Fight to Run, Die to Live (PG-13) (1/2)
Title: Fight to Run, Die to Live
Author: blackpoetcat
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sparrington
Disclaimer: All Disney's; desperately commandeered for changing
Warning: AWE-spoilers, mild slash
Note: Posted partly about two years ago, but I lost any confidence after messing up a cliffhanger and therefore took it away from LJ although it was finished. Thanks to porridgebird, who not only beta'd but encouraged me, I'd like to share the complete story in one piece now.
Summary: Things don't go as intended, aboard the Flying Dutchman... AU to original AWE-storyline.
"James Norrington, do ye fear death?"
The Admiral looked Davy Jones in his watery eyes. He didn't say anything, just gathered his last strength and thrust his sword through Jones' crusted corpus.
"I'll take that as a 'no'," said the Captain of the Dutchman dryly. "But as ye betrayed yer duty, I'm sure Lord Beckett won't allow ye to die without further punishment."
He grabbed the wooden spar and pulled it out of the fallen officer's stomach, closing the gaping wound with some fluid from his tentacles. Norrington's mind and body shook in agony before everything went black.
***
He came to with a start and instinctively tried to avoid the boot that kicked his still aching stomach, but without success. The pain was nearly unbearable but he was too weak to move, and could only groan.
"Seems it was a mistake to grant you a position that allowed you to cross my plans, Mr. Norrington."
He knew that calm, cultivated tone. Hell.
No, not hell. Unfortunately, he was still alive.
Norrington pressed his lips together and opened his eyes to meet the cool gaze of one Lord Beckett. A smug smirk curled the small lips of his superior.
No, not superior anymore. James quit service the moment he freed Elizabeth and her crew. Beckett was his enemy now - his captor, as well as his judge and executioner.
Damn that bloody Jones! He could have been dead now, resting in peace down in the Locker, finally joining his lost crew.
James cleared his throat and answered in a hoarse voice. "The mistake was to deliver the heart to you. As I can't reverse that, I could at least free Elizabeth from your clutches."
Beckett shook his head, his smirk grew wider. "Do you think Miss Swann's escape will change anything? That she is able to stand in my way?"
Norrington didn't respond. He very well knew that Beckett didn't expect him to.
"You really must be blind with love to place so much trust in that spoiled would-be pirate girl. But I'm not here to discuss such matters."
"Then why you are here?" James hissed through clenched teeth.
Here.
In the brig of the Dutchman, where he lay stripped down to his bloodstained shirt, breeches and boots. James inwardly cursed his bad luck. Not only had he failed to die when he wanted to, he was destined to die in a way he could not call honorable.
"I'm here to let you know that I've decided to spare your miserable life until the end of the battle. I just couldn't string you up as you deserve before I made you watch the pirates' final doom, now could I?"
Norrington closed his eyes.
Cruel bastard. If he succeeded, Elizabeth and Turner would be killed in that battle. Or worse, if Beckett managed to capture them, they might well hang from the very same yardarm as himself.
"Oh, and don't think anybody will stay loyal to you. I've already announced that you're charged with treason and any assistance will lead to the noose."
Beckett's smirk vanished when he turned to leave.
"Farewell, Mr. Norrington. I'll see to it that Captain Jones fetches you on deck when we are close to destroying the Black Pearl and her allies."
Before James could answer, the door was locked and he was alone.
Damn.
***
After a while he tried to push himself off the filthy floor, but failed. Although Jones had closed his injury, inside it didn't seem to heal faster than any other wound he'd suffered during his Navy service. Perhaps the weird forces of the cursed Captain were limited. Or perhaps they worked better with the poor souls who accepted Jones' offer, than with mortal humans. Or perhaps Jones simply didn't care.
James rolled his eyes.
Why on earth did he care? There was nothing in this very moment he wanted to think about less than the abilities of one Captain Jones.
His mind wandered to Elizabeth.
She didn't want to forgive him, but begged him to accompany her. She didn't want him to die. He remembered that she was screaming his name when he was run through. She still cared for him. At least enough to reveal some hurt over his assumed death...
James sighed.
Not assumed. Certain death. It didn't matter that he wasn't dead by now. He would be in the very near future. And what became of Elizabeth since the Empress' crew escaped? Did she reach the Pirate Court? Was there any hope for the Brethren to win? To stop Beckett and his voracious appetite for power?
Funny, that he of all people wanted them to.
He, James Norrington, former Admiral of the EIC, former Commodore of the British Royal Navy, former pirate hunter, wished the Brethren to be successful. But not because he liked pirates or wanted to turn pirate again. Just due to the fact that Beckett was a far bigger threat to the peace and balance of the world than any pirate could be.
And James had made him that dangerous when he delivered the heart. He should've known better, should've stayed on the Black Pearl instead of selling his soul to that aristocratic devil.
James sighed. Memories floated through him. Feelings of freedom. Of...
What? Comfort?
He was part of the crew for a few days. A pirate crew who welcomed the former scourge of piracy among themselves. They didn't offer him friendship (which he certainly would have declined) but they didn't treat him as an enemy either. Let him scrub the deck, mend the sails and rigging, but didn't even try to kill or torture him.
Why?
James felt a small smile growing.
Because Sparrow accepted him.
That crazy, dishonest and drunken scallywag allowed him to board his precious ship, gave him a chance to leave Tortuga and his miserable excuse of an existence. He also picked him to accompany the search party at Isla Cruces.
Yes, he'd ordered him to dig for the chest as if he were no better than these idiotic fellows who guarded the boat. Mocked him about taking orders from pirates. Used him for distracting Turner. But he never lied to him. Never betrayed him. Everyone else, even his so-called friends and his own crew.
But never him.
Did Sparrow expect treason from a man he only knew as a living example of honor and dignity? Did he ever suspect that James would cheat when he got the opportunity? That he would act as any common pirate? Was he surprised when he found out that the heart was gone? That he had nothing to bargain with Jones? Had it hurt Sparrow to discover his foul play?
James closed his eyes, too exhausted to reflect anymore. Especially insane to be brooding over the feelings of a dead pirate...
He tried to shift to a more comfortable position but couldn't find one. No way to feel the slightest bit less uncomfortable. Neither in his body nor his soul. Perhaps he should...
But he hadn't done that for... Ages?
He could barely remember. Of course, he'd performed burials at sea since his first service as commanding officer. But it seemed to be a decade since he'd addressed the Lord for his own sake. An eternity since he'd asked anyone's forgiveness.
He silently started to pray.
***
The following long hours were at least peaceful, with the only disturbance a crewmember of the Dutchman who brought some water. Well, as peaceful as possible for one whose soul was weighed down with guilt and regret.
At least his physical pain had lessened. Not much, just enough to feel the difference.
Different. That was indeed how he felt when he awoke this time.
He wasn't alone anymore.
