"Contradictions 7 - Freed" Part 3
Jul. 7th, 2005 01:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veronica_richThis is a continuation of a fic. See Part 1 for disclaimers, description, etc.
Except for giving his crew regular orders now and again, Jack spent the next few days en route to San Rafe in solitary company. Will still wasn’t speaking to him, though he had quit giving Jack the evil eye at every opportunity; truly, the younger man didn’t seem inclined to pursue an answer to his last question, and Jack was forced to conclude it had, after all, been rhetorical.
Shame, that. Then again, maybe not. All along, Jack knew it was foolishness to experience the sorts of feelings he was having for his dead friend’s son. The first stirrings of desire had been normal enough, as he was a right handsome young thing, but it had since blossomed into something far too dangerously permanent for Jack’s peace of mind.
On the fifth morning, sometime close to noon, the watchman called land, and Jack swore he heard even the ship herself groaning relief. Life at sea was all very well and free, but every so often even the fishiest of men needed solid land beneath his boots. With a bit of practiced maneuvering, Jack managed to tuck Pearl into her bay formed by the inward turn of two cliffs, keeping her barely clear of the wide beach so she wouldn’t be carried up on early tide. Her anchor would have to be pulled back each day as she drifted closer, but it was a relatively simple thing any three sailors could do in short time.
As his rowboat approached land, he spotted a group of children and a few adults emerging from a grove of trees. One hurried her pace, breaking out into a long-legged jog toward shore. When he could do so without being sucked into the mild undertow, Jack clamored over the side into a few inches of water and waded ashore, managing to anchor himself just as the girl ran up and threw her arms around his shoulders. “Why’re you so late, Da?” were the first words out of her mouth.
“Well, least it isn’ ‘What’d ye bring me?’ like some lasses,” he teased, picking her up, whirling her in a couple of circles before abruptly setting her down. “Whoa, that was a lot easier last time,” he grunted mildly, looking down into her cocoa face. “Have you been growing, then?”
“I’m ten.” She grinned. “It’s been almost a year.”
“Well, yes, I s’pose that explains ever’thing, then.” He looked back to see the rest of his boat mates pulling the little vessel ashore, and stepped beside his daughter to gesture toward them. “Ye remember Gibbs and Marty, an’ Stumpy, ye met them all last time,” he prompted, and she bobbed her head, tightly braided into neat little cornrows near her scalp. “An’ here be Will Turner, th’ newest addition to our fine crew.”
“You mean who helped you beat Barbossa?” He’d told her the story, at least part of it.
“No other.”
Whatever he thought of his captain, Will had the grace to stop a few feet from the girl and smile in her direction. Not quite yet as old as Ivy, she was more immune to his masculine charms and simply stuck out her hand as she would for any acquaintance when Jack prompted, “This is Liana, Mr. Turner.”
“How are you?” Will shook the hand rather than turning it up for a lady’s kiss.
“Goo- Well,” she corrected, and Jack glanced away so she wouldn’t see his grin; obviously, her mother had kept on her case about her grammar. “And how is the sea?”
Fickle bitch as always, Jack supplied quietly, as Will answered, “Quite calm today, it seems.”
Liana bobbed her head. “Can we go aboard?” she asked her father.
“Later. I just got me feet dry; I’d like t’ keep them that way for awhile, aye?” In response, she pulled at his arm, tugging him back toward town. “How’s your mother?”
“Busy. She’s stitching the shirts for the pairing ritual.”
“Ah, that.” Jack had only ever been to one such thing, and had both grinned and been quite relieved when the town’s shaman had passed him over with an amused shake of the head. Apparently making nice with moneyed travelers by hooking them to a nice girl was not on the man’s agenda; Jack had to admit he respected the fellow more for it.
Of course, he would possibly respect the fellow even more were he not an English-born huckster named Randolph, a resident of San Rafe less time than Liana had been alive. Still, he apparently got results, or so Viola claimed. “Nobody’s he put together has broken up,” she pointed out when Jack mentioned it to her some time later, seated in her kitchen as she took a sip of mint water.
“Where’s people gon’ to go?” Jack rebutted, gesturing widely. “Not like there’s a reg’lar vessel to get away from here on a weekly basis. Too far.”
Liana’s mother shrugged. “I’ll admit what he does isn’t all that mysterious – he observes people, and he works with that. But I still wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a little magic involved, as well.”
