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The Only Rules That Matter (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Jack's voice rang out, loud and clear. The song caught on and in the din the young Jack's departure went unnoticed for now. It was a pirate song...of course. Jenny sighed and leaned her forehead against Ion's shoulder briefly, earning a gentle squeeze about the shoulders and a sympathetic look. John knew how much she hated it when he did that; it was bad enough knowing every day that he was out God knew where, pirating, so he didn't have to bring it home with him! He probably didn't care, though. He'd probably stopped caring about her feelings long ago, or so she thought at the time though she knew in the deepest recesses of her heart it probably wasn't true. Barring that, he was likely drunk off his gourd and didn't remember how much she hated it. But his crew probably already thought she was a shrieking harpy, so she wasn't going to break up their song. Still, it would have been nice if he'd at least tried...

When their song was done Jenny excused herself and, swallowing her tears of anger and sadness, stepped over to her husband, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Now you've done singing pirate shanties on dry land," she said with as much calm and quiet as she could manage, "why don't you come play with your family, hm? I think it's long overdue." She took his hand and began to lead him away, making it clear he didn't have much of a choice. "I remember when you used to sing about things other than drinking and awaiting a pirate's death, so why don't we try for something a bit more cheerful."

The stage was cleared for the Sparrows. Jack Jr. was discovered to be missing, though his friends quickly covered for him and Ion volunteered to provide whatever deficiencies in guitar the boy's absence had left. The Sparrows were a musical lot: John had long played the flute and had taught Brigid, who had since picked up similar instruments; Jack had become quite proficient at guitar under Captain Teague's tutelage; Sean spent many Sunday evenings with Anne (his personal favorite of his siblings' children though he'd never admit it) teaching her violin while Jenny sat with Lucy at a piano. Jenny herself had been giving singing lessons to earn a little extra money, and had for a long while been proficient at the bodhran and other such percussives. Between the five remaining Sparrows and Ion--who had unwisely taken his place on the makeshift stage with the rest of the family--a jaunty Celtic tune was struck. It was a silly little nothing about a daughter asking her mother to go to the fair, but it was dance-able. Since Anne was still out of breath from dancing with her father, the twins sang the verses of the child while naturally Jenny took the part of the mother. Altogether it was a cute old standby they'd practiced often before, and with their mother's coaching each of the children was already a promising vocal talent; Jenny insisted on both voice and music lessons as they could get them, if nothing else so that--God forbid--anything should happen and they were left destitute they could always sing for their supper. She refused to find herself or any of her children in the same situation as John's mother.

"We've been missing our sixth," Jenny said softly at the conclusion of the song. "It's sounded so hollow without you." She was still upset, but being so actively angry with him all the time was just so exhausting. All Jenny wanted was to have her husband, for however much time he would be here.
 
"Believe me," Jack answered softly, "it's felt hollow without the rest of you. And it's a pity that Jack's not about, because I remember he's a dab hand with the guitar." He chuckled a little. "Still, he's got too much of his dad in him, and just enough of his ma, for that song to sit well with him." Twirling his flute in his fingers, he turned to look at the man who had joined them on the low stage. "But... we haven't been introduced." Spinning the flute and transferring it to his left hand, he reached out with his right. "J... John Sparrow." The name sounded alien in his ears, and felt awkward on his tongue.

The other man took his hand in a strong grip. "Ion Vrabie."

"Ion Vrabie," Jack repeated thoughtfully, examining the man's features. "So... you'd be the Uncle Ion my daughter was telling me about?" He cocked his head. "The one that helps around the house?"

The words were light, but Ion didn't miss the sudden note of keen interest in the pirate's words. "Ah, that I am sir. Your fine children have unofficially adopted me into the family, it seems." He shrugged. "I don't encourage them to call me that, but I don't dissuade them either."

Jack knew it was madness. Really, he knew he had no reason to be jealous. Not because no man would look at his Jenny - most men, he knew, would look and look again - but because she was his Jenny. And because the thought of another man in his house, another man who quite possibly knew his own children better than he did... Well, it made a kind of greenish fire dance in his dark eyes. "I see..." he said, sounding out each syllable. Then, suddenly, he rose. "Well then, Uncle Ion Vrabie, I'd consider it a great honor to take a short walk with you. Now."

Ion looked carefully at the armed pirate who suddenly loomed over him. "Perhaps," he began, "it would be better if..."

Captain Jack leaned in close. "If we went for a short walk," he interrupted, "so's I can get to know the man who 'helps around my house' a bit better, hey?"
 
He'd felt hollow, too. At that, her heart yearned, ached for him, called out for him. "Then why don't you--" But John had turned his attention to Ion and inwardly Jenny groaned. Of course they'd not done anything to be ashamed of or hide...much. Certainly attraction was there and acknowledged, and every now and then when they were alone Ion would press to her such kisses that spoke of temptation and desire, but she always told him to stop. Eventually. She'd never tell John of what had passed between herself and the gypsy, but if she'd wanted to leave him she'd have done it long before now. Still, she couldn't help a certain sense of dread as they shook hands. Uncle Ion...Jack had stopped calling him that a year or two ago, but the girls still did and Jenny had never discouraged it. He had become family of sorts, and Jenny knew her only reason she felt a little embarrassed by the epithet was her own guilty conscience despite many hours in the confessional. Then John asked--demanded really--that they go for a walk.

"John--!" But he was intent on having his way, and at the same time Jenny heard Stephen crying. Poor thing was getting tired. She sighed and rubbed her face. "Please be polite," she murmured to John as she passed. "He's my friend." She strode briskly over to Sarah to retrieve their son, putting him gingerly over her shoulder and bounce-walking with him in slow, small steps, shushing him and singing quietly.
 
"So," Jack said, looking the gypsy over, "you're a friend of my wife."

The question was innocent enough, but Ion didn't like the keen look in the pirate's dark eyes. But he also didn't care for the implication behind the question. Jenny deserved better than that. "Yes. A friend."

"Good."

They walked along the darkened road in silence. Well, Ion walked. The pirate sort of minced and swaggered in an odd way, as if he were drunk. Finally, unable to contain himself, Ion spoke up. "Not for lack of trying, though."


Jack stopped, whirling on his heel to face the gypsy. "Tell me more, mate," he said carefully, one hand resting on the hilt of his rapier.

He could see fear dance in the other man's eyes, and watched him square his shoulders. "She's a magnificent woman, Jenny Sparrow," he said. "And it's more than once I've tried to win her heart from you. But she's been faithful to you."

Jack nodded, glancing back down the street. "God knows I don't deserve her."

He should probably have seen the reply coming. "No, you don't!"

Jack glared at him. "And I suppose you do??"


There was murder in those dark eyes, but Ion was too worked up to care. "She's not a prize to be won, Captain Jack Sparrow! She's a precious gift to be gratefully accepted and cherished forever!"

"A rare black pearl," the pirate whispered.

"What?" Ion blinked away his confusion. "But at least I was there for her! There when she suffered, trying to feed your children! There when she begged Gid to send you home before your son was born!"


Jack flinched back at the gypsy's angry - and truthful - words. What could he say, that...

"When all of Dover thought her a whore!"

Anger flashed through Jack, and his sword was in his hands before he realized it. "Best choose your next words with care, mate," he hissed.


Ion had never seen anyone so fast, and he swallowed as the slim silver blade burned in the moonlight. But he kept his gaze fixed on the pirate. "A friend of hers... the apocetheries son..."

"Ben Halliwell?" the pirate whispered, surprised.