James turned slowly and saw the silhouette of another prisoner in the opposite corner of the cell. He was mumbling, almost seemed to be conversing with himself. The shape and the gestures were very familiar. Too familiar to mistake. James held his breath for a moment. There was no doubt. His companion in fate was none other than the obviously not-so-late Captain Jack Sparrow.
He didn't even notice the sigh that escaped him. But Sparrow did. The pirate stopped babbling, turned to him and looked James straight in the eye.
Seconds. Minutes. Neither of them made an attempt to break the silence. They just stared at each other, as if frozen in mind and movement. But James' thoughts didn't stop. He tried to reach behind the dark, sparkling eyes, read all he found in their depths. And felt much more weight on his conscience than ever before. Even more than he felt about leaving Elizabeth behind.
Never, never in his life had he seen such anguish.
James broke the contact; closed his eyes. His heart seemed to be crushed by a giant fist. Whatever Sparrow experienced since they parted ways, he didn't deserve it. No human being should suffer whatever caused this man's expression.
And it was his fault. He was the reason for Sparrow's ruin.
James opened his eyes and cleared his throat. "I... I'm truly sorry, Captain Sparrow. It wasn't my intention to cause this havoc. Nor to destroy the balance at sea..."
The pirate lifted an eyebrow, tilted his head and put one index finger on his lips, eyes still fixed on Norrington's face. Waiting.
James sensed what Sparrow was waiting for. Could he repress his last spark of pride? For him? Well, if not for Sparrow, he wouldn't do it for anyone else. After all, they would share the same destiny. No need anymore to hide anything from Sparrow, so he continued:
"It was my treason that inflicted undeserved harm on you. What I did was unforgivable. I can only offer my apologies, Captain." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "But I would understand if you don't want to accept them. I'm not sure if I would myself..."
No reaction. The pirate still looked at him, absently running his finger over his lips again and again.
James clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. He should have known.
There was no mercy for him, nowhere and from no one on earth. He wasn't worth any rage or hate. All he deserved was to be ignored or killed. He never felt such desperation and loneliness, not even in Tortuga. Nor the moment he thought he would die, just a few days ago.
Abruptly, he turned his back on Sparrow and buried his face in his arms.
No, he wouldn't cry. Impossible. Unbearable to do so in anyone's presence, particularly Sparrow's...
Though it was a fierce struggle to keep the tears down, he managed somehow.
***
"Take what ye can, give nothin' back."
James turned when he realized that he wasn't imagining voices. That Sparrow actually addressed him. Again they looked at each other.
"What do you mean?" James asked in a low voice.
Sparrow grinned the same way James remembered so well from their previous encounters. "It's our way, mate. To take what we can and give nothin' back. It's what you did on Isla Cruces."
James cocked his eyebrows in astonishment. "Our way?"
"Pirate's way."
His heart and breath seemed to stop for an eternity. Pirate's way? Did Sparrow just hint that he, James Norrington, was a pirate?
"I am not a pirate!" He tried one more time to push himself into a more upright position. Of course he failed, and had to suppress a groan. Bloody hell, when would the pain ease enough to allow him some movement?
"Oh, ye are, mate. No point denying it," Sparrow chuckled. "And no need to feel guilty about it, either. Remember? It is possible to be a pirate and a good man."
He came to Norrington's side, and with surprisingly gentle hands helped him sit straight up against the wall. James opened his mouth to thank him, but was stopped with a waving hand, when Sparrow kneeled in front of him.
"But that's only about nicking the Letters of Marque and the heart, not delivering that damned thing to Beckett," he continued. "Before I decide if I'll accept yer apologies, tell me something, James Norrington: Didn't ye guess what Lord Beckett was planning? What he is capable of? Or was yer ambition to get yer life back so desperate that ye sold yer honor and damn the consequences?"
Sparrow's scrutiny was more intense than ever, and seemed to suck him into a maelstrom of emotions. James couldn't help but feel like he was adrift at sea. A very dark, nearly black abyss of... What?
Hate? No, there was no such feeling. Despair. Confusion. Hope. Love...
He inhaled sharply.
What he saw in those eyes was a mirror of his own feelings!
He and Sparrow could have gone through these same sentiments, since their last encounter? Impossible.
No. Not impossible. Just improbable.
But true.
He swallowed; tried to force down the lump in his raw throat.
"I didn't know Beckett and his real intentions. And yes, I was desperate. But I never wanted to serve the reckless slayer he turned out to be."
James never broke eye contact, lowered his mental barrier and allowed Sparrow for the first time to read him. Nothing else but pure sincerity would do now.
After some moments Sparrow nodded. "I see. So what did ye do to get stabbed and end up in the same cell with ol' Captain Jack, aye?"
One of the corners of James' mouth curled upwards. "I freed Elizabeth and her crew."
Sparrow laughed out loud and shook his head in amused disbelief. "You, of all people, sprang a bunch of pirates from jail? Never thought that I'd ever see the day ye'd warm up to my equals."
James sighed, but his smirk didn't vanish.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but my decision had nothing to do with any so-called ‘warming up' to pirates. Besides my feelings for Elizabeth, I simply realized that you and your allies are a lesser threat to the world's peace than the Company in her current condition," he said, smugly. "By the way... what are you doing here at all? You're supposed to be dead, as I learned from Jones."
Sparrow's grin grew even wider while he performed that special small bow James remembered only too well. "Mate, you forgot one very important thing: I'm Captain Jack Sparrow! Savvy?"
"Indeed, you are. How on earth could that ever slip my mind?" James snorted, his onesided smirk still in place. "And what does that mean, exactly? That you're immortal? Or that you have such extraordinary luck that no one will ever succeed in killing you permanently?"
Sparrow's grin changed into a smug smile. "That depends on who's telling the tale, mate. For now, let's just say some of my fellows fetched me back from the Locker."
James gaped at him. Sparrow really went down with his ship and was rescued from Jones' realm? It was almost beyond imagination.
"Don't look at me as if I'm a ghost. I assure ye, I'm alive and human," Jack teased.
"Certainly. Otherwise you couldn't have left those filthy prints on my shirt," James answered, a little bit surprised at recovering his old sarcasm. In fact, he hadn't felt this spirited in months. Or years?
Well, he definitely had to admit that the last times he'd felt like this were also during interactions with Sparrow, or at least in his presence. He couldn't help but smile on these thoughts.
Sparrow's grin grew again, he leaned further in and placed a palm on Norrington's cheek.
"Now that's the Commodore I missed, luv. Glad to see ye're back." The next moment he caressed James' cheek, closed the last gap between them and kissed him.
***
No.
This wasn't real. He was dreaming. He couldn't be awake and actually feeling the lips of another man on his own. Couldn't be sitting here and letting himself be kissed by a man.
Not just a man. Sparrow.
He must be dreaming. Had to be, for his eyes were closed and didn't seem to want to open.
