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The Only Rules That Matter (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

His wedding ring. That was the only piece of jewelry John--the real, true John Sparrow--wore when he came in. His hair was short--shorter than she'd ever seen it--and that awful muck was out of his eyes, his beard was gone (she silently hoped he'd kept the beads and trinkets they'd sent him so long ago), but it was finally at long last her husband. It was the man she had married but had feared dead these ten long years. Jenny very nearly lost her composure. She wanted to burst into tears, to run to him and throw her arms around his neck and smother him with kisses. But she couldn't. He'd seemed to respond to the directions of Hong Zhenni more than he did his wife, so that was who she had to keep on her face even as she swallowed down the tears which had sprung to her eyes.

"It shouldn't have taken all this for that to happen," she said quietly, gesturing vaguely at her husband without getting up. "Close the door please."

"Able seaman John Sparrow, ma'am. As requested."

John! Jenny's breath caught in her throat but again she forced down her emotion. "I'll get the unpleasant part out of the way first, and in here, tonight, I'm not your captain. I'm your wife." Her eyes glittered in the lamplight as they flicked over him while she gathered her thoughts. He'd caught her off-guard with the sudden change. "I meant what I said before, John. I'm angry at you and I have been for a long time, but I don't think the damage is irreparable. Not yet, anyway. But if we return home and I find Anne's grave then you can just turn right back around and go back to wherever you came from, Johnathan Sparrow." Her mouth drew into a thin line as she paused to let that sink in.

"My daughter is going to die before her time, before she's even a teenager, and I've come to accept that. It's going to shatter my heart into a thousand pieces and there's nothing I can do to prevent that, but I've made my peace with it. But this whole mess started because you couldn't. Sure, you needed a job and getting pressganged wasn't your fault--and I hold you blameless for your mutiny--but everything else was. Instead of taking what you had and bringing us to the Indies or the Americas or Australia or anywhere in the wide world it was always one more. One more quest, one more adventure, one more legend to chase down to try to make her live. I tried to be understanding even through my anger because I know you don't lean on the Lord like I do, and although that worries me I've been patient with it. Even through our poverty and our hunger when it seemed like you didn't care one whit, I was patient and forgiving." Her tone turned darker. "But I was kidnapped from my children because of you. I've been kept away from my children because of you. Our son has had a taste of the piracy I've tried to keep him away from, because of you. And even through all that I've prayed and I've worked on forgiving you and I've tried to let go of my anger. But John, if my daughter dies alone without even her own mother by her side because I was being held out to sea because of your choices...I'll never forgive that, and I'll never want to see you again." Jenny gazed unblinkingly at him, almost silently daring him to claim that this was unfair of her.

"That said," she continued after a long, pregnant pause, taking a deep breath, "you won't be sleeping with the crew. I'm trusting God not to let the worst happen until we're safely back home. You'll be here with me, rebuilding our shattered trust and maybe when we get to land we can live out our lives in a normal marriage. Outside of this cabin I'm your captain and you won't question me, but in here I'm your wife. Just because you look the way you once did doesn't mean you are the way you once were. I want to get to know you again, John." Jenny put her hands on the mattress behind her and leaned on them, watching him for any reaction.
 
John managed to hold his tongue as Jenny laid into him, the urge to lash back strong. Captain Jack would have struck back, wielding ridicule and sarcasm as razors to counter and counter-attack and shift blame and responsibility to anyone else. Because Captain Jack was never wrong. Could never be wrong, because a pirate captain who was wrong would lose the loyalty and obedience of his men. But he swallowed his responses and his stung pride, and nodded. "This..." he said slowly, stroking his chin, "is why I shaved. And why I cut my hair."

He started to reach for a chair. If he sat at that moment, though, he'd kick his feet up on the chair and he'd put Jack back on. And that would be fatal. So he pulled his hand back. "I... deserve that," he said slowly. "That, and more." But what did you expect, Jenny? I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. "I..." he swallowed, looking at her and looking away.

"When it first started... I meant well. I... no, that's not true. Not quite." John scratched his neck, the stubble itching. "When I first sailed with my father, I thought it was the only way I could, could help. Help Anne, and our family. I... we... were desperate." He closed his eyes, unable to look at her while he made his confession. "And... I did things. Had to do things, that I'm not proud of, to survive." She'd understand, right? She'd had to thrive among this band of pirates. "And... I used the name Jack, to distance myself. To try to distinguish between the man I had to become, and the man I was."

