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The Only Rules That Matter (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

As is the case with all organizations, starting at the bottom meant scutwork. Swabbing the decks. Splicing and tarring rope. Running the rigging. Carpentry. And a million other things necessary to maintaining a ship. Because Captain Rackham and Mate Brannigan had any number of faults, but being lax with their ship wasn't one of them.

Over time, Jack came to be accepted by the crew. It took a few fights lost and a few more won, and several games of chance in which everyone cheated, and one knifing of a crewman that thought 'scutwork' meant 'ship's whore'. He'd been violently sick after that, having never killed a man before, but it had raised the crew's opinion of him significantly.

But none of that was on Jack's mind this morning. This morning, he was hanging off the mainsail rigging and peering through the fog at the rain-swept beach. "This is it?" he asked. "This is the mystic isle of Avalon, resting place of King Arthur? Mates, he was robbed."
 
"No, he's about to be," Grandmama corrected, stepping up beneath the rigging where her grandson hung. "And have some manners, Jack. There's ancient things wot live here, and they don't take too kindly to strangers on their shores, I imagine."

"Manners're important ter the Old Ones, Jackie," Brannigan agreed, standing beside his mother as usual. "S'why Cap'n Rackham here runs such a tight ship!"

This was met with a heavily-ringed backhand across the face. "What did I just say about respect, Brannigan?" the shrewish old woman hissed before looking up at the rigging. "Jack, get down 'ere ya damned monkey. Yer dad's prolly already waitin'."

Indeed, Captain Teague sat with only one or two others around a driftwood campfire. Once one was actually on the beach, it was easy to see the vibrantly green trees and dramatic cliffs very near the beach as well as the river that ended in the sea but flowed from some hidden green valley farther in toward the island. Teague stood as he saw the three figures approaching, and his leathery face cracked into a smile when he was able to make out his son through the fog.

"Ya came," he said in his low, gravelly voice, clasping his son's forearm briefly. "I knew you would, John. I told yer Jenny the sea was a jealous mistress...she didn't seem to believe me." He laughed his slow, wheezing laugh before falling into a coughing fit which ended in blood on a handkerchief. "Glad ye found 'im, Ma."

Grandmama looked over Jack shrewdly for a few moments. "He's not as useless as I had feared," she said finally with a dismissive shrug. "Now go. The longer we're here, the more danger we're in. I won't sacrifice my crew for you, Ed." Teague touched two fingers to his forehead in an irreverent salute to his mother, all but completely ignoring his younger brother.

"Map says it's this way, Johnny," Teague said, motioning for Jack to follow and beginning to follow the river upstream.
 
Jack staggered a little on the wet sand, swaying as if on a ship's deck. It had been only what, three months? Certainly no more than four since he'd left Egypt. And here he was, seemingly unable to find his land legs. Somehow, the world nust didn't feel right without the sense of motion underfoot.

He stared in shock as Captain Edward Teague waved, realizing that even a few months among the Brootherhood had served to transform him into a less flamboyant version of his father. He had trinkets braided into his hair (the beads Jenny and the family had sent), two or three necklaces iframed by a white open-necked shirt tucked into loose striped breeches, and a cutlass and dagger stuck through a sash about his waist. Oh, and his tricorn. His skin was burnt dark as a Moor's, his hair shaggy and rough-cut, and he'd grown a French goatee and moustache.

And right now, the craggy old face attached to the arm griping his looked far too much like the one in his mirror for his liking. "Of course I came," he answered. "I've got my end of a bargain to keep, after all, and Jack Sparrow's a man of his word."

"Only cos ye've got no other way back to England," guffawed Grandmama.

He held a finger up. "Details, details."

Hands on hips he surveyed the island, trying hard to ignore his relatives while simultaneously hearing words like 'dangerous'. The island didn't look dangerous to him, but... weell, he'd had a taste or two of magic already. Looks could be deceiving.

"Map says it's this way, Johnny," Teague finally announced, heading upstream.

"Jack."

"What?" Teague replied, puzzled.

"It's Jack."

"Really, now? And why's that?"

A shrug. "Because John Sparrow's a reliable supercargo with the Company, with a family and a future and Jack Sparrow's just another unhung pirate, and I'd rather nothave one bleed into the other. And because some cat-headed tart in Egypt cursed John Sparrow but not Jack. Now, what did grandmama mean by 'danger'?"
 
"Because John Sparrow's a reliable supercargo with the Company with a family and a future, and Jack Sparrow's just another unhung pirate, and I'd rather not have one bleed into the other." His son answered fairly enough. Teague shrugged.

"Fair. I wouldn't go 'round tellin' the lassies yer an unhung pirate, though." Teague allowed another small fit of wheezy laughter. "Whaddya mean though, 'The Company'? Not the East India Company?"

But if Jack had heard his father's question he didn't give any indication, but continued with his explanation. "And because some cat-headed tart in Egypt cursed John Sparrow, but not Jack. Now, what did Grandmama mean by 'danger'?"

"Cat-headed tart in Egypt?" Teague's eyes widened a bit. "She meant shite just like that, Jackie. Don't tell me ya went and pissed off Bastet?" Captain Teague didn't even pretend to spend his time trying to appease one god or another, but that didn't mean he wasn't familiar with a good number of them. He sighed and shook his head at his son's numerous follies. "Mucking about with Bastet, taking up with the East India Company...fine kettle of fish, Jack. A fine kettle. It's a good thing she found ya, er ye'd prolly find a way ta get yerself killed before this."