A persuading tongue licked along his bottom lip, nudged his upper lip in a smooth, playful way, and tried to slip between. Odd, he didn't remember ever dreaming this intensely. But he didn't remember any of these tender feelings growing inside either. He moaned into the kiss, welcomed the invading tongue and returned its teasing, caressing it with his own.
Something tickled his jaw, his nose.
Hairs.
A moustache and chin braids. A man.
What the hell...
Rum. The tongue exploring his mouth tasted of rum.
James shot his eyes open and discovered that he was indeed fully awake - and kissing Jack Sparrow.
Worse, he was enjoying the kiss. Didn't want to stop...
The pirate suddenly let go, panting for air. Only then James became aware of his own heavy breathing.
They looked at each other in silence.
Sparks flickered in Sparrow's eyes, as if they were smoldering coal. James didn't dare to move or look away. He felt somewhat enchanted, as if they could stay frozen this way for eternity.
Then Sparrow tilted his head and smiled. "Have wanted that since our first encounter," he confessed.
James' eyebrows cocked automatically.
Impossible.
A pirate who longed to kiss his predator? His personal nemesis? Yes, impossible. Sparrow must have finally gone mad.
As mad as his own mind that whispered something unthinkable. That he wanted it, too. That an officer of His Majesty's Royal Navy wanted to kiss and touch a pirate in a way not only immoral but forbidden by law. A hanging offense. He couldn't commit such a crime, could he?
Yes, he could. He already had. He'd enjoyed the kiss, and desired more. More of those gentle and demanding lips. More of Jack Sparrow.
No, the pirate hadn't gone mad. He, James, had. And that was hard to admit.
He cleared his throat and hid his mental havoc behind a smirk before he responded. "You're joking. I nearly stretched your precious neck and now you tell me you wanted to kiss me?"
"Aye. And that kiss was worth every moment I had to wait for it," the pirate asserted. "But now isn't the opportune moment to discuss this matter further. We need to stop Beckett first."
Norrington nodded. Yes, better to brush aside this more than delicate situation and face the cheerless reality outside. Better to lock away these strange feelings in the furthest corner of his heart, as well as the confusion they plunged him in.
"You're right. Do you have something in mind?"
Sparrow's grin seemed to spread from one ear to the other. "As a matter of fact, I have, mate..."
"Then I suggest you hurry up. I'm sure neither the cannon fire nor the impacts are hallucinations," said James.
"Of course they're not," Sparrow confirmed. "After all, it's the Pearl who engaged this floating grave."
***
Sparrow opened the cell door with the same trick Turner had used to spring him free before they commandeered the Interceptor. James shook his head in amusement. He himself would never have remembered.
Of course, with his injury, he couldn't walk alone. His left arm twined around Sparrow's shoulder, the pirate's arm around his waist for support. Sparrow didn't want to hear one word about James remaining below. As much as he tried to persuade the pirate that he was only a burden, and would be a handicap as soon as action was required, Sparrow refused to leave him behind.
"If ye really want to die, wait for the opportune moment," he barked and shoved him through the ship, despite his protests. "That is not now, and definitely not in that cell!"
James sighed and gave in, let himself be led on. They were lucky that all hands seemed to be occupied with the fierce battle while they snuck through the passageways of the Flying Dutchman.
"And when do you think that opportune moment might be?" he asked. "When that bilge rat Mercer drives his dagger into my heart?"
Sparrow's expression turned uncharacteristically serious before he responded in a low tone.
"No, luv. When Lady Destiny decides it's yer time to die."
His smile seemed to be somewhat reflective. "Ye see, it wasn't our time yet. She still has a need for us both, Commodore. Don't cross her plans, it will do ye no good in the afterlife."
James stared at him in disbelief. Sparrow cared for his afterlife? For anyone's afterlife at all? He stopped dead in his tracks, just in front of Davy Jones' Great Cabin.
Sparrow rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Commodore. Death can change a man's soul along with his priorities." The pirate dragged his companion further along. "Now be a good officer and persuade those guards to surrender the chest to me, savvy?" he said, and opened the door.
***
Murtogg and Mullroy seemed more than surprised to see their former superior. Not only because he was supposed to be in the brig, but because he entered the cabin in the company of none other than Captain Jack Sparrow.
They shared a quick glance, than aimed their small cannons at the intruders.
"This cabin is off limit for civilians," Murtogg started.
"Including pirates and prisoners," Mullroy added with an assertive nod.
James closed his eyes for some seconds before he addressed the guards. He knew about their... well, not too bright heads. But he also knew they were loyal, good men.
"Mr. Murtogg, Mr. Mullroy... You both served a number of years under my command. Do you really think I would ever betray the Navy or a loyal servant of His Majesty? That I would support Captain Sparrow's and Miss Swann's purposes, if not for good reason?"
They looked at each other, puzzled, before Murtogg responded. "But... sir.. Lord Beckett had said that..."
He swallowed and avoided Norrington's eyes as Mullroy continued.
"He'd said you've been part of the Black Pearl's crew, just before you came back to Port Royal. That you fooled us with your reassignment because you're still one of them and worked for the Brethren as a spy."
Sparrow's eyebrows climbed under his bandanna, James' mouth found it difficult to close.
No, Beckett didn't do that. He couldn't. But he knew that his men wouldn't lie to him. They were clumsy and stupid, but honest.
Damn Beckett.
Jack was the first to recover and talk to them. "Don't tell me two fine lads like ye believe such nonsense!"
The marines shuffled uncomfortably, murmured something vague that sounded like "Not so certain now..."
James cleared his throat to get their attention.
"Gentlemen. If Beckett was right and I'm part of the Brethren - than why on earth didn't I stop Davy Jones instead of watching him destroying and killing pirates? And why would I stay behind to back up Miss Swann's escape instead of taking the heart and fleeing to the Empress as well?"
"Yep, that's completely out of character for a pirate. Trust me, I know," Sparrow confirmed, walked in and retrieved his personal effects which lay atop a small table. Meanwhile, James braced the door frame to keep standing, which was still difficult because of the constant rolling, shudders and bursting impacts. Seemed that the Pearl was a far more serious combatant than the pirate ships Jones had engaged before.
"And now, gents, if ye'd be so kind and let me fetch the chest - I have an appointment with Captain Fishface," the pirate declared.
He took the chest without further protest or resistance from the guards, but stopped in front of Norrington. His free hand gripped James' shoulder.
"It'd be best to board the Pearl, mate," he suggested.
James snorted and shook his head with a twinkle of amusement. "I don't think so. It's still a pirate ship, after all. And though I'm not an Admiral anymore, I'm still an enemy."
Sparrow pulled his hand back, but not without a nearly imperceptible, gentle touch to Norrington's cheek.
"Not mine."
James smiled, but still resisted. "You're not there now, are you? I doubt your crew will wait for your return before killing me."
Now it was Sparrow's turn to shake his head. "Yer the one that freed Elizabeth. She owes ye, mate. She won't allow anybody to harm ye."
James looked at him in astonishment. "She's aboard the Pearl?"