I was cursed, he thought. John Sparrow would never return home. But how did you tell your wife you were cursed by a cat-headed goddess in Egypt? If you were smart, you didn't.

"Captain Jack Sparrow... let me be selfish," he admitted. "Let me be..." he struggled for words. "Free. Free of responsibility, of guilt, of... anything. And I tried to tell myself it was a necessary fiction, but he became an addiction. Led me to do..." Led me to the cursed Aztec gold. Led me to think I could make a devil's bargain with Davy Jones, and win. Led me to the Dead Man's Chest, and an eternity of burning white sands and crabs.

He ran his hands over his face, struggling as he worked to keep his voice from breaking with emotion. "Even now, Jenny... I'm trying to use him to escape responsibility, talking about what I did like it was someone else. That's... that's why I shaved. Why I cut my hair, and scrubbed my face. Because..." His face twisted. "Because it's too easy to do, now. Hide behind the false name. I fucked up, Jenny. I failed you, failed our children, our whole family. I put you in danger, and I may have left our daughter to... to die... by herself. Because... because I was too much of a coward."

Now he sat, burying his face in his hands. "I'm a coward, Jenny. I couldn't face you, with what I'd done. With everything I've done, with the blood on my hands. Couldn't face our daughter dying. I ran away, Jenny. Ran. Ran and hid behind a flippant, uncaring bastard and tried to convince myself that's who I really was." Tears trickled from his eyes, but he was damned if he'd let her see them. He didn't want sympathy. Didn't deserve sympathy. He deserved her hatred and her contempt, and the pain he felt as he wrenched away his mask and laid himself bare before her. "Our daughter's dying and I can't help her! I'm an apothecary and there's nothing I can do, nothing I could find, nothing! And... and I ran away, because I'm too much of a coward to watch and too much of a coward to... to..." His voice broke, and he couldn't continue. Couldn't do anything but bite his lip, and struggle not to weep, and hope that Jenny would...

Would...

"Fuck," he groaned. "I'm... trying to run again. Like... like I'm trying to... to make you hate me, so... so I don't... don't have to be responsible." Finally he looked up at her, a look of desperate panic in his eyes. "I... God, Jenny. Where do I start? I... I don't know if I know how to be John Sparrow again."
 
He was fidgety to the point that it was even making her feel a little restless. With the hangdog expression you'd think she'd shouted at him, railed and screamed when she'd never raised her voice above a calm, conversational tone. "I know you meant well. I know we were desperate, and I know we were scared," Jenny said calmly. If Anne was dead already she knew that there was nothing she could do to punish him that would be worse than whatever punishment he laid upon himself, so she didn't try. If Anne was dead she wouldn't forgive him, and she wouldn't want to see him, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't love him.

"Captain Jack Sparrow...let me be selfish," John finally admitted after all these years. Jenny nodded once but didn't say anything. "Let me be...Free. Free of responsibility, of guilt, of...anything"

"Of us," she reminded him quietly.

She would let John punish himself, but he was going to remember every single thing that needed punishing if she had any say. They'd had to confine their fights, their shouting matches, to single nights so as to not wake the children or taint the memory of his visit with weeks of more bitterness and anger. Now, however, Jenny felt free to have it out with her husband and she had ten long years of resentment built up inside of her. But she wasn't going to scream at him; she'd learned on this ship that screaming gets you nowhere except dismissed as an emotional female. She simply nodded calmly in agreement when John realized that he was still using Jack as an excuse. Finally he hit on it: he'd been acting a coward. He'd left her alone and failed their children just as his father had failed him because he'd been acting like a coward. He tried to hid his tears behind his hands but Jenny still knew her husband--her real husband--far too well. She was still intimately familiar with John's habits, his idiosyncrasies, his body language. But even as he bemoaned all of his mistakes Jenny didn't touch him or come near. She wanted to. She wanted to throw her arms around him, to kiss him and tell him that everything was alright...but that was what she had been doing for the past decade and it had never helped anything but his own conscience. The silk of her blouse met the silk of her trousers as she leaned her elbows on her knees and looked at him seriously. Reaching out, she gently touched his cheek comfortingly.

