Power of the Sparrow
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male › Jack/Will
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
9,230
Reviews:
71
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male › Jack/Will
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
9,230
Reviews:
71
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 7 - Chat with the Dead
Power of the Sparrow, by Hellborne (the_ferret_mom@yahoo.com)
Pirates of the Caribbean – NC-17
Copyright: Characters, not mine, See the Mouse. Story, mine, but I make no money. He does, but not on this.
Archive: adult-fanfiction.org. Other than that, no problem, just tell me the URL.
Beta: Now beta’d by my most perfect and wonderful Pendragginink and her magnificent Jackal! Hail to thee, oh modest and humble BetaGoddess!
Typing convention. / is used for thoughts.
Summary: Will gives Jack a birthday present. Unfortunately, it’s cursed. J/W, O/J. Slash, angst, lemon.
Note: I have a few different stories that I’m writing right now, including a new one called “In the Arms of Morpheus (Book 2) – The Bloom Files” that promises to be VERY interesting by chapter 2, so be patient with me.
A/N: Littlebird: Technically, you’re right…but the plot complication that just appeared might keep him from doing it often, if you know what I mean…and don’t worry…next chapter will be a lot more “interesting”…
Watashi: Agreed. Inlaws are a bitch no matter how “nice” they are…
JackFan2:
Rozzan: Yup, A Man Called Horse. I still remember that scene from my childhood… Glad you noticed the geography. I had to do a bit of research to see which cities I could name to stay within period… And believe me, I can’t wait to see what happens either…
Bitteersweet: Nyah Nyah! Hey, when life becomes “fair” I’ll let you know… Oh…a note as to how I come up with it…I watch POTC or look at the photos (and slash photos) just before bed…and literally dream them up and write them down in the morning (or if I happen to wake in the middle of the night…computer on night stand next to bed). When I have enough for a chapter, I publish. I’m afraid my subconscious is rather “twisted”…
A/N: I really want some reviews here. My plot bunnies are starving, and reviews tend to feed them! So hit that Review button and type something! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE?
* - * - * - *
Chapter 7 – Chat with the Dead
That voice. Jack KNEW that voice. He moved his arm off his face and looked in the direction he heard it. There he was, sitting at Jack’s desk, watching him. “Commodore Norrington, what a pleasant surprise.”
“Captain Sparrow.” Norrington nodded at him. “And I would not say the surprise is pleasant at all.”
He sat up. “Would you like some brandy, Commodore?”
“I’ve already tried to help myself. It doesn’t seem to work.” He moved his hand through the bottle for emphasis. Jack could hear the sarcasm dripping from the Commodore’s voice.
“Commodore, do you realize that you’re dead?”
“The preferred Naval phrase is 'sleeping young', but yes, I believe it came to my attention when I found myself entering your ship through the hull…yes. Do you realize that you are hearing and speaking to a dead person?”
“Yes, and I can see you, too. In fact, once I become bored with you, I can throw yer highbrow arse off me ship with me own hands.”
Norrington raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”
It was at that moment that Bill entered the room, walking through the bulkhead. He and Norrington looked each other up and down. Jack grinned. “Commodore Norrington, may I present to you Mr. Bootstrap Bill Turner, a certain ex-blacksmith’s father, and one of the finest sailors ever to sail under me.”
Bill walked over to a shelf and grabbed a bottle and two brandy snifters. “Brandy, Commodore?” He walked over, handed Norrington a snifter, pouring brandy in it before the Commodore could answer.
“Thank you.” He looked at Bill closely. “There is a definite family resemblance. Mr. Turner, you ARE dead, are you not?”
“Call me Bill. Yeah, I’m as dead as a spent cannonball, Commodore.”
“Well, Mr….er…Bill. How is it that Captain Sparrow is able to see and interact with us?”
Jack shifted in his seat. He didn’t like to be left out of conversations; particularly when they were in HIS cabin! Bill frowned. “I haven’t figured that out yet. What’s your name, anyway? It’s not like you’re in the navy anymore. Might as well try to be friendly. Oh, and you can remove the hat and the wig. And that coat, too…couldn’t be very comfortable. There’s no ceremony in death, after all.”