"Aye, that's the one. He attacked her..."

He never saw the pinch coming. He just hit the cobbles and looked up to see the pirate standing over him. "You lying... he was like my brother!"

"Then you've got bad blood," Ion snarled, wiping blood from his split lip. "Because he tried to rape her, and she took his eye for her pains. And then he sued her, saying she'd lured him and robbed him and..."

He slowed, watching the pirate tremble as horror spread over the man's face. "You didn't... she didn't... tell you?"

He watched nervously as Jack stood over him, and breathed a small sigh of relief when - with a sudden, angry motion - he sheathed his sword. "You don't get the post in Hell, boy."

Then he stormed off, leaving Ion to wonder what that meant.
 
It had been a few hours since John and his crew had arrived and the party was dwindling. Michael gave his children a look over the crowd and they nodded before Jenny excused herself for a moment. She stepped up to Will and Elizabeth and took their hands with a small smile. Some of the crew were sometimes invited to stay a night or two whenever they came into town, but when Jenny had kissed Barbossa's cheek goodbye they knew it would likely be the newcomers; it was well known Mrs. Sparrow liked to know the sorts of people her husband went around with, whether she approved of them or not.

"We've a spare bedroom," Jenny offered to Will and Elizabeth. "Would you care to sleep in a real bed for a night?"

"Of course, we'd be delighted." Elizabeth gave her a genuine smile, mostly at the prospect of a real bed. After a lifetime of goose down, even haytick would be preferable to the hammocks and cots she'd been forced into over the past two years. Mrs. Sparrow looked pleased and promised to be back in a trice. On her way to the makeshift stage she stopped by a kind-looking older woman to whom she bore a fairly strong resemblance and murmured something. The woman disappeared through a door behind the bar before Jenny continued to the stage with her brothers.

The Parting Glass was a generations-old tradition that had started when Michael's granddad had run his own pub in Carlow. While last call during business hours was often necessarily rude due to belligerent patrons, the song was generally considered a more polite way of telling people that had been invited that the party was over and to get the hell out. Michael had carried this tradition to Dover with him and by now it was well known that even if they didn't leave the booze would be locked up for the night and they'd likely be tossed bodily by Peter and Michael. The Dolan children formed a rich three part harmony, though the rest of the pub joined on the last chorus before breaking into a cheer, toasting, and downing the last of their drinks before trickling out. Finally Jenny was able to push through the departing crowd to Mary then found Ion with some of the children. Jack had long given up signs of affection for the gypsy and these days barely spared any in public for his mother, but the girls all demanded hugs and kisses goodnight and promises that they would see him tomorrow. Jenny herself absently kissed his cheek goodnight, only aware a few moments later that her husband may have a problem with it.

Let him have a problem then, she thought vindictively. I kissed Hector and Terry goodnight, and he's never had a problem with it because he doesn't feel threatened. Because he knows he's been doing wrong. Once goodnights were exchanged as well as the hugs and kisses of the many Dolan and Sparrow little ones, Jenny hoisted the sleeping Steven onto her hip with one arm and threaded her free arm through John's, holding a pair of unexplained burlap sacks dangling from one hand. The twins held hands then were made to take turns using the other hand to hold their father's, while young Jack carried his eldest sister on his hip. She'd always been small for her age and working with the blacksmith was making him strong; Jack would always be there to protect and care for his little sister. Jenny made pleasant smalltalk with Elizabeth and Will as they walked through the dark, quiet town out to the edge where the Nest lay.

"Home sweet home," Jenny said with a smile when they came to the unassuming cottage.

There was a garden 'round the side and a swing tied to a large oak tree out front. Everything looked so...normal. Surely the flamboyant, eccentric Captain Jack Sparrow couldn't live here. Around the side of the house came a hulking beast with a big, stupid doggy grin trotting over to the sound of his mistress's voice. At the sight of the strangers with his humans though--and one of them had his tiny humans!!--his great booming bark echoed clear into town as his hackles raised and he started toward Jack, Will, and Elizabeth.

"No Laoch! Down!" Jenny commanded sternly. She unhooked her arm and stood in front of Jack before kneeling down to the dog's not-inconsiderable level. "They're friends, hm? Friends. Here John, let him smell your hand." She looked over her shoulder at the others. "He's really quite sweet. Just don't look threatening to the children or me and you'll be fine; he doesn't even chase the baby deer who come out of the woods, he plays with them." She smiled and stood to let Laoch sniff at the strangers, including his master. "Ion found him tethered out back of some house a few towns over being used to fight other dogs. He was in such awful shape when we got him; cuts, bruises, infections." She clucked her tongue and shook her head. "I think that may be one act of thievery God never saw a sin. Ion said he couldn't leave him there and we could use a dog so there was no reason not to. Doctor Winchester stitched him up good as new. I can't believe anyone would use such a sweet boy for such awful things." This latter was mostly addressed to the dog as she rubbed his ears affectionately. In truth Ion had gone looking for a dog to guard the house after Ben had assaulted Jenny, and the way they'd both seen it was he was saving two lives this way.

Finally Jenny unlocked the door--the door had never had a lock before John had left, as there had been no need--and lifted the latch to let them inside. Laoch followed close behind and positioned himself expectantly in front of the hearth, keeping one eye on the door and the other closed contentedly. Jenny dropped the burlap sacks onto the arm of a chair before announcing bedtime, much to the protest of all of the children; the girls wanted to see their father and Jack was fourteen now and didn't need a bedtime, Ma!
 
There had been changes.

Jack should have expected that, but it still caught him off guard. Some of them made sense - new or repaired furniture, for example. Or the new coat of whitewash on the walls. Or the new dishes in the cabinet on the wall. But others? They bothered him, far more than he'd care to admit. That horrifying beast Laoch, for instance. Or the locks on the doors. They'd never needed locks before.

Because he tried to rape her, and she took his eye for her pains.

The thought was monstrous. Ben had attacked his Jenny? Ben? His brother in all but blood, had tried to... He couldn't finish it, even in his own head. Surely he wouldn't have. Surely he was a better man than that. But... the huge dog. The lock on the door. But it couldn't be. It couldn't! Master Halliwell had been a bastard to his family, but Ben?

Making a sound of irritation, Jack shoved the though aside and stormed over to where they'd once kept the family liquor. Not much, mind, but a few bottles for celebrations and medicine. It was empty now, converted to a linen closet. "Where," he sighed in exasperation, "is all the rum?"

"Well," Elizabeth laughed, "it's clear death didn't change you much."

Jack whirled, upper torso wobbling as he did. "Now don't you start," he tried to snap, pointing an accusing finger. "I've had all the abuse from you that I care to take."

Elizabeth leaned back, and scratched Laoch behind the ears. The huge dog leaned into her hand and closed his eyes, stump of a tail vibrating frantically. "But not all that I care to give, I wager."

Jack opened and shut his mouth several times, pointing each time. Then he turned to Will. "I don't know what you see in her, lad."

"Then you're as blind as you are foolish," Will answered, taking Elizabeth's free hand.

"Get a room, you two," Jack laughed, attempting to sound disgusted. "And, on that note, I suspect that's what we should be seeing to. Once we..."

"Daddy!" one of the twins demanded. "Story! Can you tell us a story?"

"Well, once we take care of the kids. Excuse me, you two." He scooped up his youngest daughters in his arms and carried them towards where their bedroom had once been - taking care to verify that it was still their room before tossing them in the beds within. "You washed behind your ears?" he asked.

