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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Will/Elizabeth, Jacques/Jack, Jack/James, José/Carolina, Sands/El (kitties)
Feedback: Please let me know what worked for you, and what didn't.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except these versions of Jacques and José, and some of the 'Mexico' concepts.
Notes: José Gaspar is Antonio Banderas, and Jacques is my version of the Anti-Jack, though you really just need the visual to get him. He occasionally drops a French phrase; translations upon request. Crossover with Once Upon a Time in Mexico. The cats originate in the Extras here. //words// in Spanish. Mention of Blood and Avery refers to Pyrates, a wonderful book by George MacDonald Fraser.
Summary: Jack and James are trapped in a cursed dream. Literally. And they're beginning to notice something odd…
***
"All right, that should be enough to get us through noon tomorrow if the wind keeps up. But then I'm afraid we'll need another bearing…" Will felt the silence steep resentment into his bones and put down the pencil he'd been using to mark the charts. Elizabeth was slumped into the chair across from him, glaring at her crumpled skirts, while on the other side of Jack's maps, Anamaria and Gibbs were looking uneasily at the small leather bag that swung from Elizabeth's fingertips.
Steel in the air, like heated ore steaming up into his face. Or like an especially nasty storm. Will glanced meaningfully at Gibbs while trying to formulate a plausible excuse for dismissal. The other man nodded once and coughed. "Well, Mister Turner, Miss-er-"
Elizaebeth brightened a little. "Just call me Elizabeth, Mr. Gibbs. You knew me before I married Will, and it feels…wrong…to have you call me Mistress Turner."
"Ah, thank you." Gibbs fiddled with his hat. "Think I'll just be seein' t'the visitors. Y'said Gaspar was sendin' over his…uh…wife in a few minutes?" he asked Will.
Right, Carolina. Will did a quick check about the cabin, found it mostly presentable, and began to straighten the maps. "Yes. She'll be coming over to get the general bearings for tomorrow's jaunt, just in case we're separated. Please show her in as soon as possible. Anamaria, just do what we always do. And please don't kill the monkey. We still need him."
She reluctantly gave her affirmative, but left muttering, "Don' know as he has t'keep his dangles for it. Ain' love spells y'll be doin'."
Will winced in sympathy, then mentally smacked himself for pitying anything about that bastard Barbossa and his animal accomplice. And anyway, he was fairly sure that she was joking. But there were slightly more important matters to attend to, however much he might dread them. Bracing himself, he came around to the other side of the table and knelt in front of Elizabeth. He took up each of her hands and, when he found them a bit chilled, massaged them. "I know it must be unpleasant-"
"You could not possibly have the slightest idea of what touching this-this-" she flung the bag onto the table "-feels like. It's…horrendous, Will. Even the coin's makers-I can't do this anymore. I won't."
"But-"
"Will, don't make me." She tried to pull away, but he held on tight and used her turn to whirl her down into his lap. "Will!"
"Elizabeth." He ducked his head into her hair and took a long whiff, letting the faint scent of rosewater and her sweat calm his own strained nerves. "I don't like it either. When I look at that coin, these…visions go through my head of how they made it and I want to scream. But we have to. Jack and Norrington and Jacques…"
"I know, I know. I-it's only that right now-tomorrow I'll wake up and be ready to do this." She twisted her fingers in his shirt, shyly stroking beneath. "But this is certainly not what I had in mind when you told me we were in a fairytale, and…William Turner, are you molesting me?"
He shrugged and continued to trace the turns of her ear with his tongue, feeling her shivers against his palms. "Pirate."
Her grin lighted up the corner of his vision. "Yes, you are. And a fine blacksmith and husband-"
"And an idiot," he realized with a groan. Will frantically rummaged around in Elizabeth's skirts until he found one of the daggers he'd made for her. He slipped it into her hand. "Here, this should help…Elizabeth?"
Her eyes refocused on him as he steadied her swaying body, and she smiled again with pure delight. "Wonderful, Will. It feels absolutely-" she leaned in to rub her nose playfully against his own "-wonderful."
Her mouth tasted faintly of dinner, but more of the oranges that they'd had for dessert, citric fresh and sweetness that tempted him into further explorations. He pulled her in closer, wrestling her voluminous skirt out of the way-they really needed to get her into more proper clothing for shipwork-and kissed her again.
