 |
|
|
|
|
Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Will/Elizabeth, Jack/James, Jack/Jacques, Jacques/James, José/Carolina
Feedback: Please let me know what worked for you, and what didn't.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except these versions of Jacques and José, and some of the 'Mexico' concepts.
Notes: José Gaspar is Antonio Banderas, and Jacques is my version of the Anti-Jack. He occasionally drops a French phrase; translations upon request. Crossover with Once Upon a Time in Mexico. //words// in Spanish.
Summary: The villain makes his dramatic appearance, and James is sorely irritated.
***
At Will's hesitant knock, the door promptly burst open and Jack tilted out to scoop him and Elizabeth into the cabin. "Turner! For a first mate, y're disgracefully late."
"Well, we needed to eat." As he stepped around furniture to the huge desk that dominated this part of the room, Will caught sight of a sharply beautiful face and winced. He made a hasty bow to Carolina. "I apologize, ma'am. I know it's no excuse, but I was rather drunk."
Gaspar's first mate lazily rearranged her oversized man's jacket so its lace cuffs wouldn't fall into the inkpots. "No need, Mr. Turner. I was offended at first, but after seeing your wife, I see that your intent was complimentary."
Nails dug into Will's arm as Elizabeth drew herself up to his side and graciously smiled. "Thank you…I don't believe we've been introduced?"
"Ah, yes." José finished scribbling out some kind of design on a sheet of parchment and looked up at them with a broad smile, waving toward the empty chairs. Behind Will, Jacques coughed and shifted his weight so his clothes rustled. "Come, come. Sit. You all must be exhausted still. Now, I am José Gaspar, captain of the Floridablanca, and this is Carolina, my first mate in everything, though she is kind enough to allow me some leeway where other men are concerned-oh, Mr. Turner. Please don't sit there."
Will didn't really understand, but nevertheless got back up and turned about, only to find two ruffled cats already occupying the chair. One was large but lean, with powerful muscles that rippled beneath his glossy coat of black. White splashed down his belly, and gold splotched his face and one paw, which appeared to be slightly crippled. "That is El," Carolina said.
Elizabeth leaned down and cooed over the balls of languid fur. Then she gasped and picked up the other cat, which was smaller and entirely black except for its blankly white eyes. "He's blind!"
Despite that handicap, Will noted, the feline still managed to look disturbingly happy at being snuggled to Elizabeth's breasts. He grimaced and plopped down into the next chair over, shaking off the bizarre train of thought. Him, jealous of a cat? Jack and Anamaria would never let him live it down if they found out. On the other hand, those two cats definitely had something more than natural gleaming from them. "Your…um, familiars?"
"Yes." José reached over and briefly rumpled the ears of the black cat, who slitted his eyelids in annoyance. "This one is Sands."
Jacques nudged in with some difficulty, given that Jack, who was sitting, had wrapped an arm around his waist, and made a polite bow. "Pleased to meet you. I am Jacques De Moineau, your colleague."
Sands and El both leaned forward and sniffed, then Sands hopped out of Elizabeth's arms and back onto El. A quick tussle later, and the black cat was securely snuggled beneath a satisfied-looking El, who began to paw at Sands' ears. Will raised an eyebrow. "Aren't they both tomcats?"
"So's Jack, and it doesn't seem to matter a whit," Elizabeth giggled into his ear, making them both tumble into a ready chair. Matching tolerant grins on their faces, Jacques and Jack also took a seat.
Carolina glanced around the room, then turned to her mate. "Wasn't there another man? A Commodore?"
"Don' tell m'Norrington is still sleepin'." Jack sighed dramatically and floated his hand through the air in some kind of expressive gesture. "I thought th'Navy would have better stamina'n that."
"Right. About that." Will internally braced himself, determined not to be distracted until he got some answers. For extra support, he looped an arm about Elizabeth and settled her more firmly on his lap. "Why do we need a Commodore again?"
A hand lifted before Will's face, cutting off Jack's reply. "Wait a minute. I still don't understand anything," Elizabeth protested. "Other than that Norrington is absolutely adorable when he's sleeping, and that I agree he needs a vacation."
The two pirate captains eyed each other, while Carolina merely smirked knowingly and doodled on José's paper. Which designs, the longer Will stared at them, were slowly beginning to make sense. Sooty shapes and fire-laced words drifted through his mind, minting razor-edged ideas. "Jack?"
