The World Behind the World: Part IV
Title: The World Behind the World: Part IV
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean; Sparrington
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I have no claim on POTC or the lovely characters who populate it, even if it seems that James Norrington has, somewhat disconcertingly, made himself quite at home in my head with no apparent plans to leave. Jack Sparrow's habit dropping by regularly, as he has for years now, probably doesn't help.
Summary: Consider this to be shamelessly fabricated backstory and subtext for the end of COTBP, with a way to bring in Davy Jones and the others without actually having to go through the other two films. James' worldview has been shaken and the only person he can really discuss it with is a certain pirate. Said pirate persuades him to expand his career options. Bantering abounds.
Sequel to: The World Behind the World Part I, Part II and Part III
Beta: The most honorable Porridgebird.
Note: I have, I think, too much fun with Anamaria.
Elizabeth had been careful to conceal the small, tightly-folded note Will had slipped into her cell before he and her father had taken their leave. Then she had very intently read Will’s account of what Beckett appeared to know about Commodore Norrington: her fiance knew better than to tactlessly discuss James with her in front of Governor Swann.
However, Will’s note had raised a few questions, the biggest of which Elizabeth brought up herself when her father visited her cell the next morning.
“Father? Why would Commodore Norrington have been preventing Lord Beckett from coming to Port Royal?”
Her father looked very nearly flabbergasted. “Elizabeth, that’s hardly-”
“Father,” she said quietly, her tone serious, but she also made a point of widening her eyes at him in a manner that usually softened him up.
“Well. It’s rather complicated, you see. James has been trying to end the import of slaves into Jamaica for his own moral reasons, and he has some very good connections to that end, especially, for whatever reason, amongst some of the Dutch.” He hesitated. “Why is it you ask, Elizabeth?”
“Because Beckett is afraid of him, has a warrant for his arrest, and James is still mysteriously missing as though he has been stolen somehow.” She looked down demurely, furrowing her brow; shows of sad thoughtfulness and apparent concern were also good for manipulating her father.
Governor Swann sighed heavily. “I’m afraid that he can be of no more aid to us now than we are to him, more is the pity. His family and that of Lord Beckett have something of a long-standing history of conflict. Since his father’s death, James has been the sole remaining representative of that, and in the past he has made a point of putting certain blocks in Beckett’s way, however indirectly.” He looked away down the corridor. “You...are right, I believe. Beckett is more than a little wary of our good Commodore. James never possessed the same raw power and resources as Beckett has almost always had as his disposal, but James could still stand in the way because he was, I believe, more intelligent and cunning, and could think of things that Beckett could not anticipate.”
And, Elizabeth mused silently to herself, if Will was to be believed, James had somehow wound up at Jack Sparrow’s side. Considering what she knew of both men, Beckett had a formidable enemy out there, or at the least one with a great deal of potential.
“It is curious, that Lord Beckett would try to arrest a missing person,” her father mused. “I shall have to look into that.”
Hiding her smile, Elizabeth said simply, “Thank you, father.”
The storm hit with just enough power to knock the Black Pearl off course, so that as her captain and his first mate approached the mouth of the river in their longboat, they were able to watch Anamaria’s ship anchor beside the larger black ship.
“Friend of yours?” James inquired.
“Anamaria,” Jack muttered, pulling out his telescope. He made a face as he spotted a familiar figure standing half in the rigging, apparently calling a greeting to the Pearl. “Wot the Hell is the whelp doing on her ship?”
James cleared his throat. “Which whelp, exactly?”
Jack gave a fluttering, dismissive hand gesture. “The main one. Will Turner. I’d recognize that damnable earnestness from a mile away.”
“Shall we wait for them to meet us?”
Jack lowered his spyglass. “No. We’ll be best off dealing with all this privately in Tia Dalma’s hut. She’s one of the only creatures capable of restraining Anamaria in a rage.” He glanced at the other occupants of the two longboats: Cotton, Marty and Gibbs were the only truly loyal representatives brought along, the rest of them left behind to prevent mutiny. The other two were newer additions, and therefore more questionable; they were also clearly unnerved by the caged undead monkey fetched from below-decks for use as a bargaining tool.
“You heard ‘im, lads. They’ll meet us when they meet us. Keep rowin’,” Gibbs barked, and they moved on.
Jack settled in beside James. “She’ll know you,” he whispered into the taller man’s ear. “I think she’s seen you once or twice in passing, and she’s sharp.”
“I see.” James noted that Anamaria’s ship was already lowering a pair of longboats to follow after them. “This will, then, be interesting.”
“Have you any idea why he’s here, Jamie?”
“Not for my sake, I’m sure.” His voice was slightly distant, and his eyes were narrowed. Jack could almost see the cogwheels turning in his brain. “There is one matter, but it would be too soon, I would think.” His brow furrowed. “Then again, I may be overestimating Beckett.”
Jack jerked stiffly, as though unexpectedly brushed by a jellyfish’s stingers. “What?” he hissed.
“I have been trying to prevent him from entering Caribbean waters for a number of years now,” James murmured, and shot Jack a knowing glance. “Incidentally, whilst looking for means to quietly blackmail the man, I have run across, in passing, the stories of your past conflicts with him.”
Jack had to turn away from the rest of the crew, lest they notice the mixed look of shock, anger and disgust on his face. “He would send the whelp,” he bit out. “And young William is easily manipulated when certain threats can be made.”
James’ shoulders stiffened visibly, and Jack could almost imagine the man’s invisible hackles raised. “Elizabeth, then,” James whispered, his voice completely void of emotion.
Not entirely sure why his anger suddenly increased twofold, Jack only nodded.
