An Eye for a Bargain

Title: An Eye for a Bargain 5/?

Genre: Action/Romance

Pairing: J/OC, W/E, N/OC

Rating: R/NC-17

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am serious. Even this machine is a rental. Pirates of the Caribbean, all its characters/places/things belongs to Disney. “Prospero’s Speech,” by William Shakespeare (The Tempest) appears in italics. I take no credit for the recognizable. I make no profit from this.

Summary: A romance of sorts for Jack Sparrow.

Notes: Thoughts are surrounded by **

Comments: Aye, pirate fic sure is popular these days, eh? I always was one to jump on the bandwagon:)
Thank you all kindly for the reviews. With that, let’s get this ball rolling…

~*~*~*~

*And now my charms are all o’erthrown
And what strength I have’s mine own
Which is most faint; now t’is true
I must here released by you
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands
Gentle breath of you’re my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults
As you form crimes would pardon’d be
Let your indulgence set me free.
~ William Shakespeare, The Tempest


If there was one thing Jack Sparrow knew he must do, it was free himself from his imprisonment. He was beyond waiting for his comrades to spring him from jail. If they had been going to assist, they’d have done so days ago. Norrington was expecting his crew, or at very least the Turner’s, to do something rash at the gallows, as they’d done in the past. He’d made numerous attempts to escape the cell block, but to no avail. They re-equipped their prison, new doors, hinges, stronger walls, etc. There was no breaking out, for that he was certain. Thus far, the pirate had been unable to tempt the keys to him, the pooch bein’ far to inclined to tease him instead, what with him sitting just out of Jack’s reach an’ all, the pirates freedom dangling tauntingly from his jaws.
Smart four-legged bastard he was. He’d even had enough wits to find his way home after the Pearl’s last attack on Port Royal. Jack had’a give him credit. The poor beast had been admirable company, to say the least. He’d stuck around to listen to a few stories after all. Jack sighed. Prison wasn’t nearly this bad when ye’ weren’t sober. The last stores of alcohol in his body had dried up weeks ago, and his good humor was fast goin’ with it. He was sure, had the Commodore provided the bottle he’d been promised, his conversations with the hound would be much more interesting.
And so, Jack Sparrow sat a twiddlin’ his thumbs, havin’ a one sided conversation with the key hound, waitin’ for the good navy men to open the door. He had after all, some experience escaping while wearing irons, and was plannin’ to put that experience to good use. Planning the prison break had taken up much of his thoughts these past days, while of course taking care to rest himself for the upcoming journey. There was a tickle in his throat, had been since he’d come here. Jack wasn’t a fool though; he knew saickleckle was just a reminder of what lurked deeper within his chest cavity.
He was quite good at feigning wellness, he’d learned. He idly wondered if his prison stay could be extended if he were to inform Norrington of his true health?
Not bloody likely.
“So, ya see, Tortuga ain’t no place for a Lady, or even a pal such as yerself.” Jack finished, the lone member of his audience waggin’ his tale in approval. “I knew ya’d like that one,” Jack announced, his grin returning in stride. “Say, why not lettin’ me outta here, eh?” He whistled to get the point across. His face fell when the dog refused to move. “I though we was pals?” The dog whined, and lay down on the stone floor. “Ye give me those keys an I’ll get ye a nice blanket.” The pirate promised, nodding his approval. “Do we have an accord?”

“My dear Mr. Sparrow, you are truly pathetic.”

Jack raised his eyebrows to the Commodore, tilting his head in acknowledgement of the military man’s presence. “Pathetic, eh? I don’t believe I e’er heard that one before.” He shrugged. “Ah well, first time fer everythin’. Say Commodore, I’ve been thinkin’ ye spend far too much time in my company, are ye certain ye don’t like havin’ me around?”

Norrington smiled sadly, shaking his head. “I’m afraid not Mr. Sparrow, you’re going to hang in two hours, and I will watch your neck stretch.”