“You don’t hold grudges beyond the grave?”
“Nah. Big waste of time, if you take my meanin’, Commodore. I mean, can you imagine a permanent war, with neither side able to die? That’s what the afterlife would be like if people didn’t just give up their hatred of one another. O’ course, there are areas that are always warrin’ fer the sport of it, but most would rather just live and let live, ye might say.”
“I see. Well, all right. My name is James.” He looked around the cabin. /So it is to be Hell then, as this is clearly NOT Heaven./ “I somehow imagined Heaven to be far grander, and Hell to be far worse." /Still, I understand completely how Sparrow could be the Devil, but I absolutely refuse to believe that he is God./ "Is this, then, it?”
“No, James. You, like many people who die before their time, have unfinished business, as it were. Sometimes it takes years to figure out what it is, and sometimes it’s too late at that point. Apparently, there’s something you need to do in order to move on, same as me. Once ye figure out what it is and do it, you can move on.”
Jack decided he’d had enough of being ignored. “If you gentlemen wish to discuss the philosophy of bein’ dead, I’ll leave you two alone.” The two men didn’t seem to notice. He rose, and not getting any attention, stomped out of the cabin in a huff.
* - * - *
He watched from the helm as Jack climbed up from the lower decks, a hammock in hand, stomped to the bow of the ship, strung said hammock, and crawled into it, pulling his hat over his eyes for a nap. Will smiled to himself. /Well, my father can’t get to him there, I guess./
Several hours later, Jack sat up, rubbing the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Anamaria!” When she arrived where Jack was sitting, he looked at her sympathetically. She looked back curiously. “I have an idea, love. I need you to empty your cabin of all of your effects and move into the fo'c's'le for the rest of the trip.”
She looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “And why am I to do that? My cabin is MINE, and I’ll thank ye not to commandeer it from me.”
“Anamaria, love. I have entirely too many people in my cabin, and I need somewhere to put the extras.”
She’d swear he looked serious. “Jack, you and Will have shared your cabin for close to three years now. Have ye had a fight?”
With a languid sigh, Jack smiled softly. “No, luv. Will’s stayin’ in our cabin. I’ve an ex-first mate and a commodore to get rid of. And seein’ as how the Commodore has a stick up his arse, he’ll be needin’ a cabin fit for his erstwhile status. That leaves with the problem of will I be assigning him my cabin or yours, and seein’ as I’m the captain here, luv, it has to be yours. Now please clear your effects out so that I can get Bill and Norrington out of m’ cabin.”
Anamaria couldn’t believe her ears. /Now he’s givin’ up my cabin to a dead man. He’s daft./ Then she thought about it a bit more. She’d witnessed him floating in mid air, and he HAD bid her call for Bill Turner. /Maybe the navy man’s ghost IS in his cabin./ She shrugged. “Aye, Jack. I’ll do it. But I want him to thank me, whether I can hear it or not!” There were limits, after all; she huffed and walked away to move her things.
When Jack saw that she’d moved her belongings below, he strode down the staircase and entered his cabin without knocking, as was his privilege. Bill and Norrington were still chatting. Jack noticed that Norrington looked a lot less pompous without the hat, wig, and coat. His hair was long and tied in a queue down his back. As Jack entered, the two men stopped their conversation and looked at him. He cleared his throat. “Commodore, the Black Pearl isn’t the Dauntless, but we do have a suitable cabin for you next door. Bill, will you show Commodore Norrington to his new quarters?” /And get him the hell out of mine!/
Norrington gave a nod to Jack. “Thank you, Captain Sparrow.”
Bill burst out laughing. “So who’d ye throw out of their cabin to arrange this? Certainly Anamaria wouldn’t move out for someone whom she couldn’t see!”
“As a matter of fact, she did.” He turned to the Commodore. “And you, Sir, will please to thank her before she takes her ire out on ME.”