He squared his shoulders, however, and pointed ahead, upstream. "As for the dangers of Avalon, however, there's a good few. We're lookin' fer a tree what grows golden apples that can be found at the head o' the river, in the center of the island. Twixt us and it, though, are the fae folk and the Unseelie Court specifically but most definitely not limited to 'em. I'm sure yer Jenny's told the kids all about 'em; hope you were payin' attention, Jackie."

Indeed Jenny had been raising their children on the fairy tales and legends of the home she still remembered. Their bedtime stories had told of the fairy queen of the Seelie Court, of the wicked fae of the Unseelie Court, and of things which might be useful to protect themselves against the latter and to gain the friendship of the former. She had also told them of how King Arthur had been taken to Avalon at his death by four fairy queens, buried under a fae hill until he was needed again. But those, she thought, were just stories for children. Certainly there was no truth to them...right?
 
"And because some cat-headed tart in Egypt cursed John Sparrow but not Jack. Now, what did grandmama mean by 'danger'?"

"Cat-headed tart in Egypt?" Teague's eyes widened a bit. "She meant shite just like that, Jackie. Don't tell me ya went and pissed off Bastet?"

"Naw," Jack allowed. "Only bastet in the conversation that I know of was me. I've no idea what her parentage was like. And as far as me being hung versus unhung, the only lass who's opinion I'd care about has had ample proof of which side of the pole I stand on. And why would an Egyptian woman in a funny mask be a danger here?"

Teague sighed and shook his head. "Mucking about with Bastet, taking up with the East India Company...fine kettle of fish, Jack. A fine kettle. It's a good thing she found ya, er ye'd prolly find a way ta get yerself killed before this."

"I haven't been 'mucking about with bastards', or bastets, or however you're pronouncing that, and she wasn't even that dangerous. Hell, the corpse was more of a threat, because it was strangling me." He grinned. "Hell, for that matter, that crazy witch-lady in England was more dangerous. But, what about this island? Surely you're not..."

He squared his shoulders, however, and pointed ahead, upstream. "As for the dangers of Avalon, however, there's a good few. We're lookin' fer a tree what grows golden apples that can be found at the head o' the river, in the center of the island. Twixt us and it, though, are the fae folk and the Unseelie Court specifically but most definitely not limited to 'em. I'm sure yer Jenny's told the kids all about 'em; hope you were payin' attention, Jackie."

That statement caught Jack up short for a moment. "Wait. Fairies?" But then, he thought about some of the more bloodthirsty stories Jenny had pulled out for his son, when the girls were asleep, and he frowned. "Hmmm..."

Then he thought some more. "Iron, right? Iron and steel? Well, I've got some of that," he said, slapping his cutlass. "And they don't like holy symbols, I understand. Well, I've still got the crucifix Jenny gave me, and a couple of amulets a man in Cairo pressed on me swearing they were lucky." He grinned. "Oh, and I've got one other thing they don't."

Teague glanced sidelong at him. "What's that?"

"I'm Jack Sparrow."
 
Teague rolled his eyes as his ignorant son went on about the woman he had met in Egypt. "Not bastard, Bastet ya stupid boy," he corrected as John demanded to know how she could have been more dangerous than a reanimated murderous corpse. "She's sorta like...the mother goddess of the Egyptian people, Jack. I imagine you were prolly bein' strangled by a corpse coz you were there for a bit o' mummia eh?" He looked sideways at the lad. "Well for one after we get to this tree ya won't need to worry bout yer Anne no more. Fer two, that was a stupid move. I'm surprised Anubis didn't show up for good measure. That weren't no mask, Jack. That was her head. And you're damn lucky you got out without finding out how dangerous she can be."

He explained to Jack the goal they sought and the dangers in the way. The most incredulous thing he seemed to find about the whole situation was that they would be dealing with fairies, which caused the old sea captain to laugh. "You've faced down a witch and a god, and now suddenly it's fairies you don't believe in?" He barked another sharp laugh.

"Iron, right?" Jack asked after a few moments of thought. "Well I've got some of that. And they don't like holy symbols, I understand. Well, I've still got the crucifix Jenny gave me, and a couple of amulets a man in Cairo pressed on me swearing they were lucky."

"Good thing ya took 'em then," Teague answered solemnly, nodding. "All that'll come in handy here fair soon."

"Oh, and I've got one other thing they don't," Jack added.

"What's that?"

"I'm Jack Sparrow."

Teague merely rolled his eyes. "Yer cocky afore you've earned the right is whatcha are."
 
"Cocky before I've earned the right?" Jack echoed, surprised. "Why, you yourself have acknowledged that I've survived a witch and a god." A shrug. "Seems like I've earned the right."

But that was just whistling in the dark, and he knew it. He hadn't believed in ghosts, not really, until he'd met his shadowy thing. He hadn't really believed the witch was a witch, not until after he'd met her. And he hadn't believed in anything worse than humans as tomb guards in Egypt. This was the first time he'd genuinely gone looking for magic, rather than stumbling into it, and the distinction wasn't lost on him. The other times, he'd jeopardized his immortal soul on accident.