"What makes you think that admitting to yourself everything I already knew would make me hate you?" she asked softly. "I've endured a solid decade of your bullshit, John Sparrow, and you think words would make me hate you more than actions? I don't hate you. I never have and I never will. Nothing you can say or do will ever change that." That, she knew, would be one of the most painful truths of all. When you hate yourself there was almost nothing worse than the pain of love and forgiveness. "I never could. I bound myself to you body and soul, John, and that's not a promise I intend to break. Ever. You do know how to be John Sparrow, stop lying to yourself. He's always been there. You just have to actually want to be him. You have to want to come home, and you have to be brave enough to face the inevitable." She gave him a wan smile and took his hand, squeezing it gently.

"I've woken up every day for ten years knowing that death is coming for her. Every single morning for the past ten. years. my first thought has been 'will today be the last day? Will she not stir when I go to wake her? Will she collapse walking to the Anchor? Will Ma come in while I'm at work and tell me she's gone? Will tonight's prayer, tonight's story, tonight's goodnight kiss, be our last?'" Jenny swallowed hard and squeezed her husband's hand again, harder. This was a truth she'd never spoken aloud, not even to an empty room. "That's been my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night every day for ten years. And John, despite what it looks like I'm no pirate captain. I'm just a bar maid. Just a serving wench. If someone so low as that can bear that burden, I think a notorious pirate captain can. And if he can't, then I know that an apothecary bold enough to brave Dover Castle on All Hallow's Eve at midnight is brave enough and strong enough to bear it. The burden's an awful lot lighter when you split it between two people." Her throat was tight and finally a single tear managed to escape. Jenny sniffed and swallowed hard. If she started crying it would give Captain Jack an opening to manipulate her and turn everything around on her like he always did. She needed John to stay here where he was needed.
 
John's hand trembled as she touched it, and he gripped it like a lifeline. "I..." he couldn't find the words. He'd baffled and bedazzled and manipulated the hardest, canniest men the workd had seen, but he couldn't find the words now. "You'll have a hard time," he managed, his voice tight, "being a barmaid again. After being a pirate." A weak smile appeared for a moment. "Probably... have ti be the tavern... owner, now." A sniff. "Command. It's hard to break."

He had to want to come home, she said. But... did he? Really? Ten years, he'd been running. And coming home... it meant admitting he'd been a fool. Admiting that he'd wasted the time he should have spent with his family. It meant...

It meant going to bed, wondering if Anne would survive the night. Waking, and dreading the discovery of a still, small body. Of watching his daughter die by inches, and accepting that he was powerless to help her. It meant having to face his wife, and work to earn back her trust. Having to face his children, and hope they'd see him as their father once more.

"God," he said, voice shaking. "Rum. I need rum." He started to rise, then caught himself and stood for a long moment. Then he dropped back into his sewt. "Running away, again. I'm just..." He gripped Jenny's hand again, this time with both of his. "It's just another way to hide." Where... is all the rum? he heard himself demanding, a time he'd sunk so low he was willing to break his wedding vows. And he'd have justified it, blamed it on being drunk.

Thank God that Elizabeth had burned it all.

"God, Jenny," he whispered. "So much. I... there's so much that I don't know where to start. I..." He swallowed. "How can you still love me, Jenny? How can you stand to look at me? I... I..." His voice broke. He'd always told himself that going home would be as simple as showing up at the Nest and announcing he was back. A lie. As much of a lie as the times he'd told himself it was 'just one more voyage'. That he'd go home, once he had wealth enough to get better doctors. To make his absence up to Jenny.

"God. I... I want to come home, Jenny. Want to... to try and... and hope... but... I don't know... how..." Prayer? Confession? How was he....

The only rules that matter are these: what a man can do, and what a man can't.

"I can't change what I did, Jenny," he said, slowly. "God how I wish I could. But I can't. All I can do is..." He swallowed, harder this time, as he realized what he had to do. "I can get us home, faster than you would believe. I can get us back to... to our family. Whenever you're ready to go. Tonight, even. We can leave tonight, if you want."
 
"We have command over our children," Jenny pointed out with a shrug. John was starting to make excuses again. "Besides, we've moved to Ireland like I told you we would. I've got a job as a music teacher, or had. Dunno if I do anymore. It's a small town though, they still need an apothecary." She looked carefully at him, trying to gauge his response to that, to being a normal apothecary after all this time.

But then he started claiming he needed rum. Jenny's face turned hard and she caught him firmly by the wrist. "No." There was no arguing with it. "It's temperance from here on in, John." He fell back into the chair and admitted that he was just running away again, just trying to hide, and she nodded. At least he was finally recognizing it and admitting it. When he asked how she could still love him she smiled gently.

