. They were so rough, taking turns, I could not watch.” Pierre put a hand to his forehead, paling. “I felt so violated.”
Jack’s head snapped up. “YOU felt violated?” he snarled, “How the bloody, buggering hell did you think I felt?” His temper was flaring, and a steady throb behind one eye was making it twitch.
“You do not have to shout. I am not deaf.” Pierre tossed his head and huffed, “If it were not for me, you would still be lying there in that filthy alley. They might have killed you!”
“Save me the trouble of doin’ the same to you,” Jack glared.
A knock on the door interrupted them. Pierre walked over and leaned his ear against the wood. “Qui êtes-vous?”
“I’m the Captain here!” Jack roared, immediately regretting it as his head pounded even harder.
“Ah, it is the good gentleman, Gibbous,” Pierre smiled. “Il est un très bon ami, oui?”
Jack looked up with bleary eyes at his quartermaster. Gibbs hesitated at the door, shifting his gaze from Jack to Pierre and back. It was the last straw.
“Mister Gibbs! I am certain you have an explanation for all this?!” Rising, Jack gestured at the cabin with one hand, and Pierre with the other, the forgotten blanket dropping to the floor. He paused to look down at himself, quite naked.
Gibbs opened his mouth as if to say something, but then shut it. “Thought it best if we weighed anchor, without delay, ‘fore them brutes returned,” he mumbled, averting his eyes.
“And what brutes might they happen to be?” Jack raised an eyebrow, snatching the blanket back about his waist.
“Don’t know ‘em personal like, but there were three of ‘em, Cap’n. Same ones lookin’ for you earlier, most likely.” Gibbs gave Pierre a rather sheepish look. “Managed t’ get you out of there ‘fore they did too much damage, thanks t’ Pierre here.”
“As it were, you suffered only a little,” Pierre said, in a tone that suggested he might have preferred that Jack had suffered more.
“How fortuitous,” Jack muttered. Looking around for the rum, he spied a half bottle on a side table.
Ah ha! Hair of the dog.
The blanket securely in place, Jack sauntered across the cabin, and grabbed the bottle. Swinging around, he waved the bottle in his hand.
“Has Pierre come to join the crew?” He bared his teeth in a gleaming, yet menacing grin. “I suggest, Mister Gibbs, that you find some task he might be suitable at, perhaps, the bilge pump?”
Gibbs looked down at his feet. “Well, not exactly, Cap’n.” He glanced up and quickly ducked his head once more. “You see, ‘fore them blaggards found you, they’d threatened t’ do the same to Pierre here. And, seein’ how he helped save you from them, and you being passed out and such, and unable t’ make the decision… well, I told Pierre we’d give him passage t’ Tortuga.”
“I will pay my way!” Pierre interjected, before Jack could open his mouth to protest. “I will make you the finest gowns in all Tortuga, to impress your young ladies.”
Jack sank back down on the bunk and shook his head. Perhaps it all was a bad dream.
****
“I’ve done all I can for her,” Dr. Mulhoney said, washing his hands in the basin in the corner. “Her injuries are not life-threatening; nothing’s broken, though she’ll need some time to heal.” He nodded towards Giselle’s still form as he began to pack up his bag. “I’ve given her a draught to help her sleep. It’s the best thing for her, at this time.” The doctor ran a weary hand through his grizzled hair. “I’ve seen worse. She is one of the more fortunate; at least they didn’t use a knife.”
Thomas shook his head in disgust. “What gives any man the right to treat a woman that way?” He glanced over at the bunk where the young woman lay. Scarlett’s shoulders sagged as she kept a vigil at her friend’s side. “How long are we talking?” he asked, quieter. “A few days? Or weeks?”
“I can not say for sure,” Mulhoney replied in the same low voice. “She is young, and in fair health.” He paused and gestured with his head towards the pair. “At least she has one person to take care of her.”
“No,” Thomas corrected. “She has two.”