"Well…José's been doin' this longer, so y'should really ask him for details. But let's say this, shall we? Them that cross paths wi'gods don' come out th'same." Rings flashed as Jack fiddled with a handful of braids.
Jacques patiently eased the fingers out of his hair, then leaned forward to pick up an empty goblet from the desk, which he handed to Elizabeth. As her fingers touched the gold and jewels, Will saw with some worry that her eyes clouded over and her breath hitched. "What on earth…I know where this was made. And where it has been."
"Metallurgy. I thought so," José remarked, utterly calm as he retrieved the cup and waited for Will and Elizabeth to look at him. "Jack, you said she carried the coin for nine years?"
"Yes, but-we ended the curse," Elizabeth interrupted with some forcefulness. A tiny line of anxiety crept into the skin above her eyebrows, which Will tried to smooth away. "Don't tell me it's come back."
All the others empathetically shook their heads. "No, no, no," Jack reassured them. "But magic's funny, savvy? Leaves its little sticky fingerprints all over th'place. An' when th'magic on th'coins broke, all that power had to go somewhere."
As if to underline his point, a loud meow came from the next chair over. El's sleek head popped up, along with two paws that he rested on the chair arm as he stared intently at Will. Then he bounded up onto the desk, briefly rubbed himself against Carolina's arm, and poked the parchment across to Will. Who finally got a good look and started. "Why are we building a smelting furnace?"
Elizabeth slanted an odd glance at him. "Will. Those are just squiggles. There's not a single straight line on there."
"No, that is definitely a smelting fur-" he turned to Jack, who looked innocently back "-though obviously not a normal one."
"Thought I'd try responsible an' clean up after m'self." His captain turned uncharacteristically serious. "William, more'n us knew th'curse of th'coins, but only we know where they were. An' I'd as soon as not spend th'rest of m'life fightin' off fools who want th'bearings. So we're goin' t'take care of that chest, once an' for all."
"He asked for help, and that was why I came," Jacques commented, twitching restlessly at his sleeves. The other man seemed a bit uncomfortable, which confused Will until he realized that, judging from some of the dropped hints, it probably had been a while since Jacques had been allowed clothing. "But I only know how to destroy the curse. I cannot carry it out by myself. Tu comprends?"
Will supposed he did, though he didn't particularly care for the implication that Jacques was only here for a specific purpose. After he and Elizabeth had done with their greetings, most of the tension that had veiled Will's vision had drained away, and he had discovered that he was rather fond of the Frenchman. For one, Jacques did a nice job of keeping Jack's wandering hands preoccupied. For two, he also seemed to take some of the agitation out of Will's captain-hmm. That little quirk of Jack's hadn't showed till after their last trip into Port Royal, when they had not been chased out of town by Norrington. And Jack had been downright petulant about it.
Jack was talking. "So y'see, I've been takin' an interest in th'weird pieces of life ever since Barbossa first took th'Pearl. An' we'll be needin' Commodore Norrington as a representative of th'Navy."
"But why only him?" Elizabeth queried, still puzzled. "Why wouldn't we need everyone again?"
Trinkets and beads clinked as a shifty expression passed over Jack's face. He directed an intense regard at his steepled fingers. "I might've borrowed somethin' of his 'fore we showed up at Isle de Muerte th'first time. An' then he might've gotten it back whilst takin' you an' me off that island. So y'could say he's slightly more involved'n th'rest of those fine, upstandin' ramrods."
"Oh, for-" Exasperated, Elizabeth planted hands on Will's thighs and assumed a foreboding scowl. "Honestly, Jack. I know I can't expect any conventional behavior from you, but did you really need a curse to get his attention?"
Which made Will jerk to attention. "Wait a minute. What? Why didn't I know about this before?"
A sharp rap brought all their attention back to José and Carolina, who wore impatient expressions. On the other side of Carolina, El daintily curled his tail around to touch Sands' outstretched nose. The black cat leaped up onto the desk, using the tail as a guide, and began stalking about the edge of the top.
"Mr. Turner?"
Will jerked in surprise, then yanked his gaze away from the cats. "Sorry. Where were we?"
"Getting to Isle de Muerte so we can properly dispose of the Aztec gold," Carolina continued, irritation shading her tone.