“Good thing he wasn’t around eleven years ago.” Jack smirked as he motioned between them. “He’d have pegged us all wrong.”
“I doubt he would’ve put us together in the first place.” Viola raised an eyebrow. “We only do this once a year, Jack, and it’s hardly as though he pairs off the entire town. He just puts together a few couples.”
“I wonder, anything fancier ‘n that? Ménage a trois, hmm?”
“There’s a lot less happy with that sort of thing than you’d think.” Jack was tempted to ask how she knew, when she sipped more water and fixed him with amused eyes, but was interrupted by the approach of smaller footsteps. He wisely clammed up, turning to spot Liana skittering toward them. “No running inside,” Viola warned mildly.
“Sorry, Mama.” She quirked a brow at Jack. “Can I go see the Pearl now?”
He glanced to Viola for confirmation, then rose to his feet. “Oh, all right.” He cocked his head toward Viola. “Did ye think maybe to ask your mum if she’d like t’ visit as well?”
Unperturbed, Liana looked to Viola. “You should see the ship this time, Mama; last time Da was here, you didn’t even go look.”
“Last time Da was here,” Viola corrected her, “it was only for three days, and we were busy canning. Or, to be more accurate, I was busy with it.” The girl had the grace to look abashed. “I know why you weren’t helping; it was quite all right.”
“But you can go now, right?”
Viola looked to Jack, and grinned. “Why not? I’ve heard enough about it over the years, I might as well get a look at this boat.”
“Ship, love,” Jack corrected. “Don’t call her a boat while you’re standin’ on her; she’ll capsize.”
*****
For the first time in what seemed a long while, Jack Sparrow exhaled. He truly relaxed, having hidden Pearl and her crew as best he could from any traffic which might happen by the fairly isolated island. At some point, he had to trust to fate to give him a few days off from running and defending, and he took his chances that might be now.
He spent his days alternately following Liana to near and far corners of the island, exploring its trees and streams from her point of view, and settling disputes here and there among sailors. Gibbs or Will would show up every so often with a question about inventory; after the third day, he told both to take a break, as there were enough provisions for a hasty departure. Joshamee was happy enough to follow “orders” as they were, but Will proved more difficult to separate from his work.
“I told ye not to worry about this.” Jack crossed his arms casually, frowning as he came across the blacksmith unpacking flour for the galley the next afternoon. He leaned against the door frame, shaking his head. “That’s Maxi’s job, anyhow.”
“He’s not doing it.”
“That’s because he needs somethin’ to do at sea,” Jack pointed out. “That’s why we put th’ crates and bags in storage – not much t’ do some days, an’ it’ll drive even th’ laziest man mad to be at loose ends too long in a confined space like a ship.” Will didn’t speak, simply finished unpacking, and straightened to stretch out his spine a few seconds later. “Am I gon’ have to order ye to leave things be?” Jack remarked caustically.
For the first time in a long while, Will began a new conversation about something other than ship’s business. “What happened with Francois?”
If he’d asked about the state of political affairs on the moon, Jack wouldn’t have been any less prepared. “What?”
The smith pressed the heels of his hands to the small wooden chopping island separating he and Jack and leaned forward, pinning the captain’s eyes with his own. “What did you do to keep him away from me?”
“Where did this come from?” Not that Jack wasn’t glad for willing conversation from the lad, but this was not a topic he was prepared to discuss.
“You keep trying to start me talking to you again.” Will lifted a hand and gestured at Jack up and down. “So tell me what went on. What did you do to keep me down in that brig?”
Unwanted memories surfaced, and Jack drew his mouth tight reflexively. “Not your concern, I’d say,” he began, slowly, “but if ye must know, I kept him busy with threats of what’d happen if he violated a citizen of the Crown.”
“He wouldn’t have cared – I daresay if he’d thought I were a legitimate prisoner, he’d have gone out of his way to make my life more miserable.”
“Ah, but you’re not thinking, William.”
“Seems to be a common theme to your little speeches.”
Jack ignored the edge of anger and held up an index finger to make his point. “Had he thought you were a citizen, it would be in his best interests t’ keep ye safe an’ warm as possible, for th’ highest ransom. After all, nobody’s gon’ pay for a pirate-“ He spread his hands toward himself, “but they will fork out for a God-fearin’, taxes-paying subject.”