Jack eyes widened. “I never took ye fer one so cruel sir. What about yer Lady, will she be watchin’ me stretch too?” He moved closer to the gate, his hips swaying to and fro. He was pleased to have his balance back, if nothing else.

“She’ll be present of course, it is her station to attend. Though I doubt she’ll watch.” Norrington drawled. He gazed about, a bored look on his face. “Lady’s usually don’t have a stomach for such events.”

“She’s a merciful lass, eh?” Jack drawled.

“Not likely, Mr. Sparrow. She has no use for your kind.”

“Aye, I bet I could show her what “my kind” is good for.” The pirate grinned suggestively, allowing the lewd comment to sink in. The Commodore sighed. There truly was no dealing with his kind. Why waste the energy? He had better things to do. Among them, a pirate to hang and a wedding to plan. Jack smiled. “Ye have the look of a man who hasn’t see enough action, Commodore. Perhaps a week aboard The Pearl on the high seas in exchange for this sad pirate’s life?”

Norrington outright laughed, a rare spark of real enjoyment on his features. It only lasted a moment, but Sparrow saw it, and took duel note. “Me, aboard a pirate ship, sailing with the like’s of you? What a ridiculous idea. I dare say you’re getting rather desperate, aren’t you. What’s the matter, Mr. Sparrow? Are you afraid of the fire’s of hell?”

Jack’s face fell, his brow furrowing in displeasure. He had to get out of here. Now.

“O’course not!” He replied. “That’s not an issue. I ain’t going’ to hell, what with my having a merciful side and all. The problem is that there be no bloody rum in heaven !”

~*~*~*~

The fan had been fashioned from a thick paper stock, and was hand painted with India ink. Beautiful water lilies adorned the interior, with fine detail along the edge. The handle was ivory, and the stitching along the rim was neat and precise. Tiny oriental scripture was inlaid into the ivory, carved with the utmost care. Where once, the paper had glowed with newness, crisp and sharp, it was now yellowed with age, one edge bore a mild tare, and there was a chip in the handle, with doubled asase ase when t’was folded away.
It had belonged to her mother, a gift from her well-journeyed father before she had been born. Abiageal studied the gift, handed down to her the day they’d learned of her fathers passing. She’s not used it much back in England, but here in the Caribbean, such a device was not only useful, but also necessary. It was all she had of her father, and only under unique circumstances would she ever see fit to part with it. Her current discomfort was increasing with every passing moment. Her neck itched where the lace of her gaudy pink gown rubbed against it. She knew the chafing was bound to leave a mark, but she didn’t care. A deep melancholy had settled over her spirit, as she made attempts to prepare herself for her fate. As of now, she was far too hot and uncomfortable, sitting here, waiting for the unknown.

Today, her engagement to the Commodore would be announced to the entire town, but not before they hung a criminal for his awful deeds.
She shuddered. Abby had never seen a man hung before, and she was distressed that what should have been such a joyful day would be poisoned by an act of execution. Not that she was joyful about her impending doom as the Commodore’s wife.
Sighing softly, she waited for the rest of her family to ready themselves for the morning festivities.


Catherine was in an awful state of unrest, and her husband was bearing the brunt of her fury.
“Catherine, would you please calm yourself, you’re making a big deal out of nothing at all.” Benjamin Smith insisted. He made to force his young wife to sit, but she would have none of it.

“Relax, Benjamin? How could you tell me to relax?” Catherine fumed, pacing the room in an effort to expel some of the crude energy. “Think about poor Abby, Ben! There is absolutely no honour in this arrangement! Commodore Norrington means to make an announcement with regard to the engagement right after they hang that miserable pirate! Abiageal will be the laughing stock of the community!”

“She’ll hardly be the laughing stock, Cate. The Commodore is a good man, a respectable match. I dare say he’s better than Abby ought to have been capable of.” Ben replied. Too late, he realized his mistake.

“Too good a match? Benjamin Smith, how dare you say such a thing?! Abiageal is a wonderful woman, she’s kind and generous, and...”

