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Chapter Text

"Not dead?"

"Not dead." A smile lit the man's face, and there was something about his eyes, weary but very much aware. Unlike the last time they'd met.

His brain whirled with a hundred questions, but the effort of speaking...

"D'you remember I near killed you?" The man's smile slipped.

"Yes." His voice barely a croak.

"Name's Bill Turner - Bootstrap Bill. Will's da." Bill nodded, and went on in a slow, soothing tone. "Aye, you didn't have any idea of that when you were in command here, did you? I was just one of Jones' fishy gobs, I suppose. I was real bad off when we last met, I'm sorry to say, though my boy says it all had to do with destiny and that heathen goddess, Calypso. We're still on the Dutchman, by the by, but my boy is captain now, fine as they come. Jones did him to death, same as I near did for you, but Jack Sparrow had the heart and helped Will to stab it."

More questions, but one surfaced above the others. "Elizabeth?"

Bill positively smirked. "She's the Pirate King. And my boy's wife. Seems Barbossa married 'em during the Battle of the Maelstrom. Don't know how legal that is with God or man, but after the Dutchman and the Pearl blew Beckett to smithereens, the two had their one day ashore, and it took. We hear she's with child. Will was that overset he couldn't be with her, but then we happened on Jack Sparrow, half dead in a sinking dingy, the fool. Will sent him back to the Cove, to take care of Elizabeth. And she of him, I daresay. Lord knows he needs it. Made Will a mite easier, on both counts."

It hurt to laugh.

"Easy there, Admiral," said Bootstrap. "You're healing, but you ain't there yet. Rest, that's the ticket."

The laughter had completely died away. "Not 'Admiral'."

"No. I suppose not," agreed Bootstrap. "Norrington?"

"James," he said. "It's James."

*

"You're sure this is what you want?" Turner asked. "The whole world is out there, I can take you anywhere."

James had been gaping (there was no other word for it) at the majesty of the extinct caldera that formed the walls of Shipwreck Cove, and at the startling, dilapidated magnificence that was Shipwreck City, rising tier on colorful tier in the Cove's midst. The waters around them were settling to glass again, after the Dutchman's roiling, foamy entrance, which had set the inhabitants of Shipwreck City scurrying every which way, like an anthill poked with a stick. This had seemed to amuse Turner, though his eyes were mostly drawn to one particular area, the largest wharf, where two rakish ships were already docked. There was still room for the Dutchman to tie off, however, and it appeared that's where they were headed.

James turned to Will. "You've asked me that before."

"And your answer's the same, I take it? Well, I must admit I'll rest easier, knowing it's not only Jack watching over her. He's a bit..."

"Insane?"

Will grinned. "Flighty. He and Elizabeth seem too much alike, in some ways. Though not in others."

"Yes," James agreed, dryly. He thought of the two... pirates. It had to be admitted that Elizabeth was truly one of them now. No longer the governor's daughter, a well-born scion of aristocracy, eminently suited to marriage with a rising officer of the Royal Navy.

And yet, a few minutes later, as she boarded with Sparrow and he watched her astonishment give way to joy, and then tears, he wondered if perhaps this beautiful, fierce, loving creature was not what she'd always been meant to be.

"James!" she gasped and rushed to him, embraced him, and wept. It was damnably awkward, and like a dream come true at the same time. He closed his eyes and laid his cheek against her hair.

Sparrow's velvet growl penetrated the reverie, after a few moments. "Thought you were dead."

James glanced up. Cocksure as ever, looking down his nose with his usual hauteur, the kohl-lined eyes sparking, lips fighting a grin. James said, "So sorry to disappoint you, Sparrow."

The grin had its way. "S'alright, James-me-lad. Lizzie missed you."

Elizabeth straightened. "More, much more than that. James, have you been on the Dutchman all along? Why didn't you tell us?" She turned from James to her husband and back again, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

But it was Bootstrap Bill who answered. "Didn't think he was going to make it. Took a mort of care to see him through, but it was my duty, so to speak, seeing I'd near killed him myself. And after, well, a man doesn't get a second chance at life every day, does he?"

Elizabeth nodded, and looked up at James. "This is the choice you've made?"

"It is," James said. "I lay my sword at your feet, ma'am. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I understand the sword your husband made for me was lost in the depths."

