PRINCIPLES OF COMPROMISE
- Dis/Claimer-
. Chapter Nine .
Elizabeth stood with a smile of disbelief as people began to clear out of the courthouse. Her eyes were transfixed on Jack at the front of the room as Beckett walked away from him, Barbossa, and Gibbs (or, Stan and Brutus). The fact that he was cleared was still difficult to register. Though he had a trial, she didn’t care; she would be at his defense this time. The only reason there was a trial is so Beckett could try to build a case – and she would build a better one.
She stepped out of the box with her father prodding her along, no matter how desperately she wanted to run over to Jack, throw her arms around him, apologize profusely for not being able to speak on his behalf, and congratulate him immensely. It would have to wait until nightfall when she could chance getting away.
From across the room, she caught Norrington’s eye with a hopeful gaze. He simply raised his eyebrows, obvious taken aback by the turn of events as well. Suddenly, his heart fluttered as she smiled before leaving the courthouse. His chest swelled with happiness, and he even allowed himself a modest smile to the floor. Even though she was smiling for Jack’s verdict, he still tried to find a promise between the lines somewhere. And for some reason, it wasn’t as hard to find as he had thought.
After a moment, he cast a look down to the front of the room at Jack, Gibbs, and Barbossa, Jack grinning nervously as they readied to leave. James narrowed his eyes on Beckett as the man talked lowly (and, from the looks of it, quite furiously) with the judge in the corner. James knew at one time he would have done anything to have Sparrow at his mercy as well, but Beckett seemed to have burning ambition that couldn’t be satiated when it came to the matter.
Suddenly, Beckett looked directly into his eyes, and it was then he realized that he had been staring. Norrington put up a defense in his gaze as the judge walked away from Beckett. The Lord gave him a sardonic grin, mischievous and knowing. He knew about he and Elizabeth’s façade. A sense of protectiveness overcame Norrington for Elizabeth (and himself) as they stared at one another, Beckett reading him like an open book as he walked up to James.
“I sometimes wonder where you loyalties lie despite the uniform you wear,” he said. “You seem upset with me, Commodore, for wanting a pirate-free utopia. I thought I could count on you, if anyone, to appreciate my efforts.”
“Utopia is idealistic, sir,” Norrington said evenly. “It cannot be achieved by a man of your realistic amenities.”
Beckett kept the humor in his eyes and tone. “Can it not?”
“No, sir.”
“You are doubting my abilities in bringing Jack to justice, are you? Seems odd… In a normal circumstance I would have him dead already, unless he is having help from other sources… crewman, perhaps… both old and new…”
James refrained from snarling angrily, though his voice was a telltale sign of his frustration. “That part of my life is over. I am not a loyalty to Sparrow, and to sail under him is thought upon with much regret.”
“But you still think about it, don’t you?” Beckett asked. “A glaring mark on your life’s perfect record of obedience and honor? A time of selfish refuge from the world?”
“My actions were strictly selfish for my survival.”
“Survival…” Beckett mused with a smirk. “It might be a good idea to keep that notion in practice, Commodore.” He took a step closer and lowered his voice. Norrington tensed angrily. “For treason results in death.”
James stared at him heatedly. Beckett’s scorn turned just as hard, probing his eyes.
“Keep your priorities straight, Mr. Norrington,” he warned. “Or I’ll have to take necessary measures to ensure you end up swinging next to Sparrow indignantly. As a pirate,” he finished coldly.
Lord Beckett swiftly moved away after a moment, heading up the center aisle and out of the courthouse. James felt a pungent weight settle in his chest and heaved a great, shaky sigh. Though he had engaged in piratical behavior for near a year (and, in fact, enjoyed some of it), he was not a pirate. He could deny it to the end of time just because he was that stubborn.
Though that did not change anything. And he knew it.
x x x
Gibbs and Barbossa stopped in their tracks, staring at Jack in disbelief. Jack turned around, giving them a puzzled look as they gaped at him.
“Will’s dead?” Gibbs asked.
“Funny how we’re outside in the street and there’s still an echo,” Jack said casually, continuing to walk. Barbossa immediately trudged after him, followed by Gibbs.
“And ye mean to say they’re blamin’ you for all this?” he asked.
“Miss Swann did not coax her father into getting me a trial for nothing.”
“She thinks you’re innocent?” Barbossa pressed.
“What are you talking about?” Jack asked, picking up a pear from a stand and biting into it. “I am innocent. I explained this already.”
“Who do you thinks got his blood on their hands, then?” Gibbs asked eagerly as they passed a line of small shops.
“I couldn’t tell ye, mate,” Jack, said. “All I know is that bloody Beckett is hell bent on pinning it on me just to see me swing.” They stopped in front of a window, Jack throwing his pear to the ground after only a few bites. “Though,” – he spat – “a hunch tells me he’s got something to do with it.”