"While placating the good commodore," Jacques added from under a mop of hair, barely-visible fingers undoing and redoing his shirt laces. He flapped the too-loose sleeves; he was slightly too big to fit any of Jack's or Will's clothing, but much more slender than any of the other crew members. They'd ended up ransacking the booty from the last raid in order to get him decent, but apparently, the fit still wasn't right. "And I suppose I should concentrate on learning the customs-" he twisted uneasily in his seat "-the…quoi? Qu'est-ce que…"
From the cats came twin hisses, and both José and Carolina suddenly sprang into a tense readiness as they got out of their chairs to survey the cabin. Likewise, Jack laid one hand on his sword hilt and his other on an edgy Jacques' shoulder. Elizabeth was shivering against Will, her eyes darting all over, and Will himself felt an ominous chill go through his hands.
"Mraow!" El blurred through the air, then zipped across the floor, while Sands growled as he slinked off the desk, apparently tracking the other cat by sound. Something small and grayish and chittering was forced from a dusty corner and scrabbled for the door, only to run into a clawing Sands. It bowled over in the opposite direction and was promptly pounced upon by a rather furious El.
Jacques slowly got up and examined the captured thing, then violently swore. "Putain de merde. Jack! Back to the Pearl, maintenant!"
***
Twenty Minutes Earlier
James was ridiculously grateful to his body for gradually easing him back into wakefulness, because he ached in scandalous places and his head was still a bit uncertain of itself.
Not only his head, he thought scathingly as he took in his surroundings: plundered riches, soiled sheets, and his own disheveled self. Ravished self, damn it. He was not going to lie to himself. That-that pirate had somehow managed to take him in, and then Jack-Sparrow. Sparrow had managed to take him. And for some inexplicable reason, James had not put up any kind of decent defense against it. He'd…welcomed it. He'd enjoyed it.
Oh, hell. James slumped back down on the bed and dropped his head into his hands. In that position, he had a perfect view of the uniform crumpled beneath one foot, its dangling buttons winking up accusingly at him. Next to it, a scrap of red peeked out from under his toes, and James had a brilliant flash of an unwinding sash and a lazy grin sweep through his mind.
No, no, no. He was still in the employ of His Majesty. And even if he hadn't been, as a British citizen, he would have still had a duty to help enforce and uphold the law. Though the Turners might feel differently, it was indisputable that not holding a position of authority did not constitute an exemption from justice.
Authority. James jerked on the nearest pair of trousers and jumped off the bed-then immediately staggered into the wall as his nether regions mightily protested the burst of exertion. Shaking the hurt off, he gritted his teeth and quickly made his way over to the nearest porthole, where he found his suspicions confirmed. Not only had Jack-Sparrow-oh, damn it all--mysteriously drawn the Dauntless to him and then lured James aboard, but he had also managed to make off with the commodore without a single shot having been fired, to judge from the lack of damage to the Pearl. And James was certain that Gillette at least would have made sure to put up a fight when his superior officer hadn't returned.
Unfortunately, that prediction required normally functioning laws of nature, whereas by now James knew better than to expect that from Jack.
Good Lord. He knew the pirate.
It was all a bit much for James at the moment, tired and sore and woozy as he still was. And then there were the questions of how Elizabeth and Gasparilla had appeared when they did, and just who the pretty blond Jacques was and exactly what relation he had to Jack-
James bit down on the wave of possessiveness as soon as he recognized it for the ludicrousness that it was and began to repeatedly thump his forehead against the porthole. The first blow failed to do anything except make his headache worse, but he truly couldn't think of anything else to do. So he continued, and he might have done so till Judgment Day if a shoe hadn't chattered at him. "Now what?" James muttered, glancing down.
Bright beady eyes blinked up at him, and then two small paws held up what appeared to be a coin. Clearly gold, but the design didn't match any currency with which he was familiar. Curiosity sparking dully within him, James reached down and picked up the coin. Or tried to, except the moment his fingers brushed its surface, an odd lassitude rippled through his body.
"Christ…" He yanked his hand away, but it was already too late. His vision was blurring, his muscles weren't obeying his frantic internal orders-several soft thumps dimly registered, and it was only a moment later that James realized they were his hips and shoulders striking the floor. The ceiling briefly swam into view, then faded out into the transparent, cracked grin of a hideous man. Half-rotting, half alive, and laughing. "Who…"
"Not who I was expectin', to be sure. But take it as a compliment, an' sleep tight, sir," came a deep, rasping drawl. "Pleasant dreams t'you. Mayhaps you'll even see Jack."