A throaty, indulgent laugh startled them apart. Carolina leaned against the doorsill, resplendent in a fine black coat and gold-edged lace over what at first appeared to be a dress. When she came forward to shake Will's hand, however, the folds parted to show that it was actually a split-skirt, much like what the more unconventional noblewomen used to go riding astride instead of sidesaddle. "I apologize for my bad timing," she said after greeting Elizabeth and taking a seat. "Unfortunately, business intrudes whenever it pleases."
"No need," Will hastened to reassure her. "We understand. Now, here's the…"
Carolina followed their stares down to the rustling in her skirts and sighed, taking up handfuls of the fabric and giving it a vigorous shake. //Out. Now, you little perverts.//
Two furry heads, complete with offended expressions, poked out and were shortly followed by sleek bodies. El and Sands leapt up into Carolina's lap and took up attentive poses, their tails impatiently swishing. Will struggled to keep the amusement off of his face as he turned back to the maps. He traced out a short squiggle with a fingertip, then tapped the numbers written along it. "Here's our general course. It should hold till we reach here-" pointed at an island "-but after that, I'm afraid that we can't give you any bearings."
"They change constantly," Elizabeth added, lest the other woman think them mistrustful and feel slighted. "I can't pin them down at all, so you'll simply have to follow us."
"I understand." Carolina bent forward to peer at the map, her fingers idly petting the cats. "How is Jack and his commodore?"
"Er…" Will gazed around for inspiration and was most grateful when Jacques suddenly appeared at the door. He snagged an apple from a nearby shelf and held it out. "Oh, you're awake? Come on in and have something to eat."
The other man did so, but only gave the apple an odd look as he bowed slightly to Carolina and settled himself into a chair. "No, merci. I ate before I came in here. They're in good condition," he told them. "The crisis point is still at least a day and a half away."
"We should be at Isle de Muerte by then," Carolina observed, putting a rolling lilt on the name. She tucked a cat beneath each arm as she began to stand. "That is fine. Well, Mister Turner, I believe that that is all I need to-Sands. Give it back."
Her disapproving look met with an innocent expression that even Will didn't believe. Beside him, Elizabeth twitched with abrupt realization and turned her own scowl upon the black cat, who mewed pathetically as Carolina dropped him onto the table. "Sands, you do not want that thing. It will do horrid things to your sleep, and bring you face-to-face with one of the nastiest, most unpleasant villains in the entire Caribbean."
El slipped out of Carolina's arms onto the maps and stared into the blind eyeballs for a long moment. Then, hissing, Sands grudgingly produced the bag with the Aztec coin from somewhere and assumed a haughty air to cover up his surrender. Rolling her eyes, Carolina ignored the resulting pounce and handed the bag back to Elizabeth. "Keep your eye on it," she advised. "And I don't mean do not lose it. Things like these have a habit of carrying out their own agendas."
"We will," Jacques said seriously, before taking a lighter tone to address the felines rolling across the charts. "Mistress Carolina? Your familiars appear to have…settled their differences."
Indeed. The two cats continued to lick at each other as Carolina picked them up once again, and the cabin resonated with the sound of purring. Will dearly hoped none of the maps were damaged; Jack was rather vain about the large collection he'd gathered through various ways and means, none of which bore much thinking about.
So Will put that issue aside and escorted Carolina and her familiars back to the longboat, where she paused before getting in and touched his shoulder. "Jack will be fine. He has the luck. But you're doing a good job, making up for his absence. "
"Thank you," he replied, unexpectedly relieved and flattered. One less worry to occupy his mind.
***
Jacques still felt rather limp, but much more in control of his limbs; the long nap and the scavenged meal afterward had done wonders for his exhaustion. He yawned and drooped back into the chair, peering idly at the maps through half-lidded eyes.
"Are you all right?" Elizabeth's fingers plucked nervously at her skirts as she leaned over him. She would make a good pickpocket, he mused, if she learned to school her emotions a little more. "Jacques?"
"I'm fine. Dreamwork is never easy on the body, as you have to keep holds in two worlds at once. Your friends are not going to fit for much after they wake up, I fear." Worry momentarily flashed over her face, but then she set her jaw much as her husband did whenever confronting a dilemma. "Excusez-moi, Elizabeth. I didn't mean to imply anything untoward."