"Yes," they both assured him, bouncing on their beds.

"Well, then... what should I tell you about?"

"Mermaids!" shouted one, as the other shouted "Fairies!"

jack grinned, thinking back on his adventures and deciding none of them - despite the fact that both types of creature featured in them - would be suitable for small children. "Well, my dears," he began, sitting on the bed, "once upon a time..."



Will and Elizabeth watched Jack disappear with the twins, then glanced at each other with befuddled expressions. "Your pardon, Miss Sparrow," Elizabeth said as Jenny returned from putting Steven down, "may I help? Here we are, letting you do all the work when you've made us guests in your own home."
 
Jenny noticed the irritated look on her husband's face as he noticed the dog and the locks and several other changes. She got a vicious sort of vindictive pleasure out of it, if only for a moment; ought to fix his wagon, having been gone so long. But she said nothing and simply allowed him to find the changes for himself. Of course he almost immediately found that the liquor cabinet now held linens and demanded to know where the rum was. Her ears pricked when Elizabeth mentioned death, but she said again nothing; that was impossible, or else he wouldn't be here. Instead she resolved to ask him later.

"Can't afford it anymore, and I'm not gonna run down Da's stock on the off chance you might decide to come home," she said brusquely. "Temperance is a virtue, John. There's medicinal brandy over by the pots, if you absolutely insist on it. B'fhéidir nach mbeidh de dhíth ort deoch an oiread sin dá mbeadh do coinsiasa éadroime," she added in an undertone which was perfectly audible.

John didn't seem to be paying her much mind, however. He was bantering with Elizabeth and Will until Brigid interrupted. A hint of a smile showed itself at the corner of Jenny's lip when he scooped the twins up to take them to bed and tell them a story, and young Jack followed to deposit Anne on Lucy's bed. Some shuffling had been done with the arrival of Steven: he'd been put in Anne's room since Brigid and Lucy were already two to a room, and Jack was old enough that Jenny saw the need for his own privacy. She was saving up whatever wasn't hand-to-mouth so they could eventually add on a room by the time Steven was four or five so that, God willing she live that long, Anne could have her privacy too and Jack wouldn't need to share with his kid brother if he hadn't a home of his own by then. While John started the story, Jenny laid Steven down and prayed quietly over him, crossing herself and kissing his forehead lightly before creeping out of the room and going to say prayers with Jack. The lad insisted he was too old to be saying prayers with his mother still, but he would always be her baby and she would do it until the day he moved out with a home and wife of his own.

"Ma..." He rolled his eyes. Jack had made sure to kick off his boots and sit on the edge of his bed to await her arrival, though he had absolutely no intention of staying. Jenny knew, of course, that he'd been sneaking out after dark for a few months now to go see Kate Whelan, but he was entitled to be a boy for a bit longer. She'd intentionally "caught" him once, and in John's absence Ion had had to have the long, uncomfortable talk with him about the ways of men and women, but Jenny trusted her son to be a good young man and a diligent Christian and to do right by Kate. "I'm too old for this you know."

"Too old for God, are ye?" she reproved mildly, raising her eyebrows.

"That's not what I meant!"

"Ah. Too old for yer Ma, then." She nodded solemnly.

"That's not--! Bah!" Jack threw his hands up in frustration and his mother hid a small smile at it. "Fine!" He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, and made room for his mother to sit with him. He was taller than her already and would have had to stoop to pray with her standing up. As she sat they both crossed themselves and said in unison, "In ainm an Athar, agus an Mhic, agus an Spioraid Naoimh. Amen."

Jenny began the prayers, though by now Jack could have recited them by heart. "Watch, daor Tiarna, leo siúd a múscail nó féachaint ar nó a gol anocht, agus a thabhairt do aingeal ghearradh thar na daoine chodladh. Claonadh do na cinn breoite, a Thiarna Íosa Críost, gcuid eile do na cinn weary, beannaigh do na cinn ag fáil bháis, soothe do na cinn fulaingt, sciath do na cinn joyous, agus go léir le haghaidh do ghrá ar mhaithe. Amen." He joined her in unison for a Hail Mary and the Lord's Prayer, but then she began again. "O mo Dhia, ag deireadh an lae gabhaim buíochas leat an chuid is mó Oideachas Gaeltachta agus Gaelscolaíochta do na ngrást a fuair mé uait. Is oth liom nach bhfuil déanta agam úsáid níos fearr acu. Tá mé leithscéal as na peacaí Tá mé tiomanta i gcoinne tú. Maith dom, O mo Dhia, agus chaoin a chosaint dom anocht. Beannaithe Mhaighdean Mhuire, mo mháthair heavenly daor, a chur chugam faoi do chosaint. St. Joseph, mo aingeal caomhnóir daor, agus go léir na Naomh tú Dé, guigh orm. Íosa Sweet, bíodh trua agat gach peacaigh bocht, agus iad a shábháil ó ifreann. Déan trócaire ar na anamacha fulaingt i purgatory. Amen."

Christ! Does she always have to go on this long? Jack immediately felt guilty for thinking the Lord's name in vain as his mother added a prayer for the souls of the departed.

"Glóir don Athair agus don Mhac agus don Spiorad Naomh. Mar a bhí ar dtús, mar atá anois agus mar a bheas riamh, le saol na saol. Amen," they finished together. Jenny rested her hand on the back of Jack's head and pulled him in to kiss his forehead gently before standing. "Never run faster than your angels can fly, Jack," she reminded him quietly before leaving, taking the candle with her.

What did that mean? Did she know he snuck out? Jack was feeling suddenly quite paranoid, even as he slipped under the covers and waited for his parents to go to bed. It was always the same when Captain Jack came home: hushed voices turned into shouting--and they were lucky the girls slept like the dead--then shouting turned into his mother crying and his father pleading forgiveness if only to soothe his own conscience and stop her crying, then to the lad's utter revulsion the crying became the soft moans and sighs he sometimes imagined one day pulling from Kate's lips.

"I'll be in for prayers after the story," Jenny poked her head in to remind the girls on her way down the hall back to the sitting room. "One story only," she reminded them--and John--sternly, lest they all be up all night. "Daddy'll have plenty of stories in the morning, I'm sure."

Once she was gone from the doorway, Anne looked up at Jack. "A song isn't a story," she reminded him slyly with a smile before breaking into a hacking cough that was much worse than when he'd left. Jenny heard this and smiled, shaking her head.

"Oh sing us the Unicorn Song Daddy!" Brigid insisted.

"Aye the Unicorn Song!" Lucy chimed in.

"But tell us what happened to the fairy princess first," Anne jumped in. "I wanna hear how the story ends!"

~*~

"Precisely, you're guests," Jenny pointed out when Elizabeth offered to help. "There's only prayers left anyway, after John finishes their story. And song. And likely another song when they beg him for one." She smiled a little at the thought. She liked it when she could watch what could have been, had John never gone out to sea. "But it's Missus Sparrow, if you don't mind," she added without any venom. "D'ye want anything before bed? We haven't got much, but it'd be a poor Christian indeed didn't share what we've got."
 
"That's very kind of you," Elizabeth said, "but I can't just... just..." She broke off as Captain Jack's voice was heard from the twins' bedroom, raised in song.

"A long time agi, when the earth was green
"There was more kinds of animals than you'd ever seen"

"Just... that's..." Her voice faltered, confusion writ large on her face. "Is that... Jack Sparrow?"

Will scratched his scalp. "I think so, but..."

