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CHAPTER 11 - The Truth The third awakening behind bars is no better than the first two. In fact, it’s worse. You’re lying in three inches of cold seawater, your arm stinging from the salt, and you’ve come to realise that you are suffering from a high fever due to your wounds. The storm had made last night one helluva night. You could see the damage to the ship even locked in the bottom. There were loose crates and barrels rolling around everywhere, as well as parts of the sails and large splinters of wood. Another sign was the fact that you weren’t moving. The ship had stopped sometime before dawn, hiding in a bay you guess. A bit of seawater gets in your mouth and you cough, the action wracking you in pain. Voices come into range at the top of the stairs and a few men appear. You don’t know their names; the only time you’ve ever seen them is from the attack a few days ago. "C’mon strumpet, on yer feet. Cap’n says ye get ta come and help us clean up!" One of them cackles and the other sends you a nasty look. They open the cell door and you try to push yourself to stand, but you find all of your strength has left you. They growl angrily and haul you up by the shoulder. The pain is excruciating and you suppress a hiss and blink back tears. You want to wrench yourself from the man’s grasp and wail in pain, but a stubborn streak within you won’t give them the satisfaction of knowing how much they were hurting you. The sun is all too brilliant on deck, but the breeze clears your head a bit. You look across deck and see that your shelter was actually a port town and a majority of the crew has gone to town to get supplies, and probably a few hands to help. The deck was even worse. The top main sail has completely shredded and black fabric litters the deck. The tip of the foremast had splintered; leaving 2/3 standing and 1/3 scattered about the ship. "Here." The man leading you tosses you towards a pile of wood. "Ye pick up all them scraps and then put ‘em in the hold. And no funny business either, poppet. We’re watchin’ ye." You barely catch yourself on the railing and turn around weakly. "What the ‘ell are ye waitin’ fer?" The angry one who has been silent till now, yells at you. All those on deck are looking at you now and you start picking up the wood, cradling it in your good arm. You were becoming more and more light-headed and you felt your wound start to ooze liquid. Whether it was blood or puss, you chose not to look. You turn to take the wood below deck, but one of the men trips you and you fall face first onto the deck, your shoulder popping loudly as it was dislocated. "Not so scary now, are ye..." The sound of a groan echoed and then someone helped you up. It was Bootstrap. He pulled you up and then look worriedly at you. He held a hand to your forehead and his eyes grew wide. You saw that one of your tormentors was rubbing a sore jaw and smirked a little. "Cap’n, she’s a bloody murderer! I wouldn’t trust ‘er up on deck more than I would trust me own right hand!" You looked up to see Gibbs harassing Jack as he exited the Captain’s Quarters. "An’ she’s a woman! Bad bad, terribly bad luck cap’n. Why can’t we jest leave her ‘ere and have them take her?" "Gibbs, I canna do that mate. She’s my prisoner, an’ if I don’t return her as requested then I’ll ‘ave another price on me head." Bootstrap checks to make sure you’re all right, and with a nod on your behalf, races up the stairs to the other men as you pick up your load again. "She’s burnin’ up, and I think tha she’s injured." He says panting. "She couldn’t harm a flea, she canna even walk properly." They look at you again and you feel Barbossa’s presence unfurl like a flag in the back of your mind. "Take that man’s gun." He says, pushing you towards one of your supervisors. You grab the pistol from his belt and cock it, aiming at his temple. "Careless man." You smirk, wobbling a bit. You wrap an arm around his neck and use him to maintain your balance. ‘Plan?’ You ask Barbossa. "Kill them all." ‘Not just, escape?’ "Kill all of them." Barbossa growls angrily and you feel your heart plummet. Bootstrap is looking at you, concern, and care etching his face and you remember your father. You choke on your tears and push the man away, pointing the pistol as your own throat. "No, I won’t do it anymore." You say through clenched teeth. "I won’t kill anyone for you anymore." Jack pulls out his pistol but Bootstrap grabs his arm. "Let me help ‘er." Jack looks at him, and reluctantly nods. "You whore! We have a deal!" Barbossa says angrily. "Not anymore, you bastard. I don’t fucking want my body back, not after what you’ve done to it." "You will do this, o ye’ll die, ye cad." Barbossa screams. "Jest shut up Barbossa!" You wail, tears spilling from your eyes. Everyone around you freezes and you gulp. Jack springs into action and runs across the deck towards you and you press the pistol deeper into the flesh of your neck. "Don’t, jest please let me end this." "Jack, she’s delirious, don’t believe…" "Actually, Bill, she’s quite right in this respect, though the fever is making things a bit uncomfortable in ‘ere." Barbossa’s voice tears from your throat painfully. They all stare at you, eyes wide. "Ne’er thought I’d see tha day when Jack Sparrow be rendered speechless. ‘Tis a pleasure." Barbossa laughs and you feel your chest vibrate. You still have control of our body, however, and begin to finger the trigger. "Look, Passero, ye do tha, an’ it’ll solve nothin’. I’ll still get me vengeance, as long as ye wear it." It…the ring. You let go of the gun and let it fall to the ground. You begin to cry helplessly. "Yer naw helpin’ me image, bitch." Barbossa growls and you see Bootstrap frown. "So what ye think Jack? Nice body I chose eh?" Barbossa takes