"You're my husband, John. I swore to love you for the rest of my life, and that's a promise I don't take lightly." She squeezed his hand again. "I've always held out hope that you would rediscover the man that I married, because it's that man who I love. Besides, somebody's got to do it."

But then he started talking about leaving and she shook her head sadly. "I want that more than anything in the world," she admitted, "but I can't. We have to do this the right way, which means we can't run. Ching Shih is good to her word; she'll let us go. But she told me that if I ever ran, even if it was to you, if I ever left without her blessing, that she would hunt us down and kill us. Me, you, the children, my family. She would wipe any trace of my bloodline from the face of the earth for breaking her trust. She's just as good to that promise as she is to letting us go. We have to stay here and wait for her or we'll never be out of this." Jenny sighed and the corners of her eyes turned down in sorrow. "We just have to pray that Anne hangs on just a little longer."
 
John lifted an eyebrow at the reason for Jenny's refusal, and blew out a long breath. "Wow," he said. "That's... thorough. I mean, I've heard some pretty harsh measures against pirates jumping ship - which I never quite understood, since it's the gibbet for all of us if we're caught - but not like that." He hesitated. "Should I say us, since I'm quitting and you're quitting once you get the go-ahead?"

He stared out through the cabin window and out to sea. "Can't say I like having to put my trust in this Chang Shih's word, though. Pirates aren't much known for keeping their promises. Except for..." He bit down in the 'me', reminding himself that he wasn't a pirate any more. He had no ship, now. No crew to worry about. No promises lift to Liz or Will or the Bretheren Court or Calypso or anyone else. Just pockets of stockpiled treasure and a small home in Ireland.

If they could make it in time.

"They need an apothecary?" he asked, forcing himself to change the subject. "Well, I'm a little rusty - I'd need to brush up on the current literature - but the compounding and preparation will come back quickly enough. And I've learned a few things on my voyages, new uses for weeds and some of the plants they've found in the Americas." He grinned, imagining the life of a fat, prosperous shopkeeper ahead of him. "I can do this, yeah. John Sparrow, apothecary." A pause. "No mummia, though. Don't think I'll stock that."

Suddenly, he wished he hadn't brought that up. Because it reminded him if Egypt, and of Anubis and of Bast, and of a parting curse. Never shall your soul rest in your home. But he wasn't going home, was he? Not to the Nest, not to Dover, but to Ireland - which was hardly home. Right?

"So," he said, squeezing Jenny's hand. "Any idea when she'll arrive?"
 
Jenny shook her head at John's question. "We are not pirates," she said firmly. "We are two good people who are making the best of a bad circumstance." When John registered his distrust of Mistress Ching she shook her head. "She's not that bad, actually. Strict, but you have to be with a fleet as big as hers. She likes me. She said she just had to put that measure in place to ensure everyone comes out of it safely. The Company hired her you see, to hold me ransom to lure you into a trap, and she can't break a deal with the Company. But if Captain Jack Sparrow just so happens to steal away his wife in the middle of the night with no one the wiser until morning, well that couldn't be helped. Once she arrives we'll leave on 'your' ship and sail for Dover. Two people with our height and build will disembark there before the ship heads 'round to Ireland. They'll drop us a couple leagues from home and we can walk the rest of the way, or catch a carriage. Threatening me--threatening us with salting and burning our entire lineage and making sure I knew she would make good on that threat was the only way to ensure that we all get what we want."

But her husband wanted to change the subject and she was happy to oblige. She smiled and gestured to a shelf beneath a crossed pair of curved, wicked-looking swords. "I found a few. Before I became captain and started attacking only other pirate ships, they let me aboard for looting so I picked up whatever I thought you might find useful. Dunno how many of them you've read, but I think there are some newer volumes in there." In amongst her books--which included several Bibles and a few compilations of fairytales--were books for John. A few of them he had read, most he hadn't, but there was no telling how useful any of them would be in their future life. Jenny was just happy to see him grinning at the thought of being an apothecary again.

"I imagine she'll be here in about a week," she said with a shrug. "Never quite got the hang of navigation, so I'm not sure exactly where we are or how far from the mainland. But we passed an island I know a couple days ago, so ten days at the most." Jenny tugged his hand gently, scooting a little farther back onto the mattress before allowing herself a wide yawn. "But I think that's enough for tonight. We've both had a long, hard day and we'll have to get up with the rest of the crew no matter how late we stay up. Come to bed, John." Jenny smiled gently at her husband.