His hand stole to the crucifex Jenny had given him. Accident or deliberate, his only road back to her -to them - ran through Avalon. "Head of the river at the center of the island, right?" He picked up his pace. "Well, come on. Those apples won't find themselves."
 
Teague looked sideways at his son. "You know well and good you've survived 'em entirely on accident," he pointed out, echoing Jack's thoughts. "Once ye've come through Avalon alive, once ye've slipped through the noose, once ye've sacked a port without firin' a single shot, then ye've earned the right to be cocky, Jacky. Then you can say that the reason as you don't fear things is yer Jack Sparrow."

Captain Teague fell silent, leaving his son to think over his advice. As they left the beach behind them and walked further into the woods, occasional tinkling laughter and mischievous giggles could be heard around them. Teague rolled his eyes. Certainly the Unseelie would be an issue, but the fae of the Seelie Court weren't always benevolent. They could be helpful, but a great deal of the time they liked to play tricks on strangers. Nothing too awful; tying shoelaces together, misleading travelers unfamiliar with the terrain, things which were easily fixed but a nuisance. Still if one was kind to them, they would return the kindness and sometimes help when it was needed most.

Indeed they came upon a few patches of tall grass that had been tied in such a way that they needed to trudge through it as though through high water, occasionally getting their bootlaces tangled in the tall blades. Once or twice they were even caused to misstep while trudging around muddy patches, which was met with "aww"s of disappointment when they didn't fall in. As they moved deeper into the wood, however, any laughter they might have heard grew more malevolent and sometimes mocking snickers. Once some unseen spirit pushed Jack over to try to force him into the river. Captain Teague caught his sleeve just in time, pulling him back onto shore.

"Don't touch the water, Jackie," he warned darkly once it was determined his son was out of danger for now. "Dip even the tip of your finger into that water, and you'll never be allowed to leave this place. S'why we're not stoppin' fer anything edible, neither; you'll be pulled into Fairy Land, never to return. Don't think Jenny'd much like me n'more if I let that happen."

The woods grew thicker, the trees around them blocking out the sun and creating an eternal, artificial twilight. The sun was beginning to set by the time the wood grew thinner. They were almost to the tree. The only problem was the tree was jealously guarded by the Unseelie and they still hadn't broken through the treeline yet.
 
Was it night, or merely twilight? Jack couldn't tell, not with the trees closing thick and fast around them. He didn't like those trees, not one bit. These were old trees, wild trees. Trees that had never known the woodsman's axe, that remembered when their kin had covered the continent and men made offerings of blood to them. Trees that remembered man when he was little more than a beast.

"Ed?" he murmured, unwilling to speak aloud in this place. The use of his first name was a compromise of sorts; Jack couldn't bring himself to call the man 'dad', but 'Captain' was too formal. "Tell me we're nearly there."

"Nearly," Teague answered, his own voice low. "No stoppin' now, lad. We've no reason ta be stayin' here, an' we don' wanna."

Jack nodded, hoping for a sight of the golden apples. Or even of the sky. Even a glimpse of the shadow thing that had haunted him would be good, because it would be a known and familiar dread. Not this damnable silent anxiety.

And then he heard it. A slow, rhythmic sound, like a sack of flour being lifted and dropped to the earth. Distant, but growing closer. "Ed?"

"I hear it," Teague answered, resting a hand on his rapier. "Keep movin', Jackie-boy."

The slapping, flopping sound was joined now, by hoofbeats. Slow, deliberate hoofbeats, as if a horse were following them.

Or stalking them.

Swallowing, Jack rested his hand on his cutlass. It was steel, which was iron that had been worked by a smith to be harder and more flexible. Surely it would count as iron against the fair folk, right? The other hand clutched, just for a moment, at the three necklaces he wore - the crucifix Jenny had given him, the crescent that he'd taken a shine to in Cairo, and the eye-like amulet that had been thrust upon him. All of them were, he'd been told by different people, strong against evil. He'd just never thought to put it to the test.

"Oh, hell," Teague said.

Jack glanced backwards. Behind them, perhaps a hundred yards away, stood a thing out of nightmare. It stood on one great leg, and watched them with one great eye that sat above a great lipless mouth. It swayed a little, and twitched a black chain in it's single hand at the end of it's single arm. And then, horribly, it smiled at them.

"Wha' th' bloody hell be that?" Teague asked, eyes wide.

"Fachen," Jack breathed.

"Bless ye," Teague answered.

"We'll need it," was Jack's reply. "it's the Fachen, strong enough to uproot and destroy an entire orchard in a single night."

It must have heard his words, because the grin grew broader as the creature gave a loathsome mockery of a bow. And then, sinking down on it's great leg, it sprang into the air and landed again with a sound like a sack of meal striking the earth. It took Jack a moment to realize the thing had lept nearly ten feet in a single bound.

"Fight," Jack asked, "or run?"
 
Captain Teague trudged stoically through the forest, hearing the thumping of whatever it was behind them even before his son said anything. Finally, he grew weary of being followed. It was cowardly in most cases, in his opinion, and he could never abide by it especially when they weren't even being sneaky about it. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes he turned on his heel and drew his sword.

"Oh hell..." His eyes widened and he felt his heart pound against his chest as he beheld the ugliest, most fearsome monster he had seen to date. "Wha' th' bloody hell be that?" he demanded as it smiled at them.