****
Title: Three Against One
Rating: R (overall series)
Characters: Jack, Scarlett, Giselle… with some special guest appearances
Disclaimer: Disney owns them, I just play with them
Summary: It appears Giselle was not the only one in need of rescuing.
As always, profound thanks goes out once again to my beta-wizard,
compassrose7577 , for all her help, inspiration and guidance.
A continuation of the saga of Scarlett and Giselle. Previous episodes can be found here.
( Index to all Episodes )
Three Against One
****
The landlord of the Faithful Bride told Thomas what details he could about the sordid deed.
“One of the local fishmongers found ‘er out back, beat up something awful. Thought she were dead at first.” Hawkins took a long swallow of ale, wiping the froth from his mouth with his sleeve. “Woke me ‘fore the sun were up, told me he’d found one of my whores.”
Thomas nodded and signaled to the serving girl for another round of drinks. Seated with the portly tavern keeper in an alcove off the main room, it was a space where more intimate or clandestine matters could be pursued. Once Thomas had made it clear he would compensate the tradesman for his troubles, there had been no problems with gleaning the details of the previous evening.
“She - ‘er name’s Giselle, were here later than usual,” Hawkins continued his tale, fortified by another pint of ale. “I was over there, just cleaning up when they came in.”
“Did you get a good look at them?” Thomas took a sip of his own drink. “See how many of them there were?”
Hawkins nodded. “Oh, I saw ‘em good enough. There were three of ‘em, strangers to these parts, or at least the Bride. Blond feller appeared t’ be the leader of the bunch, ex-Navy from the looks of it.” He leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Could tell they were up t’ no good the minute I laid eyes on ‘em. Shifty bastards, didn’t order nothin’, just lookin’ for a wench to bugger, I take it.”
Thomas kept an impassive face but his gut clenched. He knew the type: predators, land sharks looking for easy prey. The worse sort, preying on the weak, wenches, beggars, and the elderly. Their sport was torment and torture, their reward the fear and pain they spread. The dregs of society, masquerading as ordinary citizens.
“Would you recognize them again?” Thomas asked, maintaining a calm voice.
Hawkins gave Thomas a suspicious look. “Mebbe. Why?”
Thomas reached in his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, placing several on the table. “Perhaps I just don’t fancy seeing the wenches roughed up like that.” He pushed two of the coins toward the landlord.
The other man’s face lit up and he licked his lips.
Thomas slid forward three more coins. “And perhaps, I might just happen to want to return them the favor they so generous bestowed on the poor lass back there.”
Hawkins took the coins, with a conspirical wink. “I’m imaginin’ you’ll be wantin’ t’ know the minute they set foot in here again.”
“Exactly.” Thomas nodded and rose to go. “My ship’s the Griselle. You’ll find me there.”
“Pleasure to be of help.” Hawkins rose as well and wiped his hand on his apron before extending it to Thomas. “Giselle’s a good egg, ne’er caused a lick of trouble. Certainly didn’t deserve what she got.”
****
Scarlett sat on the dank floor next to Giselle, keeping watch over her friend while Captain Thomas had gone to speak to the landlord. Giselle had drifted off again, a blessing, considering the condition she was in. From Scarlett’s hurried examination, it appeared nothing was broken, nor had she been cut, praise be. But Giselle’s thin frame was battered, her gown in tatters, and she’d been sorely abused.
Scarlett bit her lip and fought back the tears that welled behind her eyes. Giselle was the closest thing she had to family, an unlikely friendship that had blossomed into so much more. Scarlett hadn’t fully realized the depth of their connection, until the news came that Giselle had been attacked. Now, sitting here in the gloom, she wished she could take back some of the harsh things she’d said in the past, had shown more patience with her, and been more attentive. The girl was so naïve in many ways, and way too trusting.
She looked up as the door opened and the tall captain rejoined her. Scarlett had no idea why this stranger was being so kind. She wondered what might be his motives; she had lost faith in random kindness a long time ago.
“How is she?” Thomas asked, quietly.
Scarlett looked up at him and whispered back. “She’s asleep.”
“We best let her rest for a little while longer before moving her, then.” He ran a weary hand through his hair.