After it had killed its maker. All of them knew it, though no one spoke the words.

Elizabeth said, "I accept your service, in all truth."

"And I'll make you another sword," Will said, with a smile.

"Drinks all around! It's a pirate's life for you, James." Sparrow chuckled, and held out his hand.

It was a great concession on Sparrow's part. James had taken the heart, leaving Jack and everyone on the Pearl helpless against the Kraken, and then had given the heart to Beckett, an error in judgment that had cost many more lives. Too many.

But there was something of truth about that 'touch of destiny' Will spoke of, too. And about second chances.

"So it seems," James said, resigned, but, prodded by memory and mischief, he gripped Sparrow's strong, fine-boned hand too firmly and too long, as he had done on that dock in Port Royal so long ago. Sparrow's eyes widened a little in alarm, and it was James grinning now, his first in a very long time.

~.~

Chapter Text

"Hullo, former-admiral," said an all-too-familiar voice.

James looked up from his drink and narrowed his eyes. "Sparrow. I'd ask, To what do I owe this pleasure?, but that would seem too facetious."

The man only grinned and slid into a chair, setting a bottle of the tavern's finest rum on the table. "Thought I'd stand you a drink," he said, apparently determined to be amiable. "Haven't seen much of you since Will brought you back."

"I've been busy."

"As have I. Her nibs keeps us hoppin', don't she?"

"She does," James said, more mildly. Elizabeth had asked him to take a thorough survey of Shipwreck Island, using modern scientific methods, and he was aware that Sparrow had been working hard, too, sorting out the Cove's extensive library of maps and charts. "I’m surprised at the evidence of industry you've displayed these last weeks."

Jack shrugged. “I like cartography, hydrography, lots of those 'ographies. And no one's put a hand to that library in years. Bloody disgraceful, if you ask me."

James couldn't help quirking a smile at Sparrow's disgust. The pirate took note of it and scowled in return.

But he only said, "It's been weeks of work, and I've had it. For the moment at least. The Pearl's off at dawn."

"Off? Where?"

"Holiday, mate. Fishin' by day, feasting and rumfustian by night. There's a little scrap of an island about fifteen leagues from here that's a perfect paradise, good hunting, nice wide white sand beaches. Even a hot springs where one can bathe. What do you think?"

"It sounds delightful." It really did. James knew a pang of envy.

"Aye, of course, but what do you think? Are you coming or not?"

James stared. "You're inviting me?"

"Haven't I just been saying so?"

James stared some more. Felt his color rise and cleared his throat. Picked up his tankard and drank deep, then met Sparrow's eyes again, which were laughing now.

He was going to regret this.

"All right. At dawn?"

"Good man!" Sparrow exclaimed, and reached across to slap James on the shoulder. But then, settling in his chair again, the pirate looked about surreptitiously. "Just don't tell Lizzie, eh? We'll be back in a week -- she'll barely notice we're gone."

James had his doubts on that score, but he raised his tankard in a toast, anyway. "Mum's the word, I believe."

~.~

Chapter Text

The sky was still full of stars when James found himself slipping down the silent lanes of Shipwreck City toward the harbor where the Black Pearl lay anchored. The internal debate over the advisability of his course had troubled his sleep, but had eased the moment he’d stepped out into the cool air. Jack was wrong about Elizabeth. She would miss them immediately. But her child wasn’t due for a month, they’d be back in plenty of time, perhaps better able to offer her support for having indulged themselves now.

The thought of Elizabeth’s coming ordeal was another thing that troubled him, as it did Jack. James had seen the haunted look in the pirate’s eyes when Elizabeth was present but not attending. Teague might laugh over it (and had), but for James it was clear evidence of Jack’s regard for Elizabeth, something he had doubted in the past. Strange as it seemed, James had come to the conclusion that Jack was good for Elizabeth. He made her laugh, and he was extremely solicitous, in his odd, sometimes roundabout way. Indeed, Jack Sparrow seemed of far more use than James at present, a wry thought. Perhaps James could prove himself more of an asset to her after she was delivered.

In the meantime, there were the docks before him, the Pearl black on rippling black a cable’s length from shore, and Mr. Cotton and his parrot waiting on the pier where a boat was tied. James walked steadily on across the waterfront, and he and Cotton exchanged smiles.

“Steady as she goes!” the parrot said, soft and clear, ruffling its feathers.