"Fachen," Jack breathed, also turning and dawning a similar expression to his own.

"Bless ye."

"We'll need it," Jack replied. "It's the Fachen, strong enough to uproot and destroy an entire orchard in a single night." Well...fuck. The sickening feeling slithering around in Teague's stomach grew stronger as it grinned wider and seemed to mock them with a bow before springing toward them and landed with a great thud about ten feet later. "Fight...or run?"

"Well..." Teague considered as the Fachen leaped another ten feet, "it jumps too far ta run from. Too strong to fight. I dun fancy gettin' me 'ead ripped off from behind, boyo." He withdrew his pistol and held it at the ready, sword in his other hand. "If we're gonna die anyhow, well's might die standin' up."
 
"Nah," Jack said, watching the Fachen leap closer. "I'd rather not die at all, to tell the truth. Now, if I have to, then I'd rather it be in bed at a ripe old age." The one-legged monstrosity lept closer still. "And drunk."

"I don't think ye'll have the choice, lad," Teague said.

"No, actually, I think I do." Jack gave his father a mad grin, then threw his arms into the air and gave cry to a high, girly scream of sheer terror. Teague jumped, startled, and the Fachen laughed as it bounded. It laughed harder as, still shrieking in terror, Jack ran blindly straight towards it.

"Damn ye, boy," Teague shouted, shifting to try to aim at the bounding fae with his pistol. "I thought ye were foolish, not an utter coward!"

Blindly stumbling along the trail at speed, Jack neared the Fachen. Then, just as it seemed they would collide, Jack threw himself to the ground and rolled under the descending foot. Catching the chain as he cleared the creature, he grabbed it with both hands and yanked hard. Caught off guard and off balance, the monstrous figure tipped backwards and crashed to the ground hard. As the creature rolled and twisted, trying to regain its foot, Jack sprang to his feet and tore his cutlass from his belt. There was a sudden sharp cry of pain and a gush of blood, and then the Fachen lay still. Gasping with exertion, Jack pulled the heavy curved blade from the creature's eye and wiped it on it's chest. Then he sheathed it again.

Teague lifted an eyebrow. "I'm nae sure if that was the bravest thing I've seen, or the stupidest."

"I'll let you know, if I ever figure it out myself," Jack said, weaving a little as he passed his father. "This way, right?"
 
Teague watched, mouth slightly open, as Jack ran screaming toward the Fachen who was supposedly strong enough to uproot an entire orchard. Coming to his senses, he leveled his pistol again and, matching the bouncing motion of the Fachen, fired a shot. It nicked the beast where a shoulder should have been, which only served to make it more angry. It roared thunderously, causing a flock of strange-looking birds to flee from the tree tops.

Then suddenly it was gone. Disappeared. Captain Teague blinked in surprise and looked around, only to find it on its back on the ground, Jack pulling his cutlass from its eye. Teague approached cautiously, bringing his sword down to hack its foot off just in case, before raising an eyebrow at Jack.

"I'm no' sure if that was the bravest thing I've seen, er the stupidest," he said slowly.

"I'll let you know, if I ever figure it out myself," Jack said, weaving a little as he passed his father. "This way, right?"

"Aye..."

Shaking his head, the older man coughed into his handkerchief as he stepped back toward the direction they had been going. All around them the forest was whispering though not a breath of wind stirred. No one had ever defeated the Fachen, and though the fae were a chattery folk anyway this was the best thing they'd had to gossip about in centuries. Over on their right, on the other side of the stream, Teague heard a scuttering through the underbrush.

He jumped slightly in surprise as something burst through the bush on the far side of the stream. Captain Teague's hand went to his pistol, but he relaxed his grip when he saw what had been following them. A small man, no more than three or four feet tall, covered with hair. He wore no clothes except a loincloth and a band of cloth tied around his head, from which grew long, matted grey hair and a very long, snaggly beard. He seemed bent with age and the cudgel in his hand served as both a walking stick and a weapon. Teague stopped and turned to face the tiny man before bowing deeply, keeping eye contact. The man considered him for a moment before bowing back then looking at the pair expectantly.

"Woodwose," Teague explained, grabbing Jack's arm. "Like a Green Man of sorts, just here to protect the wood. Come on, Jackie, it's rude to stare." He tugged at Jack's arm. The woodwose followed them silently on the other side of the stream, watching them carefully but saying and doing nothing.

Finally the men broke through the trees. The sun was setting and the river glittered silver as it ran into a great, vast lake. In the middle of the lake was an island to which a grassy land bridge grew. On that island was a stone hut, and out of the center of the roof of the hut could bee seen the top of a great tree dotted with gold which glinted in the dying sun. Teague nudged his son and smiled, leading the way and leaving the woodwose behind. Crossing the land bridge, though they had to be cautious of soft, soggy spots, proved to be no challenge at all. Teague saw no need to knock as they entered the stone cottage, as there was no door.

To his great surprise, however, a woman sat in the center of the room near the tree's trunk at a spinning wheel, her back to the intruders. Teague took off his hat, motioning for Jack to do the same, as he took a few steps further into the dwelling. If the woman had heard them enter, she gave no sign and continued to spin.