“She’s hardly a blue blooded young lady such as yourself Cate. God knows who Abby’s real father was. Abiageal has no family money, save what your father has provided for her. That much said, she’s hardly a beauty Cate. I can think of no man who would dream of settling down with a woman taller than himself, and what’s more, stockier in build than the average seaman. Cate, for Christ sake, she looks like an Irishman, not a bonny lass.”

Cate smacked him right across the face, hard enough to leave a red stain upon his cheek. “Bit your tongue, Benjamin Smith. Abiageal is my sister, and she’s done more for this family than you could possibly imagine. I wish her nothing but happiness, and as much a gentleman as the Commodore may be, he’s not the man for Abby.”

“Cate, please listen to reason.” Benjamin rubbed absentmindedly at his cheek. The shock that Catherine had actually struck him in anger had yet to wear off. “Commodore Norrington can provide for Abby. He’s a good man, Cate. I’d like to believe that given time, they could reach a level of attachment akin to what we share.”

“This discussion is over, Ben. I need to speak with Abby.” Cate strode from the room, leaving no room for argument. Benjamin sighed. He’d not meant to upset her, just explain the facts. Obviously, his wife could never understand. They’d been fortunate, as he’d begun courting her when they’d both been young. He’d also had the luck of coming from a well-bred family, and so there haen nen no argument when he’d asked for her hand. Catherine didn’t realize that the life she’d been given was far from the norm. One was lucky if they could be wed for love in these
trying times. It was a hard lesson to learn, and Abiageal McLeod was set to learn it quickly.

~*~*~*~

They’d set out just before the dawn, the cover of darkness allowing them to ditch their dim-witted guards in pursuit of their friend’s freedom. Norrington had posted a watch upon the Turner’s residence, lest the young couple try something foolish in an attempt to free Captain Sparrow from the claws of fate. The pre-dawn light pierced its way through the thick haze cast by the ocean, and William and Elizabeth stole through the mists, hurrying towards The Black Pearl and her crew.
“They ought to be right off the shore,” William whispered, while he stooped low within the shadows of the trees.

“I don’t see anything, Will. Perhaps they’ve chosen an alternate route?”

“What alternative is there, love?” Will asked, his brow furrowing in concentration. “The plan was to meet them here, and stage an attack upon the fort.”

Elizabeth sighed. Her husband could be so daft at times. “William, Norrington would have foreseen such an attack. You’re telling me that Gibbs and Annamaria haven’t made plans for something more elaborate? You said yourself that Jack was aware of the bounty on his head. The Jack Sparrow I know wouldn’t settle for a mere prison break in the dead of night.”

Will turner smiled. She was right of course. “I don’t know what they’ve planned, Elizabeth. Only that I was to meet them here, just before the dawn.”

The two peeked out toward the water from their hiding place, but saw naught but the crashing waves of the ocean against the rocks. There was no sign of The Peal. “Perhaps we missed them? Or perhaps they’ve grown tired of saving Jack from the noose? Remember the code, Will.”

William sighed. “We must trust that they care as much for Jack’s safety as we do, love. They’re here, I know it.” The young man eyes narrowed as he scanned the desolate beach. The thick morning fog left little chance of spotting any vessel, even one supposedly just off the shore. They’d better damn well be here, or else he’d be forced to bury one of his dearest friends. Why Jack had allowed the capture in the first place he would never know.


There was naught to hear in the quite of the morn than the soft mumbling of the two young lovers. Hidden away in the soft bush, the overhang of the trees covering their position to all but the swiftest of trackers. If they didn’t quiet themselves soon, they’d give themselves away to unwanted company, and that simply would not do. Moving with the stealth of a cat, and years of practice, the predator stalked the couple, moving closer to their position with naught but silence for company.
Elizabeth yelped quite audibly before Annamaria could silence her with a hand. William bore the look of an animal ready to kill before he realized his beloved was in no harm. “Bloody hell, Anna, you scared me half to death.”
“If the pair of you made anymore noise, ya’d of alerted the whole of the navy to yer hidin’ place.” The pirate woman hissed. “Now, hush up and follow me. If this is gonna work, ye better be followin’ orders, got it?”
Struggling from the pirate’s hold, Elizabeth muttered an affirmative, before the threesome moved further down the beach. They hadn’t much time.