Will was a little leery of following Jack Sparrow into a swamp, especially given what he was sure they would find when they caught up with the madman. He tried with determination not to wonder why on earth James had gone with him.
Anamaria sat up proudly at the fore of the longboat. “You scared yet, boy?”
Through the fog, Will started to notice the people staring at them as they passed: women, children, some men, some of them holding candles, many of the hidden but not all, and some even standing in the water like sunken statues. All of them silent, watching them like sentinels.
“No,” Will said, cool and determined.
“You should be,” she warned, an unpleasant smile on her face. “You glow like a ghost, here.” In the fog and the low light of dusk, she looked ghostly, as though she might disappear, all except the whites of her eyes and her teeth, which seemed bright in the torchlight. “Tell me, is Jack’s mate as pale as you?”
Will considered this, recalling the commodore in uniform, the white wig and powder... “It was hard to tell in the dark, but...I think he may have been paler.”
She raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?”
“Yes.” Will unconsciously moved one hand to his sword as he watched the strangers, who in turn were still watching them.
“Ah, but if he’s with Jack, he’s a sailor. And if he really belongs to the sea, that’ll make all the difference, here,” Ana murmured.
Will was confused, but did not question further. He almost wanted to tell her that she was right about James, but she did not, as Will recalled from some past comments she had made during their journey, think of navy men as true sailors.
He felt a distinct, sinking feeling of dread.
Jack, James and Gibbs stepped onto the dock below Tia’s hut.
“Mind the boat,” Jack said, to no one in particular, and began making his way up the steps. Carrying the cage with the strangely quiet undead monkey in it, Gibbs started to follow, then paused when he realized James was waiting, watching.
“Mind the boat,” Marty said, climbing up onto the dock as well.
Cotton followed him, his parrot squawking, “Mind the boat.”
James pinned the remaining two sailors with a steely glare. “You two, mind the boats or I will personally flay you and make myself a new pair of boots with your sorry hides. I will then also make you polish them.” He took in their twin expressions of abject fear with apparent satisfaction, nodded sharply, turned on his heel and made his way up toward the main hut in time to overhear the beginnings of the conversation within.
“Tia Dalma,” Jack purred, oozing charm as he bowed.
“Jack Sparrow. I always know dat de winds blow yo’ back to me one day.” She narrowed her eyes at him shrewdly as she approached him. “You tryin’ to beat de devil at his own game.”
“Aye love, and a bit more than that.” His smile took on an unsettling edge. “I’ve a new sort of devil on hand, y’see...”
By then, James stepped over the threshold, which apparently caught the woman’s attention. As he stepped further in, James gave the room a cursory scan with the air of a tall man wary of hitting his head on a variety of obstacles, and also a man used to looking for a potential threat. It was only after that first wary glance that he noticed the small, dark woman with her gaze fixed on him so intently. He met it, and felt a strange twinge up his spine, but did not look away. Standing very still as she approached him, pinning him with that unblinking stare, he felt as though the ground beneath him were suddenly as unstable as the deck of a ship in the middle of a tempest. James was, however, more than used to tempests, and he remained eerily calm despite the sensation.
“You,” Tia said softly, pointing at him. She looked almost wary herself, but also intrigued and more than a little hungry. “You are new to dis world, James Norrington.”
“Norrington?” Marty growled, sounding outraged.
Gibbs kicked Marty in the knee when the small man suddenly tried to pull his pistol and point it at James. Marty glared at him, but Gibbs only shook his head firmly and pointed at Tia Dalma, shooting Marty a fearful, warning look. Looking more than a little bemused, Marty put his gun away, folded his arms over his chest and waited for an explanation. Cotton merely raised his eyebrows and then shrugged a little; his parrot gave a noncommittal chirrup.
Watching the three of them warily, Jack only looked back at James and Tia once he was sure that no violence would interrupt the meeting. Neither goddess nor ex-commodore had so much as glanced away from each other: Norrington a stony and unreadable statue, Tia Dalma slowly beginning to circle him like a hungry lioness.
Finally, James replied quietly, politely, “I am.”
“Now dat de shadows have brought you here, do you believe in destiny?”
“I think that free will is questionable at best, if only because everyone and everything responds in the only possible way it can, given the sequence of events around it, but we can have an understanding of our actions,” James replied.
Jack tried and failed to stifle a small surprised noise of recognition and cursed inwardly when James’ gaze abruptly fixed on him with a flash of similar recognition.
“You’ve read Spinoza.” James sounded a bit surprised as well, but his statement was an observation, not a question.
Jack cleared his throat, shifting his feet a bit. “Mayhap.”
“Yo’ in over yo’ head wit’ dis one, Jack,” Tia mused. She stood now on James’ right, and one of her hands settled between his shoulder blades, stroking downward to his lower back. James’ pupils dilated and he felt momentarily lost, as if drowning, but in a manner that was almost pleasant. His eyelids began to droop, but did not quite fall shut. He could almost feel the ocean’s waves tugging at him. Then her touch, fingers lightly brushing, moved slowly up as she stepped forward a little to stand in front of him. Her hand, too, moved across his side, and then up from his hip to his chest very slowly.
The sensation changed, and James felt as though he were under the waves, caught in their violent thrashing during a storm. It would be terribly easy to simply give in, to let them pull him where they would, to stop trying to find the surface to breathe again when he could just let himself sink.
As her fingertips touched his ribcage, he felt the chaos of drowning stop, and instead felt himself beginning to fall, the movements of the waves cradling him, welcoming him into the sensation of being lost.
Through the lulling peace, however, a thread of panic seized him and James embraced it in sudden desperation, letting it clear his head instinctively as only the promise of fighting could.