"Beggin' yer pardon, mum," he said in a clear voice, "but we saw your tree there and was wonderin' iffin ya wouldn't mind if we picked a few o' them shinies. Quite a sight to behold if I say so meself, and me wife just wouldn't believe me 'less I showed her." For all his boldness, however, Teague's heart stopped when he saw the woman's feet poking out from under her skirts and confirmed that this was no ordinary woman. This was a kikimora.
 
"Your wife wouldn't believe you?" the old woman with the bird feet repeated, in a voice like creaking timber. "And what sort of faithless wife would doubt her husband's word?"

Jack stared at the woman - creature might be more accurate - racking his brain for... anything. Jenny's fairy stories to the kids had never included anything like a spinning woman with bird feet. But he doffed his hat as well, figuring he's be safest to follow his father's lead until he had a better idea.

"Well..." Jack added, "it's a mite more complicated than that, really."

"And how could it be more complicated than a wife not believing her husband?" croaked the spinner.

"See, his wife - that's my ma, jus' so you know - actually died a while back. Parted with harsh words, they did, and never had a chance to take them back."

Teague jumped in. "An' it's powerfully sorry I am that I never did get that chance, you know. Because she was the apple o' me eye, so to speak, and I'd love to have the chance to show her these wonders and ask her forgiveness."

"And so," Jack continued, "having heard of the fabulous apples of Avalon, and of the miraculous powers they contain, we'd dearly love to pick one or two. So's my ma and my pa here can be reconciled, and his heart can rest easy."

"So..." Teague finished, "we'd dearly love your permission to pick one or two of them. I'd hate to cast a pall o' rudness o'er me final words with me wife, now. So, may we?"
 
The kikimora stood and cocked her head to the side in a very bird-like fashion. She appeared to be studying them. As she did Teague coughed into his handkerchief. With that the bird woman seemed to have all of the information she needed. At last she took a step toward them, eying both men shrewdly.

"I don't tolerate liars, young men," she croaked, "and I have my ways of knowing. You may have only one. And you are not to harm the tree."

"Thankin' ya kindly, miss," Teague said with an air of gratitude. "You do an old man's heart good. C'mon Jackie."

The kikimora stood aside as the two men climbed, watching their progress the entire time. Every now and then Teague glanced down to see that bird face staring up at them and shivered. He got a terrible feeling from the creature and had heard that anyone who encounters a kikimora would come by misfortune. Well, they didn't seem to be unfortunate yet. Once they reached the higher branches he led the way into the leaves of the tree to shield themselves from the creature's shrewd gaze. All around them glinted apples that appeared to be made of solid gold. With a grin he picked the nearest one and held it up to show Jack.

"Gotta et it all er it won't work proper," he explained in a whisper. "Since the old bat'll only let us take one, I'll eat this'un here and we'll bring one back for yer Anne."

Without further delay, Captain Teague bit into the apple. He squinched his eyes and pulled a face at the bitter taste, but kept soldiering through to the core. He would eat anything if it meant he would beat this thing. Once he had eaten the golden fruit to the core he pitched it, watching it sail in an arch before plopping into the lake. The captain nearly laughed aloud. He felt more energetic and alive than he had in years, physically younger even. The apple had worked!

"Alright Jack, now grab it fer Anne an' le's go."

Once the men were down the tree back in the stone hut, the kikimora watched them shrewdly as they left. There was a glint in her eyes Teague didn't quite like and was cautious even once they were out of the hut. They were maybe a quarter of the way across the landbridge when a hideous shriek echoed across the lake, emanating from the hut. Teague cursed loudly as there was a burbling then a splashing sound behind them and the sound of hooves on wet sod. Without looking to see what was pursuing them the pirate grabbed his son's arm as he broke into a sprint.
 
Privately, Jack had his doubts about his father's reasoning. But Anne would need the apple, he knew, and so he was willing to give it a try. So he pulled the gold-skinned fruit from the tree and stuck it in the sash he wore round his waist, and followed Captain Teague through the house. The spinning woman's eyes felt like torches as she scrutenized them both.

We're in a fairy story, he thought as they crossed the sodden land bridge. This is too easy!

There was a shriek from the hut. Moments later, splashing and hoofbeats. Jack glanced back, and suddenly didn't need the hand on his arm to urge him to run. "We can't beat it on a straight-away," ne barked out. "We need to get off the trail, into the trees!"
 
"Onto land," Teague panted in agreement, "er the fuckin' Kelpie'll drag us into the lake. But the woods're dangerous. We gotta at least keep the path in sight."

After what seemed like an eternity they reached the end of the land bridge. Scrambling up the mossy bank, Captain Teague led the dash into the relative safety of the woods. The only problem was that now the Kelpie's steps were much more difficult to hear. But that wasn't a problem for long; about ten yards into the woods Teague heard an enormous thudding sound behind him and skidded to a halt. There at the edge of the forest, the Woodwose had slammed his club into the ground in front of the Kelpie.

"Your domain is the lake," the Woodwose rasped, leaning on the end of his cudgel and eying the water demon sternly. It pawed at the ground in frustration and tried to move past him, but he stood his ground. "This is my land, water horse, and you cannot stay here. Go back to the wet from which you rose." The Kelpie snorted in frustration and pranced on the spot for a few minutes, but eventually turned back and returned to the lake. Teague watched the Woodwose as it watched the Kelpie.