***
Back to Present
Elizabeth's eyes informed her mind that, yes, she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. And then the rage caught up with her. "You! You horrid little beast!"
"Attend! Wait!" Jacques hastily swung the snapping monkey away from her hand, which was itching for an oar. Or any blunt piece of wood, really. "Don't touch him! He's-it's complicated. Jack, you need to get back to Norrington."
But the other man was already halfway out the door, calling for the longboat. Will abruptly jolted, then spat out a few words Elizabeth knew he hadn't learned in Port Royal and chased after Jack. Behind them, José and Carolina were trying to simultaneously soothe their cats, angry at being deprived of their prey, and draw weapons on the monkey. Who was emanating an eerily human air of fear and nasty satisfaction.
Monkey. Magic. The cats and the Gaspars, Jack and Jacques. Pieces shuttled into place, and Elizabeth's stomach roiled. She took a closer look at the pest in Jacques' hands, which was clutching a familiar coin to its mangy chest. "Oh, God. Barbossa?"
"His ghost, and his familiar," Jacques snarled. Admittedly, she hadn't known the man very long, but Elizabeth was still shocked by the amount of vitriol he could put into a few simple words. "Now we must end the curse."
"But it already-"
Carolina cut off Elizabeth with a slice of the hand. "Not the one you saw. It's over and done. But if the monkey took out the coin soon enough, then the gold would still have carried enough power to be manipulated into a new curse."
The implications smashed through Elizabeth like hot pokers. She hiked her skirts and ran out of the cabin, just making it into the longboat before it was lowered into the water. Will caught her shoulder and steadied her, and then the both of them worriedly examined a grim Jack. Who was frighteningly still as he watched their rapid approach to the Pearl. "I forgot about that damned thing. I shouldn't have."
"Jack, you couldn't have possibly guessed…" Elizabeth started, too late sensing Will's warning glance.
"Oh, but I could've." It was a bitter, unexpectedly condemning voice that answered her. "Told you, after I learnt about th'curse, I studied up on th'supernatural. An' th'bastard was m'first mate. I should've known that monkey for what it was, an' I should've guessed one shot wouldn' put Barbossa down for good."
"When are we leaving for Isle de Muerte?" Will asked quietly, his hand creeping round to press a flat palm against Elizabeth's belly. Warmth filtered through her dress where he touched, gently uncramping some of the anxiety and fury in her gut.
Jack shoved braids out of his hair and twisted around to signal at the Floridablanca, which Elizabeth saw was lowering another boat. Jacques' gold head bobbed as he gestured back, and then he turned to yell something up at José, leaning over the side. "As soon as possible," Jack finally informed them. "Jacques an' José'll tell y'what t'do when y're there."
Will started to rise, almost pushing Elizabeth forward onto her knees before he recollected himself. "Jack," he said in a low warning tone, "Don't do-anything stupid."
"Wasn' plannin' on it, seein' as that's y'r line of expertise." And a slight but genuine smile flitted across the other man's face, which sent a deep feeling of relief through Elizabeth's bones. "But if Barbossa did what I'm thinkin' he did, then I'm needed elsewhere. Elizabeth, y'can get th'bearings from th'coin after Jacques clears it, an' Will? I find one scratch out of place on th'Pearl, an' next time in Tortuga, y're in charge of draggin' Gibbs out of th'pigs."
"Captain," Will murmured, slightly choked, as he nodded his head. As she was feeling a little affected herself, Elizabeth also bowed her head. And remembered: one wild night of free dancing, rum coursing in her veins and secrets spilling out onto the sand. She'd never found out if Jack had recalled what she had confessed, or what he had. But it hardly mattered in the end. He was her friend, and so was Norrington. Right now, they needed help, and she owed debts to them both.
***
"And now where am I?" James demanded, asperity beginning to leak into his voice. Oddly, not a single person in the masses that were passing him on the dock turned. They simply didn't seem to notice he was there, so further questions were obviously useless. Sighing, James stepped into a quiet side-alley-the other people certainly were solid enough when they bumped into him-and took stock of the situation. He distinctly remembered blacking out, so this was most likely just a very vivid dream. Which, thankfully, had clothed him.