Scarlett stood and stretched her stiff limbs. “Did you find out anything?”
“As I suspected,” he began, his demeanor hardening. “Three of them, cruising the taverns for an easy target.” His tone was bitter. “Bit of a sport with them, I imagine.”
Scarlett shuddered and rubbed her arms to ward off a sudden chill. “Giselle would never have seen it coming. Always so trusting, she’d have thought they were just out for fun.” Her voice caught and she turned away, tears welling up once more.
Thomas came over and put a hand on her shoulder. “It won’t happen again if I catch the bastards.” He spoke with firm confidence. “The landlord got a good look at them. He thinks their leader might have been in the Navy at some point, possibly a deserter.”
Scarlett gasped. “Light-haired?”
Thomas narrowed his eyes. “Yeeesss.” His blue eyes were fixed on hers, suspicious. “You know these chaps?”
She shook her head. “‘No. But they might be the same ones that approached me, a few weeks ago. Would have done the same to me if it weren’t for Jack showing up,” she added in a frightened whisper,
“Jack?” Thomas asked, his eyes twinkling with recognition. “That wouldn’t happen to be Jack Sparrow you’re speaking of, would it?”
Scarlett gave him a surprised look. “Yes, how did you know?”
Thomas laughed, a deep rumbling sound of mirth. “I’ve known Jack Sparrow more years than I can count. Saving damsels in distress is a specialty of his. Going to be his downfall some day, if he ain’t careful,” he added, still chuckling.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Scarlett smiled finally. “You remind me of him, in many ways.”
Thomas shook his head, his eyes still smiling. “Daft like Jack, eh?” He glanced over at Giselle, who stirred and moaned in her sleep. “We best be getting your friend off that damp floor.”
He squatted down and scooped Giselle up in his arms, her thin frame barely a strain to his muscular arms. Signaling to Scarlett, they left by way of the back door and headed down the street toward the waterfront.
“After we get her settled on the Griselle, I’ll send one of my men to fetch the doctor. Happen to know of one in town?”
Scarlett nodded. “Dr. Mulhoney; catch him sober and he’s the best doctor on the island.”
“He’ll have to do,” Thomas said with a grim set to his mouth. “We’ll sober him up, if we have to.”
****
Jack Sparrow found himself wishing he hadn’t sobered up. Or, perhaps it was all just a bad dream. Opening his eyes he found, none other than that hand-roving dressmaker, Pierre Bouspeut, staring at him with a simpering smile. And worse, the blighter was in his bunk on the Pearl, which was most definitely under sail, as attested by the rocking movement beneath him.
“Ah, you awaken, how fortuitous!” Pierre declared with eager enthusiasm. “I was beginning to think the blow to the head, it might have been, how do you say…? Fatale.” Pierre batted his eyes and smiled.
Jack groaned as he tried to sit up, only to realize that he was not wearing a stitch of clothing under the thin blanket. Bugger!
Pierre seemed to find all quite amusing. “The great Captain Jack Sparrow, oui? You live up to your reputation! Magnifiquement.”
It was Jack’s turn to blink.
What the bloody hell happened? Last thing I’m remembering is leaving the tavern with Gibbs, heading back to the Pearl. How the bloody hell did HE end up here as well?
Jack closed his eyes and groaned louder. And what the bloody hell did I do?
“Bugger!”
“Exactement!”
Not good!
Jack looked around for his clothes, spying them neatly folded upon a chair, his effects - baldric, hat, coat-- hanging on another. Grabbing the blanket around his hips, Jack stood up, swaying as the room spun. Sitting down abruptly, he put his head in his hands and moaned.
“You were quite fierce last night, even more so when the third man joined in,” Pierre said, beaming with unabashed admiration. “You were so strong, so spirited!”
Jack cringed. Three? No wonder I feel like I’ve been trampled.
“They were determined to have their way with you,” Pierre went on, relishing the tale. “I could not stop them. There were too many and their swords, they were so… énorme. Like bulls, they were.”