Then he seized back his sense of self, finding mental footholds of familiar steel and ice; James’ eyes snapped open and he realized he had snatched Tia Dalma’s wrist, pulling her hand away before she quite reached his heart. He stared into her dark, wary gaze for a moment, glancing up at Jack for reasons he could not explain and noting a dark and unreadable mask on the pirate’s face. Then James looked at Tia once more. “That remains mine,” he said firmly, his voice rough.
“You belong to de sea,” she reasoned. “Does your heart not?” A warning.
“It does,” James agreed. “However, I will not be your lover as the current devil has been. Those particular pieces of my heart remain mine, and I cannot easily be brought to bestow them, even to a goddess.” He inhaled slowly, forcing his slightly ragged breathing into smoothness.
Tia tilted her head slightly to one side, and she smiled like a shark. “You sure dat yo’ still have them all?”
He winced, just a little. “No. I know few people worth respecting, especially any close to me in age, who could be sure of such as that,” James countered. “But I know myself well enough to know that the majority remains unclaimed, except by me, because I am intent upon guarding it.”
Tia laughed, but it was cold, and her smile was gone as she said, “You talk like a leader of men, James Norrington: in good possession of yo’self.” She twisted her wrist delicately from his grip.
James let his hands rest at his sides, resisting the urge to place one on his sword. “Yes. I am very different than the devil you know; however, I think that would make me preferable, all things considered.”
“I know yo’, too, James Norrington,” she said quietly, dangerously.
“Ah, but not in the biblical sense, if you’ll forgive the reference,” James countered.
A softer, more sincere laugh escaped her throat. She touched his face and took hold of the collar of his coat with a light tug, pulling him forward a little. “You strong-willed, for somebody so out of ‘is depth. You lucky I like dat in you.”
When she released his collar, he half-stepped back so that he had room to bow low, from the waist. She held out a hand. He cradled it in his own with gentlemanly reverence, and kissed her knuckles gently. “I thank you.”
She smiled again, with a hint of satisfaction, and said quietly, “You find your place in dese waters, and for dose pieces of you heart, bot’ of dem maybe sooner dan you t’ink.”
James looked up at her curiously, with a hint of something akin to suspicion.
Then Anamaria abruptly stepped through the door, intent enough upon her first target to ignore everyone else in the room for a few moments as she made her way to Jack’s side. “Jack Sparrow, I’ve got a whelp here who wants to see you. Paid a pretty bit of coin, too.” She smirked a little smugly. Then she turned to greet Tia Dalma and caught sight of the tall, pale man just straightening up from his previous bow. After a few moments’ sharp scrutiny, her eyes widened and she drew her gun, pointing it at Norrington. “Commodore!” Her confusion was almost as prominent as her anger.
“Ana, I wouldn’t be doing that,” Jack hissed urgently.
“Put dat t’ing away, Ana,” Tia snapped sharply. “Not in my house.”
Anamaria hesitated but briefly, and then immediately put the pistol away, muttering darkly under her breath.
From outside the doorway, Will Turner’s voice floated into the room, inquiring, “Is it relatively safe, now?”
“He knew?” Ana growled, glaring at Jack. Then her eyes blazed with outright fury as everything sunk in fully. “You took on the Devil Himself Fucking Norrington as first mate?!”
“James?” Jack inquired, sounding a bit irritated. “How did the whelp work that out?”
“Norrington’s voice is very recognizable,” Will explained helpfully. “And for the record, Anamaria: I neglected mentioning his identity because I did not want to face your wrath without other, more deserving persons around to absorb some of its force.”
Anamaria growled.
“I am sorry, but you are extremely frightening when you are angry,” Will added.
Seemingly a bit flattered by this, Ana straightened her coat in a dignified fashion, as though smoothing down ruffled feathers. “Fine. Come in then, before I step outside where I’m allowed to shoot you.”
Nervously, Will appeared in the doorway and stepped over its threshold.
Anamaria spun on Jack, shaking her finger at him with such force that he flinched back, his hands raised as though to deflect a fatal blow.
“You,” she growled, her anger thickening her accent, “are madder than all de occupants of Hell, Jack Sparrow!”
“Tia likes him,” Jack offered, defensively.
Ana huffed. “Aye. An’ maybe that just means he’s mad as you. Before you all get me killed, I’ll take my leave, thanks.” She approached Tia with a respectful bow; instead of kissing the priestess’ hand, however, Ana straightened up and kissed her firmly on the mouth in a passionate, drawn-out manner that caused James, who still stood nearby, to show a visible blush on his ears and lightly across his cheekbones as he stared helplessly.
Then Ana pulled away, but not very far, and murmured, “Another time, Tia, and I’ll be sure to leave less rudely, and to be far better company.”
Tia smiled, clearly charmed, and slipped an arm around the lighter-skinned woman’s waist. “I see you soon den, Ana.” She nuzzled at Ana’s cheek and brushed her lips across Ana’s earlobe.
Ana shivered. “Tease,” she said, with mixed reverence and affection, and stepped away. On her way out the door she lunged at Will, who nearly stumbled over a number of questionable items in his haste to leap away. She grinned as Gibbs and Marty burst out laughing at the sight. “Good luck with ‘em, Turner.” Spinning on her heel, she swaggered out the door.
James cleared his throat politely. “Well. That was enlightening.”
“Whatever it is you be wantin’, Jack Sparrow, I’ll be needin’ payment,” Tia announced, abrupt and matter-of-fact as she turned to Jack with her chin held high.