On the other hand, it had dressed him in an outrageous collection of torn finery. Well-worn black boots, good-quality but frayed dark black trousers, and an emerald velvet jacket with several rips. The shirt seemed all right, but it came with an overabundance of ragged lace at cuffs and neck, which threatened to smother James until he wrestled it into something vaguely resembling respectability. Once he had done so, the giddiness in his head greatly decreased. Though that might also have been due to the lack of wig and starch. James' eye was caught by the shimmer in a broken window, and was then distracted for a moment by the sight of himself with long hair. A scavenged piece of twine got that nuisance out of the way, and after that, he cautiously stepped back out into the flow of humanity.
It carried him down the strangely familiar dock to a moored beauty that he instantly recognized. The Dauntless, but what on earth was she-oh, yes. Dream. James rolled back his shoulders to relieve some of the strain that had gathered between them and headed up the gangplank.
Snick. Gleaming silver materialized in front of James' nose. "Back off, mister. You don't have permission to be here, so you're trespassing."
"What?" James swallowed down his indignation and fought to speak civilly to the two redcoated guards. "I assure you, I have every right to be here."
"No, you don't." The one guard looked supremely haughty, while the other one hesitated and tapped his chin.
"But he says he does. And he looks serious."
"Of course he does. He's lying, you idiot."
"I thought liars smiled a lot, so as you'll think they're nice men and believe them. He's frowning."
"Maybe he knows that all liars smile, so he's purposefully not smiling."
"And maybe you're an idiot."
"Hey! I may be an idiot, but at least my uniform's clean."
At those words, a large dollop of greenish-white paste plunked onto the first guard's shoulder. It swirled into a mirror, briefly reflecting James' aggravated face, before exploding into a huge puddle that engulfed the soldier. Shocked, James took a step backward and had his arms seized. "Murder of a British soldier," declared a strange voice as his wrists were inexorably twisted up behind him and circled round with cold metal. "Sentence is to hang by the neck until dead, tomorrow morning."
"What-wait! I didn't kill him," James hissed, struggling futilely against the fierce grip. He bent round till he could see the newcomer, who turned out to be another soldier. "I was only standing here!"
"I don't think I'm dead," called the goop on the planks.
"Yes, you are. You're not solid anymore."
"Well, who killed me?"
"The pirate did."
Which only set James off even more. Damn it, if this was his dream, then why couldn't he control it? "I am not a pirate. I am James Norrington, and I'm a commodore in His Majesty's Navy. Now release me at once."
"Sure you are." Clearly not listening, the soldier holding his chains started to drag him away from the ship. "Dressed like that, you can't be up to any good. Might as well hang you."
***
Jacques carefully set the cage and its teeth-gnashing prisoner down on the nearest table, then softly came over to Jack's side. He gently pushed Elizabeth out of the way so he could squat down and lift up the slumberer's eyelids to check Norrington's condition. "Physically fine. Seems like he's in the middle of a dream."
"A nightmare," Jack corrected, glaring at the grinning monkey. "My nightmare. Isn't it, Barbossa?"
Couldn't help myself, mate.
The thin whisper bristled the hair on Jacques' neck and ruffled every single particle of himself the wrong way. God, but how in hell had a man like that won the devotion of his familiar? Jacques himself had had his share of unpleasant masters, and he'd served them as far as he'd had to, but not a whit more.
Two fingers stroked over the top of his shoulder, then skimmed down his backbone in a comforting caress. "Don' let him get t'you. New curse or no, he's still th'one lackin' humanity," Jack advised, leaning hot into Jacques' side before turning back to Barbossa. "An' what were y'plannin' after y'fired y'r one shot? Terrorizin' th'banana-plantations?"
Just watchin' you, Jack. Watchin' you an' your panic.
"He is not staying in here," Elizabeth declared, her lip curling and her hand twitching as if it wanted to slap. "I'll feed him to the sharks in a few minutes if he doesn't shut up."
"We can't kill him." Jacques reluctantly brought out the coin, which he had purified as much as he could and wrapped securely in a leather bag. He held out the drawstring to Elizabeth, who took it after a long moment of uncertainty. For which he could hardly blame her. His fingers still felt as if they'd been steeped in black blood, even though it'd been a good half-hour since he had last touched the gold. And she, poor fille, was going to have to use it to navigate the Pearl. "Since he changed the spells, we'll need him at…what was the place called again?"