"There was green alligators and long-necked geese
"Some humpty-backed camels and some chimpanzees
"Some cats and rats and elephants, but sure as you're born
"The loveliest of them all was the unicorn!"

Slowly, Elizabeth sank back into the chair next to Will. Both of them stared in bemusement at the door as two high voices joined in with mire enthusiasm then skill on the choruses. Occasionally one would turn to the other and start to speak, only to fall silent once more. "I don't know if I'm charmed," Elizabeth whispered, "or horrified."

"Both," Will whispered back.

"Charmed about what?" Jack asked, emerging from the bedroom and peering at them with his dark, kohl-rimmed eyes. "Come now, no secrets between friends." He considered that, swaying a little. "Or between us, either."

"I..." Elizaber,th began, at a loss for words.

"I don't think that we would have taken you for a family man," Will supplied. "I mean, you never spoke of..."

"Captain Jack Sparrow has enemies, Master Turner," Jack interrupted, regarding the younger man with amusement. "Rapscallions and rigues and general bad men - not the kind of upstanding company I keep, you understand - who would not hesitate to strike at him through his family. And so, well... you're a clever man." With that he crossed the room. "Jenny, love... what are you..?"

Standing in the doorway if the improvised guest room, he tutted a little. "I'd have helped, you know," he finally said, catching one cirner of a blanket. "No need to do it all yourself. And what's this?" He peered at the next layer of blanket, which was clearly canvas. After a moment's examination, comprehension dawned in his dark eyes.

"Oh, Henny," he laughed. "You're notgoing to... not really?"
 
Jenny watched with amusement as Will and Elizabeth stared towards the hallway where the twins' door was open. She couldn't help but grin widely at the sound of her husband's voice raised in song just as it used to be, just as it ought to be. She shook her head when Elizabeth asked whether that was Jack Sparrow singing.

"No," she insisted softly. "That's John Sparrow." When Elizabeth insisted she didn't know whether she were horrified or charmed Jenny laughed. "Is he really that bad?" she asked. "It's a shame you've never seen the man he really is; none of this would surprise you at all. He's a wonderful father when he's home."

But he hadn't been home in over a year, and Jenny excused herself to go make up the guest bedroom and distract herself from the sadness that thought brought her. The guest room abutting Jack and Jenny's room was one of the original two bedrooms of the cob cottage they'd bought when they were first married. The most use it had gotten recently was after Ben had attacked her; Ion had refused to budge at nighttime, but eventually relented when she pointed out that there would be a scandal and thereafter took it in shifts with Peter, Michael, and Sean to sleep over until her trial was over, and a little after, for her own protection. Now that the danger seemed to have passed she was considering putting the baby in here instead of making Anne share. It would make more sense, especially if John listened to her and stayed home this time. She listened to John insist that he had enemies and shook her head, particularly when he insisted that it wasn't the sort of company he kept. He was a pirate! She turned a blind eye, but she wasn't stupid!

Her husband came to join her and help her make up the bed. "Well, I've been doing it all myself for years now, haven't I?" she pointed out brusquely. Then John saw the canvas and laughed. "I most certainly am! Johnathan Edward Sparrow, you've drunk too much sea water if you really think I'm going to allow such a sin under my roof! If two young people are living in sin that's between them and God, but I'm a good Christian and I'll not have it. It's roomy enough; not like they'll be suffocated or anything." Jenny's heart still skipped a beat whenever her hand brushed over John's. But then the moment was gone and she straightened and strode back out to the sitting room.

"Well, if you'll not have anything I'm afraid it's gotten rather late," she pointed out as politely as she could. "If you'd like to sleep in your clothes you can, but if you'd like to be a bit more comfortable Will I think you're about my husband's size; we've spare nightclothes you can borrow. Elizabeth, well...you're a fair bit taller than me, but a bit of ankle will hardly matter tonight, I think. If you'd like; if you'd rather not it won't hurt my feelings." While the guests made their decision and prepared for bed Jenny fetched her needle and thread before returning to the guest room. "Between the canvas then," she instructed with an impatient motion, much the same way she would have instructed her own children.

Will frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't..."

"We're good Christians in this house, one and all, Mister Turner," Jenny answered with a glance to John, "even if some of us are only good Christians while we're in this house. And I don't allow willful sin in my house I'm afraid." She held up the needle and thread. "In you get." Mrs. Sparrow was neither stern nor judgmental, but firm and completely in earnest, which made Elizabeth feel all the worse about nearly laughing at her.
 
Standing in the doorway if the improvised guest room, he tutted a little. "I'd have helped, you know," he finally said, catching one corner of a blanket. "No need to do it all yourself."

Jenny's answer was like being slapped. "Well, I've been doing it all myself for years now, haven't I?"

"I probably deserved that," he acknowledged, smoothing the blanket out. "I've not been the husband I wanted to be, nor the one you deserved, most of our marriage." He smiled at her, his expression fond and sad. "Not much of a husband or father at all, I'm afraid. And I..." Something caught his eye. "And what's this?" He peered at the next layer of blanket, which was clearly canvas. After a moment's examination, comprehension dawned in his dark eyes.

"Oh, Henny," he laughed. "You're not going to... not really?"

"I most certainly am!" Jenny's outrage was a palpable thing, and it mingled with his humor at the sight of the sailcloth to make him begin laughing - something that just made her temper rise. "Johnathan Edward Sparrow," she snapped, "you've drunk too much sea water if you really think I'm going to allow such a sin under my roof!"

"Jenny," he laughed, leaning forward to pull the cloth into place, "that's not what..."

"If two young people are living in sin that's between them and God, but I'm a good Christian and I'll not have it. It's roomy enough; not like they'll be suffocated or anything."

Shaking his head, Jack helped her finish making the bed. It was entertaining to watch her work, and the touch of her hand as they adjusted sheets reminded him of happier times - of holding hands and stealing quick kisses when they'd courted, and of long evenings before the fireplace when they'd married. Finally, when the bed was ready, he reached out and caught her hand. "I've never inquired about their arrangements, love," he told her, "and I'll never dispute your wishes in these matters." He grinned. "I'm just thinking of their expressions!"

For a moment her own features softened, and she looked as if she might smile. In that moment his whole world was focused on her as he drank her in, achingly aware of how close he had come (and how close he still was) to losing her forever. His own heart skipped a beat as it looked like she might speak. But then she left the room, and began to explain matters to Elizabeth and Will. It was a moment lost, a moment in which he realized he could (should) have said something more. So he instead busied himself with fetching night clothes for their two guests and then watching their expressions as Jenny explained the needle and thread and sailcloth.

"We're good Christians in this house, one and all, Mister Turner," Jenny answered with a glance to John, "even if some of us are only good Christians while we're in this house. And I don't allow willful sin in my house I'm afraid." She held up the needle and thread. "In you get." Mrs. Sparrow was neither stern nor judgmental, but firm and completely in earnest, which made Elizabeth feel all the worse about nearly laughing at her.

"Do as she says," Jack added with a gesture at the bed.

"But..." Elizabeth said once more.

"Liz... I'm Captain Jack Sparrow and I fear neither man nor beast, right?"

"...Right?" she answered slowly, wondering where this was going.

"I spat in Barbossa's eye, and defied Cutler Beckett to his face, and gambled with Aztec gold to avoid death at cutlass-point, right?"

"...right?" Elizabeth agreed again, slowly.

"And so, when I tell you that you won't win this one, you understand that I'm telling the truth?"

She looked at him hard for a moment. "Are you? You're Captain Jack Sparrow, after all."