Will didn’t speak at first, apparently absorbing the information. Finally, he dropped his voice and stood upright again. “I would never tell anyone what you told me, you know,” he confided. “I’d really rather not be angry with you, but … you treat me like a boy, a … a naïf who knows little and figures out less, Jack.”
“That’s certainly not true-“
“It is, lately. The way you talked to me in front of the Commodore – I thought you considered me an equal-“
“Not before another naval commander, no.” Jack shook his head. “Do ye have any idea how it makes me look t’ be contradicted by one of me own crew?”
“I didn’t contradict you! I was just pointing out-“
“You called me a goddamn fool!” Jack’s patience was swiftly running out. “Now it’s one thing t’ say it to me face when we’re just here on th’ ship or alone. But in front of th’ enemy?”
“Commodore Norrington’s not the enemy, Jack!”
“Yes, he is!” Jack moved as close as the block would allow; it was his turn to lean across, voice low and intent. “Who do ye think bloody well ordered me to th’ gallows? Twasn’t Elizabeth. Wasn’t th’ town blacksmith, or the baker – it was Commodore James Norrington of His Majesty’s Royal Fucking Navy!”
“I-“ For once, Will didn’t try to explain himself. His mouth opened and closed twice, but nothing else came out.
“And if push came t’ shove, he’d do the exact same thing to you tomorrow.” Will still said nothing, his expression a mixture of confusion and bleak hurt. “I know what he did for ye, lad. I know what ye need to tell yourself, to believe – but th’ facts are, that life is over with. You left it behind. You’re not a child anymore, William.” Jack knew Will would never believe it hurt him to watch the smith finally realize one of life’s worst truths, but it had to happen sometime. “He’s not your protector any longer. He’s your mortal enemy.”
Will didn’t move, keeping his eyes cast down and off to the side. His jaw ground, and Jack realized he was trying to be angry in order to avoid further discourse. “I’m sorry,” Jack offered sincerely.
“You’re good at changing the subject.” Will’s voice was low and nearly hissing. “When you don’t want to talk about something, you’ll avoid it at any cost.”
Jack rolled his eyes. Not this again. “Drop it,” he warned.
“I think I will.” With that, he picked up the empty crate at his feet and came around the block, shoving his way past Jack, who watched him go in spite of the urge to make him stay and argue until whatever – this – was, was resolved. Then again, that could take a very long time.
*****
Part 4 ...
Except for giving his crew regular orders now and again, Jack spent the next few days en route to San Rafe in solitary company. Will still wasn’t speaking to him, though he had quit giving Jack the evil eye at every opportunity; truly, the younger man didn’t seem inclined to pursue an answer to his last question, and Jack was forced to conclude it had, after all, been rhetorical.
Shame, that. Then again, maybe not. All along, Jack knew it was foolishness to experience the sorts of feelings he was having for his dead friend’s son. The first stirrings of desire had been normal enough, as he was a right handsome young thing, but it had since blossomed into something far too dangerously permanent for Jack’s peace of mind.
On the fifth morning, sometime close to noon, the watchman called land, and Jack swore he heard even the ship herself groaning relief. Life at sea was all very well and free, but every so often even the fishiest of men needed solid land beneath his boots. With a bit of practiced maneuvering, Jack managed to tuck Pearl into her bay formed by the inward turn of two cliffs, keeping her barely clear of the wide beach so she wouldn’t be carried up on early tide. Her anchor would have to be pulled back each day as she drifted closer, but it was a relatively simple thing any three sailors could do in short time.
As his rowboat approached land, he spotted a group of children and a few adults emerging from a grove of trees. One hurried her pace, breaking out into a long-legged jog toward shore. When he could do so without being sucked into the mild undertow, Jack clamored over the side into a few inches of water and waded ashore, managing to anchor himself just as the girl ran up and threw her arms around his shoulders. “Why’re you so late, Da?” were the first words out of her mouth.
“Well, least it isn’ ‘What’d ye bring me?’ like some lasses,” he teased, picking her up, whirling her in a couple of circles before abruptly setting her down. “Whoa, that was a lot easier last time,” he grunted mildly, looking down into her cocoa face. “Have you been growing, then?”
“I’m ten.” She grinned. “It’s been almost a year.”
“Well, yes, I s’pose that explains ever’thing, then.” He looked back to see the rest of his boat mates pulling the little vessel ashore, and stepped beside his daughter to gesture toward them. “Ye remember Gibbs and Marty, an’ Stumpy, ye met them all last time,” he prompted, and she bobbed her head, tightly braided into neat little cornrows near her scalp. “An’ here be Will Turner, th’ newest addition to our fine crew.”