“Indeed! It’s good to see you, too, Mr. Cotton.” James looked out at the Pearl. “Are they prepared? There doesn’t seem to be much activity on deck.”

Cotton just put a finger alongside his nose, nodded, and motioned James toward the boat.

When they’d almost reached the ship, Jack appeared, leaning over the rail near the sea ladder. “’Bout time you got here, slug-a-bed,” he called softly, then turned away and was seen to be waving his arms about. As James climbed up the side, the capstan began to turn, raising the anchor, and men swarmed up the ratlines, preparing to set sail, yet no orders had been audible.

Jack was still flailing signals when James gained the deck. Amused, he asked, “Are you worried she'll try to stop us?"

“Not at all," Jack retorted. "We're practicing Covert Operations. One never knows when one’ll need to maneuver in dead silence. As it were.” He grimaced, as if remembering something unpleasant.

James restrained his smile. “Very true.”

The anchor was catted, the sails let fall, and they filled immediately with the light but steady breeze. She moves! James felt his heart lift. The circle of sky overhead had turned deep blue, the stars were fading. James watched Jack at the wheel, watched him guide his Pearl over the water of the Cove with a steady hand, and then, with great expertise, through the Devil’s Throat, the caldera’s only entrance, a narrow and very tricky passage.

“You’ve done this before,” James remarked, as they swept through the gap.

Jack cracked a lop-sided grin. “Once or twice. Almost there. Almost there… We’re out!”

This last was shouted with boyish enthusiasm as they left the shadowed Throat behind and sailed into the rougher, shoal-ridden water at its entrance, the wide horizon pale gold with the coming dawn. The wind strengthened and the ship surged forward. A song broke out among the men, and Jack gave a whoop of sheer joy. He turned to James. “Welcome back to the Black Pearl, mate! May it be a far more fortunate voyage than the last we shared.”

Memory assaulted James: Tortuga and Elizabeth finding him; rum, pigs, grief, jealousy; Jack's lackey… Jack's betrayer, sentencing him, and many of the rest of the Pearls, to Death By Kraken. Yet now, though there was an edge of ironic amusement, there seemed no real animosity in the pirate’s words, so James only replied, “Thank you. And amen to that.”


~.~

Chapter Text

When they were well underway, Jack gave the helm to Cotton and Parrot and trotted down the quarterdeck steps, crossing to where James was standing at the side.

The pirate was more casually dressed than was usual for him, hatless, coatless, and weaponless (from what James could see, at least), and the billowing sleeves of his shirt were rolled to his elbows. He leaned beside James, bare brown forearms against the gunwale, elegant, beringed hands dangling as he looked out over the water, clean and sparkling blue in the rising sun. 

“Pretty weather,” Jack remarked. “Should raise the island by early afternoon. God’s life,  it’s good to be at sea again, eh?”

“It is,” James had to agree. “Not that I’m not appreciative of my new… situation. But… well…”

Jack chuckled, with a wry sidelong glance at James. “Aye: but… well . I love Lizzie to death – and how appropriate is that , eh? – but I’m hoping after the young prince is born it won’t be long before we can get out and do some real pirating, longer voyages an’ all.

“Hmm,” said James. 

Jack turned to him, raising a brow. “Not ready to play the game?”

“It depends on the game, I suppose.”

Jack nodded. “Good answer. There’s pirates and pirates, as you must’ve gathered by now. You ain’t slow on the uptake, though you did, in the past, have a distressingly rigid view of what it means to uphold the law

James gave a grim smile, but it faded as his mind went back to that day, so long ago now: Jack standing on that scaffold, those brown wrists tightly tied before him, that crooked white and gold smile flashing as his crimes were read out. The heavy rope placed ‘round his neck…

This isn’t right. The exact tone of Elizabeth’s voice sounded in James’s head.

Jack’s dark, kohl-lined eyes were upon him. There was no anger in them, but they accused all the same.

James had to clear his throat, but managed to drawl, “Did you really impersonate a cleric of the Church of England?”

And Jack laughed, white and gold flashing in the morning sun. “ ‘Course I did!” And he slapped James on the shoulder. “Come an’ have some breakfast and I’ll tell you about it, eh?”

Jack swayed off, headed toward the companionway that led to the Great Cabin, and James followed him, feeling a trifle bemused.