"No, it's all right. I know they'll be fine." She brushed hair off his forehead, her hand cool and smooth like the finest ivory. "And anyway, it might do some good for Jack to stay in one place for a bit. Jacques…are you really French? I mean, did you start out as-oh, but don't answer if you don't wish to. I don't-"
"Stop, stop," he interrupted, laughter helplessly bubbling up in him. The Turners were impossibly adorable at times, and he wondered how Jack had ever managed to earn their loyalty. Then again, Sparrow was intrinsically inexplicable, though Jacques thought he had a fairly instinctive knowledge of the man. "Yes, I am. One of the few constants in my life."
"Oh." Elizabeth kept pressing her fingers to her rosy cheeks, undoubtedly hoping to rub away the embarrassment. Jacques didn't have the heart to tell her that that trick never worked. "Well, you're staying on the Pearl now, aren't you?"
A fact that still raised wonder in his breast, despite him being able to reach out and feel the connection whenever he wished. As if in gentle mockery, the boards beneath his feet creaked, rippling gold and silver through the shaded spots of his vision. "It would appear so. This is…strange. Like those maps, for instance-" he summoned up enough strength to straighten and run a palm across the yellowed paper "-there's been so much that has altered since the last time I saw one. Less fanciful, more clear and solid."
"Is that a bad thing?" It was an unexpectedly shrewd question, making Jacques throw a sharp glance over to Elizabeth. She flinched a little, but met his look with an even one of her own. "Would you rather have it like it was before, fantastic and vague and…well, like a story?"
"But this is a story right now," Jacques pointed out. "Times change, but never the tales. And…I think I like this one best, even if the ending is still a few days in the future. It's… full of comfort. Tu comprends?"
Elizabeth slowly nodded as she straightened the charts and tucked a few away into their proper places. "I wonder how Jack and Norrington are doing. I hope they're not arguing too much. Norrington's a very reasonable man, but sometimes he lets that get in the way of his common sense."
At that, Jacques merely smiled at the ceiling. No point in elaborating on that aspect of the situation. Elizabeth was a perceptive woman, and he was sure that she could figure out matters on her own.
***
As entrances went, it was all right. Jack would've liked to fall onto the befeathered turkey of an officer that apparently was in charge of the nonsense, but landing on James was just as good. Plenty of opportunities to grapple choice bits while he kicked down the rest of the soldiers and got rid of those nasty pointy things…bayonets. Right. "Terribly, terribly sorry 'bout this all, mate, but when th'anchor weighs an'-"
"Jack!" A wild-eyed face squirmed past him as Norrington ripped free of the tangle while knocking over an oncoming redcoat. Seemed like changing scenery might be a good thing to do, so Jack wriggled after and took hold of the other man's arm, then whirled them over the nearest railing.
Air rippled into dark clashing stench, and Tortuga shimmered into place around them as they bounced rather painfully off a pile of hay. Which appeared to be clean, so Jack didn't see why the other man would be grimacing so much at the wisps clinging to his…well, now. This was a nice change of pace, and if Jack twisted just so, he could glimpse the hazy rose of a nipple shifting beneath the thin linen. "Nice coat, Commodore. An' trousers, an' boots."
Norrington immediately did his best to wrap said lovely velvet more snugly around him, though that only made the rips in it reveal more interesting peeks. "Sparrow. Do you have any idea of what your nightmare has put me through-no, don't answer that. Do you have any conception of what I'm going to do to you for kidnapping an officer of the Crown? Damn it, Ja-Sparrow, I can't overlook this!"
"Can't?" The slip of tongue both delighted and worried Jack, because while it meant Norrington might be coming round to Jack's opinion of the situation, it also indicated a severe disturbance on the other man's part. Enough to break through his marble mask. "Commodore, I'm a bit behind here, so if y'don' mind, mebbe we can get off th'hay an' discuss this over a pint or two?"
"You-" vague jerking of bound hands "-insufferable. Absolutely insufferable."
"Wait, wait," Jack hissed, seizing Norrington's wrists and trying to still the other man. Hell and damnation, there wasn't a quiet spot in all of Tortuga-dream or not-and if Norrington didn't calm down, they were going to have an audience to jeer them on. "Slow down an' relax, mate. Whatever it was-"
His shirt was jerked forward until furious eyes burned green into the back of his head. "I am trapped in your nightmare, and I almost saw myself hanged, Jack. Do not tell me to relax. I want-" gritted teeth "-an explanation. Now."
Norrington almost hanged-Jack cursed Barbossa under his breath, and regretted again all those nights they'd spent talking. His former first mate clearly knew him too well. "Y've been switched from Port Royal t'a temp'rary post aboard my ship, as Gaspar an' I have signed privateer's articles. Jus' till we've done wi' meltin' down th'coins."