your hands and fondles your breast, and you howl inwardly in anger. "I don’ think the lass likes ye choosing ‘er so much." Jack says lowly, menacingly. "She really dinna ‘ave a choice in tha matter. I saw what I wanted, an’ I took it. An’ now, I’m gonna get what else I want. Including yer death, and me pearl." Barbossa growls form within you and you see a look of pure hate flash in Jack’s eyes. "Only problem is, I think the lass likes ye." That is the last straw, and you take your hand, smashing it against your face and stumbling backwards into the mizzenmast. "What ye be doin’?" Barbossa howls. "Ye treacherous, whoring…." You wind your fingers in your hair and smash your head against the mast, drawing blood and unconsciousness. Bootstrap rushes forward and catches you before you inflict any further damage on yourself. A ring has fallen out of your shirt on a chain and he eyes it suspiciously. "Tha’s Barbossa’s ring." Jack murmurs, still rather speechless from the whole encounter. "Jack." Gibbs comes to stand behind the men. "Look Gibbs I know she’s a woman, an’ I know she’s possessed but we ought ta ‘elp ‘er. She deserves it." "Cap’n, I was jest gonna say, I know how to get ‘im out o’ ‘er." * * * * * CHAPTER 12 - The Inquisition "Then by all means!" Jack stood up, hoisting your unconscious body with him. "We talk as we walk." Bootstrap heads to the storeroom and to find some bandages and cloth he could use as a sling, and a sheet. He brings all these things with him to the brig where Jack and Gibbs are headed. "Ye know when ye steal somethin’ from a man after ye kill ‘im, an’ ye know it means a lot to ‘im? There’s tha voice in the back o’ yer mind, naggin’?" "Get to the point, Gibbs. This sound like superstition to me." Jack says, holding you while Bootstrap strings a hammock to put you in. "Tha’s not jest yer conscience." Gibbs continues on hurriedly. "They say tha the ghost of the wronged haunt ye forever." "So, basically, she stole the ring and now he’s taken her body, one step further than haunting her?" Bootstrap asks, holding the sheet open while Jack places you in it. "Aye. He’s possessed ‘er. An’ the only wait to soothe a guilty conscience…" "Is ta return tha goods." Jack finishes quite familiar with his first mate’s old wives tales. "Aye, precisely." Gibbs nods. "Then we’ll jest take it back." He grabs the ring, but freezes when you wail in pain, still not waking. "No! Jack, she has ta do it. She wronged him. If ye pull tha off ‘er, then she’ll be lost ferever, a lost soul." Gibbs cries frantically. Jack stares at you for a moment, watching your closed eyes and your chest rising and falling slightly. There was nothing for it. They had to go back there to be rid of him once and for all. "Gibbs, tell the men ta work harder, we need ta ‘ead south as soon as possible." "Aye Cap’n!" He nods and rushes up on deck to give orders. Jack and Bootstrap share a look. "I suppose this ain’t over yet then eh?" Bootstrap asks, ripping the left sleeve off your shirt and treating the wound with some alcohol. "Naw mate, it’s only begun." Jack sighs and moves in to help his friend. * * * * You feel his anger surrounding you, the malice and contempt he holds for your are right before yours eyes. Of all the spirits in this world, Barbossa must be the angriest. He has tormented your dreams for what seems eternity. Finally finding the strength you pull yourself upwards and your eyes fly open. You expect to feel the pain of your wounds, but you only feel warm and comfortable. You try to sit up and find that you are lying in a hammock, your left arm bandaged and in a sling. A pair of irons attaches your right to the bars. The door to the brig is open and just outside sit Bootstrap and Jack, conversing about something you can’t hear. You lay back down with a groan. Why couldn’t you just die? Oh, right Barbossa that’s why. "Yer awake. Ye gunna stay awake this time?" Bootstrap asks, coming to stand beside you, a mug of water held out in offering. You reach out and grasp the mug, draining it all in one go. "Thank you." You say softly. You look up at him and see that he’s smiling. Why the hell was he smiling? You are evil, dangerous, possessed by the man who tried to kill him. "Don’t worry about it." He says. "Are ye hungry?" Your mind finally connects with the rest of your body, and you find that you are in fact, quite hungry. "N..no not really." You lie. "Don’t worry about it." You can’t stand to make him do any more for you when your entire purpose for being there was to kill him and those he cares about. "She’s lyin’." Jack says, coming into the cell. "She needs ta get up anyway. Can’t ‘ave ‘er lyin’ around all trip." You sit up slowly and swing your legs over the side towards the floor. "Afraid of me going into atrophy?" You ask. "Now why would that be? I’m as good as dead regardless." The two share a look and you get suspicious. "What’s going on?" You ask slowly. Neither says a word and Jack unlocks your arm form the bars and holds the chain in his hand. "Come on." Bootstrap helps you stand and they lead you up a flight of stairs to the Galley. A few of the crew are there, finishing up what appears to be the noon meal. You can feel their stares and hear their whispers. "Yeah, she’s possessed…" "The body looked just like her, lying there in the gutter. Thought it was ‘er fer a minute there, almost rejoiced…" "Filthy scum…" The last of course is Elizabeth, and it appears as though you are going to be sitting across the table from her. Jack chains you to the table leg and Bootstrap sits you down. A plate of food is placed in front of you and you eye it hungrily. Jack sits across from you and you sigh. You begin to eat, your chain clanking as it hit the table. Jack smirks in triumph; he was right, you had been lying. In a few moments most of the food is