Sparrow nodded. "Yep. And she's the Pirate King, elected and approved by the Brethren Court. No one will refuse obedience."
"Pirate. King. Elizabeth."
James couldn't believe it. His precious swan, the woman he loved and nearly died for, was the leader of the Brethren? He wondered if it was better that the Governor was already dead. Unthinkable that poor Weatherby Swann would survive this knowledge. He was so proud of his spirited little girl...
"Sorry, mate, but I have to leave," Sparrow's voice invaded his thoughts. "You, marines, take care of the Commodore. He's injured; he'll need yer help to get off this damned vessel."
With that, the pirate vanished towards the deck, followed by a pair of thoughtful green eyes.
"Be careful, Jack," James whispered.
Although Sparrow didn't lay bare his complete intentions, James knew by instinct that he had more in mind than to just square his debt and force Jones to let the pirates be. But he couldn't bloody hell imagine what. The only possibility he excluded was stabbing the heart. Unthinkable that Sparrow of all people would want to captain any ship other than his precious Black Pearl. Much less for eternity.
***
James lost count of the curses he hissed through clenched teeth during the far-too-slow ascent to the deck. Although Murtogg and Mullroy supported him, his body was not much more than an assembled wreck. If not for the remaining strength in his arms, wrapped around their shoulders, the marines would have to carry him most of the way, for his legs were still weak.
When they finally reached the quarterdeck, all three surveyed the chaos around them in horror while heavy rain soaked them completely through in mere seconds. Pirates, marines of the Company and Jones' crew were ensnared in a deadly fight, both ships seemed taken in a terrible maelstrom.
James saw Mercer's corpse, the lifeless eyes, obviously broken in fear. He couldn't help the feeling of satisfaction that crept through him. Finally, Beckett's assassin got what he deserved.
It was more than advisable that they leave the Dutchman at once, before they themselves were killed in the heat of battle. Murtogg grabbed one of the Pearl's boarding ropes tangled in the rigging and offered it to James.
"Sir, can you hold on the rope?" he asked uneasily.
"Yes, thank you. Now go and save yourselves, gentlemen," James demanded and wrapped the rope around his right forearm to stabilize himself.
The marines seemed somewhat uncertain while Mullroy took another rope.
"Sir..."
"Don't waste valuable time with arguments. I'll come right after you. Go! That's an order!"
James sighed with relief when they finally obeyed, clutched the rope together and swung over safely to the Pearl.
He turned for a last view over the fight - and was frozen on the spot.
"Elizabeth..."
James' voice was nothing more than a pained groan when he recognized her in the turmoil, only a few yards below him on the main deck. He watched in horror as she engaged Davy Jones - and failed.
Of course. As much as she had learned of sword-fighting, she wasn't a serious opponent to Jones' skills. James wasn't sure if he himself would hold his ground against that devil.
His eyes darted around while he trailed forward, still clinging to the assisting rope. Frantically he searched for a weapon while Elizabeth was threatened by Jones with an all too familiar sword. He spotted Sparrow down on the deck too. Fortunately, he still seemed to be intact, and just trying to get up.
Where the bloody hell was Turner? He should be here protecting the woman he purported to love.
James nearly cried out in relief when the young blacksmith appeared behind Jones and thrust his cutlass through his empty chest. But only seconds later he had to witness the laughing monster kicking Turner to the ground, towards the rail. James saw the desperate look between the loving couple, heard Jones' dreadful words: the inevitable question - did Turner fear death?
"Do you?" Sparrow interrupted, holding his broken cutlass to the beating heart in his hand. Jones turned and faced him, but even the pirate's speech about cruelty caught the tentacled devil's attention only for a short moment.
James acted instinctively. His hands tightened around the rope, he vaulted towards Turner and dropped in front of the young man, shielding him with his body.
Just in time.
***
James didn't scream when his very own blade was thrust into his chest. He only gasped in agony and stared into the surprised, wide eyes of Davy Jones. When the sword ran deeper, his eyes closed of their own volition. Dizziness claimed his mind, trembling knees gave way.
He heard Elizabeth cry out, sensed Turner's body moving away behind him before he hit the ground with his upper back against the rail. He could see some fighting, and hear Jones' furious voice. Will Turner's and another man's sharp replies pierced through the stabbing pain. Small fingers touched his own.
"James... Please, open your eyes!"
He gathered his remained strength and forced his lids open. Tears were running down Elizabeth's face. Or was it the still pouring rain?
She tried to say something, her mouth opened and shut a few times. Her eyes flickered from him to Turner who was still fighting with Jones.
"Elizabeth... " James croaked, "stay with me... let me... pass with your... smile... please..."
"I... I can't. Not now. Will needs me," she stammered, grabbed her sword and left him.
James clenched his jaw, tried to get some air into his pierced lung.
God, it hurt so bad! Worse, it was a horrible déjà-vu. Far too much like two days ago. The same pain, the same... solitude.
How desperately he wished for someone to ease his last moments. To show not only sympathy but genuine care. Someone who offered comfort...
He closed his eyes again, his mind started to float. He recognized flashes of his life, pictures of ships, landscapes, faces...
"Look at me, luv."
A calm and yet determined voice reached his foggy brain while a gentle hand grabbed his shoulder.
He slowly opened his eyes to meet the deep, warm gaze of Captain Jack Sparrow.
Who was actually smiling. At him. Openly, with tenderness. Something else caught James' attention. The heart lay beside him on the deck. Sparrow's broken cutlass was pointed at the pulsating organ.
"Remember, luv? Opportune moment? Lady Destiny?" The pirate closed James' hand around the weapon's hilt.
His eyes widened, he swallowed and was nearly torn to pieces from coughing blood. Oh, Lord! The pain grew unbearable. He felt cold, his surroundings darkened rapidly. His time was running out. He had to decide now. Should he really do this? Take Davy Jones' place and captain the Dutchman?
For a second he saw Sparrow at the rotted helm, leading the Brethren against the East India fleet and suddenly knew what the pirate had originally planned. No, he wouldn't allow Jack to abandon his own beloved ship, his freedom, to sacrifice everything for the sole purpose of defeating Lord Beckett.
James returned the smile as much as he was capable now.
"You..." He coughed again, agony and weakness nearly overwhelming him. "You are... the best... pirate... I've... ever seen," he whispered.
The pirate's smile grew wider, a soft pressure on James' fingers told so much more.
"Still rooting for ye, Commodore," Sparrow responded in the softest voice James had heard in his whole life.
James' eyes closed, his body became too heavy to hold up, he sank sideways. His head finally rested on Sparrow's shoulder. Then he felt his hand being guided, and stabbing the heart.
He couldn't see what happened, but heard Jones howling - and then there was silence.
"Thank... you... Captain..." James hesitated one second before he corrected himself. "Jack."
"Good bye, Jamie-luv..."
James felt Jack's lips, gently pressed to his forehead, and smiled before darkness finally enclosed him.
