PRINCIPLES OF COMPROMISE
- Dis/Claimer-
. Chapter Two .
Outside in the softly swirling snow, Elizabeth felt a serene calm set in. The cold instantly numbed her, sending a chill all over her body, seeing as she was only still in her dressing gown and coat. The numbness of seeing Will with a sword through him, however, had a much more profound effect on her. This was to be her last memory of him until the day death found her.
Norrington felt her tense, looking over at her as they stepped in front of the carriage. He felt a nagging guilt for allowing her access to the shop when he did. But in his reasoning, who was he to keep her from what she wanted most? She didn’t even let herself stop, which had proved to have traumatic results.
“Miss Swann?” Her eyes went up as the Commodore opened the door to the carriage, holding out his hand to help her inside. She took his hand and went inside wordlessly. Norrington noted how cold her hand was in his and asked the coachman to hasten their trip to the Governor’s Mansion before entering the coach himself.
It was a silent journey across the town in which emotions lay imbalanced within the carriage. James sat ridden with guilt and pity while Elizabeth stared blankly into the infinite space beyond the brass handle of the carriage door. Norrington felt a relation to her grief when losing his position a year ago, but he had reclaimed it. She would not be able to be with Turner again, however. This is where his feelings of understanding ceased.
They stepped up to the front door of the mansion, and Norrington knocked on the large doors. Elizabeth felt frail in his arm, and he would be eager to see to it that she was sent to rest once inside. A moment later, a maid appeared at the door and opened it. She gave Elizabeth one look and became concerned. She turned to the officer escorting her.
“What happened?”
“She has been deeply traumatized, shocked,” the Commodore said as another servant hand came over to help Elizabeth inside. “Please see that she receives bed rest and is calmed until her father returns.”
“Yes, sir,” the maiden said, coaxing Elizabeth inside. “Come, miss.”
“Thank you, Commodore,” the other maid said. James nodded with a brief smile. “She will be fine,” the maid reassured. “Good day to you, sir.”
“Good day.” He watched Elizabeth disappear as the door was closed. He headed back to the carriage grimly to return to the blacksmith’s shop, convinced he had done all that he could for her for the time being.
x x x
Yet again in Jack Sparrow’s life, a door of iron bars swung open before him, and he stepped inside. The door customarily came to a close two seconds after this, accompanied with a single, definitive sound – the twist of a key - locking him in the cage.
Of all the things that seemed strange to Jack Sparrow, he found that having this familiarity with a jailing process was a strange, but admirable quality. It just goes to show how many predicaments he had been in, hence a nice little thing to mention when wooing, heightening the girl’s interest. Thus, this familiarity, while strange, proved to be a worthwhile asset.
Of course, this one was unexpected. He had killed people before and been jailed for it (it being one of the many things pirates in the gallows were sentenced for), but this was Will Turner. The lad got smarter every time Jack turned around, and he was beginning to learn not to try and double-cross him anymore, especially when he had access to a sword. He even had a touch of respect for him, but when he had to use him, he did. Pirates did that. Unfortunately, Will picked up on that quickly, too.
And he was on trial. It had been years since he had ever heard the term applied to a pirate. He was being tried for murder, not piracy, he reminded himself. And what a lucky happenstance; he got to see what it was like thanks to his governor’s own pride and joy.
On trial for the murder of William Turner.
He looked upward. I swear on your son’s poor mangled body that I’m very much innocent on this one, Bootstrap.
Lord Cutler Beckett strode into view between the bars with Governor Swann just behind him then. They stared down Jack, and the pirate sauntered closer, expressionless.
“You will remain in here until the date of your hearing,” Beckett said, obviously upset at the fact he did not get to stab Jack back in the blacksmith’s shop. Jack wanted to smile. Now he was just a protruding pain in the pompous git’s side and there was nothing he could do nothing about it. He restrained himself from taunting the poor devil.
“Which is when?” Jack asked.
“A date had not been determined as of yet,” Beckett said with a punctuality.
“Soon then, I gather?”
Beckett was stabbing Jack with his eyes if he couldn’t do it physically, and the Governor spoke in his stead. “It will occur after William’s funeral,” he said. “It would seem most appropriate.”
“Yes,” Beckett drawled, still staring down Jack. “Let us grieve before we condemn.”
Jack began to admire the bars fondly that separated him from Lord Beckett. He probably had a gun or that long dagger on him waiting to get Jack alone and kill him with the way his eyes gleamed hard with hatred. Jack knew that glare anywhere. He had received it many times. In addition, Jack was unarmed. He could definitely defend himself, but he was still unarmed. Not a good notion.