gone, save for a piece of bread. A flurry of colour enters your vision, and suddenly a parrot is sitting on the table beside you, eyeing the last of your food. "Up yer skirt!" It squawks loudly. Despite the situation, you chuckle a bit. "I beg your pardon? I’m not wearing a skirt." You laugh, feeding it the piece of bread. "Beware the eastern wind." It squawks in return and you stroked beneath its chin. "That means ‘e likes ye." Jack says, leaning towards you across the table, smiling a little. In fact, everyone around the table is smiling at you, save for Elizabeth. "You all seem very happy." You mutter, sipping some rum that you had been given. "Well, I’m ‘appy that I’ve figured ye out, and they’re ‘appy because we know what ta do with ye, and she’s... well she’s not happy." Jack pointed at Elizabeth. "So you’re not supremely angry and murderous?" You ask, somewhat in shock. "I honestly thought you’d want nothing to do with me." "Well, ye see…" Jack starts. "We need yer ‘elp in this particular situation, darlin’. Because only ye can get rid o’ tha man inside yer ‘ead. But we are ‘ere ta ‘elp ye, so how’s about ye explain yer… situation… ta ol’ Jack eh?" Bootstrap clears his throat meaningfully. "Oh, an’ them too. O’ course them." He waves his hand in the direction of the others. You look down the table at Will, Elizabeth, Gibbs, and Bootstrap. "Well, erm, alright. What do you want to know?" "How did you come across that ring?" Will asks. "It’s my inheritance, from my grandmother. She…she died a while ago and she gave it to me." "How long?" "Well, it was three months before…" You choke. "I killed my parents, and it’s probably been a month or so since I stole the sailboat. Four and a half months?" You offer. "You killed your parents?!?" Comes Elizabeth’s voice. "It’s not like I had a choice!" You spit angrily. "He made me do it." "And you always do everything the evil man says?" She growls. You open your mouth to deliver an angry retort but Jack beats you to it. "I know ye dun like ‘er. An’ I know she dun like ye. An’ I know ye both know that I know ye dun like each other. An’ I know ye both know that all o’ us know ye dun like each other, and I know…" He trails off when he sees the entire table staring at him blankly. "Me point be, Lizzie, jest let the lass speak, and lass, try not to be offended by ‘er." You nod and see Elizabeth reluctantly do the same. "Now lass, please continue." "Well, after I… killed them… I took a flight to Puerto Rico. And I bought supplies and stole a sailboat. I only did what he told me so that he would leave me alone. We made a deal, that if I gave him his ‘vengeance’, then he’d leave my body." "An’ so ‘e asked ye ta kill Jack and the others and take back the Pearl?" Bootstrap asks. "Yeah, that was the deal." "Seems funny, ‘im gettin’ the Pearl back and then dyin’ again." Gibbs mutters. You furrow your brow in thought. That was true. The Pearl was the whole point of this endeavour, why would he hand it off once he got it? You blink and clench you fist in realisation. "The fucker never meant to leave my body." You growl. "He just said he would so he could get whatever he wanted. Damnit." You hiss. "I dun like the names ye be callin’ me, whore." Barbossa says angrily from the back of your mind. "Leave me alone." You whisper aloud. "Is he… talking to you now?" Will asks with trepidation. You nod and grimace as he brings you pain. "Ye’ll listen ta me from naw on lass." "Or what?" You ask. "You’ll kill me? Please do!" The pain comes full force and you grab the edge to the table, trying to keep yourself form blacking out. "You’ve made that face before! It were ‘im, weren’t it?" Bootstrap asks. Barbossa growls in frustration and shuts himself in the back of your mind. "Yeah, whenever he wants something he …gives me these horrible headaches." You say, describing it as best you could. "Dead men tell no tales." The parrot squawks again, interrupting the tense atmosphere. "Is there anything else?" You ask. "You guys are like the Spanish Inquisition." You hear a few of them chuckle. "No, lass. I think tha be all. We’ll take ye back naw, let ye rest some." As you walk down the stairs, Jack rolls up his left sleeve. "Tha, love, be the Spanish Inquisition." You stare in horror at the scars. "I’m sorry, it was just suppose to be a joke. I didn’t…" "Shh, it’s ok luv." He smiles, and you feel your heart flutter a bit. "A few scars n’er hurt anyone." * * * * * CHAPTER 13 - The Responsibility Your eyes scan the hold and note that there is no longer any water or debris. "Captain, how long was I asleep?" You ask as you pass your effects hanging on the wall. "Nigh on three days, lass." He grins at your formal use of his title. You blink in surprise and suppress a yawn. Your body was still terribly weak from the infection, among all the other mistreatments Barbossa was inflicting upon you. You sigh, and Jack looks at you in question. You just shake your head and smile a little. "I’m just tired, s’all. I haven’t slept properly since I came here." He nodded in understanding and led you into the brig. He picked up your hand and unlocked the iron around your wrist. "So ye can move about more in yer cell." He explains. "I know its naw tha best place, but ye…" "No, captain, don’t worry about it. It’s better this way, because neither of us has to worry." you interject and watch as he closes the door. He grins at you in a lopsided way. "Ye’ll be free soon, dun fret, luv. Ye see, we want ‘im gone jest as much as ye do. An’ then ye’ll get to return ta where ye come from." Your reply dies in your throat as Barbossa suddenly has a hold of your body again. You scream inwardly, trying to warn Jack, but it’s no use. As Jack turns to leave, your arm reaches through the bars and pulls him back. "Don’t leave me Jack." You hear your voice whimper. You