"Isle de Muerte. Will and Elizabeth can tell you about it." Jack shrugged off his jacket and started to climb into the bed next to Norrington. When Jacques tugged him back off, a momentary flicker of something deep and dark and terrifying went through the other man's eyes. He didn't make a single move toward Jacques, though, but instead waited.
"I'll go first, and find him for you. Then you can bring him out." Before he could be dissuaded-and damn his eyes if Jack wasn't the most persuasive person he'd ever met-Jacques collapsed backwards on the bed besides Norrington. His vision dimmed as the winds gathered, then splintered and bloomed back into color. Streaks of aquamarine and garnet and jade, blowing past him and then through him, winding round his nerves. They slipped in, a hundred pricking needles and he had conjure up the sensation of biting his tongue in order to keep himself together, but there--there. Right there.
Right in this dank, disgusting jail, on some loudly creaking ship. "Mon Dieu. What in the world have you been doing, m'sieur Norrington?"
The wide-eyed man in the corner blinked. Raked a hand through some wisps of hair that had loosened out of his ponytail. "I could ask the same of you."
Jacques eyed the chains hanging off each of Norrington's wrists. "Gentlemen first."
"My deepest apologies, but I couldn't rightly tell you." Ah. Good strong sarcasm. The commodore recovered fast. Then again, Jacques already knew that. "One moment I'm being called a pirate and accused of a crime I didn't commit while I'm being dragged off to an on-shore hanging, and the next, I'm in a brig. Even for a dream, this is rather odd."
"It's not yours," Jacques informed Norrington as he knelt down and searched himself for lockpicks. A handful slipped into his palm, and he started to test the manacles. "It's Jack's. Do you know who Barbossa was?"
Norrington's eyebrows arched. "Of course, but as the man's dead, I see no…unless he isn't dead." He grabbed Jacques' sleeve, more or less pulling Jacques into his lap. "He's dead. William and Elizabeth assured me of that-oh, sorry."
The chain lifted away from Jacques' knee, leaving him to gaze bemusedly at the other man. Well, the commodore was not the most understandable choice for Jack's affections, but so far, he didn't seem undeserving. Merely extremely confused. "He is dead. But unfortunately, sometimes that isn't the end, yes?"
"More undead pirates?" Norrington sighed, rubbing at a spot on his sleeve cuff. "I suppose this has something to do with the face I saw before I passed out?"
Very quietly, Jacques sneaked his fingers up on the right manacle and inserted the lockpick. Under his covert ministrations, it quickly released its wrist, but before he could attend to the other, Norrington once again interrupted. "So why would I be in Jack's dream?"
"Nightmare. And it really isn't my position to say," Jacques demurred, making a snatch for the chain. Frustratingly, it jerked away and Norrington fended off his next lunge with a stiff arm. "Mon Dieu. Do you want to stay here?"
"Of course not. But I would like to have some idea of what that pirate's involved me in this time, please." Correction. The excellent sarcasm was not a sign of Norrington's strength of will, but of his complete bullheadedness. Possibly worse than Will's, as the first mate was quite amenable to suggestions from particular corners. "Before anything else untoward happens."
"Like a hanging?" Jacques grudgingly rocked back on his heels and settled himself across one of the other man's thighs for a prolonged counseling session. This, it appeared, was going to be one of his more provoking undertakings. "M'sieur. While we may be in a dream, it is possible to be injured, even killed, both in this world and the waking one. Now might I free you so we can take this conversation somewhere safer, s'il vous plaît?"
The manacle was abruptly given to him, but to his slight disgust, Jacques found himself still distracted by the sober sincerity regarding him. "By all means, and I am utterly grateful to your help. But honestly-is this Jack's fault?"
A difficult response to properly frame, sensitive as the commodore seemed to be. But Norrington seemed to mistake Jacques' reticence for some that it wasn't, because the next gentle words were, "What kind of hold does he have on you?"
Which Jacques could answer, and answer at a length that undoubtedly wouldn't fit the current time frame. "None that I do not want."
"But…you don't strike me as…" the struggle for a tactful word greatly amused Jacques "…of the usual run."