"H...how can we thank ye, mate?" he asked weakly after a few moments, stepping up to the guardian of the wood. He slowly turned and fixed Teague with a stern look.

"I did it not for ye, pirate," he replied solemnly, "I did it for my forest. Were it not for you two, the demon would never have attempted to enter." The Woodwose's dark green eyes darted between the two men for a moment before he pointed to Jack. "Give me three bites of the apple you carry then leave my forest peacefully, and I will allow you safe passage from Avalon."
 
The shaggy man with the club was a surprise, and Jack's hand dropped to his cutlass as he and his father skidded to a halt in the damp grass. With no sign of effort, the man lifted the club - Jack only then realized that it was nearly six feet in length - and hammered it into the ground right in front of the pursuing demon horse. The kelpie gave back, pawing the ground and rearing, but the shaggy man stared it down.

Teague's words of thanks were dismissed out of hand. "I did it not for ye, pirate," he replied solemnly, "I did it for my forest. Were it not for you two, the demon would never have attempted to enter." The Woodwose's dark green eyes darted between the two men for a moment before he pointed to Jack. "Give me three bites of the apple you carry then leave my forest peacefully, and I will allow you safe passage from Avalon."

"Three bites?" Jack echoed, grasping the lump in his sash.

"Three bites is not so much," the Woodwose observed, resting his massive hands on the huge cudgel. "I will even take man-sized bites."

"Jack..." hissed Teague.

"Apples keep best, when the skin is unbroken," Jack observed. "And I've a right many months yet, before the girl who needs this fruit will taste any of it." He met the fae's dark green gaze without flinching. "If I allow you three bites - or any bites, for that matter - the apple I carry will rot long before I return to England."

"What th' bloody hell is wrong with you, boy?" Teague hissed. "Give it to him!"

"Three bites," the Woodwose growled, shifting his stance. "Three bites or you'll not leave my forest, let alone see your England again."

"Jack!"

Jack thought, hard. Then he smiled. "One minute," he said. "I just want to clean it off for you."

"What?" the Woodwose asked.

"It's been in my purse, hasn't it? Not very tidy, that. Let me wash it off for you. Then, once you've eaten as many of the three bites as you want, we can leave."

"Very well," the Woodwose grumbled.

"But we have your word?" Jack asked.

"What word?"

"That, once you've had as many of the three bites as you care to take, we can lave peacefully?"

The Woodwose looked at him, scratching his head. "Yes."

With that, Jack turned his back. "Give me your water flask, dad."

"What th' hell you playin' at, boy?" Teague demanded, handing it over.

Jack took it, unstoppered it, and thought hard. "Blessed are you, Lord, Almighty God," he murmured, "who deigned to bless us in Christ, the living water of our salvation, and to reform us interiorly, grant that we who are fortified by the sprinking of or use of this water, the youth of the spirit being renewed by the power of the Holy Spirit, may walk always in newness of life." Carefully, he made a cross over the mouth of the bottle. Then he produced the apple, rinsed it off with the water, and turned. "Here you go!" he called, holding the apple out.
 
The Woodwose cocked his head to one side. Jack was taking an awfully long time to wash off this apple. Still, in a reasonable enough amount of time he produced it and handed it to the forest guardian. He took the golden apple and was two large but still "man-sized" bites in before he started screaming. Smoke poured from this mouth and followed the chunks of half-chewed apple he spat to the ground. The Woodwose's eyes flashed yellow as he raised his cudgel.

"Nasty tricks!" he screeched, beginning to advance. "You'll pay for your wicked ways!"

"Time to go." Teague grabbed Jack's sleeve and began pulling him down the path once more.

Their only saving grace was that they were taller than the Woodwose with longer legs, and he was weighed down by his heavy club. Even so, the spirit was impossibly fast even as they clambered over the festering corpse of the Fachen. Finally they broke free of the treeline and sprinted onto the beach, Teague leaning his hands on his knees before looking up at his son.

"The Hell was that about boyo? Holy Water?" He collapsed onto his knees, glaring up at Jack from the sand. Captain Teague had been renewed but his body was still as old as ever it was.
 
"That," Jack answered, gesturing back at the treeline, "was about trying to keep the apple from being eaten!" He kicked the sand in frustration. "Every fairie story Jenny's ever told the kids agrees on two things - the fae are repelled by the things of the Church, and they always keep their word when it's given. I didn't think he'd even be able to touch the apple, let alone eat two bites!"

Something crashed into the sand, not four paces from where Jack and his father were standing. Glancing at it, Jack saw a caber-like tree trunk embedded in the beach. An enraged voice shrieked "Thieves!" from the forest, and a second tree trunk flew towards them. Jack grabbed his father and pulled him out of the way, just in time.

"And right now, I don't think this is the proper time to discuss this!" he shouted as the trunk sent sand flying in all directions. Draggin g his father along behind him, he headed for the beached longboat. "Right now, let's get the hell off this island. We can decide later if what I did was stupid or not!"

Shoving the boat into the water, Jack clambered in just as a third treetrunk splashed heavily into the sandy surf at his heels. "Pull," he shouted, grabbing an oar. "Pull for the ship!"
 
"So because o' yer bright idea, I gotter add Avalon to the list. I kin never return ter Singapore or the Snuggly Duckling, neither." The Captain was annoyed, to say the least.