see his eyes flash in surprise and then soften. "Don’t leave me here with him." He makes you say again. Jack steps closer, reaching through the bars and stroking your cheek. "Hush, luv, it’s ok. Jack’s naw goin’ anywhere." Barbossa laughs inwardly and you grimace. If only there was something you could do to stop this! Your body leans forward and you feel your lips connect with Jack’s. He stiffens in surprise, then suddenly presses his lips harder against yours. You feel Barbossa propel your hand onto his neck and then down his back, all the while keeping your lips fused with his. Jack’s lips are warm and soft, tasting sweet of the rum he enjoys so much. As your hand travels lower, he deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth, and you moan. Barbossa mimics the noise and Jack delves his hand into your hair. His tongue explores every surface in your mouth, melding against your own. You feel your heart pound in delight. This was the most incredible kiss you had ever experienced, and for once you are perhaps glad Barbossa is in control. That is, until he grabs the knife hidden in Jack’s sash. Jack nibbles slightly on your lower lips and pulls away. "An’ ‘ere I thought I were kissing the lass." He smirks, though his eyes are tinged with anger. You hand pulls the knife out and presses it to his neck. "Ye thought wrong, Jack." Barbossa has your voice growl. "Apparently I did." He says calmly, not at all stressed by the current situation. "Oh Jack…" Barbossa then allows his voice to be heard. "Ye’d do anythin’ fer a pretty lass, wouldn’t ye." Now back in control of your body, you drop the knife as thought it burnt you. Jack says nothing, nor does he remove his hand from your hair. You cast your eyes downward to the floor, ashamed that you couldn’t control the demon within you. "Shame it ‘tis. Ye an’ the lass would get along famously if it weren’ fer me." He laughs deeply. "But ye must be ware, Jack, ye ne’er know who ye might be talkin’ to naw." With that he leaves you, retreating back into the recesses of your mind. You feel a slight pressure on the back of your head as Jack forces you to look at him. He opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by Gibbs. "Cap’n! We be ready ta set sail!" "Aye…Gibbs. I’ll be right thar." Jack replies reluctantly, sending you an almost sad look before slipping his hand from your hair. He nods at you and swaggers off up the stairs to steer his ship. You press your face into the bars and try to swallow the knot in your throat. If you couldn’t even stop Barbossa from making you kiss Jack, how were you supposed to stop him from killing the man? * * * * You rubbed your eyes and turned the page. After sleeping most of the afternoon away, you had awoken to find a stack of books on the bench in your cell. Amazingly Othello hadn’t been destroyed during the storm, and you had finished it first. Now you were reading Utopia. The lanterns flicker as a breeze blows through from above deck. The air is warm and smells of the sea. You smile faintly and return to your book. The sound of footsteps distracts you again, and you grin when you spot Eddie, the man you first saw when you woke up in the brig. His face his worn by many years at sea, but stills holds gentleness. "Hey Eddie." You greet him. "Ah lass! Yer awake! ‘Twas awful lonely when ye were asleep this afternoon." He grins in kind and pulls his chair closer to you. He was in charge of watching after you, ensuring that you had everything you needed. Usually he was there to ensure the prisoners didn’t escape, but your case was definitely far from usual. "Aye, feeling better too." "Tha’s good. Glad ta see ye smilin’. Ah, I guess ye’ve found tha books Cap’n brought ye?" So it had been Jack who left these for you. You nod to him. "Aye, but this one is a bit on the dull side." You dog ear the page and close the book, preferring to talk to your watched instead. "Ne’er understood what ye folks see in those books." He mutters and you laugh. "So why don’t ye tell me a story then? If you think you’re so much more entertaining." He grins from ear to ear and nods excitedly. "This tale is true, upon me honour. It happened ter a friend o’ a friend o’ mine…" He begins and you sit on the floor with your back against the wall, wrapped in the blanket from your hammock. His story is fascinating, and even though you can tell it’s a bit fantastical, you find yourself engrossed in it. You laugh at the funny parts, and find yourself sad when bad things happen. You forget all about your troubles with Barbossa, and you can tell Eddie is having the time of his life sharing the story with you. Near the end of the tale, at one part that has you holding your side as you laugh, you see Jack come into view. You stop laughing and lick your lips nervously. "An’ tha be tha tale o’ Phil the Wanderer." Eddie finishes grandiosely and you clap softly. "Thank ye, Eddie. That’s the best story I’ve ever heard." You grin, watching as Jack gets closer and claps a hand on the man’s shoulder. "Oh, Cap’n!" He exclaims and stands. "‘Ello Eddie. How’s about ye go an’ get yerself somethin’ ta eat? I need ter speak with tha lass fer a moment." "Aye." He nods and waves to you before walking off. Jack comes and sits on the floor beside you, just outside the bars. Your turn and face him, mere inches from his body. You blush and look away. "I see ye found tha books." He says, not a hint of discomfort in his voice. "Aye, thank you very much Jack. They’ll keep me busy. He nods and stares ahead. A silence ensues and you stare at the same place on the opposite wall as Jack. "Passero, I be wonderin’." He says suddenly, and you jump slightly. "Aye?" "What be a flight?" You turn to him and cock your head. Where had this question come from? "When ye were tellin’ us ‘ow ye came ta be in me brig, ye said ye