He laughed at that, then stopped suddenly. "Get in."



After that, the sewing went on without protest. To help speed things along, Jack took up needle and thread as well, and soon Elizabeth and Will were snug in their beds, looking for all the world like two Egyptian mummies covered with comforters. He waved at them with fingertips as he left the room. "Night. Behave yourselves." Then he closed the door behind them, and looked at his wife. It was just the two of them, now. He and Jenny and the hovering ghosts of a thousand arguments and the haunting presence of things that could and should have been done differently.

"I'm... sorry," he began, taking a step towards her. And then he flinched back, a startled cry tearing from his throat as the great scarred lump of Jenny's dog lept between them, snarling.
 
"I probably deserved that," Jack acknowledged, smoothing the blanket out. "I've not been the husband I wanted to be, nor the one you deserved, most of our marriage." He smiled at her, his expression fond and sad.

Jenny couldn't smile back, but she forced the corners of her mouth upwards into a sort of grimace. He apologized often, but just as often she didn't think he really meant it; if he did, he'd have stopped going away a long time ago. This time, however, he sounded as though he might be sincere.

"Not much of a husband or father at all, I'm afraid. And I..."

Then he was distracted at the sight of the bundling cloth and it was gone, the apology dying on his lips and beginning to ring hollow just as the hundreds of apologies before it. She couldn't help the rise of her temper as he laughed--at her, it felt like--as he once again abandoned apologies and thoughts of what he ought to have done, ought to do now, for another part of his life away from them. She realized that if their guests could hear her from the other room they'd likely thing John henpecked and not wonder at all about why he stayed out to sea, but Jenny didn't care. It was as though he'd completely forgotten about the life she lived, about the life he should have been living by her side. After rebuking him she worked silently, lips pursed tightly, sheets tugged at a bit more sharply. When they were done she began to walk away, but John caught her hand and she looked at him.

"I've never inquired about their arrangements, love," he told her, "and I'll never dispute your wishes in these matters." He grinned. "I'm just thinking of their expressions!"

Despite herself, Jenny felt herself soften toward her husband and the muscles in her face relaxed, lines of care around her eyes and on her brow softened. She even almost smiled. Beneath the crap smeared on his face she could see his eyes, her John's eyes, and could see the regret and fear in them. Jenny tried to think of something to say--it was on the tip of her tongue--as she waited for him to say or do something more. But the moment passed and he was Captain Jack Sparrow again. That was all she could see, and she didn't want to see that anymore. Gently she squeezed his hand once and dropped it before striding briskly out before she had time to work up the tears that so desperately wanted to spill. Instead Jenny pushed those tears away and explained things firmly to the guests before fetching her needle and thread while John fetched nightclothes. Jack convinced Elizabeth that there was no use fighting her on this and she helped the pair in before starting on Will's side. In her experience, though the girls were never blameless it was often the boys who started it. And they were just a girl and a boy; Jenny didn't see Will and Elizabeth as only a dozen or so years younger than her, but as only five or six years older than her own son.

"Cutler Beckett," Jenny said with distaste and a crinkled nose as she stitched up Will's side with tidy, even stitches. "If you ever have second thoughts about your choice of occupation, Mister Turner, Miss Swann, don't you dare let it be on account of Cutler Beckett. Don't you ever listen to a word that snake has to say, either. He would let a widow and her young children starve just to save a few quid, believe you me. And the slavers...! And now I hear they've made him a lord! A lord, of all things!" Cutler Beckett was one of Jenny's favorite topics upon which to unload her vitriol, especially considering there was only so much she could say to John before she became the bad guy, the nagging shrew of a wife. Her opinion of Cutler Beckett had fallen considerably since he'd given John a job at sea, and next to John himself Beckett got the most blame for everything that had happened. "...And what sort of a name is Cutler, anyway?" She knotted the thread off near the corner of the sail cloth and snapped the thread with her teeth before straightening up. John was nearly finished with Elizabeth's side. "Sleep well, then." Jenny smiled faintly before blowing out the candle and leaving.

John followed her out shortly, closing the door behind himself. They stood together in the silent sitting room, looking at each other and not knowing who should start, or even where to start. In the dying firelight and the glow of the single candle on the mantle Jenny's eyes glittered darkly as they flicked over her husband. Something about him was fundamentally changed and she couldn't put her finger on it. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but nothing came out. Tears welled in her eyes but for now were unshed. It had been more than a year and he'd missed not only her entire pregnancy but the birth of his son; he'd been nowhere to be found in this whole wide world, and Jenny wasn't sure that was something that was forgivable.

"I'm...sorry," John said, as though reading her mind. He took a step towards her, but with a snarl the dog lept protectively between them, bearing his wicked fangs at John.

"Laoch, heel!" Jenny scolded. Laoch remained between them, growling softly, until Jenny put a hand on his rear to make him sit. He could have resisted her of course, but she was his Mistress and had been so kind to him that he usually did as he was told. And so he sat and the growling grew even softer but didn't stop. "He's a friend, Loach. Master," she explained patiently, kneeling down in front of the dog and making him look at her. She wiped a bit of goop out of his eye and rubbed an ear with the other hand. "You're a good boy. But he won't hurt us." She didn't even know if the dog understood her, but she might as well try. As though to drive home the point she took John's hand and pressed it to her cheek. There was that familiar smell of gunpowder and rum and the sea. She closed her eyes and turned her head to press her lips to his palm. Next to her Laoch relaxed a little, but not entirely.

"We can keep him out of the bedroom until he's used to you," she offered, petting the dog one last time before standing and leading the way to their room. Jenny stood in front of the mirror, unlacing her bodice to change for bed. "Where were you, John?" Her voice was soft--she'd forced it to be--as she changed into her night shift and started taking down her hair. She watched him in the mirror, unable to look at this real person in the room with her, this real man who had abandoned them, forsaken them, then dared to turn up alive after countless letters pleading for him and for help sent to all corners of the earth. With this one quiet question a tear finally fell, then another, before she could gather herself enough to stop them. But gather herself she did, and she focused solely on dragging the soft bristles through her hair.
 
"Where was I?" Jack echoed, watching as tears welled in his Jenny's eyes. The answer flickered in his vision. Leviathan and his doomed charge across the deck of the Pearl. The endless burning sands of the Locker, lost to Heaven and Hell alike. Ghosts and madness and the sure knowledge that he'd doomed himsekf to that fate.

A dozen facile answers danced on his tongue. A dozen flippant lies, each of which would be far more believable than the truth. A dozen tiny betrayals of what trust his wife had left in him. And all of them died unsaid as he satdown on their bed. "I..." he began, feeling his throat constrict as he unbuckked his swiodbelt and hung it on the footboard.

"I..." he tried again, tugging off his boots. Damnation. But this was even harder than he'd expected. Because the truth, be knew, would sound far more mad than any lie.

"I... died." His voice was a hollow whisper, and he could smell the stink of Leviathan's breath once more. "One last voyage, Jenny. I had one last voyage, not even piracy. Just... hunting Cortez' last, lost treasure ship. Enough wealth, even after splitting it, to buy my pardon and the finest doctirs fir Anne and still give you the life I always wanted for you. And it... all of it.... turned to blood and madness..."

He was shaking, now. He knew he was in Dover, knew he was in the Nest with Jenny. Knew it. But all he could see was the nightmare waste of the Locker, and all he could hear was his own mocking voice replaying all of his faikures for him. "So many mistakes, Jenny..." he whispered. "I thought I was so clever, thought I could lie and cbeat and trick my way through anything..."