~ Part 2 ~
Author: blackpoetcat
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sparrington
Disclaimer: All Disney's; desperately commandeered for changing
Warning: AWE-spoilers, mild slash
Note: Posted partly about two years ago, but I lost any confidence after messing up a cliffhanger and therefore took it away from LJ although it was finished. Thanks to porridgebird, who not only beta'd but encouraged me, I'd like to share the complete story in one piece now.
Summary: Things don't go as intended, aboard the Flying Dutchman... AU to original AWE-storyline.
"James Norrington, do ye fear death?"
The Admiral looked Davy Jones in his watery eyes. He didn't say anything, just gathered his last strength and thrust his sword through Jones' crusted corpus.
"I'll take that as a 'no'," said the Captain of the Dutchman dryly. "But as ye betrayed yer duty, I'm sure Lord Beckett won't allow ye to die without further punishment."
He grabbed the wooden spar and pulled it out of the fallen officer's stomach, closing the gaping wound with some fluid from his tentacles. Norrington's mind and body shook in agony before everything went black.
***
He came to with a start and instinctively tried to avoid the boot that kicked his still aching stomach, but without success. The pain was nearly unbearable but he was too weak to move, and could only groan.
"Seems it was a mistake to grant you a position that allowed you to cross my plans, Mr. Norrington."
He knew that calm, cultivated tone. Hell.
No, not hell. Unfortunately, he was still alive.
Norrington pressed his lips together and opened his eyes to meet the cool gaze of one Lord Beckett. A smug smirk curled the small lips of his superior.
No, not superior anymore. James quit service the moment he freed Elizabeth and her crew. Beckett was his enemy now - his captor, as well as his judge and executioner.
Damn that bloody Jones! He could have been dead now, resting in peace down in the Locker, finally joining his lost crew.
James cleared his throat and answered in a hoarse voice. "The mistake was to deliver the heart to you. As I can't reverse that, I could at least free Elizabeth from your clutches."
Beckett shook his head, his smirk grew wider. "Do you think Miss Swann's escape will change anything? That she is able to stand in my way?"
Norrington didn't respond. He very well knew that Beckett didn't expect him to.
"You really must be blind with love to place so much trust in that spoiled would-be pirate girl. But I'm not here to discuss such matters."
"Then why you are here?" James hissed through clenched teeth.
Here.
In the brig of the Dutchman, where he lay stripped down to his bloodstained shirt, breeches and boots. James inwardly cursed his bad luck. Not only had he failed to die when he wanted to, he was destined to die in a way he could not call honorable.
"I'm here to let you know that I've decided to spare your miserable life until the end of the battle. I just couldn't string you up as you deserve before I made you watch the pirates' final doom, now could I?"
Norrington closed his eyes.
Cruel bastard. If he succeeded, Elizabeth and Turner would be killed in that battle. Or worse, if Beckett managed to capture them, they might well hang from the very same yardarm as himself.
"Oh, and don't think anybody will stay loyal to you. I've already announced that you're charged with treason and any assistance will lead to the noose."
Beckett's smirk vanished when he turned to leave.
"Farewell, Mr. Norrington. I'll see to it that Captain Jones fetches you on deck when we are close to destroying the Black Pearl and her allies."
Before James could answer, the door was locked and he was alone.
Damn.
***
After a while he tried to push himself off the filthy floor, but failed. Although Jones had closed his injury, inside it didn't seem to heal faster than any other wound he'd suffered during his Navy service. Perhaps the weird forces of the cursed Captain were limited. Or perhaps they worked better with the poor souls who accepted Jones' offer, than with mortal humans. Or perhaps Jones simply didn't care.
James rolled his eyes.
Why on earth did he care? There was nothing in this very moment he wanted to think about less than the abilities of one Captain Jones.
His mind wandered to Elizabeth.
She didn't want to forgive him, but begged him to accompany her. She didn't want him to die. He remembered that she was screaming his name when he was run through. She still cared for him. At least enough to reveal some hurt over his assumed death...
James sighed.
Not assumed. Certain death. It didn't matter that he wasn't dead by now. He would be in the very near future. And what became of Elizabeth since the Empress' crew escaped? Did she reach the Pirate Court? Was there any hope for the Brethren to win? To stop Beckett and his voracious appetite for power?
Funny, that he of all people wanted them to.
He, James Norrington, former Admiral of the EIC, former Commodore of the British Royal Navy, former pirate hunter, wished the Brethren to be successful. But not because he liked pirates or wanted to turn pirate again. Just due to the fact that Beckett was a far bigger threat to the peace and balance of the world than any pirate could be.
And James had made him that dangerous when he delivered the heart. He should've known better, should've stayed on the Black Pearl instead of selling his soul to that aristocratic devil.
James sighed. Memories floated through him. Feelings of freedom. Of...
What? Comfort?
He was part of the crew for a few days. A pirate crew who welcomed the former scourge of piracy among themselves. They didn't offer him friendship (which he certainly would have declined) but they didn't treat him as an enemy either. Let him scrub the deck, mend the sails and rigging, but didn't even try to kill or torture him.
Why?
James felt a small smile growing.
Because Sparrow accepted him.
That crazy, dishonest and drunken scallywag allowed him to board his precious ship, gave him a chance to leave Tortuga and his miserable excuse of an existence. He also picked him to accompany the search party at Isla Cruces.
Yes, he'd ordered him to dig for the chest as if he were no better than these idiotic fellows who guarded the boat. Mocked him about taking orders from pirates. Used him for distracting Turner. But he never lied to him. Never betrayed him. Everyone else, even his so-called friends and his own crew.
But never him.
Did Sparrow expect treason from a man he only knew as a living example of honor and dignity? Did he ever suspect that James would cheat when he got the opportunity? That he would act as any common pirate? Was he surprised when he found out that the heart was gone? That he had nothing to bargain with Jones? Had it hurt Sparrow to discover his foul play?
James closed his eyes, too exhausted to reflect anymore. Especially insane to be brooding over the feelings of a dead pirate...
He tried to shift to a more comfortable position but couldn't find one. No way to feel the slightest bit less uncomfortable. Neither in his body nor his soul. Perhaps he should...
But he hadn't done that for... Ages?
He could barely remember. Of course, he'd performed burials at sea since his first service as commanding officer. But it seemed to be a decade since he'd addressed the Lord for his own sake. An eternity since he'd asked anyone's forgiveness.
He silently started to pray.
***
The following long hours were at least peaceful, with the only disturbance a crewmember of the Dutchman who brought some water. Well, as peaceful as possible for one whose soul was weighed down with guilt and regret.
At least his physical pain had lessened. Not much, just enough to feel the difference.
Different. That was indeed how he felt when he awoke this time.
He wasn't alone anymore.