The throbbing in Jack’s head grew worse as Pierre continued to relate the events.
“I was wringing my hands, not knowing what to do. They were so rough, taking turns, I could not watch.” Pierre put a hand to his forehead, paling. “I felt so violated.”
Jack’s head snapped up. “YOU felt violated?” he snarled, “How the bloody, buggering hell did you think I felt?” His temper was flaring, and a steady throb behind one eye was making it twitch.
“You do not have to shout. I am not deaf.” Pierre tossed his head and huffed, “If it were not for me, you would still be lying there in that filthy alley. They might have killed you!”
“Save me the trouble of doin’ the same to you,” Jack glared.
A knock on the door interrupted them. Pierre walked over and leaned his ear against the wood. “Qui êtes-vous?”
“I’m the Captain here!” Jack roared, immediately regretting it as his head pounded even harder.
“Ah, it is the good gentleman, Gibbous,” Pierre smiled. “Il est un très bon ami, oui?”
Jack looked up with bleary eyes at his quartermaster. Gibbs hesitated at the door, shifting his gaze from Jack to Pierre and back. It was the last straw.
“Mister Gibbs! I am certain you have an explanation for all this?!” Rising, Jack gestured at the cabin with one hand, and Pierre with the other, the forgotten blanket dropping to the floor. He paused to look down at himself, quite naked.
Gibbs opened his mouth as if to say something, but then shut it. “Thought it best if we weighed anchor, without delay, ‘fore them brutes returned,” he mumbled, averting his eyes.
“And what brutes might they happen to be?” Jack raised an eyebrow, snatching the blanket back about his waist.
“Don’t know ‘em personal like, but there were three of ‘em, Cap’n. Same ones lookin’ for you earlier, most likely.” Gibbs gave Pierre a rather sheepish look. “Managed t’ get you out of there ‘fore they did too much damage, thanks t’ Pierre here.”
“As it were, you suffered only a little,” Pierre said, in a tone that suggested he might have preferred that Jack had suffered more.
“How fortuitous,” Jack muttered. Looking around for the rum, he spied a half bottle on a side table.
Ah ha! Hair of the dog.
The blanket securely in place, Jack sauntered across the cabin, and grabbed the bottle. Swinging around, he waved the bottle in his hand.
“Has Pierre come to join the crew?” He bared his teeth in a gleaming, yet menacing grin. “I suggest, Mister Gibbs, that you find some task he might be suitable at, perhaps, the bilge pump?”
Gibbs looked down at his feet. “Well, not exactly, Cap’n.” He glanced up and quickly ducked his head once more. “You see, ‘fore them blaggards found you, they’d threatened t’ do the same to Pierre here. And, seein’ how he helped save you from them, and you being passed out and such, and unable t’ make the decision… well, I told Pierre we’d give him passage t’ Tortuga.”
“I will pay my way!” Pierre interjected, before Jack could open his mouth to protest. “I will make you the finest gowns in all Tortuga, to impress your young ladies.”
Jack sank back down on the bunk and shook his head. Perhaps it all was a bad dream.
****
“I’ve done all I can for her,” Dr. Mulhoney said, washing his hands in the basin in the corner. “Her injuries are not life-threatening; nothing’s broken, though she’ll need some time to heal.” He nodded towards Giselle’s still form as he began to pack up his bag. “I’ve given her a draught to help her sleep. It’s the best thing for her, at this time.” The doctor ran a weary hand through his grizzled hair. “I’ve seen worse. She is one of the more fortunate; at least they didn’t use a knife.”
Thomas shook his head in disgust. “What gives any man the right to treat a woman that way?” He glanced over at the bunk where the young woman lay. Scarlett’s shoulders sagged as she kept a vigil at her friend’s side. “How long are we talking?” he asked, quieter. “A few days? Or weeks?”
“I can not say for sure,” Mulhoney replied in the same low voice. “She is young, and in fair health.” He paused and gestured with his head towards the pair. “At least she has one person to take care of her.”
“No,” Thomas corrected. “She has two.”
****