“You mean who helped you beat Barbossa?” He’d told her the story, at least part of it.
“No other.”
Whatever he thought of his captain, Will had the grace to stop a few feet from the girl and smile in her direction. Not quite yet as old as Ivy, she was more immune to his masculine charms and simply stuck out her hand as she would for any acquaintance when Jack prompted, “This is Liana, Mr. Turner.”
“How are you?” Will shook the hand rather than turning it up for a lady’s kiss.
“Goo- Well,” she corrected, and Jack glanced away so she wouldn’t see his grin; obviously, her mother had kept on her case about her grammar. “And how is the sea?”
Fickle bitch as always, Jack supplied quietly, as Will answered, “Quite calm today, it seems.”
Liana bobbed her head. “Can we go aboard?” she asked her father.
“Later. I just got me feet dry; I’d like t’ keep them that way for awhile, aye?” In response, she pulled at his arm, tugging him back toward town. “How’s your mother?”
“Busy. She’s stitching the shirts for the pairing ritual.”
“Ah, that.” Jack had only ever been to one such thing, and had both grinned and been quite relieved when the town’s shaman had passed him over with an amused shake of the head. Apparently making nice with moneyed travelers by hooking them to a nice girl was not on the man’s agenda; Jack had to admit he respected the fellow more for it.
Of course, he would possibly respect the fellow even more were he not an English-born huckster named Randolph, a resident of San Rafe less time than Liana had been alive. Still, he apparently got results, or so Viola claimed. “Nobody’s he put together has broken up,” she pointed out when Jack mentioned it to her some time later, seated in her kitchen as she took a sip of mint water.
“Where’s people gon’ to go?” Jack rebutted, gesturing widely. “Not like there’s a reg’lar vessel to get away from here on a weekly basis. Too far.”
Liana’s mother shrugged. “I’ll admit what he does isn’t all that mysterious – he observes people, and he works with that. But I still wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a little magic involved, as well.”
“Good thing he wasn’t around eleven years ago.” Jack smirked as he motioned between them. “He’d have pegged us all wrong.”
“I doubt he would’ve put us together in the first place.” Viola raised an eyebrow. “We only do this once a year, Jack, and it’s hardly as though he pairs off the entire town. He just puts together a few couples.”
“I wonder, anything fancier ‘n that? Ménage a trois, hmm?”
“There’s a lot less happy with that sort of thing than you’d think.” Jack was tempted to ask how she knew, when she sipped more water and fixed him with amused eyes, but was interrupted by the approach of smaller footsteps. He wisely clammed up, turning to spot Liana skittering toward them. “No running inside,” Viola warned mildly.
“Sorry, Mama.” She quirked a brow at Jack. “Can I go see the Pearl now?”
He glanced to Viola for confirmation, then rose to his feet. “Oh, all right.” He cocked his head toward Viola. “Did ye think maybe to ask your mum if she’d like t’ visit as well?”
Unperturbed, Liana looked to Viola. “You should see the ship this time, Mama; last time Da was here, you didn’t even go look.”
“Last time Da was here,” Viola corrected her, “it was only for three days, and we were busy canning. Or, to be more accurate, I was busy with it.” The girl had the grace to look abashed. “I know why you weren’t helping; it was quite all right.”
“But you can go now, right?”
Viola looked to Jack, and grinned. “Why not? I’ve heard enough about it over the years, I might as well get a look at this boat.”
“Ship, love,” Jack corrected. “Don’t call her a boat while you’re standin’ on her; she’ll capsize.”
*****
For the first time in what seemed a long while, Jack Sparrow exhaled. He truly relaxed, having hidden Pearl and her crew as best he could from any traffic which might happen by the fairly isolated island. At some point, he had to trust to fate to give him a few days off from running and defending, and he took his chances that might be now.
He spent his days alternately following Liana to near and far corners of the island, exploring its trees and streams from her point of view, and settling disputes here and there among sailors. Gibbs or Will would show up every so often with a question about inventory; after the third day, he told both to take a break, as there were enough provisions for a hasty departure. Joshamee was happy enough to follow “orders” as they were, but Will proved more difficult to separate from his work.