took a flight ta Puerto Rico. Naw, I know what the word flight means, but naw in tha context." "Well, you see Jack, there’s something I didn’t tell ye." You said, playing with your fingers. "I…Well I…" You stumble, trying to find the right words. "Ye know about the Bermuda Triangle right?" You finally ask. "Aye, bad patch o’ water, no sailor in thar right mind goes thar." Jack replies. "Well, that’s how I got here." You sigh and he turns to face you, puzzled. "When my Barbossa possessed me, I lived in another century. The year was 2004, to be exact." You watch as he blinks, though seems unfazed. "A flight means I took a place. They’re…like giant birds made out of metal that people built. They can carry about 100 people at a time, much faster than any ship. And when I got to Puerto Rico, I stole a sailboat and sailed into the Bermuda Triangle." "Yer daft." Jack says, slightly shocked. "It was the only way to get here, and Barbossa damn well wanted to get here. I sat in the fog for a while, and then when I sailed out, it was this time, the 17th century. I always knew that ships disappeared when they went in there, but I had no idea that they…went back in time." As Jack mulls this over, a heavy weight presses against your chest. The gravity of this entire situation seems to come crashing down upon you and you are filled will a sense of utter hopelessness. How were you ever going to get back? Did you even want to o back? They were most likely looking for you, to charge you with murder. But you had nothing here either. After Jack helped you, he’d probably dump you at some port, and then what would you do? You don’t notice you’re crying until Jack brushes a few tears from your cheeks. "Aww, luv, please dun cry, I ‘ate it when lasses cry." He mutters, and grasps your hand comfortingly. "I... just..." You gasp. "Don’t know what to do anymore Jack. I don’t even know if I can do this! I mean I can barely control him, like this afternoon! How the hell am I supposed to stop him from doing anything else horrible to you and your crew? I mean, I killed a third of your men, and then I almost killed you! I’m so afraid of letting you down!" He picks up your hand and kisses the back of it, causing you to look at him. "First o’ all, those men were naw me crew." He pauses when he sees your look of confusion. "Those were naval recruits, sent with me ta make sure ye were captured properly. Secondly, ye did naw kill me, since we’re chattin’ naw, and the reason ye didn’t be because ye stopped ‘im. Ye make naw think it, but deep down inside ye is the will ta beat ‘im. Sure things look bad naw, luv. Things always get ugly, but what don’t kill ye only makes ye stronger, and yer a strong woman ter begin with." Your tears have stopped, and a faint smile hits your face. "Th…thank ye Jack." You say, wiping your eyes on your sleeve, not letting his hand go. "Yer welcome. Now I ‘ear Eddie were tellin’ ye a story?" "Aye." "Well then let ol’ Jack tell ye one. It’s a story about the undead and cursed gold." You smile. Barbossa had told you this story already, but you were eager to hear it from Jack, who would surely have a more honest view. Plus you had a feeling he could talk about anything and make it completely fascinating. You leaned against the bars and listened as his gruff voice began. "Eleven years ago there was a man, still a lad really, an’ he were cap’n of a ship…" * * * * * CHAPTER 14 - The Game Your eyelids flutter and open reluctantly. The cocoon of blankets is too comfortable to leave, and so you laze in your hammock, rocking with the motion of the ship. It was a sensation that you had grown quite accustomed to, and you can no longer recall a time when the floor didn’t move beneath your feet. You suppose that if you were to take a step on dry land, you would swagger as much as a drunken man…as much as Jack even. That thought makes you smile softly. Jack. Who would have ever thought one word could have brought such a parade of emotions into your heart. You are content to lie in your bed, but the pressing need of hunger, among other things, brings you to your feet. "Eddie?" You call to the sleeping man, and shake your head. He’s probably still passed out from the festivities of the last evening. Jack had called a halt and thrown an impromptu party, with rum and dancing. Even you had received a flask of rum, and had watched for a while, chained to the helm by one wrist. You had laughed and clapped along as the crew whirled across the deck, with even Elizabeth partaking in a few dances. A few times you had caught Jack smiling at you, looking away every time you caught him. It’s been two weeks since you kissed him. The thought still sends your heart leaping up your throat. Nothing has happened since, well there was that particularly ‘interesting’, if not heated, dream, but that didn’t count as anything as far as you were concerned. But that didn’t stop you from speculating what it would feel like to kiss him again, to feel his hands in your hair, on your neck… You cleared you throat and called out to Eddie again, finally waking him. "Oh, lass. Sorry." He said, groaning and getting to his feet before unlocking your cell and putting the irons on, leading you to the galley. After a short meal, he took you up on deck. Jack had asked that you be made to walk around, and to have a little fresh air everyday. He didn’t want you getting weak, for whatever reason he held. As the sun hits your eyes you blink several times, adjusting to the light. Since it’s still early in the day, most of the crew is at work, spread across the deck, their heads bowed in concentration. You look up to see Jack standing at the helm, compass in hand, steering the ship. The breeze catches the loose ends of his bandanna, sending them and his bejewelled hair flapping about his tan face. His legs