James turned slowly and saw the silhouette of another prisoner in the opposite corner of the cell. He was mumbling, almost seemed to be conversing with himself. The shape and the gestures were very familiar. Too familiar to mistake. James held his breath for a moment. There was no doubt. His companion in fate was none other than the obviously not-so-late Captain Jack Sparrow.
He didn't even notice the sigh that escaped him. But Sparrow did. The pirate stopped babbling, turned to him and looked James straight in the eye.
Seconds. Minutes. Neither of them made an attempt to break the silence. They just stared at each other, as if frozen in mind and movement. But James' thoughts didn't stop. He tried to reach behind the dark, sparkling eyes, read all he found in their depths. And felt much more weight on his conscience than ever before. Even more than he felt about leaving Elizabeth behind.
Never, never in his life had he seen such anguish.
James broke the contact; closed his eyes. His heart seemed to be crushed by a giant fist. Whatever Sparrow experienced since they parted ways, he didn't deserve it. No human being should suffer whatever caused this man's expression.
And it was his fault. He was the reason for Sparrow's ruin.
James opened his eyes and cleared his throat. "I... I'm truly sorry, Captain Sparrow. It wasn't my intention to cause this havoc. Nor to destroy the balance at sea..."
The pirate lifted an eyebrow, tilted his head and put one index finger on his lips, eyes still fixed on Norrington's face. Waiting.
James sensed what Sparrow was waiting for. Could he repress his last spark of pride? For him? Well, if not for Sparrow, he wouldn't do it for anyone else. After all, they would share the same destiny. No need anymore to hide anything from Sparrow, so he continued:
"It was my treason that inflicted undeserved harm on you. What I did was unforgivable. I can only offer my apologies, Captain." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "But I would understand if you don't want to accept them. I'm not sure if I would myself..."
No reaction. The pirate still looked at him, absently running his finger over his lips again and again.
James clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. He should have known.
There was no mercy for him, nowhere and from no one on earth. He wasn't worth any rage or hate. All he deserved was to be ignored or killed. He never felt such desperation and loneliness, not even in Tortuga. Nor the moment he thought he would die, just a few days ago.
Abruptly, he turned his back on Sparrow and buried his face in his arms.
No, he wouldn't cry. Impossible. Unbearable to do so in anyone's presence, particularly Sparrow's...
Though it was a fierce struggle to keep the tears down, he managed somehow.
***
"Take what ye can, give nothin' back."
James turned when he realized that he wasn't imagining voices. That Sparrow actually addressed him. Again they looked at each other.
"What do you mean?" James asked in a low voice.
Sparrow grinned the same way James remembered so well from their previous encounters. "It's our way, mate. To take what we can and give nothin' back. It's what you did on Isla Cruces."
James cocked his eyebrows in astonishment. "Our way?"
"Pirate's way."
His heart and breath seemed to stop for an eternity. Pirate's way? Did Sparrow just hint that he, James Norrington, was a pirate?
"I am not a pirate!" He tried one more time to push himself into a more upright position. Of course he failed, and had to suppress a groan. Bloody hell, when would the pain ease enough to allow him some movement?
"Oh, ye are, mate. No point denying it," Sparrow chuckled. "And no need to feel guilty about it, either. Remember? It is possible to be a pirate and a good man."
He came to Norrington's side, and with surprisingly gentle hands helped him sit straight up against the wall. James opened his mouth to thank him, but was stopped with a waving hand, when Sparrow kneeled in front of him.
"But that's only about nicking the Letters of Marque and the heart, not delivering that damned thing to Beckett," he continued. "Before I decide if I'll accept yer apologies, tell me something, James Norrington: Didn't ye guess what Lord Beckett was planning? What he is capable of? Or was yer ambition to get yer life back so desperate that ye sold yer honor and damn the consequences?"
Sparrow's scrutiny was more intense than ever, and seemed to suck him into a maelstrom of emotions. James couldn't help but feel like he was adrift at sea. A very dark, nearly black abyss of... What?
Hate? No, there was no such feeling. Despair. Confusion. Hope. Love...
He inhaled sharply.
What he saw in those eyes was a mirror of his own feelings!
He and Sparrow could have gone through these same sentiments, since their last encounter? Impossible.
No. Not impossible. Just improbable.
But true.
He swallowed; tried to force down the lump in his raw throat.
"I didn't know Beckett and his real intentions. And yes, I was desperate. But I never wanted to serve the reckless slayer he turned out to be."
James never broke eye contact, lowered his mental barrier and allowed Sparrow for the first time to read him. Nothing else but pure sincerity would do now.
After some moments Sparrow nodded. "I see. So what did ye do to get stabbed and end up in the same cell with ol' Captain Jack, aye?"
One of the corners of James' mouth curled upwards. "I freed Elizabeth and her crew."
Sparrow laughed out loud and shook his head in amused disbelief. "You, of all people, sprang a bunch of pirates from jail? Never thought that I'd ever see the day ye'd warm up to my equals."
James sighed, but his smirk didn't vanish.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but my decision had nothing to do with any so-called ‘warming up' to pirates. Besides my feelings for Elizabeth, I simply realized that you and your allies are a lesser threat to the world's peace than the Company in her current condition," he said, smugly. "By the way... what are you doing here at all? You're supposed to be dead, as I learned from Jones."
Sparrow's grin grew even wider while he performed that special small bow James remembered only too well. "Mate, you forgot one very important thing: I'm Captain Jack Sparrow! Savvy?"
"Indeed, you are. How on earth could that ever slip my mind?" James snorted, his onesided smirk still in place. "And what does that mean, exactly? That you're immortal? Or that you have such extraordinary luck that no one will ever succeed in killing you permanently?"
Sparrow's grin changed into a smug smile. "That depends on who's telling the tale, mate. For now, let's just say some of my fellows fetched me back from the Locker."
James gaped at him. Sparrow really went down with his ship and was rescued from Jones' realm? It was almost beyond imagination.
"Don't look at me as if I'm a ghost. I assure ye, I'm alive and human," Jack teased.
"Certainly. Otherwise you couldn't have left those filthy prints on my shirt," James answered, a little bit surprised at recovering his old sarcasm. In fact, he hadn't felt this spirited in months. Or years?
Well, he definitely had to admit that the last times he'd felt like this were also during interactions with Sparrow, or at least in his presence. He couldn't help but smile on these thoughts.
Sparrow's grin grew again, he leaned further in and placed a palm on Norrington's cheek.
"Now that's the Commodore I missed, luv. Glad to see ye're back." The next moment he caressed James' cheek, closed the last gap between them and kissed him.
***
No.
This wasn't real. He was dreaming. He couldn't be awake and actually feeling the lips of another man on his own. Couldn't be sitting here and letting himself be kissed by a man.
Not just a man. Sparrow.
He must be dreaming. Had to be, for his eyes were closed and didn't seem to want to open.
A persuading tongue licked along his bottom lip, nudged his upper lip in a smooth, playful way, and tried to slip between. Odd, he didn't remember ever dreaming this intensely. But he didn't remember any of these tender feelings growing inside either. He moaned into the kiss, welcomed the invading tongue and returned its teasing, caressing it with his own.