The sand was gritty beneath his palms and thighs... no, that wasn't right. Was it? He was in Dover! With Jenny! Or... was that all another delusion? His eyes were wild as he looked around, seeing the Locker superimposed over his own bedroom, with Jenny sitting in the middle and watching him in the mirror. He tried to rise, to take her in his arms, to reassure himself she was real. But he stumbled, falling to hands and knees in the sands (on the hard wood floor).

"Jenny!" he called, a hint of panic in his voice as he reached to her. "P,ease... you... you're real, right? Not... not another... ghost..?"
 
Jenny focused on brushing her hair as she waited for a reply, expression slowly darkening as he tried for several excuses and they died in his moth. Then he told her that he'd died. The brush paused and she looked at him in the mirror; something in his expression told her not to rebuke him for blasphemy or lies. Maybe he was speaking figuratively; maybe he'd gone mad and thought he had died. Mad or not, he was still her husband and she still loved him with all the fire in her soul, angry though she usually was at him. But mad or not he still had to answer to the abandonment and neglect. It wasn't fair, neither to her nor the children. She turned and her eyes widened as her husband sprawled to the floor, eyes wild and searching, as though he weren't entirely here...but then he was, or at least he knew her and saw her.

"No John, I'm not a ghost," she answered in a low voice. Tears glittered in her eyes again and she wasn't sure whether she'd be able to hold them back this time. "But neither are you. You did make mistakes, and you didn't have to go after that gold." She knelt on the floor with him and took his hands. "We should have left, John," Jenny said, a tear sliding down her cheek. "After you were declared a mutineer you should have sent for us and we would have left. I would follow you anywhere and everywhere, John Sparrow...you just wouldn't let me." She smothered a choked sob and looked down, feeling a bit ashamed that she was here crying when her half-mad husband needed her. But there were years of pain, sorrow, and neglect bottled up in her heart and John showing up after nearly a year and a half--and everything that had happened at that time--broke the dam in her soul holding everything back.

"And now we're stuck here because you won't come home," she sniffled, still struggling in the losing battle against her tears. "Why won't you come home John? Why did you leave us? Don't you love us anymore...?" Mrs. Sparrow sounded like a child, begging for her husband's affection and notice, but she didn't care. She had been convinced he was dead and now he wasn't, and all of the sorrowful thoughts she'd kept to herself in her mourning came barreling out of her mouth before she could stop them.
 
The touch of her hands helped drive back the shadows and the horrors. They always had, all the way back to the nightmare in the castle. But her words slashed and stung, reminding him of where he should be as well as where he was. "Why don't I come home?" he echoed in a small, tired voice. "Do you think I don't want to?"

"I needed that gold, Jenny!" There was a wild look on his eye. "There's no King's Pardon, and without a ransom I'd be gibbeted in the mouth of the Thames! And taking you to Jamaica..?"

Visions of Beckett swam before his eyes. Of the Bretheren Court. Of Davy Jones. Of Teach, and his voodoo. "I've got... enemies," he whispered. "Men who'd hurt you and the children to hurt me. Keeping you far from the main keeps you safe, Jenny."

He rubbed his chin. "But... it's nearly over. Soon. I'll be home for good. Soon."
 
"You wouldn't have had those enemies if you hadn't gone pirate!" Jenny argued fiercely, wincing visibly at the shrillness in her own voice. "If they find out we're here--plenty of your crew know where we are and could let slip, and Beckett knows where we live--then you won't be here to protect us."

John rubbed his chin. "But...it's nearly over. Soon. I'll be home for good. Soon."

Her lip curled in disgust and she let go of his hands, rising to her feet. "You always say that, John!" she pointed out in exasperation. Whatever madness had come over him seemed to have been temporary. "Every time you've come home for the past ten years it's always been one more. You'll be home soon. For God's sake John, what about us?" Tears flowed freely now and Jenny stepped away from him. "You claim to have kept us away from the colonies to keep us safe but we're not. Not really. Not even from vicious gossip. I wait and I wait, looking out to sea for you every day, wondering when you'll come back and whether you're even alive. You know what they call Jack, some of the people in town? Whoreson Johnny. Does any of this sound any bloody familiar at all?" Her face was flush again as she looked at her husband. He had pushed her patience very thin in the past but this time, with all that had happened and him nowhere to be found, it had broken.

"Keep us safe!" she snarled, pitching away her hairbrush in her anger. "Your daughter is dying and fatherless! You missed your son's birth! I almost died giving birth to him and where were you? Your children dress in rags and some weeks I can barely put food in their mouths, never mind my own. When they've been cold and starving where were you? You wanted your son to be a lawyer, to be better than you could be, but it takes schooling so not even Sean could apprentice him. When we wanted to send him to school, where were you? I was almost raped less than a mile from my own home, then I was sued for my troubles, and where the fuck were you keeping me safe?"

Jenny realized too late what she'd said. She hadn't meant to tell John about Ben. At first it was because she didn't want him to think it was his fault, though in her heart she felt guilty for partially blaming him; then she didn't want him to worry, though he bloody well should have over his wife; now it was because she didn't want him to kill Ben in cold blood and add yet another murder to God knew how many more already scarring his soul. She watched John's face, however, to see the sort of reaction it would pull. Now he would make this argument about that and not about the real problem, which was him. She tried to head that off by shaking her head.

"I'm done," Jenny said with an air of forced calm, crossing to pick up the brush and set it back where it belonged. "I'm done with this conversation. We'll talk about it tomorrow; I'm tired. Your son was fussy all night. Barely got a dance in for meself."

~*~

Will and Elizabeth laid in bed in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. Neither said a word to each other for a long while, feeling the awkwardness of the bundling Mrs. Sparrow had insisted on. There were muffled voices on the other side of the wall, though they couldn't make out what they were saying.

"So..." Will cleared his throat awkwardly. "Wife and five kids. Didn't see that coming." Another long, silent pause which was broken by the clatter of something being thrown. "She seems...nice. Bit stern sometimes, but I suppose with five children you'd have to be." He shifted uncomfortably as a shrill where the fuck were you was a bit muffled but still distinguishable through the wall.
 
"Where the fuck was I?" Jack shouted back, stung and angry by her words. "Out trying to steal myself a pardon! Or maybe you'd prefer that I hang? That'd go well, wouldn't it? Dragged off in chains in front of the children! You could make a holiday of it! Go to London so they can watch daddy dance a final dance from the leafless tree?"

He was on his feet now, hurt and hating himself and lashing out. "It'd give you leave to go with your friend, wouldn't it? Because you can tell him things you won't tell me!" Not fair. He knew it wasn't fair, and he was saying them anyway. "He's the one who told me what Ben tried!"

He should have been here, he knew. Should have known. "Yeah, maybe I should have been here! God kniws I wanted to be here! Sure, the Bretheren Court would've burned Dover to get to you, after I freed Calypso, but what difference does that make? Not luke I was keepin' you safe from far worse than Ben, no! Just old Captain Jack, screwin' around an' ditchin' his responsibilities! Teah? That what you think?"

There was a mad, dangerous gleam in his eye as he spun and snatched up his sword. "I may not be worth as much as your gypsy," he spat, "but I can still take care of matters." Stomping across the room, he tore open the door. "We'll talk tomorrow. And by then you can stop worrying about Ben Christian!"
 