Bill beckoned Norrington leading him through the bulkhead into his new cabin, the Commodore following him reluctantly, hand in front of him as if he wasn’t sure it would work.
* - * - *
TBC
A/N: Just go ahead and hit that REVIEW button...it won't kill you...and it'll make me feel a whole lot better, whether it's praise or damnation. HONEST!
Pirates of the Caribbean – NC-17
Copyright: Characters, not mine, See the Mouse. Story, mine, but I make no money. He does, but not on this.
Archive: adult-fanfiction.org. Other than that, no problem, just tell me the URL.
Beta: Now beta’d by my most perfect and wonderful Pendragginink and her magnificent Jackal! Hail to thee, oh modest and humble BetaGoddess!
Typing convention. / is used for thoughts.
Summary: Will gives Jack a birthday present. Unfortunately, it’s cursed. J/W, O/J. Slash, angst, lemon.
Note: I have a few different stories that I’m writing right now, including a new one called “In the Arms of Morpheus (Book 2) – The Bloom Files” that promises to be VERY interesting by chapter 2, so be patient with me.
A/N: Littlebird: Technically, you’re right…but the plot complication that just appeared might keep him from doing it often, if you know what I mean…and don’t worry…next chapter will be a lot more “interesting”…
Watashi: Agreed. Inlaws are a bitch no matter how “nice” they are…
JackFan2:
Rozzan: Yup, A Man Called Horse. I still remember that scene from my childhood… Glad you noticed the geography. I had to do a bit of research to see which cities I could name to stay within period… And believe me, I can’t wait to see what happens either…
Bitteersweet: Nyah Nyah! Hey, when life becomes “fair” I’ll let you know…
A/N: I really want some reviews here. My plot bunnies are starving, and reviews tend to feed them! So hit that Review button and type something! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE?
* - * - * - *
Chapter 7 – Chat with the Dead
That voice. Jack KNEW that voice. He moved his arm off his face and looked in the direction he heard it. There he was, sitting at Jack’s desk, watching him. “Commodore Norrington, what a pleasant surprise.”
“Captain Sparrow.” Norrington nodded at him. “And I would not say the surprise is pleasant at all.”
He sat up. “Would you like some brandy, Commodore?”
“I’ve already tried to help myself. It doesn’t seem to work.” He moved his hand through the bottle for emphasis. Jack could hear the sarcasm dripping from the Commodore’s voice.
“Commodore, do you realize that you’re dead?”
“The preferred Naval phrase is 'sleeping young', but yes, I believe it came to my attention when I found myself entering your ship through the hull…yes. Do you realize that you are hearing and speaking to a dead person?”
“Yes, and I can see you, too. In fact, once I become bored with you, I can throw yer highbrow arse off me ship with me own hands.”
Norrington raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”
It was at that moment that Bill entered the room, walking through the bulkhead. He and Norrington looked each other up and down. Jack grinned. “Commodore Norrington, may I present to you Mr. Bootstrap Bill Turner, a certain ex-blacksmith’s father, and one of the finest sailors ever to sail under me.”
Bill walked over to a shelf and grabbed a bottle and two brandy snifters. “Brandy, Commodore?” He walked over, handed Norrington a snifter, pouring brandy in it before the Commodore could answer.
“Thank you.” He looked at Bill closely. “There is a definite family resemblance. Mr. Turner, you ARE dead, are you not?”
“Call me Bill. Yeah, I’m as dead as a spent cannonball, Commodore.”
“Well, Mr….er…Bill. How is it that Captain Sparrow is able to see and interact with us?”
Jack shifted in his seat. He didn’t like to be left out of conversations; particularly when they were in HIS cabin! Bill frowned. “I haven’t figured that out yet. What’s your name, anyway? It’s not like you’re in the navy anymore. Might as well try to be friendly. Oh, and you can remove the hat and the wig. And that coat, too…couldn’t be very comfortable. There’s no ceremony in death, after all.”
“You don’t hold grudges beyond the grave?”