are spread apart to hold him steady, and his eyes narrowed towards the horizon. You turn to look over the bow, just like him and smile at the beauty surrounding you. "Lass?" Eddie interrupts your dazed state and you jump. "Hm?" You ask, turning to him. "Where shall we walk today, milady?" He asks, mock-bowing. Laughter bubbles out of your chest and soon both of you are holding your sides, barely breathing. Eventually you regain composure, and turn to begin your walk. You see Jack, making his way towards you, pausing to assist one of his men in tying a knot, showing him proper technique. He approaches you and Eddie, one hand tucked into his belt, and an eyebrow cocked. You smile at him, avoiding his intense eyes discreetly. "Good Morning Captain." He squints upward into the sky, smirking. "Be afternoon, luv." You just smile and shrug your shoulders. Jack shakes his head and grabs your left hand. He tugs gently and you submit, allowing him to pull it straight. With his other hand he trails up the arm, feeling the muscles. Your ears start to burn, and soon your cheeks are stained as well. His fingers are gentle, though a tad rough, since they are the hands of a pirate. You bite your lip as he hits a particularly tense spot and massages it out. "Yer healed." He says finally, releasing your arm, but still holding onto your hand. "But, as I guessed, yer goin’ soft. So ye need ta start trainin’ again." You nod in agreement. "It has been a while, and before I came here, I was practising at least three hours a day." "I suppose ye ‘ad no time fer gentleman then." He says with a wink. You snort. "Barbossa is the jealous type." You say with dripping sarcasm. He frowns, but the dark look passes like a wisp of cloud. All of a sudden he’s pulling you after him, back down towards the brig. He grabs your sword off the wall and unsheathes it. The sight of three weeks worth of dried blood causes you to gag, and you pull your hand from Jack’s grasp, turning quickly from the sight. You hear him re-sheathe it, and are suddenly pulled back against his chest into a comforting embrace. "Easy luv, ‘twas not ye who killed them, ‘twas ‘im." He says soothingly and eventually you feel yourself relax. With a tiny nod, he releases you and turns you to face him. "Now, the whelp will have no problem cleanin’ tha mess up, so no worries. Then I want ye ta practice as much as yer body lets ye, savvy? We’ve almost come ta our destination, and ye need ta be ready as possible." "Why do I need a sword to be hung?" You ponder aloud. "About tha…" He says, punctuating his words with an extended finger. "We’re not exactly… going where we were before, but you understand that we canna tell ye, savvy?" You must have looked puzzled because Jack drapes an arm over your shoulders with a sigh, leading back towards deck, where Eddie is waiting. "Ye see luv, if I were ta tell ye the plan, then the enemy would learn the plan, and thus the plan would become null and void. An’ so, in an attempt to prevent our mutual enemy from figgerin’ out the situation, we must also leave ye in the dark." You nod slowly as you decipher his rambled message. "Good then. Eddie’ll take ye about, an’ William will take care o’ yer sword." "Thank ye Jack…er…Captain." You stress the word in apology. He nods and returns to the helm, compass in hand, as you return to Eddie’s side to do laps around the Pearl’s deck. * * * * You return to your cell to find Will standing there, your swords in his hands. You cringe in memory and he shakes his head. "There’s no more blood, I promise. The damage was minimal, and I was able to remove all the rust as well. They are beautiful swords." He says, handing them through the bars once you’re locked up again. "Thank you. A smith at the dojo made them for me. The swords for the guys were too bulky and I looked really awkward trying to use them." He chuckles slightly and you smile in response. "I really must say that your style of fighting is one that I am no accustomed to. When you fought me back at the mansion…" He trails off as he remembers the events of the night. "It’s ok Will, I wasn’t exactly myself at the time." You offer with a laugh. He smiles at you brightly and nods. "Well, needless to say, I was a bit intimidated. It’s hard to decipher what you’re up against when your opponent moves that fast." "Yeah, Kenjitsu is about speed, not really stamina. It’s designed to land a blow quickly so that you can retract and strike again while your opponent is dazed. You’re quite the difficult fighter, though. Barbossa was worried there for a minute." "Good, he should be worried." Will says strongly and you’re taken aback by the tinge of viciousness in his eyes. "He’s naught but a lying bastard who manipulates everyone in his path to his will." "Well said." You sigh. "Well, thanks again for my swords, I guess its back to practising for me. No rest for the wicked as they say." "Aye, isn’t that the truth. Good day miss." He says formally, even bowing, before running back up the stairs. "I suppose that makes us a friends then, eh?" you ponder aloud as you begin your stretches. * * * * You awake to the sound of a something scraping across the floor near your hammock. You sit up to see that Jack, Gibbs, Bootstrap, Will and Eddie are preparing to play a game of cards, and as Bootstrap enters your cell with a chair you guess that you’re invited. "What’s the game?" you ask, trying to fix your messy hair, and sitting down with your hands resting on the table through the bars. "Poque." Gibbs replies, shuffling a few decks of cards. "Poque….oh Poker!" You exclaim in realisation. Gibbs just shrugs. Jack pivots and plants a few bottles of rum on the table, one for each of the players. "Aye, sounds close enough. D’ye ‘ave any objections ta playing fer keeps?" He asks, sitting closest to you. "I don’t have