Jenny was too angry to shout back at first. Bringing the children to watch him hang was an old one often pulled out during these fights and it was never fair of him. But then he dragged Ion into it and she shook with fury at the implications. Part of it was guilt at her own admitted attraction to the gypsy, but then a righteous anger that he was accusing her of such things when she'd stayed faithful to him despite their mutual attraction. John brought up how the Brethren Court would have burned Dover to the ground to get to her, and that was probably true, but it only proved in her mind that he wasn't listening to her. But when he snatched up his sword and crossed to the door that was the final straw.

"Enough! I've had enough!" Jenny was hot on his heels and grabbed onto John's collar as he stomped through the door, pulling him back into the room and slamming the door. "You don't get to play protective husband now, John! Not after the shit you've pulled! You think I didn't try to fucking tell you? I sent your father after you twice, fucking twice, to find you and you were nowhere to be fucking found! I sent letters, I sent men, I even sent what little money we had to try to bribe you back here, to help me, to be a husband and a father for once! What did you want me to do, go straight to a ship cut up and half-naked, beaten, pregnant, unprotected on a ship to find you myself?" The shade of her face clashed awfully with her hair.

"My gypsy indeed! If I'd wanted to leave believe me you'd have come home to an empty house fucking years ago! The fact of the matter is Ion was here when you weren't and you can't blame him for that! He's done more for us than you have in the past five years; he's helped our girls through so much, taught Jack how to be a man--a proper man--and even had to talk to him about the ways of men and women because you weren't bloody here to do it! His family calls them his kids for God's sake!" That wasn't fair and Jenny knew it. John had never had a father to model himself after and had always been as good a father as he knew how. He would have been a wonderful father by any standard, had he just stayed home. But words once said couldn't be unsaid and Jenny let her anger carry her on a wave of venom and pent-up rage. Because regardless of how much or how often he said he wanted to be here, he always shot down her proposals to move so that he could stop pirating and they could have a normal life. She could learn to farm.

"We didn't have to stay here, John!" Angry tears quivered in her eyes again. "And we didn't have to go to the colonies! Hell, Ireland would've taken us just to piss off the Queen! We could've gone to America or to New Spain or the Continent. Fuck, I would have died of dysentery in a shack in Singapore if it meant having a happy, normal life with you over this!" She gestured to their home, the one that they had started their lives in together. "Empty bed, fatherless children, poverty, rumors--and there are plenty believe me--just scraping to get by with our heads down, not knowing when you're coming back or whether you're even alive. Then you abandon us for a year and I thought--!" Jenny finally choked on her tears. The tempest of her anger had blown itself out and she was left exhausted and unable to stop crying.

"I didn't marry Captain Jack." She sounded small and pitiful through her tears, like a child again. "I don't even like Captain Jack. I married John Sparrow the apothecary." She sniffled. "I married a good man, a devoted father, a loving husband. That's my husband, and I just want him back. Is that so much to ask?" Her green eyes seemed magnified behind her tears. "On this day fifteen years ago I promised to love that apothecary to the end of my days and I'm going to make good on that promise. I'd follow John Sparrow anywhere in the wide world, to the very ends of it if I had to. We could go somewhere you don't need a pardon, even if we have to scratch a living out of the rocks in Botany Bay." Jenny sniffed and choked on her tears for a second before clearing her throat and wiping clumsily at her face. Her entire body seemed to sag as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"Go on then, if you're going," she said after a few minutes, motioning to the door. It wasn't an angry challenge, though she wished she had the energy to make it so. Anger was so much easier and simpler than this. "They'd know it was you though; you'd have to leave before first light instead of staying a fortnight as usual. I can think of something to tell the children, I guess. I'll pray for you, John." She raised her eyes to him again. "I pray for you every night. I pray for your sins and I pray for you to come home and to be content."
 
"I was dead!" Jack shouted back, furious as Jenny's words struck home. "Ask Will and Elizabeth, if you don't believe me, but I didn't get your letters because I was dead!"

He threw his sword belt aside in frustration, listening to it clatter on the wooden floor. "Dead," he repeated, dropping into the plain wooden chair by her mirror. "Because I gambled, trying to find a way home. Trying to find a way out of the web of curses I'm tangled in. Trying to find a way home to my black pearl. Gambled, and lost, and I still don't understand how I was led back out of Davy Jones' Locker."

He buried his face in his hands. "And I know you didn't marry Captain Jack, Jenny. Captain Jack's who I became, another failed attempt to evade the curses. Failed, like everything else important in my life. Failed you. Failed the children. Failed myself." He sighed. "I don't like Captain Jack either, love. But... I hardly know who else I am, these days. I've spent so long pretending to be Captain Jack that... that I don't hardly remember how to be John Sparrow anymore."

There were no tears in his eyes when he looked up, just a bit of a sparkle in the candlelight. "Hells, Jenny, John Sparrow would have remembered that you were right. That... that going after Ben wouldn't fix anything, and that..." He shook his head. "You're right."

He stared at his hands. "You're right," he whispered. "I don't even know who I am, not anymore. And I need praying for. And I'd pray myself, if I believed in a god that would listen to the likes of me."
 
Having to listen to him admit that she was right was almost worse than his implications of infidelity and hard-heartedness. It was enough to hold her tongue when she attempted to tell him not to blaspheme, claiming that he'd died, and her heart broke as John dropped into the chair. Jenny wondered briefly whether she'd gone too far, but had only told him the truth. Every now and then after living in lies and duplicity for so long, her husband needed to hear the whole, unadulterated truth. She listened with a pain in her heart as he confessed his failures, that Captain Jack was a character he too hated, who had taken over his life for so long that he was losing the apothecary beneath the kohl and beads and the funny swagger.

Then John confessed that he didn't believe that God would listen to someone like him. Jenny choked on a loud sob and had staggered halfway to him before she realized she had even stood. She crumpled at her husband's feet, taking both of his hands in hers and resting her cheek on his knee as she sobbed. As she gradually regained her composure Jenny kissed his hands and sniffled.

"God hasn't forsaken you, John," she insisted through her tears. "He hasn't stopped listening to you. He's just waiting for you to find Him again. John...my John..." Jenny kissed his fingers, then his palm, down to the inside of his wrist before pressing his hand to her cheek. "God is infinite in His wisdom, His kindness, and His love, and you were baptized into the true faith. If I can still love you with all of the fire in my soul, how could you think God wouldn't love you so many times more than that?" A weakness of character was easy to condemn, but a weakness of faith was something she couldn't let pass. That God would stop loving or abandon someone so wonderful as John Sparrow, no matter how misguided he may be or how angry she became with him, was unthinkable to his wife. "He's just waiting for you to seek Him again, and now I'll start praying for that too."

Nose stuffy from crying, face blotchy and tearstained, Jenny could do nothing but cry quietly for several minutes. "You don't know who you are, but I do," she finally murmured, still holding his hand to her cheek. "You're my husband. You're the father of my children. And you make me so fucking angry sometimes John Sparrow, but God help me if I ever stop loving you." She pressed her free hand to his own cheek before pushing herself onto her knees to kiss him tenderly, still unable to completely stop the tears. "I just want my husband back. I want him home."

~*~

Will stared up at the ceiling in the dark. Shouting from the next room was quite audible and he shifted uncomfortably. Having to listen to any marital quarrel was awkward enough, but listening to Jack Sparrow's marital quarrels was positively mortifying. Finally the shouting died down after more things had been thrown about and there was the soft but distinct sound of a woman crying. Will shifted again.

"The Sparrows certainly seem to stay up late," he commented after clearing his throat, wishing desperately to break the awkward tension in the room.
 