They didn't make love that night, though not for John's lack of trying. Nor the next, nor the next. Jenny wanted them to reacquaint themselves with one another without the complicating entanglements of sex. She wanted them to know each other's souls again before knowing their bodies. That was one thing that had always allowed Captain Jack to flourish: the knowledge that no matter how angry she was, because of the little time they had together it would always end in sex. Jenny was taking that power away to enjoy the simple pleasure of hearing her husband breathing next to her in the dark. The men teased him, of course, and she didn't care whether he bragged to keep up appearances; he had slept with her many times before, after all, so it wasn't a lie. She still hadn't let him make love to her by the time Ching Shih stepped aboard nearly a week later.

There was a lot of bowing and scraping from the crew, which was expected, but not from Jenny. As captain she wasn't expected to be an obsequious toady, but a respectful subordinate. She made a deep bow to the Queen, who pulled her into an embrace once she had straightened.

"It is good to see you, Mistress," Jenny said with a smile before gesturing that they could talk in her cabin.
 
It took John three days - three nights, really - to figure out was going on. Usually, they had volcanic sex the first night they reunited. But now, all Jenny wanted to do was cuddle clise and kiss a little and talk. He tried several different tactics, all to no avail. Everything was rebuffed, gently and affectionatly but firmly.

At first, he felt hurt and horny and rejected. But, by the third night, he had his revelation. She might love him, but did she like him? Did she even kniw him, any more? And it wasn't as if he were going anywhere, thus time. She coukd take her time, wait fir him to figure out who he was, and then decide if she liked what he became. It made sense. A oerfect - and oerfectly frustrating - sense.

So he... well, he didn't give up. But he tried to focus mire on getting to kniw his wife again. Relearn what she was like, and disciver how she'd changed in his long absence. Discover this fierce, confident, powerful woman w still laughed at his stories and smiled tolerantly when he tried to sing. Had she really changed, he wondered, or had she jyst become more of who she always had been?

It bothered him that be didn't actually know.


Jack spent a week working hard. And then, in his off hours, learning navigation and fencing from his father. And grappling and fistfighting and Cantonese from Bohai. And realizing that he was a long way from being ant,y good at any of it. It was a humbling experience for the cocksure sixteen year old.

A few times he also had to stop himself after he began flurting with one of the younger women if the crew. It was diffecult to remember he was married, niw, and he found himself wondering hiw his father had done it.



John watched the Pirate Queen Cheng Shih with curious interest as she embraced Hong Zhenni and the two women exchanged words. Then he started as he realized she was staring at him. "This," she asked, striding towards himm "this is your husband? This is the notorious Jack Sparrow?"

He couldn't stop the reflex. "You forgot something," he said languidly. "There's a 'Captain' in there." Shit.

She peered at him appraisingly. Then she drew back her arm, and the crew guffawed as she slapped him. "That is for being an ill-mannered cur."

"I may have deserved that," he muttered.

She slapped him again. "And that is for abandoning Hing Zhenni and your children!"

He rocked back. "I definitly deserved that one." She drew back agan, and the crew gasped as he caught her wrist. "But nit that one."

"How dare you!" she snarled. "Who do you think you are?"

He gave her a cocksure grin. "Why, I'm Johnathan Sparrow."

They stared at each other, and then she laughed as she pulled her hand away. Behind him, a dozen men sheathed blades. "I see why you like him," she told Jenny. "If you're tired if him, I'll buy him from you."
 
"Aye," Jenny said with a note of pride when Ching Shih asked whether this were her husband. Behind the queen's back, however, she made a face at him as he corrected her, claiming that he was still a captain. Ching Shih slapped him and even Jenny had to cover her mouth to hide her sniggering. She felt a little vindicated. "Your highness," she interrupted as the Queen drew back to slap her husband a third time.

Ching Shih seemed to remember herself and looked around at Jenny. She lowered her hand and turned her attention back to her. "Ah yes," she said easily. With an imperious wave of her hand she motioned the others back to work before following the captain to her quarters. John and Jack were left to work with the rest of the crew while Jenny talked about their release.

As soon as the door was closed Jenny found herself pinned against it. Ching Shih's lips and hands were all over her. She moaned quietly and shook her head weakly, but the Queen wasn't listening. The Queen's quick fingers pulled at the tie keeping her shirt closed, tugging the linen open and fondling her breasts roughly. Jenny instantly felt ashamed of how aroused she was.