~*~*~*~

Jack allowed his senses to flow outward from his persona. Closing his eyes, he imagined he was elsewhere, out on the open ocean, racing toward the horizon with the all the speed The Pearl could muster. He was a free man, free to choose, free to live, and free to love.
Aye, love. He knew that deep in his heart, he'd only felt the first stirrings of love. There was only one person in all his long years that had so much as dented the steel shield that guarded his fragile heart. But, he'd made a choice, and a regrettable one at that. He'd chosen the sea, a life of piracy and that ever-present freedom. Jack Sparrow knew, his regrets aside, that he was not capable of relinquishing that which he held most dear, even for love.
Now, he was in his most desperate hour, and all his past choices had come back to haunt him. He was no fool. He knew it was too late to change the past, but he also held hope that he would have a chance to change his future, if even in part.
Jack sighed. His hands were bound tightly in irons, poor Norrington having chosen not to repeat his past mistakes. Jack didn't know what to make of this situation. If things had gone according to plan, he'd have been out of his imprisonment days ago. This had only led him to one conclusion: his crew had decided against the plan. Apparently, Jack Sparrow wasn't worth his weight in salt, and certainly not worth a rescue effort. He'd been a fool to allow himself to be captured, and he bloody well knew it. Now, he was facing the torturous thoughts of a man who knows that not one bloody soul has shown up to his funeral. His eyes narrowed with resolve. Perhaps he was doomed to die today after all.

The crowd was beginning to thicken, the air pregnant with distaste. These people hated him, though they knew naught of him. They'd heard tales yes, and were likely to hear of his numerous crimes in a few minutes. Tales spun to make him appear more awful than he really was. Elizabeth Turner had once proclaimed him to be a good man, and others over the years had been of a similar opinion. Jack wondered, was he truly a good man? For all his foul deeds, was there a spark of redemption in his soul? He looked down upon the crowd, idly wondering if these people cared that he was about to die.

They would watch him strangle to death, if the fall didn't snap his neck first, and go about their separate ways. None of them would remember his face tomorrow, and few would recall his name. He'd become a faded memory, and over time, he'd disappear altogether.

"You are present today to witness an act of justice in accordance with the laws set down by the British Crown. Jack Sparrow, known pirate and thief, will be hanged until the moment of death, as punishment for his numerous crimes against the Empire."

Jack smiled. They never introduced him properly on such occasions.

He continued to scan the crowd, praying for some sign of relief. There had to be someone with merciful eyes in the lot. Once he found them, he wouldn’t look elsewhere. T’was best to die with that sight in eye than the merciless black hatred many sported.
Jack grinned as he found an even better sight for his attentions. There was the Commodore himself, proud in his navy whites, standing in accordance with his position, atop the stone wall, his eyes locked on none other than the pirate himself.

Jack grinned, and tipped his chin in acknowledgment. His attention was then drawn to those around the Commodore. There was Governor Swann, dignified gentlemen as always. The Governor was also Jack’s first sighting of mercy, his eyes pleading with Jack for forgiveness. Jack nodded accordingly. He’d not let the man go with a guilty conscious. That wasn’t his style.

It was with great interest however, Jac Jack noted the young lady standing to the Commodore’s right. She stood a pace behind the officer, her head bowed solemnly in respect. She was outfitted in the most disastrous excuse for a dress Jack had ever seen, and he’d been around. Jack almost laughed at the absurdity of the sight, but bit his tongue just in time. She wasn’t exactly a homely girl, but from Jack’s point of view, she was hardly a doll either. Poor darling. She stood at almost the same height as Norrington, and her shoulders were quite broad. T’was a shame she had to wear such an ugly garment, the puffs of the shoulder sleeves doing little to help her visual condition. It was her hair that sparked his interest. He’d always had a soft spot for red heads, and the fiery orange main this one sported caught his eye. Jack sighed. He pitied the poor thing, being forced to live under the command of the Commodore for the rest of her life. Arranged marriages ought to be outlawed, especially to the likes of the Commodore. The man already had an extensive fortune, gifts from the British Court from his exemplary record of service, why he needed to invest himself in a union with this poor child was beyond the pirate’s ability to imagine. “Aye, there must be more to it then.” He muttered. *More to it indeed. What have ye got planned, Commodore? How much is this poor girl goin’ to suffer for your goals?*