“Ah, I have got that,” Jack assured, and gestured urgently to Gibbs, who brought forth the covered cage. Jack took the cage from him and held it out for display. Then he pulled out his pistol and pulled off the cage cover, shooting the monkey, who shrieked, but was apparently otherwise unaffected. “An undead monkey.” He proffered the cage to Tia.
Her lips forming a thoughtful moue, Tia accepted it, setting it on her table and opening its door.
The monkey chattered and darted away, oblivious to the noise of regret that escaped Gibbs. “Do you know how hard it’s been keepin’ it in there?”
“I meant to ask where on earth you got that monkey,” James mused, after moving to stand beside Jack.
“Barbossa’s pet. It seems to have re-cursed itself at some point, damned thing,” Jack explained. His voice was cold but he involuntarily leaned toward the taller man, and some of the nearly-painful tension between Jack’s shoulder blades eased as soon as his shoulder brushed James’ arm.
“Excuse me? What exactly is going on here?” Will asked, feeling his pride sufficiently recovered.
“A bit of bargaining, lad. We’ll get to your concerns in a moment, savvy?”
“But Jack, the Lord Beckett-”
“Can wait for a just a few minutes, Mr. Turner,” James interrupted, his voice sharp and distinctly commodorial.
Will felt rather at a loss, and reluctantly settled in to wait, using the time to try and work out what on earth Jack and the ex-naval Norrington were plotting. When Gibbs offered his flask, Will accepted it gratefully, taking a hearty swig.
“We’ve a need for a bit of protection, as it were,” Jack explained, “so’s someone in particular, whose attention we in no way wish to catch, will have no idea what it is that we’re after until it’s too late.”
“And what is it you after, Jack?” She smiled at him knowingly.
“As you said, love.” Jack rested his hands on the table, leaning toward Tia. “I’m trying to beat the devil at his own game. And so we’ll start with keeping him from noticing exactly what business it is that my ship an’ crew are going about.” He paused, jerked his head in Will’s direction. “And possibly the whelp, too.” He leaned in closer and whispered, scarcely audible, “It is, after all, a family affair.” His dark eyes glittered mischief.
“Blood ties, Jack, dese complicate t’ings, even for me,” Tia warned, looking sidelong at Will in an appreciative fashion. “Fate spins webs, sometimes de t’reads get tangled.” She looked at Norrington significantly. “Hist’ry repeat itself.”
James did a rapid-fire calculation in his head: with people and personalities as formulae. “It will not, in this case,” he said firmly.
“And why is dat?” she challenged.
This time, he did not wince, but Jack took note of the way that the man’s eyes showed a flicker of pain anyway. “I would see her happy,” James whispered, his lips barely moving. “Were history to repeat, I do not see that happening. Not with the both of them ensnared by this...pattern of crossed threads.” He stood silent for a moment then, his eyes downcast and his jaw tense.
Tia’s eyes glittered. “You free her.”
He looked up quickly. “Yes.”
A thoughtful, intrigued hum rose from Tia’s throat. She looked like she wanted to proposition James on the spot. “I like your devil, Jack.”
Both men exchanged slightly awkward, worried glances.
Tia laughed at them.
“By the by, do they really call me the ‘Devil Himself’? I had thought it was just a rumor,” James murmured, trying to prevent himself from thinking about the implications of being called Jack’s devil.
“Aye. The ones who’re feeling kind or superstitious about you. The rest, as I’m sure you can understand, love, call you much worse names.”
“Hm.”
Tia, meanwhile, had moved deeper into the hut, and could be heard shuffling about. “You need de chest, and de key to open it. De first is hidden, de other Jones keeps always on his person.” Returning with a large jar under one arm and a black silk pouch in her other hand, Tia shot Jack a look. “I assume yo’ compass more dan suit de task of findin’ dem.”
Both men noticed the way Will’s head swiveled toward them sharply at that, but they made a point of not even glancing at the younger man. They instead glanced at each other, coming to a silent agreement on the matter of William Turner.
“Unless maybe Jack Sparrow does not know what he wants?” Tia raised an eyebrow. Her smirk was twisted.
As he’d kept up correspondence with James in Port Royal, Jack had spent a few long months at sea concocting this plan, with a certain commodore as the ace up his sleeve. He had a very good idea just what he wanted, this time. His smirk matched hers. “I’ll get what I need and more than wot I deserve, Tia-love, as always.”
Tia nodded. “Davy Jones cannot follow matters onto land, except once every ten years. So dere be a measure of safety when you carry land wit’ you.” She handed Jack the large glass jar.
Jack took it, and looked at it a bit skeptically. “This is a jar of dirt.”
“Yes.”
Jack remained unimpressed.
“If you don’t want it, den give it back,” Tia challenged.
“No.” Jack took a more possessive hold on the jar.
James rolled his eyes, but a hint of amusement flickered across his expression.
Tia set the velvet pouch on the table and opened it, pulling out a thin silver chain with a pearl-white crab claw on the end. “You, Jack, have ‘is claim on yo’ soul. You can hide from him no other way.” She glanced at James. “You, James,” she purred, reaching out to take his hand, “can wear dis, and his ship an’ his crew won’t see you, as they obey the magics dat keep dem; ‘though de devil himself won’t be so limited, and if he command dem to see you, dey will.” She wrapped the chain around his left wrist and fastened it securely.
James gave a nod of understanding. “Thank you.”
“Good hunting to de bot’ of you,” she dismissed.
As the others left, however, she caught Will by his sleeve.
“Carry dis wit’ you. You’ll know who to give it to when de time comes,” she commanded softly, and slipped a large, musical, crab-and-heart-shaped locket into his hand. Her eyes glittered with knowing and anger. “And he’ll know just what it mean.”