Teague jumped when the first tree trunk crashed into the sand. When he heard the Woodwose's shriek he started to get to his feet but still Jack had to pull him out of the way. He had no problem with following Jack over to the longboat to get out of there as quickly as humanly possible. Tree trunks followed them a good way into the water, splashing sea spray across their faces and floating just behind them, but always just out of reach.

"You could give 'er the apple anyway," Teague suggested as they pulled for the ships. "It may at least delay her fate til you can find sommat else."

Whether Jack would take his advice or not, Teague wouldn't know. They parted on somewhat friendly terms as they each boarded their respective ships. True to her word, Grandmama returned Jack to England though it was another four months until they had arrived there and he had to take a coach from London.

Jenny felt tired as she tried to get ready for work. Jack was nine now, at that age where everything is an adventure--a very loud adventure with explosions no matter what--and the twins were toddling about getting into everything. They had started walking while their father was lost at sea. Jenny had mourned her loss and still had trouble sleeping without her husband in bed beside her, but it had been over six months since Bootstrap Bill had abandoned the pirate ship and found his way to Dover to tell her that her husband had been pressganged into a pirate crew. She didn't know where he was or even if he was alive, and things still had to be done. She had four mouths to feed plus her own, which meant without the extra income she sometimes went hungry so her children wouldn't; she didn't have time for moping.

"Jack stop playing and bring Anne her breakfast won't you?" Jenny didn't mean to snap or sound mean, but from the look Jack gave her one would think she'd just slapped him.

"Yes Mama."

"Good lad."

Anne's health had been failing since that birthday the doctor had told them she wouldn't live past. She had lived...but not for long, it would seem. Most days she slept, struggling to breathe and often waking up crying in pain for how much it hurt. As she stepped out the door with her children in tow Jenny only thanked God that her mother was willing to watch them while she worked.
 
Four months later...

His grandmother had been true to her word. At the end of the year her ship had sailed up the Thames and into London, and he'd been allowed to disembark with his share of the profits of the voyage. A sack slung over one shoulder contained Spanish doubloons and French pistoles, a necklace of pearls and three books (one of love poems, one of Russian fairy stories, and one a travelogue of the New World) for Jenny, and toys for the children. The books and toys had, of course, been purchased in London.

Most precious of all was the pouch tucked into the sash he still wore. It contained slices of golden apple, slices that he'd dried in the sun after the fruit had begun to go brown around the bitemarks of the Woodwose. He didn't know if it would retain any potency, but it had been his only hope. And no matter what, dried apple would be better than rotten apple.

The ticket master had been hesitant to sell him a seat on the Dover coach, and he could sympathize with the lubber. He'd made an effort to dress like Johnathan Sparrow would have dressed, but he still swaggered and swayed as if the deck of a ship heaved beneath his heels. Rings glittered on his fingers and necklaces around his throat, and beads and gems were woven into his hair. His skin was burnt dark by the tropical and subtropical sun, and a rapier of fine Toledo steel hung at his side.

That last item he had acquired in Spain, after spending long months learning the art of the fence from an Italian master who had taken up a life of piracy for reasons of his own. Balanced to his specifications, it was as much an extension of his arm as a weapon.

The ticket master had hesitated. But Jack had gold, and greed had carried the day. The trip took a week, as it always had in the past, and that week took longer than the year that had preceeded it. But finally they rolled into Dover, and Jack's booted feet struck the cobblestones.

Home. He'd longed for this sight, these scents, for a year and more. His heart felt tight, and his head swam, as he realized that his Jenny and his family were less than two miles from where he stood. Did they believe him dead? Had they mourned him? Did his Anne still... no. No, he couldn't even think it. She still lived. She had to. He'd promised, after all.

"John?" someone asked. "Is that you?"

Lost in his thoughts and trying to walk straight - he still hadn't found his land legs, even a week after disembarking - Jack didn't reply. He didn't even recognize the name, not after a year. Besides, the Black Anchor was up ahead. Likely, he'd find his Jenny there.

And then he stopped in his tracks, breath catching in his throat. Coming down the road was the object of his dreams for a year. His Jenny. His Jenny, herding the children along with the help of a young man that must be Jack Junior. Numb, unable to decide how to react, he simply stared.

And then, tears in his eyes, he was racing towards them. "Jenny!" he called, stumbling a little on the unmoving cobbles. "Jenny, love! I'm alive! I'm home!"
 
Jenny's eyes were lowered as they walked, keeping an eye on the twins. Just because they knew how to walk didn't mean they knew how to walk well. She had placed them in young Jack's care, trusting him to hold their hands while she carried Anne who was too week to even hobble along on her crutches anymore. She wher husband calling her, but she didn't look up, instead holding Brigid's other hand and pulling her along to somewhat hurry her little toddling steps. It had taken several months but she had finally stopped hearing her husband's voice calling for her. Out of habit she did glance up for the briefest of seconds but her glance gave her only a tanned stranger with long hair adorned with glittering jewelry; no one she knew.

"Mumma..." Jack raised his hand to point his finger.

"Don't point, Jack!" she hissed, smacking his hand gently. "It's rude. And keep a hold of your sister's hand." She grabbed Brigid's hand and placed it firmly back in Jack's.

"But Mumma!" Jack whined.

"Don't whine!" she snapped before straightening.