“Nah. Big waste of time, if you take my meanin’, Commodore. I mean, can you imagine a permanent war, with neither side able to die? That’s what the afterlife would be like if people didn’t just give up their hatred of one another. O’ course, there are areas that are always warrin’ fer the sport of it, but most would rather just live and let live, ye might say.”
“I see. Well, all right. My name is James.” He looked around the cabin. /So it is to be Hell then, as this is clearly NOT Heaven./ “I somehow imagined Heaven to be far grander, and Hell to be far worse." /Still, I understand completely how Sparrow could be the Devil, but I absolutely refuse to believe that he is God./ "Is this, then, it?”
“No, James. You, like many people who die before their time, have unfinished business, as it were. Sometimes it takes years to figure out what it is, and sometimes it’s too late at that point. Apparently, there’s something you need to do in order to move on, same as me. Once ye figure out what it is and do it, you can move on.”
Jack decided he’d had enough of being ignored. “If you gentlemen wish to discuss the philosophy of bein’ dead, I’ll leave you two alone.” The two men didn’t seem to notice. He rose, and not getting any attention, stomped out of the cabin in a huff.
* - * - *
He watched from the helm as Jack climbed up from the lower decks, a hammock in hand, stomped to the bow of the ship, strung said hammock, and crawled into it, pulling his hat over his eyes for a nap. Will smiled to himself. /Well, my father can’t get to him there, I guess./
Several hours later, Jack sat up, rubbing the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Anamaria!” When she arrived where Jack was sitting, he looked at her sympathetically. She looked back curiously. “I have an idea, love. I need you to empty your cabin of all of your effects and move into the fo'c's'le for the rest of the trip.”
She looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “And why am I to do that? My cabin is MINE, and I’ll thank ye not to commandeer it from me.”
“Anamaria, love. I have entirely too many people in my cabin, and I need somewhere to put the extras.”
She’d swear he looked serious. “Jack, you and Will have shared your cabin for close to three years now. Have ye had a fight?”
With a languid sigh, Jack smiled softly. “No, luv. Will’s stayin’ in our cabin. I’ve an ex-first mate and a commodore to get rid of. And seein’ as how the Commodore has a stick up his arse, he’ll be needin’ a cabin fit for his erstwhile status. That leaves with the problem of will I be assigning him my cabin or yours, and seein’ as I’m the captain here, luv, it has to be yours. Now please clear your effects out so that I can get Bill and Norrington out of m’ cabin.”
Anamaria couldn’t believe her ears. /Now he’s givin’ up my cabin to a dead man. He’s daft./ Then she thought about it a bit more. She’d witnessed him floating in mid air, and he HAD bid her call for Bill Turner. /Maybe the navy man’s ghost IS in his cabin./ She shrugged. “Aye, Jack. I’ll do it. But I want him to thank me, whether I can hear it or not!” There were limits, after all; she huffed and walked away to move her things.
When Jack saw that she’d moved her belongings below, he strode down the staircase and entered his cabin without knocking, as was his privilege. Bill and Norrington were still chatting. Jack noticed that Norrington looked a lot less pompous without the hat, wig, and coat. His hair was long and tied in a queue down his back. As Jack entered, the two men stopped their conversation and looked at him. He cleared his throat. “Commodore, the Black Pearl isn’t the Dauntless, but we do have a suitable cabin for you next door. Bill, will you show Commodore Norrington to his new quarters?” /And get him the hell out of mine!/
Norrington gave a nod to Jack. “Thank you, Captain Sparrow.”
Bill burst out laughing. “So who’d ye throw out of their cabin to arrange this? Certainly Anamaria wouldn’t move out for someone whom she couldn’t see!”
“As a matter of fact, she did.” He turned to the Commodore. “And you, Sir, will please to thank her before she takes her ire out on ME.”
Bill beckoned Norrington leading him through the bulkhead into his new cabin, the Commodore following him reluctantly, hand in front of him as if he wasn’t sure it would work.
* - * - *
TBC
A/N: Just go ahead and hit that REVIEW button...it won't kill you...and it'll make me feel a whole lot better, whether it's praise or damnation. HONEST!