Previous || Story Index || Next
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean; Sparrington
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I have no claim on POTC or the lovely characters who populate it, even if it seems that James Norrington has, somewhat disconcertingly, made himself quite at home in my head with no apparent plans to leave. Jack Sparrow's habit dropping by regularly, as he has for years now, probably doesn't help.
Summary: Consider this to be shamelessly fabricated backstory and subtext for the end of COTBP, with a way to bring in Davy Jones and the others without actually having to go through the other two films. James' worldview has been shaken and the only person he can really discuss it with is a certain pirate. Said pirate persuades him to expand his career options. Bantering abounds.
Sequel to: The World Behind the World Part I, Part II and Part III
Beta: The most honorable Porridgebird.
Note: I have, I think, too much fun with Anamaria.
Elizabeth had been careful to conceal the small, tightly-folded note Will had slipped into her cell before he and her father had taken their leave. Then she had very intently read Will’s account of what Beckett appeared to know about Commodore Norrington: her fiance knew better than to tactlessly discuss James with her in front of Governor Swann.
However, Will’s note had raised a few questions, the biggest of which Elizabeth brought up herself when her father visited her cell the next morning.
“Father? Why would Commodore Norrington have been preventing Lord Beckett from coming to Port Royal?”
Her father looked very nearly flabbergasted. “Elizabeth, that’s hardly-”
“Father,” she said quietly, her tone serious, but she also made a point of widening her eyes at him in a manner that usually softened him up.
“Well. It’s rather complicated, you see. James has been trying to end the import of slaves into Jamaica for his own moral reasons, and he has some very good connections to that end, especially, for whatever reason, amongst some of the Dutch.” He hesitated. “Why is it you ask, Elizabeth?”
“Because Beckett is afraid of him, has a warrant for his arrest, and James is still mysteriously missing as though he has been stolen somehow.” She looked down demurely, furrowing her brow; shows of sad thoughtfulness and apparent concern were also good for manipulating her father.
Governor Swann sighed heavily. “I’m afraid that he can be of no more aid to us now than we are to him, more is the pity. His family and that of Lord Beckett have something of a long-standing history of conflict. Since his father’s death, James has been the sole remaining representative of that, and in the past he has made a point of putting certain blocks in Beckett’s way, however indirectly.” He looked away down the corridor. “You...are right, I believe. Beckett is more than a little wary of our good Commodore. James never possessed the same raw power and resources as Beckett has almost always had as his disposal, but James could still stand in the way because he was, I believe, more intelligent and cunning, and could think of things that Beckett could not anticipate.”
And, Elizabeth mused silently to herself, if Will was to be believed, James had somehow wound up at Jack Sparrow’s side. Considering what she knew of both men, Beckett had a formidable enemy out there, or at the least one with a great deal of potential.
“It is curious, that Lord Beckett would try to arrest a missing person,” her father mused. “I shall have to look into that.”
Hiding her smile, Elizabeth said simply, “Thank you, father.”
The storm hit with just enough power to knock the Black Pearl off course, so that as her captain and his first mate approached the mouth of the river in their longboat, they were able to watch Anamaria’s ship anchor beside the larger black ship.
“Friend of yours?” James inquired.
“Anamaria,” Jack muttered, pulling out his telescope. He made a face as he spotted a familiar figure standing half in the rigging, apparently calling a greeting to the Pearl. “Wot the Hell is the whelp doing on her ship?”
James cleared his throat. “Which whelp, exactly?”
Jack gave a fluttering, dismissive hand gesture. “The main one. Will Turner. I’d recognize that damnable earnestness from a mile away.”
“Shall we wait for them to meet us?”
Jack lowered his spyglass. “No. We’ll be best off dealing with all this privately in Tia Dalma’s hut. She’s one of the only creatures capable of restraining Anamaria in a rage.” He glanced at the other occupants of the two longboats: Cotton, Marty and Gibbs were the only truly loyal representatives brought along, the rest of them left behind to prevent mutiny. The other two were newer additions, and therefore more questionable; they were also clearly unnerved by the caged undead monkey fetched from below-decks for use as a bargaining tool.
“You heard ‘im, lads. They’ll meet us when they meet us. Keep rowin’,” Gibbs barked, and they moved on.
Jack settled in beside James. “She’ll know you,” he whispered into the taller man’s ear. “I think she’s seen you once or twice in passing, and she’s sharp.”
“I see.” James noted that Anamaria’s ship was already lowering a pair of longboats to follow after them. “This will, then, be interesting.”
“Have you any idea why he’s here, Jamie?”
“Not for my sake, I’m sure.” His voice was slightly distant, and his eyes were narrowed. Jack could almost see the cogwheels turning in his brain. “There is one matter, but it would be too soon, I would think.” His brow furrowed. “Then again, I may be overestimating Beckett.”
Jack jerked stiffly, as though unexpectedly brushed by a jellyfish’s stingers. “What?” he hissed.
“I have been trying to prevent him from entering Caribbean waters for a number of years now,” James murmured, and shot Jack a knowing glance. “Incidentally, whilst looking for means to quietly blackmail the man, I have run across, in passing, the stories of your past conflicts with him.”
Jack had to turn away from the rest of the crew, lest they notice the mixed look of shock, anger and disgust on his face. “He would send the whelp,” he bit out. “And young William is easily manipulated when certain threats can be made.”
James’ shoulders stiffened visibly, and Jack could almost imagine the man’s invisible hackles raised. “Elizabeth, then,” James whispered, his voice completely void of emotion.
Not entirely sure why his anger suddenly increased twofold, Jack only nodded.