“You still have a chance Sparrow, ye’ve gotten’ yerself outta tighter binds an’ this one.” Jack smiled. He knew that voice, could recall it anywhere. It’s come from below, close to the platform. He dare not look in that direction, lest he give his rescuer away. A chance, eh? The rusted wheels in his head started turning, if ever so slowly. He was getting out.

~*~*~*~

It was her first attendance at a public execution, and she would rather have been anywhere else, so long as she didn’t have to watch this man die. She’d recognized him as the poor soul who’d been wrestled into Norrington’s custody that evening shortly after her arrival. He’d been poorly mistreated during his captivity, and she could see the swell of bruises on his being even now, as he stood with his head held high, awaiting his death with as much dignity a man in his position could have.
He was horribly thin, his garments hanging loosely from his gaunt frame, and his cheekbones jutted sharply from his face.
“Commodore? Might I ask as to why this man wasn’t executed upon his arrival in Port Royal?” It was bold of her to ask, but she had to venture the chance. T’was better to test the waters now, and see where her place truly was with him.

Norrington stiffened upon hearing her soft inquiry. Many of those under his command had asked much the same question, and thus far, he’d not yet been forced to answer it. “I don’t believe such matters are important Miss McLeod.” His reply was clipped and to the point, and his gaze never wavered from Sparrow.

“Now Commodore, I believe the question to be quite valid.” Governor Swann added, his obvious curiosity coming into play.

Abiageal was surprised at the governor’s defense of her inquiry. Her eyes widened slightly at the older gentleman, who merely smiled softly in response. Inwardly, Abby grinned. The Commodore spent a great deal of time in the company of this man. Perhaps there was a side to him she had yet to discover? A new optimism sprouted in her heart, and died shortly thereafter upon hearing Norrington’s reply. “If you must know, Sparrow was in no condition to stand trial upon his arrival. His rehabilitation was necessary, lest he kneel upon the gallows unawares of his capture. I’ve not spent the last year of my life hunting the dog for him not to recognize that I’ve won.”

Abby remained silent, swallowing her reply before she could damage her position further. She would never understand men. It was all a game to them, nay? Life and death, a treacherous balance, leaving no room on the playing field for those of merciful hearts and generous souls. She wanted to leave, and now.

Her hearing sparked as she picked up on Captain Sparrow’s list of crimes. How interesting. She’d not heard mention of murder or rape, only theft, impersonating an officer and members of the clergy. Sparrow was a mere thief, a savvy individual whose luck had run out. An evil man indeed. The drum roll began, and she closed her eyes tightly, unable to watch the breath seep from the man’s chest, unable to watch the loss of his life.

~*~*~*~

Jack never saw it coming. Whatever it was, it certainly didn’t fit in with the plan. Not his plan at least. The drum roll had begun somewhere off in the background, and everything appeared to be happening in slow motion. He felt the floor drop from beneath his feet, but it took awhile for it to register in his cloudend. nd. *This is it then, tis been fun.* The rope pulled tightly around his throat, gripping into the fragile flesh. His heart had spend up, his body loaded with adrenaline. It pounded in his ears, a steady rhythmic thump, like the beat of a tribalm; tm; the ancient rushing sound of life struggling before it is quelled. T’was all he heard, and his vision had blurred beyond use. *Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!*
Jack Sparrow hung from the noose, and could feel nothing but his own lifeblood seeping away. He became detached from the world he’d known as home, and noticed nothing of the chaos that had erupted around him. As the blackness overtook his soul, he had no time to think, no time to consider.
The game was over, and he’d just lost.

~*~*~*~

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