"Coins? What coins? What drivel are you feeding me?" Jack frantically batted at the hands that were shaking him so hard. His teeth were actually rattling harder than his beads. "Damn it, Ja-Sparrow-oh, damn it all to hell!"
With a noise of concentrated frustration, Norrington released Jack and flopped backward, rubbing at his temples as best he could, given that a large coil of rope was in the way. So Jack manfully squashed his urge to take advantage of the enticing display and unknotted the bindings, though that only earned him another ungrateful glower. "Captain Jack Sparrow. An' there's no denyin' th'title now, seein' as I've got th'Pearl."
Norrington closed his eyes and folded a hand over his eyes, veiling himself in frothy lace. "Jack. What am I doing here? What did Jacques mean when he said it was Barbossa's fault?"
"Well…" Jack twisted his rings around his fingers, watching them flash back what dim light there was. "'s a bit of a story."
The hand went down, and Norrington sat up, then fussily started fixing his clothing. His ponytail was a complete disaster of dark brown and straw knots, so Jack helpfully began to tease out the snarls. Which got him a little gasp, barely audible. Norrington froze, fingers wrapped in his cravat. "Where…is this Tortuga?" he asked in a strained voice.
One last tug, and then the tail of hair was as neat as any pin. Jack patted it affectionately as he helped the other man up, then took the chance to pat down the velvet as well. "It would be indeed, Commodore. Now let's look t'some food an' drink, an' then we can discuss th'matter of getting out of this dream."
"Nightmare. Jacques said nightmare. He was very specific about it." Norrington kept a narrow gaze trained on Jack as they stepped out into the crowded streets. Which was probably a good thing, as it served as a fine excuse for swaggering while distracting the other man from the various wildly illegal goings-on happening around them. Jack wasn't sure just how much deviation the poor commodore's corseted mind could take at once, and he didn't want to risk a complete breakdown. "Oh, good Lord. Does this mean that I'm you? Is that why I'm dressed like this?"
"No need t'sound so nasty 'bout it," Jack admonished the disgusted scowl aimed at him. "I think y'look perfectly fine like that. Improvement over y'r usual, as a matter of fact."
"Luckily for law and order, the Navy does not share your opinion," Norrington replied in a stiff tone as he followed Jack into the nearest bar. Head held high and rigid as a lamppost, which made Jack wince. The rest of the view, however, was quite fine. Especially the way the coattails parted when Norrington moved. And the lovely profile as the other man wrinkled his nose at the fighting drunks in the corner. "I suppose we'll have to drink something here?"
Jack transmuted his sigh into a bob that got the barkeep's attention. "Two, if y'please," and then he quickly ushered Norrington in a fairly isolated niche. "All right, this is how matters are. Those undead pirates happened 'cause of this curse on some Aztec gold, savvy? Will an' Elizabeth an' I broke said curse th'same time I killed Barbossa, but there was still magic in th'coins. An' th'damned flea-ridden monkey-"
Arched eyebrow. Which practically bent in half when two mugs sloshed onto the table. Jack paid, then turned back to find Norrington dubiously holding one by its handle like it was a particularly noxious little lapdog.
"Barbossa had a familiar. The monkey, right? After we left, it got his ghost a piece of th'gold, so he possessed it an' made a new curse. This nightmare. So now Gaspar an' th'rest are helpin' t'break it by destroyin' th'coins, while I'm in here gettin' y'out. Savvy?" Jack waited for an answer, but no sound came out of Norrington's mouth. A faint wrinkle appeared on the other man's forehead as he tried again, and dramatically deepened when nothing emerged except a croak. "Norrington? Y'feelin' all right?"
"Mayhaps he needs a lookin'-after," purred a high cooing voice. Moments later, a curvy handful of silk and flounce appeared on Norrington's lap, and long nails petted his suddenly panicked expression. "How's about it, handsome?"
Jack blinked. "Scarlet?"
"Scarlet!" shouted a second, deeper and decidedly rougher voice. At first, Jack thought he'd accidentally gone religious, but then the crowd cleared and it became apparent that the mountain was not, in fact, coming to Mohammed. More like the storm coming for their sails. With equally hulking friends. "Y'bastard, what d'ye think y're doin', layin' hands on m'girl?"
***
It was entirely too apt that one of Jack's terrors would be an inability to talk. More specifically, an inability to talk himself out of a bad situation.