Jenny very nearly dropped her own child. She stopped dead in her tracks and her mouth opened and closed several times. Her voice wouldn't work. A weird squeaking noise emitted from her throat, but nothing more. Finally she just shook her head, giving up on saying anything, even if she could think to say anything. She let go of Lucy's hand, leaving Jack with a toddler on each hand, and ran to her husband.

"John!" His name came out half a scream, half a choked sob, as her voice finally broke through and she threw her free arm around his neck, hugging him close and sobbing onto his shoulder. "Oh God John! Thank you God! Thank you thank you!" She kept talking, but none of it was intelligible, lost in sobs and tears which were then muffled in his shoulder as she held him tight in her one-armed hug, keeping a firm hold on Anne with the other.
 
There were no words.

Jack caught Jenny in his arms, pulling her close and never wanting to let go. After a moment he shifted his grip, pulling Anne into the hug as well. And then he heard the distant shout of "Daddy!" and he rocked under the impact of a 9 year old hitting him in a tackle. Pulling his son into the hug was a little more awkward, but he managed. "I'm home," he kept repeating. "I'm home. Oh, God, I'm home."

Jack Junior sniffled, then pulled loose. "Look, dad! Brigid and Lucy learned to walk!" he said, proud as if he'd been responsible. "And Anne's managing to get around better with her crutches, and I've been helping her because you said I was the man of the house and... daddy? What's wrong?"

Hesitantly, tears streaming down his cheeks, Jack released Anne and Jenny and scooped up the two toddlers. "Nothing, son," he managed, grinning through the tears. "Not a blessed thing's wrong."
 
Jenny didn't mind as Jack rocketed into them. She was too busy sobbing onto John's shoulder, holding him close. Anne, too, was hugging him weakly around the neck. Once the twins had toddled over and John had picked them up she grinned and laughed, still crying but wiping away her husband's tears. Still the day had to go on. Jenny sniffed and wiped at her eyes.

"Um, well I gotta go to the Anchor, y'know...work," she sniffled, taking a slow deep breath. "Why don't you ah...why don't you take the children back home, hm? I'll bet you've got some stories from your time out at sea. You and I can um...we can catch up after work yeah?"

Jenny sniffle-laughed again and hugged her husband tightly. She kissed him deeply, her lips delivering a need thick with desire and want, wishing to God she didn't have to work today. The only reason John was still clothed was because they were in public and their children were there. It wasn't only that they hadn't been intimate in nearly a year, but also that she needed to just feel him beneath her fingers, see him, know that he was there. He was right there and this wasn't one of the many, many dreams in which he'd come to her.

"I'll talk to Da," Jenny promised. "We'll see if I can't get off early, yeah?"
 
Jack blew out a slow breath, shuddering from the love and the raw need he'd tasted in Jenny's kiss. He understood that desperate feeling all too well . After more than a year the thought of being separated from her, even for a moment, tore at his soul. But she was right: her father would still be depending on her.

"I'll talk to Da," Jenny promised. "We'll see if I can't get off early, yeah?"

He grinned and returned her kiss, making it a little deeper and a little fiercer than decorum might require on a public street. But he didn't care. He was home, and she was with him, and his children were gathered around him, and all was right with the world. "You do that," he murmured. "And I'll take the children home, and spoil them mercilessly for a few hours."

He kissed Jenny again, and practically had to pry his fingers from her waist and shoulder. But his will won over the need to keep her close, to know that she was real, and he scooped up the twins. They peered at him curiously, uncertain who this stranger was, and one of them grabbed the beads braided into his hair. Laughing, walking slowly so that Anne could keep up, he wobbled along the long-cherished, strangely unfamiliar road that led to the little cottage that he called home.

"Daddy?" Jack Junior asked, tugging at his coat. "Is that... is that the hat we sent you?" The boy's voice was painfully earnest, as if it were the most important question in the world.

"It is, Jack," Jack answered. "I've worn it ever since you sent it."

Jack Junior grinned, and sniffled, and scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Jack wanted to scoop him up at that moment, carry him like the little boy he'd always be in memory. But his arms were full of toddler, so he had to settle for saying "I'm proud of you, son. And I love you."

Anne began coughing, a dry spasming of chest and lungs that barked and honked and made Jack's chest hurt out of sheer sympathy. Glancing back at the Black Anchor, uncertain if Jenny would understand, he knelt and set the twins down. "Anne, love," he said, producing the leather pouch from his sash. "I've brought you some medicine."

"Don'..." she coughed, "don' wan' any medicine."

"But this is special," Jack said, making a show of producing a leathery slice of dried apple. "I got it from the fairies for you." She looked at the strip of apple skeptically, and then gave him the same look. He grinned, holding it out. "Honest. Your daddy would never lie to you, right? This'll make you feel better..."

I hope.

He held it forward, and smiled as Anne plucked it from his fingers. She eyed it suspiciously, looking at the wrinkled brown flesh and the thin strip of golden skin, and then looked at him once more. He nodded, trying to look encouraging. Finally, she popped it into her mouth and chewed it down. "It's... good, daddy," she grinned.

Jack handed her the bag. "Here," he said. "Eat the rest of it."

"What about me, daddy?" Jack Junior asked. "Did you get me anything?"

Laughing, Jack scooped up the twins again. "I brought presents for everyone!" he announced. "But not until we get home!"
 
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