Again, he gave thanks for the lovely cross-barred iron door between him and this patient man of danger. He could make Jack’s life hell, and he knew it.
His bloody wig’s big enough…
“I believe we are finished here,” Governor Swann said. “I must get back to Elizabeth and get her home…” He stopped short. “A messenger will arrive tomorrow morning to tell you the date of your hearing,” he said to Jack shortly. Then, he continued on his way out of the prison.
Beckett, however, had not moved, not winced. Jack became visually disturbed by this. Beckett smiled when he saw he was upsetting the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow.
An odd way to get your kicks, Jack thought. But, to each his own.
“I believe I failed to mention something while in the presence of the Governor,” Beckett said with a false touch of surprise that hinted at purpose.
“Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” Jack asked. Beckett disregarded his comment.
“When I said you would wait in this prison until the date of your hearing,” Beckett said, lowering his voice, “I would like for you to think of the words ‘imminent death’ and ‘hearing’ as interchangeable.”
Jack gave a smile. “Too delicate for the governor’s ears then, I take it?”
“Governor Swann is the merciful half of our mutual partnership,” Beckett clarified, “whereas I would not have given it a second thought having you executed in the blacksmith’s shop.”
“I can see you had no regard for Miss Swann’s presence,” Jack said.
“On the contrary, Mr. Sparrow,” Beckett said. “Her presence made all the difference, seeing as you are still alive and have delayed your brush with death yet again.”
Jack had always loved the way that phrase sounded, especially when applied to him. He gave a grin to the floor.
“Smile now, for it will be one of the last times you do.” Jack looked up with a lifted brow. “Miss Swann may be able to extend your life, but not by much.”
With that, Lord Beckett stepped back from the cell door and exited Jack’s line of sight. Jack listened as he went up the stone staircase and his footsteps faded entirely, leaving him to slump - yet again - to the floor and wait.
On trial for the murder of William Turner.
Hope you’re rooting for me, mate, even though I never did you. I swear I like you much better than Norrington…
x x x
Elizabeth watched daylight fade from her bed, her eyes gazing at the sun meeting the rolling ocean drowsily. Her eyes were very tired, and her soul was very weary with exhaustion from shock; her heart still palpitated rapidly since her eyes met Will.
The sword vertical through his chest.
Her breath caught as a multitude of waves hit the side of a ship in the harbor.
Jack being accused.
She didn’t want to believe it, but she had not been there to witness anything (thank god, otherwise she may be in a much worse condition than she was now). Maybe Jack had done it. He was a pirate. He had lied to her personally a multitude of times, but Jack was always looking out for himself and no one else. He was only silent, as he had been that morning, when he was unprepared and thinking of a way out. However, she had thought of it for him.
Why did she ask for a trial? In hines sight, it would probably only prolong his stay in the gallows until they found him guilty yet again of piracy related crimes.
She didn’t know what to think. Elizabeth had only seen Will’s body and listened to Lord Beckett’s speech in favor of Jack that showcased him in a guilty, punishable light. Jack had only ever said a few words to her.
‘Wrong place, wrong time.’
Was it?
Decisively, as night fell farther into the late hours, she got out of her bed, surprisingly enough able to stand. Dressed in nothing but her nightgown again, she donned on her dressing gown and coat, buttoning the top half to ward off the cold outside. She unpinned the remainder of hair still on the back of her head, allowing it to fall and cover her neck and ears for some potential warmth. Then, she headed out of the bedroom silently.
Once out in the street, she walked close to the buildings and shops to stay out of view. The moon was peeking through the gray snow clouds as she quickened her step towards Fort Charles. If they had taken Jack to any prison, it was hopefully there. Fort Carlisle was on the other side of town, but its jail was usually empty unless Fort Charles was cramped for space.
It was colder inside the stone structure than out in the raw wind. A breeze snaked through the pillars, sending the cold air in different directions. Elizabeth caught several of them unexpectedly, and she praised the almighty when she finally found the prison entrance without a soul present. Guards were probably still around patrolling, though. Still, with this thought, she opened the door and slipped inside unnoticed, closing out some of the brutal chill.
Stairs awaited her next, and she went down them cautiously with her ear perched for any sound audible. At the bottom, she looked around, strips of dim moonlight streaking here and there. She saw no guards and heard no sound, so she stepped onto the stone floor, her shoes making a light noise as she walked the length of the corridor in search of Jack’s cell.
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