Something tickled his jaw, his nose.
Hairs.
A moustache and chin braids. A man.
What the hell...
Rum. The tongue exploring his mouth tasted of rum.
James shot his eyes open and discovered that he was indeed fully awake - and kissing Jack Sparrow.
Worse, he was enjoying the kiss. Didn't want to stop...
The pirate suddenly let go, panting for air. Only then James became aware of his own heavy breathing.
They looked at each other in silence.
Sparks flickered in Sparrow's eyes, as if they were smoldering coal. James didn't dare to move or look away. He felt somewhat enchanted, as if they could stay frozen this way for eternity.
Then Sparrow tilted his head and smiled. "Have wanted that since our first encounter," he confessed.
James' eyebrows cocked automatically.
Impossible.
A pirate who longed to kiss his predator? His personal nemesis? Yes, impossible. Sparrow must have finally gone mad.
As mad as his own mind that whispered something unthinkable. That he wanted it, too. That an officer of His Majesty's Royal Navy wanted to kiss and touch a pirate in a way not only immoral but forbidden by law. A hanging offense. He couldn't commit such a crime, could he?
Yes, he could. He already had. He'd enjoyed the kiss, and desired more. More of those gentle and demanding lips. More of Jack Sparrow.
No, the pirate hadn't gone mad. He, James, had. And that was hard to admit.
He cleared his throat and hid his mental havoc behind a smirk before he responded. "You're joking. I nearly stretched your precious neck and now you tell me you wanted to kiss me?"
"Aye. And that kiss was worth every moment I had to wait for it," the pirate asserted. "But now isn't the opportune moment to discuss this matter further. We need to stop Beckett first."
Norrington nodded. Yes, better to brush aside this more than delicate situation and face the cheerless reality outside. Better to lock away these strange feelings in the furthest corner of his heart, as well as the confusion they plunged him in.
"You're right. Do you have something in mind?"
Sparrow's grin seemed to spread from one ear to the other. "As a matter of fact, I have, mate..."
"Then I suggest you hurry up. I'm sure neither the cannon fire nor the impacts are hallucinations," said James.
"Of course they're not," Sparrow confirmed. "After all, it's the Pearl who engaged this floating grave."
***
Sparrow opened the cell door with the same trick Turner had used to spring him free before they commandeered the Interceptor. James shook his head in amusement. He himself would never have remembered.
Of course, with his injury, he couldn't walk alone. His left arm twined around Sparrow's shoulder, the pirate's arm around his waist for support. Sparrow didn't want to hear one word about James remaining below. As much as he tried to persuade the pirate that he was only a burden, and would be a handicap as soon as action was required, Sparrow refused to leave him behind.
"If ye really want to die, wait for the opportune moment," he barked and shoved him through the ship, despite his protests. "That is not now, and definitely not in that cell!"
James sighed and gave in, let himself be led on. They were lucky that all hands seemed to be occupied with the fierce battle while they snuck through the passageways of the Flying Dutchman.
"And when do you think that opportune moment might be?" he asked. "When that bilge rat Mercer drives his dagger into my heart?"
Sparrow's expression turned uncharacteristically serious before he responded in a low tone.
"No, luv. When Lady Destiny decides it's yer time to die."
His smile seemed to be somewhat reflective. "Ye see, it wasn't our time yet. She still has a need for us both, Commodore. Don't cross her plans, it will do ye no good in the afterlife."
James stared at him in disbelief. Sparrow cared for his afterlife? For anyone's afterlife at all? He stopped dead in his tracks, just in front of Davy Jones' Great Cabin.
Sparrow rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Commodore. Death can change a man's soul along with his priorities." The pirate dragged his companion further along. "Now be a good officer and persuade those guards to surrender the chest to me, savvy?" he said, and opened the door.
***
Murtogg and Mullroy seemed more than surprised to see their former superior. Not only because he was supposed to be in the brig, but because he entered the cabin in the company of none other than Captain Jack Sparrow.
They shared a quick glance, than aimed their small cannons at the intruders.
"This cabin is off limit for civilians," Murtogg started.
"Including pirates and prisoners," Mullroy added with an assertive nod.
James closed his eyes for some seconds before he addressed the guards. He knew about their... well, not too bright heads. But he also knew they were loyal, good men.
"Mr. Murtogg, Mr. Mullroy... You both served a number of years under my command. Do you really think I would ever betray the Navy or a loyal servant of His Majesty? That I would support Captain Sparrow's and Miss Swann's purposes, if not for good reason?"
They looked at each other, puzzled, before Murtogg responded. "But... sir.. Lord Beckett had said that..."
He swallowed and avoided Norrington's eyes as Mullroy continued.
"He'd said you've been part of the Black Pearl's crew, just before you came back to Port Royal. That you fooled us with your reassignment because you're still one of them and worked for the Brethren as a spy."
Sparrow's eyebrows climbed under his bandanna, James' mouth found it difficult to close.
No, Beckett didn't do that. He couldn't. But he knew that his men wouldn't lie to him. They were clumsy and stupid, but honest.
Damn Beckett.
Jack was the first to recover and talk to them. "Don't tell me two fine lads like ye believe such nonsense!"
The marines shuffled uncomfortably, murmured something vague that sounded like "Not so certain now..."
James cleared his throat to get their attention.
"Gentlemen. If Beckett was right and I'm part of the Brethren - than why on earth didn't I stop Davy Jones instead of watching him destroying and killing pirates? And why would I stay behind to back up Miss Swann's escape instead of taking the heart and fleeing to the Empress as well?"
"Yep, that's completely out of character for a pirate. Trust me, I know," Sparrow confirmed, walked in and retrieved his personal effects which lay atop a small table. Meanwhile, James braced the door frame to keep standing, which was still difficult because of the constant rolling, shudders and bursting impacts. Seemed that the Pearl was a far more serious combatant than the pirate ships Jones had engaged before.
"And now, gents, if ye'd be so kind and let me fetch the chest - I have an appointment with Captain Fishface," the pirate declared.
He took the chest without further protest or resistance from the guards, but stopped in front of Norrington. His free hand gripped James' shoulder.
"It'd be best to board the Pearl, mate," he suggested.
James snorted and shook his head with a twinkle of amusement. "I don't think so. It's still a pirate ship, after all. And though I'm not an Admiral anymore, I'm still an enemy."
Sparrow pulled his hand back, but not without a nearly imperceptible, gentle touch to Norrington's cheek.
"Not mine."
James smiled, but still resisted. "You're not there now, are you? I doubt your crew will wait for your return before killing me."
Now it was Sparrow's turn to shake his head. "Yer the one that freed Elizabeth. She owes ye, mate. She won't allow anybody to harm ye."
James looked at him in astonishment. "She's aboard the Pearl?"