anything to play with…" You trail off. "I doubt the silver in my coat is still there." Bootstrap laughs. "Not very likely…" He takes a long draught of his drink. "I’ll let ye play with some of me coin then, eh? I get the initial investment back, and ye can keep the interest gained, aye?" "Aye." You nod happily. The cards are dealt, and as the six of you play, its almost possible for you to forget that you’re in the brig of a pirate ship 400 years prior to your birth. Barbossa comes alive through a couple of hands, and turns out to be… helpful. You find this entirely shocking, but don’t say anything, since you’re winning with spectacular ease. Finally, the others seem too drunk, tired or broke to play any further and the game folds. Jack takes all of the coins, separating your winnings and promising to keep them safe for you. "For what purpose? So I can die rich?" You mutter pessimistically, but shake your head before he can object. "Thank ye Captain, very much. That was very fun, and I nearly forgot that I’m your prisoner instead of a friend." "It be Jack, and ye, lass, ye are a friend." he touches your cheek gently, but turns away soon after. "Sweet dreams Passero." "You too Jack." You say wistfully. * * * * * CHAPTER 15 - The Bullet "How stupid could I be? A simpleton could see, that you’re no good for me, but you’re the only one I see." You sing softly, whipping through your sword positions. Your master had always said that if you can sing while you fight, you are not pushing yourself too hard. It had been hard at first, starting your training all over again after three weeks of lazing about. But now that you were back up to speed, your muscles singing as you thrusted, pivoted, parried, and repeated, you felt your strength return, as well as your fluidity. The most remarkable thing was that it had only taken a week. Well, perhaps that was the second most remarkable thing. The first truly must have been that Barbossa had helped you. He had reminded you of things you had forgotten, encouraged you, and not once had put you down or mentioned killing Jack. "Squawk! How stupid could I be?" Comes a sing song voice. You jump and turn to see Cotton and his parrot, the obvious offender. Your face breaks out into a grin and you wipe the sweat from your brow. "You like my song then?" You tease, and the parrot bobs its head up and down. "All hands on deck!" It cries as Cotton unlocks your cell, placing the ever-familiar irons on your wrist. You register the time to be noon as most of the men are in the galley, where you are being led. You eat with them now, enjoying the companionship they offer. They aren’t afraid or angry with you any longer, finally understanding the gravity and true nature of this expedition. Jack is present, and the absence of Anamaria leads you to believe that she is steering the ship. He looks up to see you and waves you over. "Ahh, how be me jailbird today?" He asks, shuffling over on the bench and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Pressed up against the side of his body, it’s particularly difficult to speak, not to mention form cognisant thoughts other than "This man is a God." You clear your throat and lick your lips. "Uhh, pretty good." You say, voice a little shaky. "How about yourself, Cap...Jack?" You correct his title. A grin paints his features when you say his name and he squeezes your shoulder before passing you a plate of food from the cook. You murmur your thanks and eat the food as quickly as possible. It wasn’t that it was awful, it was just that it wasn’t the best food either. The supplies were low, and you were never a fan of seafood to begin with. "Terribly sorry, luv, but today ye dun get yer jog about me deck. I know I shall mourn it, fer I don’t get nice scenery, but we’re nearin’ a nasty patch o’ water, and I need all me men to ensure the Pearl has safe passage." You nod, mouthful, trying to suppress the coughing fit his jibe about scenery had induced. He slaps you on the back, causing you to cough loudly and then gasp for air. "Thanks Jack." You say hoarsely. "Dun ye go dyin’ on me naw, luv." Jack says sternly and smiles at your nod of acquiescence. "Excellent. Well then, Cotton here will return ye to yer… suite," He chuckled lowly. "An’ I’ll be around to check on ye later, savvy?" You laugh softly and smile at him. "Sounds wonderful, thank you for the hospitality, Captain Jack." "’Tis me pleasure, Mistress Passero." He drawls and then with a kiss atop your head, sways off to the upper deck. You follow Cotton and his parrot back down to the brig, and settle in with a lantern, preparing yourself for a long day of reading, and perhaps a few rounds of solitaire. As you open the well-worn copy of In Praise of Folly by Erasmus, you feel Barbossa awake within you. For once you do not dread this sensation, and even go so far as to greet him. "A fine day ‘tis, Passero. Too bad we be locked down ‘ere for it. Ah well, a man can only live the life given to him. And the same to a lady." As he says this, you sense he would bow to you if he had a body. You grin slightly and allowed the book the fall into your lap. "You’re in quite good spirits, aren’t you?" "Ah!" He chuckles. "What can I say? I ‘ave a fine lady, a captive audience and an entire afternoon. Aside from plunder, rum, and women; every pirate thoroughly enjoys tellin’ tales o’ our clandestine adventures." "Well then," You say, snapping the book shut. "Tell away!" * * * * You laugh heartily as Barbossa regales the tale of his first plunder, not glamorous in the slightest. Having slithered through the legs of his captain much like a weasel or snake, he had been able to snitch all the coins and trinkets from his pockets, hidden or known. It had taken his captain a fortnight to discover who the culprit was, and by that time, he had traded