"Oh, but I am, m'sieur. I am merely another unfortunate who meddled in what was not his affair, and was punished for it." Jacques cocked his head, closely watching the interplay of emotions on the other man's face. Fascinating, really. They all were. For all the alchemy and wars and intrigues into which he'd been plunged over the years, this group of people indisputably ranked among the most engaging. "But that was long, long before I came to the Caribbean. And I do not include Jack as part of my penalty. Which, I believe, has been paid in full."
"So you are free," Norrington breathed, clearly relieved. That piqued Jacques a little; the man thought Jack was capable of slavery? Or perhaps he did not, but his less savory experiences with pirates were whispering to him. At any rate, Jacques made a note of it for later.
"I am as free as I want to be," he shrugged deprecatingly, setting himself at the last manacle. "Some men need a…structure to their lives, and I've found that I am one of them. But it's difficult, tu sais, discovering a pattern that is not like a cage, nor a broken pail."
"Yes, I know." Irony floated past Jacques' ear as the iron circle at last clicked free and dropped to the ground. "Now then, where are we going ne-"
A high, thundering scream drowned out his words, but did not disguise the sudden horror in his face. Norrington seized Jacques and threw them both to the floor just before a huge gaping hole, fringed round with charred splinters, appeared where they had been sitting. "Cannon," Jacques gasped, staring disbelievingly at the opening. "Merde. We're in the Pearl."
And then the hole vanished into clean new planking, and the filth was replaced with surroundings equally dark but somewhat more clean. "And now we're in the Dauntless," Norrington observed, propping himself up on elbows.
"Your ship," Jacques remembered. He sounded a little shaky, and when he looked at his hands, he realized that he was shivering. Lord in Heaven, but it seemed like ages since he'd last been in such solid form.
Norrington noticed as well, and took Jacques' palm between forefinger and index, then began to chafe it. "Your skin is clammy…a little shock, I suspect. How are you feeling?"
"Ah…" Quite green eyes, Jacques observed. And skin that more than a few women would die for. It was even more pretty when flushed, he recalled-might as well. The wave trends wouldn't be best for leaving for a few more minutes. "Much better, merci," he murmured as he leaned up and caught the other man's lips in a long, sweet kiss.
When he pulled back, Norrington had an enticing dazed shine over his eyes. Jacques smiled, rolling them over and slowly sliding down the length of the other man. He made sure to stroke along every sensitive spot he could recollect, and if any provoked a particularly lovely moan, he stopped for a more prolonged investigation. One trait of Norrington's new outfit was that it interfered much less with the business of pleasure.
"Wait…wait…" came tight-throated gasps from above Jacques as he maneuvered the other man's trousers off. "What…"
But the hands threading themselves through his hair seemed sure enough of what this was, and what they wanted from it. So he sensibly listened to them instead. "I am," he told the curve of the pale thigh, the slight hollow above each hip, "As free as I wish to be."
It tasted like salt candy there, and smelled of Far Eastern musk, clean and fresh. Jacques licked again, and then slid down to hold his tongue against the pulse of the large artery in the leg. He felt the beat quicken and grow erratic, just as its covering of flesh began to tremble, and when the fingertips cradling his skull twitched pleadingly, he moved on. Nibbled up the delicate inner skin, delighting in the slow fade of the pinkish dots he trailed behind him. Just short of the join of leg to torso, he came across another's mark-interesting. People didn't usually dream of their imperfections.
He sniffed at it, inhaling spice and tipsiness, and then he understood. Had to smile again, nuzzling his way upwards to the heated flesh rising demandingly above him. Norrington simply groaned at the first touch, too polite-or too nervous-to actually voice the words. The hips beneath Jacques shifted restlessly, toward and away, then froze in place when he swirled slow zigzags from base to tip. "It's a dream, Norrington."
"James…"
"James, then." Jacques flickered his tongue over the pearliness gathering at the head, lapping it up. "It's a dream. Only a dream."
"It's. Not." Gritted and determined and good God, but Jacques felt the heat in his belly explode as the hands combing his locks slipped further down to caress his face. Perhaps stubborn honesty had its good points, after all.
But no more talking. Not if he wanted to keep this bliss and not torture. Jacques took one last breath, then opened wide and swallowed. Flesh, fire and low hoarse cry.