Sparrow nodded. "Yep. And she's the Pirate King, elected and approved by the Brethren Court. No one will refuse obedience."
"Pirate. King. Elizabeth."
James couldn't believe it. His precious swan, the woman he loved and nearly died for, was the leader of the Brethren? He wondered if it was better that the Governor was already dead. Unthinkable that poor Weatherby Swann would survive this knowledge. He was so proud of his spirited little girl...
"Sorry, mate, but I have to leave," Sparrow's voice invaded his thoughts. "You, marines, take care of the Commodore. He's injured; he'll need yer help to get off this damned vessel."
With that, the pirate vanished towards the deck, followed by a pair of thoughtful green eyes.
"Be careful, Jack," James whispered.
Although Sparrow didn't lay bare his complete intentions, James knew by instinct that he had more in mind than to just square his debt and force Jones to let the pirates be. But he couldn't bloody hell imagine what. The only possibility he excluded was stabbing the heart. Unthinkable that Sparrow of all people would want to captain any ship other than his precious Black Pearl. Much less for eternity.
***
James lost count of the curses he hissed through clenched teeth during the far-too-slow ascent to the deck. Although Murtogg and Mullroy supported him, his body was not much more than an assembled wreck. If not for the remaining strength in his arms, wrapped around their shoulders, the marines would have to carry him most of the way, for his legs were still weak.
When they finally reached the quarterdeck, all three surveyed the chaos around them in horror while heavy rain soaked them completely through in mere seconds. Pirates, marines of the Company and Jones' crew were ensnared in a deadly fight, both ships seemed taken in a terrible maelstrom.
James saw Mercer's corpse, the lifeless eyes, obviously broken in fear. He couldn't help the feeling of satisfaction that crept through him. Finally, Beckett's assassin got what he deserved.
It was more than advisable that they leave the Dutchman at once, before they themselves were killed in the heat of battle. Murtogg grabbed one of the Pearl's boarding ropes tangled in the rigging and offered it to James.
"Sir, can you hold on the rope?" he asked uneasily.
"Yes, thank you. Now go and save yourselves, gentlemen," James demanded and wrapped the rope around his right forearm to stabilize himself.
The marines seemed somewhat uncertain while Mullroy took another rope.
"Sir..."
"Don't waste valuable time with arguments. I'll come right after you. Go! That's an order!"
James sighed with relief when they finally obeyed, clutched the rope together and swung over safely to the Pearl.
He turned for a last view over the fight - and was frozen on the spot.
"Elizabeth..."
James' voice was nothing more than a pained groan when he recognized her in the turmoil, only a few yards below him on the main deck. He watched in horror as she engaged Davy Jones - and failed.
Of course. As much as she had learned of sword-fighting, she wasn't a serious opponent to Jones' skills. James wasn't sure if he himself would hold his ground against that devil.
His eyes darted around while he trailed forward, still clinging to the assisting rope. Frantically he searched for a weapon while Elizabeth was threatened by Jones with an all too familiar sword. He spotted Sparrow down on the deck too. Fortunately, he still seemed to be intact, and just trying to get up.
Where the bloody hell was Turner? He should be here protecting the woman he purported to love.
James nearly cried out in relief when the young blacksmith appeared behind Jones and thrust his cutlass through his empty chest. But only seconds later he had to witness the laughing monster kicking Turner to the ground, towards the rail. James saw the desperate look between the loving couple, heard Jones' dreadful words: the inevitable question - did Turner fear death?
"Do you?" Sparrow interrupted, holding his broken cutlass to the beating heart in his hand. Jones turned and faced him, but even the pirate's speech about cruelty caught the tentacled devil's attention only for a short moment.
James acted instinctively. His hands tightened around the rope, he vaulted towards Turner and dropped in front of the young man, shielding him with his body.
Just in time.
***
James didn't scream when his very own blade was thrust into his chest. He only gasped in agony and stared into the surprised, wide eyes of Davy Jones. When the sword ran deeper, his eyes closed of their own volition. Dizziness claimed his mind, trembling knees gave way.
He heard Elizabeth cry out, sensed Turner's body moving away behind him before he hit the ground with his upper back against the rail. He could see some fighting, and hear Jones' furious voice. Will Turner's and another man's sharp replies pierced through the stabbing pain. Small fingers touched his own.
"James... Please, open your eyes!"
He gathered his remained strength and forced his lids open. Tears were running down Elizabeth's face. Or was it the still pouring rain?
She tried to say something, her mouth opened and shut a few times. Her eyes flickered from him to Turner who was still fighting with Jones.
"Elizabeth... " James croaked, "stay with me... let me... pass with your... smile... please..."
"I... I can't. Not now. Will needs me," she stammered, grabbed her sword and left him.
James clenched his jaw, tried to get some air into his pierced lung.
God, it hurt so bad! Worse, it was a horrible déjà-vu. Far too much like two days ago. The same pain, the same... solitude.
How desperately he wished for someone to ease his last moments. To show not only sympathy but genuine care. Someone who offered comfort...
He closed his eyes again, his mind started to float. He recognized flashes of his life, pictures of ships, landscapes, faces...
"Look at me, luv."
A calm and yet determined voice reached his foggy brain while a gentle hand grabbed his shoulder.
He slowly opened his eyes to meet the deep, warm gaze of Captain Jack Sparrow.
Who was actually smiling. At him. Openly, with tenderness. Something else caught James' attention. The heart lay beside him on the deck. Sparrow's broken cutlass was pointed at the pulsating organ.
"Remember, luv? Opportune moment? Lady Destiny?" The pirate closed James' hand around the weapon's hilt.
His eyes widened, he swallowed and was nearly torn to pieces from coughing blood. Oh, Lord! The pain grew unbearable. He felt cold, his surroundings darkened rapidly. His time was running out. He had to decide now. Should he really do this? Take Davy Jones' place and captain the Dutchman?
For a second he saw Sparrow at the rotted helm, leading the Brethren against the East India fleet and suddenly knew what the pirate had originally planned. No, he wouldn't allow Jack to abandon his own beloved ship, his freedom, to sacrifice everything for the sole purpose of defeating Lord Beckett.
James returned the smile as much as he was capable now.
"You..." He coughed again, agony and weakness nearly overwhelming him. "You are... the best... pirate... I've... ever seen," he whispered.
The pirate's smile grew wider, a soft pressure on James' fingers told so much more.
"Still rooting for ye, Commodore," Sparrow responded in the softest voice James had heard in his whole life.
James' eyes closed, his body became too heavy to hold up, he sank sideways. His head finally rested on Sparrow's shoulder. Then he felt his hand being guided, and stabbing the heart.
He couldn't see what happened, but heard Jones howling - and then there was silence.
"Thank... you... Captain..." James hesitated one second before he corrected himself. "Jack."
"Good bye, Jamie-luv..."
James felt Jack's lips, gently pressed to his forehead, and smiled before darkness finally enclosed him.
~ Part 2 ~