Jack - John? - held Jenny tightly as she sobbed, clutching her as if he feared she'd dissolve into mist and sea foam if he let go for even an instant. "You don't know who you are, but I do," she finally murmured, still holding his hand to her cheek.

"Who am I, then?" he whispered, uncertain if the answer.

"You're my husband. You're the father of my children. And you make me so fucking angry sometimes John Sparrow, but God help me if I ever stop loving you." She pressed her free hand to his own cheek before pushing herself onto her knees to kiss him tenderly, still unable to completely stop the tears.

"John Sparrow, " he repeated, savoring the name as thoroughly as he savored her kiss. "The fortunate husband of one Jennifer Sparrow, who is a far better woman then I deserve." He kissed her back now, lips gentle on hers as tears sparkled in his dark eyes.

"I just want my husband back. I want him home."

"And I want to be home, love. More than I can say. But..." His gaze shifted, looking past and through the wall their room shared with the guest room. "But... Jack Sparrow has one last debt to pay, Jenny. To a young couple that he dragged into the pirate's life. A young couple that could have left me to rot, but still saved me."

He shuddered then, holding Jenny once more as a charm against the memory of endless sand and torment. "One last debt, to get them free of the life I inflicted on them. And then if I can't buy a pardon we'll leave. Belfast. Or Boston. Or Botany Bay, if we have to."

There was fear in his eyes when he looked at her now. Fear, and a desperate plea for understanding. "I've done so much that's wrong, Jenny. I... I can't..."

He looked away. "I can't return to being John Sparrow by betraying them, Jenny. If I do..." He swallowed as his heart constricted in his chest. "If I do, then Kohn Sparrow will forever be a mask worn by Captain Jack."
 
Jenny wobbled partially to her feet, enough to bring herself to perch on his knee and wrap her arms around his neck as he declared her a better woman than he deserved. "I just want my husband back," she declared softly. "I want him home."

John looked past her again and she wondered where he might have gone. But he snapped back quickly enough, holding onto her more tightly as he explained that he had one more debt to pay and then they could leave if he couldn't buy a pardon. "Aye," she agreed when he listed places they could go. "Or Bangalore or Bermuda, or Beijing. We can go anywhere."

He was slipping again. Jenny put a hand to his cheek again and turned his face to look at her, leaning her forehead against his. "Then you'll pay that debt, John," she assured him. "You'll pay your debt and then you'll come home, you'll be my John again. You've done so much that's wrong, but you can do so much more that's right. You're a good man, and you'll set things right and be home before Christmas." She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "No masks, no kohl, just us. You and me in the kids in Alsace, or Belfast, or Charleston, or Dundee." Jenny pressed a hard kiss to her husband's lips, her hand clenching around a fistful of his hair. "You'll come home and then you'll bring me that horizon," she murmured.
 
"Just us,"he whispered, agreeing. "No kohl, no masks."

He'd been Captain Jack for so long that he'd been afraid he'd remain Captain Jack forever. But he could feel that persona slough away, leaving a slightly confused John Sparrow behind. A John Sparrow that wasn:t quite sure how to be John Sparrow.

But then Jenny's lips were on his and her fingers tangled in his care, and he let himself stop worrying about it. "I'll be home," he agreed. "Wherever it is we are, I'll be home." He kissed her back, lingering over her taste. "Because I'll be with you." His hands caressed her face as he kissed her again, and then he pulled her into an embrace as the kiss deepened.

"God I've missed you, " he whispered, voice husky. He lifted her, letting her skirts bunch up as he pulled her into his lap. His hands roamed her back, exploring her shape through the fabric of her dress, and his lips found hers once more as he made a throaty sound of need and hunger.
 
"I've missed you too, John."

Tears still leaked from her eyes as her husband's lips found hers once more. He pulled Jenny into his lap and she adjusted, straddling his lap to face him and letting her night shift ride up over her thighs and bunch at her hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tracing kisses from the corner of his mouth along his jaw, leaving love marks and small bruises down his throat. God it had been so long!

"I need you," Jenny murmured against his skin. "Now and forever John...my John...I'll always need you."

But he would have to work for it. With a smirk she slid off of his lap, sliding her hands down his arms until finally she had to let go of his fingers. Standing by the bed she slid her shift over her shoulders then off, letting it fall too the floor and pool around her feet. Mrs. Sparrow stood naked, waiting for her husband, waiting for that long famine of affection to finally be broken.
 
"Well," Will observed, twisting a little to look at the wall, "they've stopped shouting. That's a good signm right?"

"I hope so," Elizabeth muttered, squirming around a little. "It's hard enough to sleep bound up lime this. I certainly don't want to listen to them go at it all night."

Will nodded agreement. "It's been awkward enough already."



Jenny's simple shift slipped from her shoulders and pooled around her ankles. Her skin seemed to glow in the red-orange light of the oil lamp, contrasting wonderfully with the shadows made by her contours. John drank in the sight, beginning with the expectant, hungry look in her dark green eyes before exploring the rounded curves of her body.

He knew she was self-conscious about growing older, but he had never understood why. True, she no longer had the lean hips and pert breasts of her youth. But maturity and motherhood had rounded her, making her even more beautiful to his eyes. He'd heard her describe her flaws before, but he'd never seen them.

Rising, he approached her slowly. Reverently. God, how he wanted her. But it had been long - too long - and he was determined to take his time. To worship her and savor her, until she was long past being able to beg for him. "I've missed you," he whispered, his lips almost touching hers as his hands rested lightly on her hips. "Missed the feel of you, and the taste of you."

His hands slipped lightly up her sides as he caressed her cheek with the feather-light touch of his lips. Thumbs traced the line of her ribcage and then circled her nipples as his palms molded to her breasts. He felt them harden to his touch, and smiled. "I've lived this moment in my thoughts a thousand times," he whispered, lightly kissing down her throat. "And you are so much better than my dreams."

He bent a little, joining his tongue to the action of his thumb on her breast. Her milk was a sweetness, accentuating the deight he found in her body. "God how I've missed you, my love."
 
The guests on the other side of the wall had completely slipped Jenny's mind in the heat of the moment, pushed away first by the passion of their argument and now by an entirely different passion. Usually she was self-conscious about this sort of thing, standing so entirely exposed, but the look in her husband's eyes wiped away her self-doubt. It was moments like these where somewhere in the deeper parts of her mind she wondered how she could have ever considered Ion. Of course she would remember again once John was away and had once again stopped answering her letters but here, now, she was entirely his. Body and soul. Forever.

"I've missed you too, John." Her hands rested on his cheeks, lips fractions of an inch from hers though they didn't touch. "Nobody's ever known me like you do. I've missed that so much." Tears of a different sort glittered in her eyes but she was determined not to start crying again. She didn't want to ruin the mystique of the moment.

John's lips ghosted over her skin, leaving the suggestion of a kiss against her cheek and jaw. His words slid over her throat like a warm sunrise as he kneaded her milk-heavy breasts, causing her to bite her lip as her sensitive nipples hardened. When his lips slid over those nipples Jenny gasped quietly, tossing off his hat and fumbling with his shirt with one hand, gathering those long dreadlocks in the other fist. She groaned quietly, working hard just to keep her head from lolling back and enjoying the moment.

"Show me how much," Jenny challenged him. "Come home to your wife, my love. Come home." Her grip on his hair tightened, pressing his lips to her breast a little more firmly. He'd always known just how to play her body like a finely-tuned instrument.
 
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