le_russe_satan | Separated 2 (Reply)

Title: Separated
Author: le_russe_satan
Rating: PG-13, maybe R in future
Pairing: Jack/James
Summary: Norrington has suspicions, Goddesses play.
Disclaimer: Everything, except my imagination belongs to Disney.
Warning: AWE- SPOILERS.

Chapter 2.

Several days after Elizabeth came to see him, James received a note from Lord Winwood requesting the pleasure of Commodore’s company for dinner that evening. The day spent at work passed quickly and soon James was being ushered into the elegant parlor of Lord Winwood’s house. Lord Winwood was standing by the fireplace, his face betraying that he was in deep thought. Norrington cleared his throat, trying to attract Winwood’s attention. The man turned his head to look at James and gave him a small, yet friendly smile.

“Ah, Commodore, I am glad you were able to come. Have a seat”, Lord Winwood moved to a table, where all sorts of decanters stood. “What would you take Commodore? Whisky, port? I do recommend the madeira, though”.

“Madeira than it shall be, if you do not mind me robbing you of it, my lord”. James took the proffered glass from Lord Winwood’s hand, their fingers meeting for a split moment.

“If I thought you were robbing me of it, I would not offer it, would I?”, Lord Winwood smirked, settling in a couch opposite to James’s. “The dinner shall be served presently, Commodore, but I wish to talk you first, for unfortunately I do not have the time for after dinner pleasantries.” Lord Winwood’s face grew solemn and he we sent silent for a few moments, during which James studied him.

Lord Winwood was obviously older than James, though James did not think me older than forty five. He had dark brown hair, not unlike his own, sprinkled with grey at the temples. His eyes were light brown, almost amber, sparkling with gold. He could not be called very handsome, but his features were nevertheless striking with high cheekbones, determined, though slightly too square a chin, thin lips and straight nose. His figure was just as lean as his face, and though he was the same height as himself, James was suddenly sure that Lord Winwood, despite being a peer and in no way a soldier, was strong, perhaps strong enough to overpower him.

“Commodore, what do you know of Black Pearl’s whereabouts?”. Norrington barely stopped himself from flinching. This was a very sudden question, and not a welcome one. Immediately suspicions started to cloud James’s mind. What did this man want with the infamous ship, and, quite obviously, her infamous Captain? Of course, as a Governor he had a right to these questions, but why so specific? Why not just ask him about piracy in general?

“In all honesty, my lord, not much is known. According to dispatches I have received from our spies, she was sighted about two weeks ago in Havana, but there was nothing heard of her taking or attacking any ships”. Lord Winwood, instead of nodding somberly like Governor Swann was used to do when given a report on pirates, smiled. James was shocked as the smile seemed somewhat indulgent, and suddenly decided to probe his lordship.

“However, it was said that Sparrow no longer captains her, it is under the command of one called Barbossa.” Lord Winwood’s face did not betray anything this time, but for a split second, before the stern measuring look was leveled at him, James fancied he saw some fleeting emotion in those amber eyes.

“Indeed? I wonder what happened to her real Captain”. After this Lord Winwood steered the conversation into the matters of Port Royal’s defense and Navy business, leaving Norrington to wonder whether the Black Pearl was what Winwood really wanted to discuss. As they went into the dining room to partake of the fashionably late dinner, Winwood suddenly clapped his hand on James’s shoulder.

“By the way Commodore, your new ship will be arriving shortly from Kingston. I do believe she is called Diana”.

Jack spotted his beloved Pearl shortly after sun started to climb down from its zenith. He’s been waiting for her on Remembrance Island for almost three days now. He heaved a sigh of relief at the familiar sight. She was here, she did not fail him. She never failed him. A few hours more of waiting and he’ll be able to touch her, be reunited with her. I can see you Jack.

“I can see you too, luv”. They both laughed at their somewhat idiotic statements.

Edana was not crying for there were no tears left to cry. Laying flowers over freshly filled grave, she only wished they had a child, so there was something substantial left to her, something to remind her of Dolan. Although they spent years at sea, after being mortally wounded by Viking sailor, Dolan insisted on returning to land to die. They buried him separately from other crew members, as if there was everyone knew he was not just a man. No one stayed on the knarr, when their Captain was dying, hoping against hope that he’ll live.

After the burial some of them went back to the ship to get her prepared for a new voyage, and came back shouting that she was gone. Vanished. Edana could not help but smile. Of course she was gone, for Dolan was gone too. As she sat watching the grave snatches of their conversations flooded her mind.

“So what is she called?”

“Pearl”.

“Why?”

“Edana, you curious little…”

“Oh, Dolan, you’ve told me so much already, you might as well tell the rest”. Dolan sighed, and she snuggled up closer to him. They both lay on the knarr’s deck, enjoying the view of the velvet black sky that seemed to have been embroidered with sparkling diamonds.

“My foster mother was called Fand[1], and she was kind to me, though she had every right to spurn me”.

And than the words Dolan said to her, just before he passed away.