“How much a something?” Gibbs asked.
“No idea.”
Eventually, Jack’s eyes lifted to look around the window curiously at a gentleman’s outfit and a simple day dress. Gibbs looked farther into the shop, eyes lighting up. He nudged Barbossa and Jack who looked up. A young woman sat in a chair sewing a shirt, her straight blonde locks tucked behind her ears with her sleeves pushed up to her elbows so they could not interfere with the work her eyes concentrated on. Barbossa relayed a mischievous smile to Jack, and Jack merely raised an eyebrow.
“I think she’d like the Pearl,” Gibbs said slyly.
“Aye,” Barbossa said slowly. “At least after the first month or two of being held against her will.”
“You know what I think?” Jack asked. Gibbs turned to him.
“What?”
“I think,” – Jack pulled out his knife, and cut out the bottom of the pocket on his coat – “I got a hole in me pocket that needs repairing.” He pushed passed them and walked into the shop confidently. Barbossa and Gibbs exchanged looks before ripping a sleeve and tearing out a shoulder. Then, they followed Jack inside.
The young woman seated in the shop looked up as they entered, sauntering towards her. She regarded them curiously, but business had been slow. She rose from her chair and set aside her shirt and sewing needle.
“May I help you, gentleman?”
“Mmm, yes,” Jack said at length, feigning the interest he had in the shop. He met her eyes with a smile. He stuck his hand straight through his pocket until it came out the other end. “How long to fix this?”
She looked at his ripped pocket and back up at him. “Properly? Ten minutes.”
Jack lifted his brow in surprise, looking back at Gibbs and Barbossa. “What about them?” he asked, issuing to their ripped material as well. “Torn sleeve and shoulder.”
“Depending on the material’s durability, fifteen to twenty minutes each. Possibly ten for the sleeve.”
Jack nodded his approval, turning back to the girl. He threw an arm around her, and she cast him a look between disgust and caution. “Listen, uh… name, please? I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, though I’d imagine you’ve heard of me.”
“Margaret Black,” she said. Jack detected a taste of venom in her polite response, deciding that he liked it.
“Miss Black…How endearing, that’s the color of my ship’s sails…” Jack said.
Margaret nodded, sighing somewhat boredly. “Pirates, then?” They were surprised at her response. She merely smiled. “Lord Beckett won’t have any of that in his port…”
“Lord Beckett,” Jack spat, “can go back to England then with the King. Given that’s the plan, I don’t see anything to lament over. So, Miss Black, I have… a proposition I’d like to make with you.”
“The brothel is on the other side of town, sir,” Margaret remarked as he walked her towards the window. Jack, again, was taken aback at the comment.
But not thrown off.
“You’re distorting my purpose before I’ve even told you what I came in for,” he said. “I believe I’ve shown you my pocket and my two crewman’s damages… But you have yet to see the despotism for a skilled needle on the rest of my ship.”
“My ship…” Barbossa muttered. Jack threw him a look before meeting Margaret’s expectant eyes.
“Your entire crew?” she asked skeptically.
“You did correctly guess that we were pirates,” Jack said. “We’re not exactly as spit spot and clean-pressed as the Royal Navy as you can imagine. Your services would kindly be appreciated and paid for up front in gold.”
She paused a moment, considering. Money up front sounded nice, though they were pirates. She looked up at them. “I have your word not to harm me then, Captain? Or remove me from this port against my will?”
Gibbs and Barbossa’s faces twisted with some disappointment, and Margaret looked over at Jack. He just smiled.
“I promise not to do any of those things,” he said. “So what’s sat you?”
She considered for another moment before pressing her lips together and straightening her shoulders. “Which way to the ship?”
x x x
Davy Jones laughed mockingly at Jack as the Flying Dutchman dived back into the ocean at an obscure, sharp angle. “See you in thirteen years, Jack Sparrow!”
Jack waved nervously until the ship was completely gone, at which he scorned at the water. “It’s Captain Jack Sparrow, you git,” he said. And he surely wouldn’t be going to Davy Jones’s locker in thirteen years…but he would take care of that at a later date.
After making peace with the departed devil of the seas, Jack slowly came to realize that he was back on his ship, the passed four weeks seeming to dissolve from his memory. He beamed a smile as he caressed the wheel lovingly.
“Well, Wenchy, you need a new name,” he declared, “seeing as once a ship’s sunk it only seems dignified after being resurrected and all.” He titled his head to the side and mused, “What shall we call you?”