Will was a little leery of following Jack Sparrow into a swamp, especially given what he was sure they would find when they caught up with the madman. He tried with determination not to wonder why on earth James had gone with him.
Anamaria sat up proudly at the fore of the longboat. “You scared yet, boy?”
Through the fog, Will started to notice the people staring at them as they passed: women, children, some men, some of them holding candles, many of the hidden but not all, and some even standing in the water like sunken statues. All of them silent, watching them like sentinels.
“No,” Will said, cool and determined.
“You should be,” she warned, an unpleasant smile on her face. “You glow like a ghost, here.” In the fog and the low light of dusk, she looked ghostly, as though she might disappear, all except the whites of her eyes and her teeth, which seemed bright in the torchlight. “Tell me, is Jack’s mate as pale as you?”
Will considered this, recalling the commodore in uniform, the white wig and powder... “It was hard to tell in the dark, but...I think he may have been paler.”
She raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?”
“Yes.” Will unconsciously moved one hand to his sword as he watched the strangers, who in turn were still watching them.
“Ah, but if he’s with Jack, he’s a sailor. And if he really belongs to the sea, that’ll make all the difference, here,” Ana murmured.
Will was confused, but did not question further. He almost wanted to tell her that she was right about James, but she did not, as Will recalled from some past comments she had made during their journey, think of navy men as true sailors.
He felt a distinct, sinking feeling of dread.
Jack, James and Gibbs stepped onto the dock below Tia’s hut.
“Mind the boat,” Jack said, to no one in particular, and began making his way up the steps. Carrying the cage with the strangely quiet undead monkey in it, Gibbs started to follow, then paused when he realized James was waiting, watching.
“Mind the boat,” Marty said, climbing up onto the dock as well.
Cotton followed him, his parrot squawking, “Mind the boat.”
James pinned the remaining two sailors with a steely glare. “You two, mind the boats or I will personally flay you and make myself a new pair of boots with your sorry hides. I will then also make you polish them.” He took in their twin expressions of abject fear with apparent satisfaction, nodded sharply, turned on his heel and made his way up toward the main hut in time to overhear the beginnings of the conversation within.
“Tia Dalma,” Jack purred, oozing charm as he bowed.
“Jack Sparrow. I always know dat de winds blow yo’ back to me one day.” She narrowed her eyes at him shrewdly as she approached him. “You tryin’ to beat de devil at his own game.”
“Aye love, and a bit more than that.” His smile took on an unsettling edge. “I’ve a new sort of devil on hand, y’see...”
By then, James stepped over the threshold, which apparently caught the woman’s attention. As he stepped further in, James gave the room a cursory scan with the air of a tall man wary of hitting his head on a variety of obstacles, and also a man used to looking for a potential threat. It was only after that first wary glance that he noticed the small, dark woman with her gaze fixed on him so intently. He met it, and felt a strange twinge up his spine, but did not look away. Standing very still as she approached him, pinning him with that unblinking stare, he felt as though the ground beneath him were suddenly as unstable as the deck of a ship in the middle of a tempest. James was, however, more than used to tempests, and he remained eerily calm despite the sensation.
“You,” Tia said softly, pointing at him. She looked almost wary herself, but also intrigued and more than a little hungry. “You are new to dis world, James Norrington.”
“Norrington?” Marty growled, sounding outraged.
Gibbs kicked Marty in the knee when the small man suddenly tried to pull his pistol and point it at James. Marty glared at him, but Gibbs only shook his head firmly and pointed at Tia Dalma, shooting Marty a fearful, warning look. Looking more than a little bemused, Marty put his gun away, folded his arms over his chest and waited for an explanation. Cotton merely raised his eyebrows and then shrugged a little; his parrot gave a noncommittal chirrup.
Watching the three of them warily, Jack only looked back at James and Tia once he was sure that no violence would interrupt the meeting. Neither goddess nor ex-commodore had so much as glanced away from each other: Norrington a stony and unreadable statue, Tia Dalma slowly beginning to circle him like a hungry lioness.
Finally, James replied quietly, politely, “I am.”
“Now dat de shadows have brought you here, do you believe in destiny?”
“I think that free will is questionable at best, if only because everyone and everything responds in the only possible way it can, given the sequence of events around it, but we can have an understanding of our actions,” James replied.
Jack tried and failed to stifle a small surprised noise of recognition and cursed inwardly when James’ gaze abruptly fixed on him with a flash of similar recognition.
“You’ve read Spinoza.” James sounded a bit surprised as well, but his statement was an observation, not a question.
Jack cleared his throat, shifting his feet a bit. “Mayhap.”
“Yo’ in over yo’ head wit’ dis one, Jack,” Tia mused. She stood now on James’ right, and one of her hands settled between his shoulder blades, stroking downward to his lower back. James’ pupils dilated and he felt momentarily lost, as if drowning, but in a manner that was almost pleasant. His eyelids began to droop, but did not quite fall shut. He could almost feel the ocean’s waves tugging at him. Then her touch, fingers lightly brushing, moved slowly up as she stepped forward a little to stand in front of him. Her hand, too, moved across his side, and then up from his hip to his chest very slowly.
The sensation changed, and James felt as though he were under the waves, caught in their violent thrashing during a storm. It would be terribly easy to simply give in, to let them pull him where they would, to stop trying to find the surface to breathe again when he could just let himself sink.
As her fingertips touched his ribcage, he felt the chaos of drowning stop, and instead felt himself beginning to fall, the movements of the waves cradling him, welcoming him into the sensation of being lost.
Through the lulling peace, however, a thread of panic seized him and James embraced it in sudden desperation, letting it clear his head instinctively as only the promise of fighting could.