“I told ye not to worry about this.” Jack crossed his arms casually, frowning as he came across the blacksmith unpacking flour for the galley the next afternoon. He leaned against the door frame, shaking his head. “That’s Maxi’s job, anyhow.”
“He’s not doing it.”
“That’s because he needs somethin’ to do at sea,” Jack pointed out. “That’s why we put th’ crates and bags in storage – not much t’ do some days, an’ it’ll drive even th’ laziest man mad to be at loose ends too long in a confined space like a ship.” Will didn’t speak, simply finished unpacking, and straightened to stretch out his spine a few seconds later. “Am I gon’ have to order ye to leave things be?” Jack remarked caustically.
For the first time in a long while, Will began a new conversation about something other than ship’s business. “What happened with Francois?”
If he’d asked about the state of political affairs on the moon, Jack wouldn’t have been any less prepared. “What?”
The smith pressed the heels of his hands to the small wooden chopping island separating he and Jack and leaned forward, pinning the captain’s eyes with his own. “What did you do to keep him away from me?”
“Where did this come from?” Not that Jack wasn’t glad for willing conversation from the lad, but this was not a topic he was prepared to discuss.
“You keep trying to start me talking to you again.” Will lifted a hand and gestured at Jack up and down. “So tell me what went on. What did you do to keep me down in that brig?”
Unwanted memories surfaced, and Jack drew his mouth tight reflexively. “Not your concern, I’d say,” he began, slowly, “but if ye must know, I kept him busy with threats of what’d happen if he violated a citizen of the Crown.”
“He wouldn’t have cared – I daresay if he’d thought I were a legitimate prisoner, he’d have gone out of his way to make my life more miserable.”
“Ah, but you’re not thinking, William.”
“Seems to be a common theme to your little speeches.”
Jack ignored the edge of anger and held up an index finger to make his point. “Had he thought you were a citizen, it would be in his best interests t’ keep ye safe an’ warm as possible, for th’ highest ransom. After all, nobody’s gon’ pay for a pirate-“ He spread his hands toward himself, “but they will fork out for a God-fearin’, taxes-paying subject.”
Will didn’t speak at first, apparently absorbing the information. Finally, he dropped his voice and stood upright again. “I would never tell anyone what you told me, you know,” he confided. “I’d really rather not be angry with you, but … you treat me like a boy, a … a naïf who knows little and figures out less, Jack.”
“That’s certainly not true-“
“It is, lately. The way you talked to me in front of the Commodore – I thought you considered me an equal-“
“Not before another naval commander, no.” Jack shook his head. “Do ye have any idea how it makes me look t’ be contradicted by one of me own crew?”
“I didn’t contradict you! I was just pointing out-“
“You called me a goddamn fool!” Jack’s patience was swiftly running out. “Now it’s one thing t’ say it to me face when we’re just here on th’ ship or alone. But in front of th’ enemy?”
“Commodore Norrington’s not the enemy, Jack!”
“Yes, he is!” Jack moved as close as the block would allow; it was his turn to lean across, voice low and intent. “Who do ye think bloody well ordered me to th’ gallows? Twasn’t Elizabeth. Wasn’t th’ town blacksmith, or the baker – it was Commodore James Norrington of His Majesty’s Royal Fucking Navy!”
“I-“ For once, Will didn’t try to explain himself. His mouth opened and closed twice, but nothing else came out.
“And if push came t’ shove, he’d do the exact same thing to you tomorrow.” Will still said nothing, his expression a mixture of confusion and bleak hurt. “I know what he did for ye, lad. I know what ye need to tell yourself, to believe – but th’ facts are, that life is over with. You left it behind. You’re not a child anymore, William.” Jack knew Will would never believe it hurt him to watch the smith finally realize one of life’s worst truths, but it had to happen sometime. “He’s not your protector any longer. He’s your mortal enemy.”
Will didn’t move, keeping his eyes cast down and off to the side. His jaw ground, and Jack realized he was trying to be angry in order to avoid further discourse. “I’m sorry,” Jack offered sincerely.
“You’re good at changing the subject.” Will’s voice was low and nearly hissing. “When you don’t want to talk about something, you’ll avoid it at any cost.”
Jack rolled his eyes. Not this again. “Drop it,” he warned.
“I think I will.” With that, he picked up the empty crate at his feet and came around the block, shoving his way past Jack, who watched him go in spite of the urge to make him stay and argue until whatever – this – was, was resolved. Then again, that could take a very long time.
*****
Part 4 ...