"God! Oh, Christ in Heaven…"
And the writhing was positively shameless. Jacques briefly wondered just how such a man could keep himself so tightly locked up. But there were matters of some greater importance to which he should attend. So he did, continuing to squeeze and massage while his tongue, wicked thing that it was, took advantage of every narrow space to tickle and tantalize. He breathed when he could, relaxed when he couldn't, and thoroughly enjoyed every single gasp and moan that drifted down to his ears.
Sadly, he couldn't make the gratifying state of affairs last as long as it deserved. They were in a brig, after all, and sooner or later, someone would come and check up on the prisoners. But, Jacques was pleased to note, James nearly ate his own fist trying to muffle his last cry. "Good, I hope."
"Very," James hissed out between ragged breathes, and his hands urged a not-unwilling Jacques up into another wonderful kiss. And then, back to business. The commodore straightened their clothing, then stood up-weaving a bit-to examine the door lock. "We do need to get out. I don't suppose we could do like before and simply change our surroundings?"
"I wish it were that simple." Jacques looked regretfully at the well-shaped buttocks moving in front of him before shaking away that thought and getting to his feet. "Nightmares like this usually follow an…outline. Bad to worse, until a final confrontation is reached."
"Well, I could understand the earlier ones…but somehow I find it very difficult to believe that Jack fears my brig more than he fears damage to his own ship." As he spoke, James turned back to face Jacques. "There has to be something more to…you're fading."
"What? Oh, yes." Jacques held up his hands; this part of his work had never ceased to fascinate him. "I originally came in here to locate you, so Jack could follow. It's his nightmare, so he would have the best chance of breaking it."
For some reason, that statement put faint lines of worry in James' brow, but before they could exchange any more words, the door at the end of the brig's hallway swung open and the sound of many boots came thumping in. An officious-looking bunch of British soldiers clomped in and arranged themselves before the jail, with one particularly puffed-out example front and center. Jacques' stomach lurched. He stepped forward and tried to touch James' arm, but his transparent hand went completely through the other man. Damnation. "James. Listen. This isn't real. You have to remember that. Don't let yourself be fooled, or you will make it real. Do you understand?"
"Yes-" The soldier on the other side of the bars began to speak, and James turned away while Jacques continued to pass out of the dream. "What?"
"I said, as you are partly responsible for the former commodore's fall into debauchery and sin, it seems only proper that you see the results your influence has had on him before your own execution." Two more soldiers stepped forward, leveling their bayonets at James. "Take him out and show him to the hanging, men."
Oh, no. "Remember! Don't believe it!" Jacques shouted, trying to hold back as long as possible. The ripples were inexorable in their pull away from the other man, however, and no matter what he did, the jail slowly dissolved before his eyes. James' stricken face last of all. "Don't-don't-"
"Jacques!" shouted another voice. Feminine. "Wake up!"
"It's all right," soothed Jack. "Y're here, on the Pearl."
"And you need to go," Jacques snapped, grabbing for Jack's hand the moment he could distinguish it from the rest of the colored blobs that made up his vision. He slapped it into James' slack one, then reeled out of the way as a suddenly unconscious Jack tumbled onto the bed. "Merde…"
A marvelously helpful arm wrapped itself around his waist and held him up; one thing he had always disliked was the disorienting wrench of coming back to reality. Elizabeth did her best to improve conditions for him, but she wasn't quite strong enough to support him to a chair. Luckily, Will walked in a few minutes later. "Elizabeth, I hate to ask, but we need you to take a bearing-Good God. What happened? Why is Jack-did he get trapped too?"
"On purpose." Elizabeth sucked in a deep breath as her husband took on half of Jacques' weight and assisted him to a chair. "He went to go get Norrington-" she glanced at Jacques "-who is all right, I hope?"
"As well as he could be." The pair of them turned a steady regard onto him, and Jacques threw up his hands. "It's a hard situation to assess."
"In other words, trust in Jack," Will said in a dry tone. "Till then, steer the ship and try not to drown that damned monkey. Anamaria caught sight of it when I was trying to find a place for the cage, and she still hasn't stopped cursing."
Jacques closed his eyes and laughed as he pillowed his head on Elizabeth's chest. "Précisement." Two different sets of fingers patted at his cheek. "I'm all right, I'm all right. Keep an eye on Barbossa, and wake me when we get to the island."
***