Then he seized back his sense of self, finding mental footholds of familiar steel and ice; James’ eyes snapped open and he realized he had snatched Tia Dalma’s wrist, pulling her hand away before she quite reached his heart. He stared into her dark, wary gaze for a moment, glancing up at Jack for reasons he could not explain and noting a dark and unreadable mask on the pirate’s face. Then James looked at Tia once more. “That remains mine,” he said firmly, his voice rough.
“You belong to de sea,” she reasoned. “Does your heart not?” A warning.
“It does,” James agreed. “However, I will not be your lover as the current devil has been. Those particular pieces of my heart remain mine, and I cannot easily be brought to bestow them, even to a goddess.” He inhaled slowly, forcing his slightly ragged breathing into smoothness.
Tia tilted her head slightly to one side, and she smiled like a shark. “You sure dat yo’ still have them all?”
He winced, just a little. “No. I know few people worth respecting, especially any close to me in age, who could be sure of such as that,” James countered. “But I know myself well enough to know that the majority remains unclaimed, except by me, because I am intent upon guarding it.”
Tia laughed, but it was cold, and her smile was gone as she said, “You talk like a leader of men, James Norrington: in good possession of yo’self.” She twisted her wrist delicately from his grip.
James let his hands rest at his sides, resisting the urge to place one on his sword. “Yes. I am very different than the devil you know; however, I think that would make me preferable, all things considered.”
“I know yo’, too, James Norrington,” she said quietly, dangerously.
“Ah, but not in the biblical sense, if you’ll forgive the reference,” James countered.
A softer, more sincere laugh escaped her throat. She touched his face and took hold of the collar of his coat with a light tug, pulling him forward a little. “You strong-willed, for somebody so out of ‘is depth. You lucky I like dat in you.”
When she released his collar, he half-stepped back so that he had room to bow low, from the waist. She held out a hand. He cradled it in his own with gentlemanly reverence, and kissed her knuckles gently. “I thank you.”
She smiled again, with a hint of satisfaction, and said quietly, “You find your place in dese waters, and for dose pieces of you heart, bot’ of dem maybe sooner dan you t’ink.”
James looked up at her curiously, with a hint of something akin to suspicion.
Then Anamaria abruptly stepped through the door, intent enough upon her first target to ignore everyone else in the room for a few moments as she made her way to Jack’s side. “Jack Sparrow, I’ve got a whelp here who wants to see you. Paid a pretty bit of coin, too.” She smirked a little smugly. Then she turned to greet Tia Dalma and caught sight of the tall, pale man just straightening up from his previous bow. After a few moments’ sharp scrutiny, her eyes widened and she drew her gun, pointing it at Norrington. “Commodore!” Her confusion was almost as prominent as her anger.
“Ana, I wouldn’t be doing that,” Jack hissed urgently.
“Put dat t’ing away, Ana,” Tia snapped sharply. “Not in my house.”
Anamaria hesitated but briefly, and then immediately put the pistol away, muttering darkly under her breath.
From outside the doorway, Will Turner’s voice floated into the room, inquiring, “Is it relatively safe, now?”
“He knew?” Ana growled, glaring at Jack. Then her eyes blazed with outright fury as everything sunk in fully. “You took on the Devil Himself Fucking Norrington as first mate?!”
“James?” Jack inquired, sounding a bit irritated. “How did the whelp work that out?”
“Norrington’s voice is very recognizable,” Will explained helpfully. “And for the record, Anamaria: I neglected mentioning his identity because I did not want to face your wrath without other, more deserving persons around to absorb some of its force.”
Anamaria growled.
“I am sorry, but you are extremely frightening when you are angry,” Will added.
Seemingly a bit flattered by this, Ana straightened her coat in a dignified fashion, as though smoothing down ruffled feathers. “Fine. Come in then, before I step outside where I’m allowed to shoot you.”
Nervously, Will appeared in the doorway and stepped over its threshold.
Anamaria spun on Jack, shaking her finger at him with such force that he flinched back, his hands raised as though to deflect a fatal blow.
“You,” she growled, her anger thickening her accent, “are madder than all de occupants of Hell, Jack Sparrow!”
“Tia likes him,” Jack offered, defensively.
Ana huffed. “Aye. An’ maybe that just means he’s mad as you. Before you all get me killed, I’ll take my leave, thanks.” She approached Tia with a respectful bow; instead of kissing the priestess’ hand, however, Ana straightened up and kissed her firmly on the mouth in a passionate, drawn-out manner that caused James, who still stood nearby, to show a visible blush on his ears and lightly across his cheekbones as he stared helplessly.
Then Ana pulled away, but not very far, and murmured, “Another time, Tia, and I’ll be sure to leave less rudely, and to be far better company.”
Tia smiled, clearly charmed, and slipped an arm around the lighter-skinned woman’s waist. “I see you soon den, Ana.” She nuzzled at Ana’s cheek and brushed her lips across Ana’s earlobe.
Ana shivered. “Tease,” she said, with mixed reverence and affection, and stepped away. On her way out the door she lunged at Will, who nearly stumbled over a number of questionable items in his haste to leap away. She grinned as Gibbs and Marty burst out laughing at the sight. “Good luck with ‘em, Turner.” Spinning on her heel, she swaggered out the door.
James cleared his throat politely. “Well. That was enlightening.”
“Whatever it is you be wantin’, Jack Sparrow, I’ll be needin’ payment,” Tia announced, abrupt and matter-of-fact as she turned to Jack with her chin held high.