Very carefully, James closed his mouth and removed the woman from his legs. She pouted indiscriminately as she stomped off, leaving him and Jack to face her angry lover. Who was raining spittle and extremely foul breath all over them as he continued to rant. "Jus' who d'ye think y'are, anyway? Crossin' Long John?"
"No one in particular," Jack hastily broke in, dodging in front of James. "He'd not be th'kind interested in y'r girl."
"An' now y're callin' her ugly?" Long John and his fellows took a step forward while James hurriedly abandoned his chair and searched for something he could use as a weapon.
"Nononono. No such thing." A warm arm abruptly slung over James' neck, and Jack hissed, "Play 'long for now." And then his tongue was invading James' mouth.
Lord God in heaven, but this was. Sin. Wet and spice-tingling at its blurry edges, crackling sugar in its center. Warmth tangled between his lips, calling up memories he had tried desperately to lock away. And when the kiss ended, James could not completely suppress his moan of longing.
"Mates, are ye?" Long John dragged out the first word in a lascivious insinuation.
Jack pulled James down further, sliding fingers into his hair so his face was forced into a mass of black braids. Springy and as oddly soft as he remembered. He clenched his fists, but didn't struggle. No point in making a terrible situation worse. "T'be sure," Jack solemnly testified above him. "Think I'd let go of somethin' fine like this?
He had expected the slow caress down his front, but it still startled James. Made his breath jerk, and his nails twitched even deeper into his palms. He slowly let out his breath in an effort to regain his calm, but that only pushed him deeper into the warm body behind him.
Fortunately, Long John left before James' knees finally gave out, so there were no witnesses to the sudden tumble he and Jack took onto the bench. The wood brutally banged his back and shoulders, and lace stuffed itself into his mouth. James promptly spit it out with a curse-or he tried to, then realized that the dumbness was still in effect.
Jack immediately freed himself with enviable grace and propped up on elbows to give James what seemed to be a genuinely concerned expression. "Norrington? Y'fevered?"
A shake of the head only made the pirate bend down so he could examine each of James' eyes. "Well, if y'say so…now, where were we?"
Naturally, James couldn't answer, so he simply pushed the other man off and made his ruffled way to the outside. Where he nearly collided with a staggeringly lecherous couple. Hurriedly ducking into a nearby alley, he came to a halt by a trough of water, which he would have used to wash some sense back into him if the scummy liquid hadn't burped at him. James stumbled back, cuff over mouth and nose, and turned to find a somewhat-amused Jack watching him.
The pirate hopped up onto a nearby barrel and silently waited for James to say something. And waited, and waited…and essentially showed that he was far more capable of patience than James had assumed. Than James was, in fact, and that state of matters finally irked him into gesturing.
"Y've a cough…no…wait, I like these games…two words…three?"
Aggravation undoubtedly burning a hole in his gut, James threw up his hands and shouted. Without making any more sound than a gasp.
Comprehension settled in an unexpectedly dark cloud over Jack's face. "Y've been struck mute."
James nodded energetically.
"Hell be damned, but I do hate that man," Jack muttered, glaring at some point beyond James' shoulder. "Really am sorry 'bout this, Norrington. Never meant t'get y'involved in this part of it."
This part? So Jack had meant to ensnare him in some kind of scheme, even if it hadn't been this…inexplicable occurrence. James carefully avoided the word 'magic.' This was just like a pirate. Even with the "good man" side of Jack that the Turners insisted upon throwing in his face every time the entire lot of them showed up in Port Royal.
It frustrated him to no end that Will and Elizabeth, growing up with privileges bought by the blood of law, could so blithely abandon it for piracy, and then expect him to virtually do the same. Perhaps Jack was a different breed, but the vast majority of the pirates were vicious outlaws against which James had a duty to stand. He protected people. He made sure that they were free from pillaging and violence and fear to do whatever they damned well pleased, provided it fell within the law, and what did he get for his pains? "Relax, Commodore. I think a small break would do wonders for you." Didn't they-all right, he was being defensive and angry and possibly spiteful at that pair for actually taking advantage of their good fortune and doing whatever they wished. But honestly, some of it was justified.
"Y'know, I think this is th'first time I've seen y'mad at y'self."
The words spun James completely around-oh, he'd been pacing-to bestow upon Jack the same scowl he gave insolent sailors. Unlike them, however, Jack showed absolutely no sign of intimidation as he laughed. In James' face.
"Easy now, Norrington." Gold teeth glinted slyly in the shadows. "Y'might realize y're lettin' down y'r guard."