“Remember, Edana. I will come back, and so will you, and we will meet again. In a different time, in a different place, maybe different people, but we will meet. I promise you”. At the memory of these words she found her ability to cry restored. She could not even pray to gods that Dolan will find her again.

The long suffering crew of Black Pearl has finally decided that Barbossa was indeed mad, overpowered him and locked him in the brig. The man did not even struggle, muttering something incoherently under his breath, and this only seemed to strengthen their conviction. They knew not why Barbossa wanted to reach the island, they sighed earlier on the horizon, but decided they might as fell make landfall to stock up on fruit and fresh water, if there was a source of it.

Later that day, they were as one convicted of their own madness, as they saw none other than Captain Sparrow himself waving at them from the shore. Ragetti and Pintell were sent ashore first in case there was something evil on land luring them into a trap by taking on a disguise. However, it soon was proved that it was no evil, simply their other mad Captain. This called for a celebration and everyone, including the said Captain, got promptly drunk, which explained why only one of them questioned Jack’s presence on the island where Barbossa was heading, and was actually satisfied with the answer.

“Oh, you know turtles. Nothing exciting”.

As the men started to fall asleep around the fire, Jack climbed aboard the ship, and went down to the brig. Barbossa was seating already sitting in a corner, but as he saw Jack, he tried to back even further into the corner, staring wildly at him.

“I think you took it just a bit too far. He has indeed gone mad; I thought the crew was exaggerating”. He shook his head, feeling somewhat sympathetic towards the older man, who was never his friend, yet did earn his respect. A sinister chuckle vibrated through the Pearl. I did not mean for it to happen, but he was too strong willed to be open to simple persuasion. I’m sorry. Although I do not pity him: he separated us for ten years, and tried to do it again, mortal fool that he is.

“Whatever am I to do with him now?” muttered Jack, not entirely content with his ship’s words.

She ran and ran, noticing nothing. Screams of agony and pain, the smell of blood around and inside her. The Saladin’s army has taken the city. It seemed peaceful enough at first as wars go, but now that those who could pay their ransom left, soldiers started to pursue the Frank men and women left in the city. Slavery or death would be the fate of everyone who was captured in Jerusalem that day. She turned a corner at full speed and flew straight into a man. Falling to the ground, she noticed that he was of Saladin’s army and obviously not a simple soldier, judging by the jeweled hilt of his sword. Trying desperately to escape, she scrambled up to her feet, and tried to bolt, but was caught by strong hands.

Her dress and brown hair were covered in dust and dirt, and she only hope he would deem her unworthy of his attentions and kill her immediately. In her fear she did not even notice that he was holding her firmly but gently, a small smile playing on his lips. They stood like this for what seemed like an eternity until the man said sofly, French words heavily accented:

“Look at me”. She obeyed. He was handsome. Black hair cut short, free of any headdress, brown eyes, high cheekbones, lips made for kissing, caramel skin. She knew at that moment that she could fall in love with him, were the circumstances different. He smiled looking into her green eyes.

The screams continued, stench of blood permeated the air, but she suddenly felt safe in the stranger’s arms. He was not going to kill, rape or make a slave of her.

“My name is Marine, what’s yours, handsome one?” The man laughed, drawing her closer, burying his face in her dusty hair.

“Najib”. He smiled at the irony of the name. Of noble descent. He couldn’t have chosen better himself. “I have found you again”. Though his words didn’t make sense, as soon as he kissed her, Marine understood. Remembered.

Two women stood staring at each other. One had brown skin, hair tangled up in dreadlocks, intricate markings on her strangely beautiful face, her dress somewhat tattered. The other was a vision of purity in her simple white dress, golden locks falling past her waist, cold grey eyes looking disdainfully at her counterpart.

“Calypso, this is a dangerous game you play. His father might have disowned him, but I will not abandon him”, spoke the fair one. Calypso chuckled.

“Ah, but you be not his ma, Fand”.

“I might not have given birth to him, but in all other respects his is my son”, Fand’s expression was resolute as she continued. “So Calypso, if you do not want to be bound again, and this time by gods not humans, you better tell me, if there’s a way to undo your spell”.

Calypso did not show any fear or worry, but she almost flinched under the steel gaze of the higher goddess.

“Aye, Fand, there be a way”.

“What is that way?”

“Now, that would be telling, but if you give something..”, Calypso stretched her hand out suggestively, cocking her head to the side.

“Still trading your favours, Calypso? Fine, I shall buy them, but if you interfere any further, you shall feel my wrath, and your father will not help you”, with this Fand ripped a white, tear-shaped pearl off her necklace and handed it to black haired goddess, who promptly chuckled eyeing the payment.

“Now that you paid, I’ll help you. A kiss won’t be enough, he has to look to the beginning, do what he did to get that kiss”. The last word ended in the hiss not unlike waves running along the sand, and the black haired goddess faded away. Fand stared briefly at where the other woman just stood, and let out a melodious laugh.

“You, Calypso, have much to learn. I have been fooling mortals and gods alike far longer than you have, your riddles mean nothing to me”.

[1] Fand – A pearl of beauty.