“Ah, I have got that,” Jack assured, and gestured urgently to Gibbs, who brought forth the covered cage. Jack took the cage from him and held it out for display. Then he pulled out his pistol and pulled off the cage cover, shooting the monkey, who shrieked, but was apparently otherwise unaffected. “An undead monkey.” He proffered the cage to Tia.
Her lips forming a thoughtful moue, Tia accepted it, setting it on her table and opening its door.
The monkey chattered and darted away, oblivious to the noise of regret that escaped Gibbs. “Do you know how hard it’s been keepin’ it in there?”
“I meant to ask where on earth you got that monkey,” James mused, after moving to stand beside Jack.
“Barbossa’s pet. It seems to have re-cursed itself at some point, damned thing,” Jack explained. His voice was cold but he involuntarily leaned toward the taller man, and some of the nearly-painful tension between Jack’s shoulder blades eased as soon as his shoulder brushed James’ arm.
“Excuse me? What exactly is going on here?” Will asked, feeling his pride sufficiently recovered.
“A bit of bargaining, lad. We’ll get to your concerns in a moment, savvy?”
“But Jack, the Lord Beckett-”
“Can wait for a just a few minutes, Mr. Turner,” James interrupted, his voice sharp and distinctly commodorial.
Will felt rather at a loss, and reluctantly settled in to wait, using the time to try and work out what on earth Jack and the ex-naval Norrington were plotting. When Gibbs offered his flask, Will accepted it gratefully, taking a hearty swig.
“We’ve a need for a bit of protection, as it were,” Jack explained, “so’s someone in particular, whose attention we in no way wish to catch, will have no idea what it is that we’re after until it’s too late.”
“And what is it you after, Jack?” She smiled at him knowingly.
“As you said, love.” Jack rested his hands on the table, leaning toward Tia. “I’m trying to beat the devil at his own game. And so we’ll start with keeping him from noticing exactly what business it is that my ship an’ crew are going about.” He paused, jerked his head in Will’s direction. “And possibly the whelp, too.” He leaned in closer and whispered, scarcely audible, “It is, after all, a family affair.” His dark eyes glittered mischief.
“Blood ties, Jack, dese complicate t’ings, even for me,” Tia warned, looking sidelong at Will in an appreciative fashion. “Fate spins webs, sometimes de t’reads get tangled.” She looked at Norrington significantly. “Hist’ry repeat itself.”
James did a rapid-fire calculation in his head: with people and personalities as formulae. “It will not, in this case,” he said firmly.
“And why is dat?” she challenged.
This time, he did not wince, but Jack took note of the way that the man’s eyes showed a flicker of pain anyway. “I would see her happy,” James whispered, his lips barely moving. “Were history to repeat, I do not see that happening. Not with the both of them ensnared by this...pattern of crossed threads.” He stood silent for a moment then, his eyes downcast and his jaw tense.
Tia’s eyes glittered. “You free her.”
He looked up quickly. “Yes.”
A thoughtful, intrigued hum rose from Tia’s throat. She looked like she wanted to proposition James on the spot. “I like your devil, Jack.”
Both men exchanged slightly awkward, worried glances.
Tia laughed at them.
“By the by, do they really call me the ‘Devil Himself’? I had thought it was just a rumor,” James murmured, trying to prevent himself from thinking about the implications of being called Jack’s devil.
“Aye. The ones who’re feeling kind or superstitious about you. The rest, as I’m sure you can understand, love, call you much worse names.”
“Hm.”
Tia, meanwhile, had moved deeper into the hut, and could be heard shuffling about. “You need de chest, and de key to open it. De first is hidden, de other Jones keeps always on his person.” Returning with a large jar under one arm and a black silk pouch in her other hand, Tia shot Jack a look. “I assume yo’ compass more dan suit de task of findin’ dem.”
Both men noticed the way Will’s head swiveled toward them sharply at that, but they made a point of not even glancing at the younger man. They instead glanced at each other, coming to a silent agreement on the matter of William Turner.
“Unless maybe Jack Sparrow does not know what he wants?” Tia raised an eyebrow. Her smirk was twisted.
As he’d kept up correspondence with James in Port Royal, Jack had spent a few long months at sea concocting this plan, with a certain commodore as the ace up his sleeve. He had a very good idea just what he wanted, this time. His smirk matched hers. “I’ll get what I need and more than wot I deserve, Tia-love, as always.”
Tia nodded. “Davy Jones cannot follow matters onto land, except once every ten years. So dere be a measure of safety when you carry land wit’ you.” She handed Jack the large glass jar.
Jack took it, and looked at it a bit skeptically. “This is a jar of dirt.”
“Yes.”
Jack remained unimpressed.
“If you don’t want it, den give it back,” Tia challenged.
“No.” Jack took a more possessive hold on the jar.
James rolled his eyes, but a hint of amusement flickered across his expression.
Tia set the velvet pouch on the table and opened it, pulling out a thin silver chain with a pearl-white crab claw on the end. “You, Jack, have ‘is claim on yo’ soul. You can hide from him no other way.” She glanced at James. “You, James,” she purred, reaching out to take his hand, “can wear dis, and his ship an’ his crew won’t see you, as they obey the magics dat keep dem; ‘though de devil himself won’t be so limited, and if he command dem to see you, dey will.” She wrapped the chain around his left wrist and fastened it securely.
James gave a nod of understanding. “Thank you.”
“Good hunting to de bot’ of you,” she dismissed.
As the others left, however, she caught Will by his sleeve.
“Carry dis wit’ you. You’ll know who to give it to when de time comes,” she commanded softly, and slipped a large, musical, crab-and-heart-shaped locket into his hand. Her eyes glittered with knowing and anger. “And he’ll know just what it mean.”
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