He was doing no such thing. Not in truth. He was only-damn it, what on earth could Jack know about him? How had the pirate managed to worm so deep under his skin?
The pirate was cocking his head so the kohl caught the torch gleams and winked. "It doesn' hurt near as much y'think it does. Though I bet th'William an' th'lizabeth aren' too tactful 'bout it. Or…th'Swan? There's a sayin'-birds of a feather."
All right, enough experience could bring knowledge of the human psychology to just about any man, and he would admit that Jack had more perception than most. On the other hand, being in Jack's nightmare should be giving him an equal if not greater insight into the other man's mind. Except he was too busy being distracted by Jack Sparrow to pay proper attention. Why? Why on earth should that man matter to him?
Jack was bent forward, an unaccountably sober expression on his face. "Jacques most likely mentioned t'you 'bout th'dreams goin' from bad t'worse. So if y're feelin' a little insulted at bein' put so near th'beginnin', I wouldn't be." Grimace. "Barbossa knows too much of me an' trust m'when I say it'll be worse for th'both of us."
That made James wince, not only because of the impending unpleasantness, but also because of the realization that yes, some of his bad mood could be traced back to the shock of seeing himself involved in Jack's dream. But-"
"You're very fond of the proper progression of matters. I imagine that a court martial and just verdict on any crimes you commit would make you happy." James started, absurdly stunned by the clear, unslurring voice Jack had adopted, but the other man didn't seem to notice. "So I suppose I'd have to be a little happy for you. Told you the truth when I said I was rooting for you."
He winced again, wishing he could find fault in Jack's words. But Jack was still talking.
"I am a pirate, an' there's no changin' that. I take what I can, Norrington, an' I don' give it back. Unless it leaves of its own accord. That's why I'm sorry about this."
***
José twisted in the bed, then grudgingly sat up. Next to him, Carolina groaned and opened her eyes to fix a baleful gaze on the disturber of her rest.
El perched in the middle of the bed, one paw still raised to claw at the blankets. When both their attentions turned to him, he put the paw down and stared significantly at the empty spot where Sands should have been. José growled. //Where?//
An irate mraow.
//Why there?// Carolina demanded, swiping curls out of her face.
More displeased meowing.
//Oh, for…then go and keep him out of trouble,// she grumbled. //You don't have to ask permission to do that.// She laid back and snuggled into the blankets until she disappeared from sight.
El somehow managed to convey a shrug before daintily picking his way off the bed and vanishing. Mumbling vague complaints about his familiars, José rejoined Carolina in the blankets and wrapped an arm just under her breasts. A hand came up to clasp over his, and she murmured sleepily when he nuzzled the back of her neck. //You think this won't complicate things?// he whispered.
//No, not really. You know they'll be fine.// She arched back into his caresses, her fingers slowly dragging his down to between her legs.
He grinned into her cheek before kissing it. //I wasn't talking about the cats.//
//I know//, Carolina replied in an amused gasp. //Neither was I.//
***
James was starting to believe that there was more to the becoming-a-mute fear that he had at first thought. Not simply being unable to wheedle out of something…no. While that was a trick of the pirate trade, it was hardly the only one in Jack's belt, and the other man was far too resourceful to be seriously downcast over one disability.
"But in a way, I s'pose y're right. No Good Samaritan here," Jack was saying, spreading out his arms as if brushing off gaming cards. "It all started as only self-int'rest in havin' y'r lovely self."
All well and good for Sparrow, James snapped acidly to himself as he put the full force of his anger into his eyes. Mere scoundrels could afford short-term self-interest, whereas commodores had to look to the horizon. And what had Jack been planning to do once he'd had James, after all? Probably steal his "effects" and abandon him in the nearest filthy flophouse with a hearty laugh. Self-interest never led to anything good; after all, the first time he'd tried out that manner of setting the sails, Elizabeth had turned him down. The second time, he had ended up losing men to an undead pirate attack to save Turner, only to have him win Elizabeth.
"Don' give m'that look," cut abruptly across his train of thought. Surprised, James whipped his head back to discover that Jack could, indeed appear menacing when necessary. Even diabolical, with those dark-smeared glowing eyes and that odd prowl woven into the usual sway. "That one," Jack hissed as a finger stabbed at James' nose, making him back up a pace. "Where y'think y've got everythin' sorted out into y'r little black an' white boxes. Listen, Commodore. I didn' mutiny. I didn' betray anythin' I've ever promised anyone-an' their misconceptions t'the contrary are their set of jailkeys, not m'own. An' I don' plan t'start. Yes, takin' pleases m'self, but there's no point if th'other's not also agreein'. I don' indulge rape, sir."