A quiet wind took to the sails as a useless response, but he still shut his eyes and savored it. This was why he belonged at sea. It was his-
Something small and hard hit the deck at his feet. Jack opened his eyes, disgruntled that he had been disturbed from his moment. He looked down at his feet at the rolling sound, and his eyes lit up when he saw his lonely black pearl roll along the edge of his boot. He stooped down and gathered it between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it in thought.
“I’m promoting you,” he said to the little pearl, setting it in the tiny center hole of the wheel. “You’re no longer just a precious gem, savvy? You’re a ship. You are,” he said, patting the wheel, “the Black Pearl.”
The little pearl in the wheel gleamed back at him despite the layered gray clouds surrounding them. Jack gave it a fond look before looking out over his ship. With a smile, he turned the wheel sharply to the left.
“I say we go visit Dad…”
Jack involuntarily smiled at the sight of her sitting docked before him; he couldn’t help it. She’d been there through it all. After stepping aboard with guards watching and finding that Barbossa had made himself comfortable in the Captain’s Cabin (at which Jack threatened to lock him up if his things weren’t removed by nightfall), Jack led them to the galley where his crew dined on a less-than-hearty meal.
“This is your crew?” Margaret said, looking them over.
“Aye,” Jack said. “It’s the only time you’ll see ‘em all in one place.” He cleared his throat, turning to the noisy men eating before him. “GENTLEMEN!! LISTEN UP!!”
The noise ceased as everyone looked up, Ragetti standing with a crooked smile. “It’s Captain Jack!” A raucous cheer filled the room, but they silenced as Jack held a hand up.
“Yes, I have returned, and let it be known that I am the only captain of this ship contrary to the belief of the man wearing the very large feathered hat to my left.” Barbossa glared at him before Jack continued. “Also, you all remember Mr. William Turner, correct?”
Hearty talk came about from the crew, but Jack again silenced them. “Well, forget about him,” he said sharply. “He’s dead.”
Gasps. Grumbles. General reactions of disbelief. Pintel paled before asking, “He’s really dead, sir?”
“As a doornail,” Jack confirmed coolly to the shock of the crew. “And as it were, yours truly is on trial for the whole bloody ordeal because Lord Cutler Beckett is still a pirate-hating pompous git with a wig that would easily conquer the Spaniards.”
Margaret turned to him with a scoff. “So you’ve murdered the blacksmith?” she asked with perched anger and a half-chickle, putting a hand on her hip. She finally sighed, dropping her arm and looking upward in dismay. “How do I always end up in these situations?”
“I didn’t murder him-“
“A trial?” Ragetti asked. “For you?”
“But you’re a pirate!” Pintel said. Jack pointed at him with a cheeky grin, leaning into Margaret’s ear.
“That’s the brightest one of the whole lot, right there.”
“If you didn’t do it, who did?”
“Gentlemen, these things will all be explained in due time, but until then, you’re forbidden to leave the ship simply because Beckett will have you killed for knowing my name these days. Until then, this,“ - he grabbed Margaret’s shoulders and placed her in front of him – “is Miss Margaret Black.”
Eyes went wide with desire around the room, and Margaret just gave them a condescending smirk.
“She is not to be touched,” Jack clearly announced, much to the annoyance of his men. “I’ve recruited Miss Black to mend some clothing around the ship. Now, she needs the gold, so I figured you would all eagerly make her stay on the ship very worthwhile by providing her with some work.”
“Stay?” Margaret asked him warily, eyes still on the rough-looking crew.
“Aye,” Gibbs said, stepping up to her. “Do ye have any idea how many stitches you just signed yourself up to stitch?”
“A few day’s worth,” Barbossa answered for her.
She sighed, looking at the crew in question.
“I’ll need to go get my accessories from the shop,” she said, turning to Jack. “And by the time of my return, I want a large, suitable cabin so that I have room to work or I walk.”
Jack grinned, reaching out and shaking her hand. “Agreed.”
“I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
When she left, Jack turned to Barbossa. “You can go fix her up a cabin while I sort your things out of my quarters.”
“I’ll be the only one sorting my things in my quarters,” Barbossa leered.
“I’ll settle this,” Gibbs said loudly, overriding them. “GENTS!” The crew looked up again. “Who is your captain?” Gibbs asked them.
“Jack, right?” Ragetti asked. “That’s what he just said…”
Gibbs nodded. “Thank you. Jack, you get the cabin.”
Jack smiled over at a glowering Barbossa and tossed him an apple before leaving. “Eat your apple core out, mate.”
After a moment, Barbossa threw it at the back of Jack’s head, but Jack turned the corner just in time for it to hit the wall.
“You missed!” Jack taunted.
Finally, Barbossa stormed off in the opposite direction to prepare a room for Margaret. Gibbs shook his head, going up the hallway after Jack.
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