ships. "Ye know, Passero, we’d make great mates, ye and I." The laughter dies in your throat abruptly, but you do not object as he continues on. "Ye see, we get along famously when we’re not forced enemies. Same sense o’ humour, same likes, dislikes. I made ye a fine sailor, and wouldna think twice ‘bout makin’ ye part o’ me crew." "Well a man or woman can only live the life given to them." You say, a touch of iciness to your words. "And we are destined to be enemies." He huffs in indignation, and rallies himself for further argument, but you have already turned to the deck of cards, completely prepared to ignore anything else he has to say. The lantern has burned quite low, and you have completed countless rounds of solitaire by the time Jack makes his entrance. "Ah, darling, how was your day?" He asks, waltzing into your cell and sitting down on the bench beside you. "Alright, thank you. I read, played some cards." You shrug. "The usual." He nods gravely and then clasps his hands together, a grin blossoming on his fine features. "Well, me fine crew and I have made it through the rough patch with must skill and speed. The sun is jest startin’ to set. What say ye to a walk?" He offered his hand. You nod without thought and set your hand in his, enjoying the rough, worn texture that has been etched there by time. He gently pulls you to your feet and leads you down the corridor, opening a door for you and helping you up the stairs. The sun is setting, a deep rich red, as you surface from below, and you gasp. The sight is incredible, and yet it has an eerie quality to it. As you near the rail, you hear Barbossa, growling. "It's tha blasted Sparrow’s fault. If he hadn’t bloody well interfered, we’d be sailing off with me Pearl naw, and…." He pauses when he realises that you are listening to him. "Ye know it’s true, luv. If it weren’t fer tha scallywag holding your hand in his filthy paw, none o’ this woulda ‘appened. I wouldna be in yer body, makin’ ye do things ye’d not like to be doing. Yer parents would still be alive, an’ ye could be back ‘ome, livin’ yer life. Why ye’d still ‘ave yer old friends, an’ ye could be…" He is silenced again, but this time by the surroundings of the Pearl. For as you stood with your hands gripping the rail of the ship, you gaze upon an awful sight. A thick fog hangs low on the water, the colour of blood itself in the light of the setting sun. Masts and ribs of numerous sunken ships protruded from the dense fog, and as you leaned closer, you could see dozens of other wrecks that didn’t reach the surface. "Tha’ bloody bastard! Tha no good, God damned, son of a poxed bitch! He brought us ‘ere! What in the ‘ell does he think he’s trying to prove? We ‘ave ta get out o’ ‘ere luv, now!" "I’m not your love." You hiss as him, thoroughly enraged. "And the only fucking reason we’re here is you. I would never trust you, not if you were the last man upon this earth!" Jack recoils at your tone, but does not let go of your hand. He was ready for Barbossa to get angry, and casts warning glances at Bootstrap, Will, and Gibbs, though silently tells them to stay where they are. "But ye would trust ‘im? ‘IM?" Barbossa growls, and you clutch at your head, trying to overcome the pain of his wrath. "D’ye know what ‘e did ta us, Passero? Do ye?" Images flood your mind without warning. Images of hateful revenge and violence. Reckless disregard for human life as Jack and Barbossa go after each other, fighting ruthlessly, images of men, who are not men, but skeletons. They flood your sense and the fear is tangible. You reel backwards, stumbling across ropes, and wrenching your hands from Jack’s grasp, watching the entire story that you’ve heard twice unfold before your eyes. "Tha’s us ‘e is chasin’, luv. Tha’s us ‘e wants ta kill. An’ he did! Jack Sparrow, the one ye’ve fallen ‘ead over ‘eels fer, shot us!" He’s half-mad now with rage, and your breath freezes in your throat. It starts as merely a warm tingling in your chest, but it quickly escalates to an inferno. You clutch at your left side and cry out, sinking to your knees. You can feel it. You can feel the bullet that killed Barbossa, ripping through your flesh, tearing your hearts, and blood vessels. The only sensation lacking is the sprouting of blood from your severed organ. Tears cascade down your cheeks, and you see the blurry form of Jack and his crew rushing to your side. You crash headfirst into the deck before they can catch you, Barbossa still screaming. "Jack Sparrow shot us! Jack Sparrow stole our life, ‘e killed us!" You swallow roughly and feel yourself being lifted and cradle in a warm set of arms. "H…He shot you." You croak out, the pain still wracking your body. "He shot you, Barbossa, not me." "Easy luv, it’s alright." You hear a warm, comforting voice in your ear, one that matches the arms around you. "I didna shoot ye, luv, and I never intend to shoot ye." You clutch desperately at his warm form and bury your face in his chest, sobbing, as Barbossa does not release the pain he’s inflicting on you. "God dammit, can’t ye jest leave the girl alone, you rutting bastard!" You hear him growl before you are overcome by blissful nothingness. * * * * Jack watches as your form goes limp, and quickly checks to make sure that you are in fact still breathing. Satisfied that you are still alive, he scoops you up and heads down below, Bootstrap hot on his heels. They situate you in your hammock, and quickly douse your forehead with cool rags. "Somehow, he…" Jack is so filled with rage he can’t talk any longer. "He showed her what it feels like to be shot." Bootstrap finishes. "Because he is a bloody mongrel and we will stop him. The day after tomorrow, he will never bother another soul. Not us, not ‘er, none." "So ‘elp me God." Jack replies, pulling the blankets around you. |