But James had never, ever meant to imply such a thing. He knew Jack had the paradoxical heart of gold-that was why the current situation was so damned confusing.
Jack shook off the tentatively outstretched hand, outrage still sharpening his face. "No, thank you, Norrington. Wouldn' want t'force y'into anythin' y'don' want. Not till y'can tell what that is."
Damn, damn, damn. Because James did want it, and want it dearly, but he simply couldn't afford to have it, unlike everyone else--damn. He was jealous. Lord in Heaven, he was jealous. And feeling constricted and furious about that, and then ashamed that he felt so free now. In such ludicrous clothing-gaudy and brilliantly colored and loose on his frame, like water slipping beneath the keel of his ship-that somehow managed to make him feel naked and exposed and vulnerable. He was vulnerable. No officer's uniform behind which he could hide here, and in front of him, all the glories and pitfalls of the pirate's life laying themselves out.
He was missing his rules, and disliking their limitations at the same time.
He was afraid of being hurt again.
He was tired of making decisions, and he wanted someone else to make them for him.
And he did not want to face Jack's retreating back. The pirate must have taken his silent nonreaction as another negative response-James twisted through the various debris that littered the alley, chasing after the retreating Sparrow. Unaccustomed to both surroundings and garments, however, he stumbled and tripped, snagged clothing-all the while falling farther and farther behind in the crowded streets.
Then something yowled as he caught his foot on a small furry body and toppled forward. "God damn it!"
James irately started to push himself up, then halted. He could-"I can talk. I can-Jack!"
No answer, and no one in sight. Sometime during his fall, the scenery had altered once again to leave him on white sand, staring at a tall row of leafy trunks. "Marooned."
"Hrraow." A grumpy tricolored cat glowered up from his feet.
"And…the last one was missed opportunities," James informed it as he sat down and pulled the animal into his lap. He laughed, sour and ironic. "Good God. Whose nightmare is this, then? Is it really his?"
***
Jack blinked. Fluttered his eyelashes. Squeezed shut his eyes and then opened them.
"There a problem, mate?"
The tatter-draped skeleton bobbed back when he did, raised his hand when he did, and even rolled one eye down when he did. It was disconcerting, but not nearly as frightening as it should be. But back then it hadn't been the sight of polished bone that had frozen his gut, but that creeping abyss of want that had been slowly filling the space vacated by his organs. Rightly speaking, the real nightmare should have been him staring at white gleaming truth once again, craving what could not be satisfied. Therefore…"Sorry, mate, but y're not real."
"Of course I am. Y'see th'bones, surely enough." And the small knuckles popped out to rattle like dice in the ivory cage of a clenched hand. "Y'mark th'fortunes, surely enough. Nothin' 'tween me an' th'world now. Not even time."
"I don't talk like that," Jack hissed, cupping his own palm over the hilt of his sword-thank Jacques for remembering to send that through-and backing up a step. "M'world's th'Pearl an' whatever I can keep aboard it, y'scabrous imposter."
"Borders…they're just lines, mate." Clatter as teeth clicked around an eternal grin. "Ink on paper. Worse'n rules. Than guidelines."
This…was not his nightmare. Of that Jack was certain, because however far he went, deep down he knew that freedom would always hold him back from this dark extremity. Power was as good as iron for chaining, he'd learnt, and learnt painfully, the words written in scar tissue across his body. "There's th'curse. That'll hold you, always an' forever."
"Aye, it will. Tighter'n y'ever did, Jaime."
What?
Before he could order it to do so, Jack's head anticipated orders and jerked itself down to look over himself. Still the sash, the familiar garments and ornaments. But-
"Regrettin' y'r fall from grace whilst y'climb back into heaven, are you?" When the skull tilted sideways, its eyes did not click. They rolled, wet and dripping with yellow slime. "Shame, y'know. Once I might've been willin' t'settle. If y'd considered offerin' a fair portion of th'spoils. But scraps sustain no man, an' I've tired of waitin' for you t'decide I won' leave. So I'm decidin' for you."
"Doubt that, mate." Sparks winged themselves through the air as their swords met. "Mother's love, but that poor commodore's got an active 'magination."
They danced the blades all about the abandoned deck, lunging and parrying, but Jack soon discovered the disadvantage of fighting oneself: all the tricks were already known. At every turn and twist and dodge, he was met with equal cunning and ferocity-and greater stamina, as the undead did not rely on fallible muscles. Move by move, the burn in his limbs was growing greater and greater, and he knew that if he didn't try something desperate very soon, he might very well lose. And Captain Jack Sparrow never lost. Not in the long run, anyway.
"Could use a bit of luck," he grunted under his breath as he swung up his sword to block an overhead blow, then spun back for another go-around. Halted there and almost tipped himself over the railing when a streak of black shot straight through the Jack-skeleton. Bones flew in all directions, making for a hot few seconds as he ducked and evaded flying vertebrae.
When the odd rain finally ceased, he uncovered his face to discover a familiar ball of fur patting at a legbone. Jack sheathed his sword and crushed down a sigh as he came forward to snatch up Sands just before the cat began to gnaw on…well, it was his femur, in a way. "An' we'll not be doin' that, now."
Hissing and clawing so that Jack had to bundle the sadistic thing into the loose end of his sash. He held the swaddled cat so he could look it squarely in the…well, he was looking at it. "Y're a nasty little devil, aren't you?"
Sands literally grinned at that, his blind face nearly human as a tiny pink tongue flicked out to lap at the traces of blood. Jack's blood. Lord Jesus Christ, but he hoped José and Carolina knew what they were doing with this four-legged imp. "Meow?"
"Should know better'n t'wander into other people's dreams, cat." Jack cast about for an exit from the ghost ship, but very quickly determined that no longboats and no land were present. He reluctantly folded himself into a sitting position to wait for the next shift in space. "An' why'd y'still be here, then? Can' believe that a wise beast like y'self doesn' know th'way out."
The small black eyelids dropped to half-mast in an eerie incarnation of a sneer. "Mrraow. Mau."
"Oh, now?" Deftly avoiding the snapping mouth, Jack twitched the pointy ears. "Well, thank y'for th'help that y'did give, Sands, even if y'claim th'skeleton stepped on you. So…where's y'r bigger half?"
Sudden droop so that the slippery cat nearly plopped onto the planks. "Meow."
"Y'lost him?" There was something odd about this entire exchange, but Jack couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Can' y'find him again?"
"Mau." Even deeper slump.
Jack nodded in sympathy as he unwrapped Sands and began to pet him. "Know what y'mean, mate. Go through all that trouble t'get their attention, an' what happens? Blockheads completely miss th'point."
Growling as Sands muttered indignant feline comments in agreement. The cat moodily began to knead Jack's thigh.
"Well, nothin' for it but t'go an' catch them again." Jack lifted up Sands' chin with a finger so the cat would stop complaining and pay attention. "So you do know where th'El is. An' where there's one proud stiff neck, there's bound t'be th'other. Savvy?"
Smirk and swishing tail.
***
Jacques forced his eyes away from the two sleeping men and back to the book he held in his hands. However, two lines later, he once more found himself staring worriedly from Jack to James and back again. This certainly was an odd turn of events.
"What is-oh, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." Will bore a disturbing resemblance to a puppy when he apologized. It made Jacques want to do positively wicked things to cheer the man up, but that would most likely not be a good course of action, as Elizabeth wasn't present. She did have the loveliest expressions when she was watching.
"Non, non, I'm fine." Jacques caught the extra emphasis on the "I" at the same moment Will did. He flinched, but the damage was already done.
The first mate narrowed his eyes and took a seat by Jacques. "What happened?"
"Ah…"
"Jacques." And there was the blacksmith's iron in the firm jaw.
Fiddling with his sleeves, which still felt…different. "It appears that the curse has gotten confused. It started as Jack's and cast James in that role-Will? Are you all right?"
A touch of hysteria in that laugh, but it was mostly healthy. Will choked himself back to composure before answering. "Fine. I'm fine. Just-picturing Norrington as a pirate."
"He cut a good dashing figure," Jacques remarked in a dry but sincere voice. He shut his book and tossed it onto the table. Serious philosophy was useless, as always. Next time, he'd search for a decently filthy novel. Or something humorous, like that fun tale about Tom Blood and his pouf of a rival, Ben Avery. "At any rate, now the dreams don't know which man to attack."
"Isn't that a good thing? Divide and conquer?" Will apparently detected something of Jacques' internal feelings, because his demeanor sobered. "Then again, it's Jack and Norrington."
"Oui. And that is all that can be said right now."
***