"Your highness," she mumbled, running a finger through her hair. "Please...Shih!"

"What?" she demanded. She rolled Jenny's nipple between her fingers as she looked into her eyes. "You want it, I know you do." Her free hand slipped into Jenny's trousers and she grinned at the slickness she found there. "I've always known."

"I...I do..." the captain finally admitted. "But this is my husband. He's come for me, and our son is aboard too." Carefully, gently, she put her hands on Ching Shih's shoulders and gently pushed her a few steps back. "You will always be my queen," she said, kissing her forehead, "but he is the love of my life and I can't do that to him."

Ching Shih sighed. "Very well...but close your top and the deal is off."

~*~

The women were in the cabin for hours. Finally they emerged for dinner and Jenny sat at Ching Shih's right hand instead of the head of the table where she usually sat. Quietly they informed Bohai of their plan, giving him the position of the new captain, then at the end of the meal Jenny motioned with her head that John and Jack should follow her. Lewd comments followed Jack as well, though in a quieter voice where the queen couldn't hear them, and the men were brought to her quarters.

"We wait until after nightfall," Jenny informed them, "then we board Ching Shih's ship and everything happens as I told you it would. Bohai is captain now; he'll keep any alarm from being raised."
 
John rolled to a halt as he and his son entered Jenny's cabin, a room that felt cramped with four of them in there. Jenny sat starboard, watching as he closed the door behind him. And Cheng Shih sat at place of pride at the small tabke, booted feet kicked up on the surface as she sipoed at a mug of plum brandy. She stared at him and he stared back. Nit insolently, but refusing to back down.

Jack, he noticed, stared as well. But it was a teenage stare, the painfully obviius stare of a young man who was trying to look as if he wasn't staring at all. John didn't blame him. She was a striking woman, even if - to his eyes, at kleast - she didn't hold a candle to his Red Jenny.

Jenny explained the plan. He nodded. "Nightfall, then," he agreed, watching Ching Shih's eyes. He didn't trust her. There was a possessiveness in the way she looked at Jenny, one that reminded him of how he'd seen many a pirate look at his mistress. Was it his imagination, he wondered. "Do we disguise ourselves? Or just hope nobody sees us? Because I'm a passing fair actor, but I don't know that I'd pass for Chinese."
 
Jenny shook her head. "No need for disguises," she said easily, waving a hand. "Even if someone sees us, you'll be with the captain and the Queen. There's no reason for anyone to question what we're doing with the new recruits. If nothing else they'll just assume she's taken you for herself and I'm out two green men. But there would be an alarm raised if they noticed the Queen's ship slipping off, so as to give her proper respect, and that's what Bohai'll keep an eye out for. Johnathan?" This was addressed sternly to her son, who jerked his face away from Ching Shih's general direction. "Any questions?"

"Um...no Mum. Er...ma'am...I mean..."

"Mum is just fine, sweetheart," Jenny said softly, stepping over to kiss Jack's forehead. She hadn't shown him much affection since he'd been on board, simply because she couldn't afford it. It was nice, but at the same time it made it difficult not to just pull him into a tight hug and never let go.

At last night fell and the four of them slipped through the shadows across the deck to Ching Shih's ship. There was more bowing and scraping as she boarded again, but shortly after that they cut free of the Widow's Revenge and set a course north and west for England.
 
John stood on the sterncastle of the junk, watching the Widow's Revenge recede as wind filled the sails. As ge did he rested his hand on Jenny's, lacing their fingers together. "You say you won't miss the life," he said, "but I'll wager you'll miss the ship. She was a fine vessel - not half so fine as my Black Pearl mind, but a fine ship nonetheless." He grinned at that and kissed her cheek, then watched the ship.

"She was freedom to me, she was," he continued softly. "And a reminder of what was most important, even when I'd lost sight of it. Because I couldn't very well call her the Jenny, not and try to keep you safe. But I could still name her after you. My own precious, beautiful black pearl." He kissed her again, then laughed. "Oh, and that reminds me..."

Reaching into his pocket, he slid his fingers over her neck and fstened something around her throat. A simple silver chain, supporting a black pearl. "Ching Shih got you your ring back," he said, "but I noticed one of your crew had this. So I got it back for you." He chuckled at her expression. "No, no... poor lad had no idea I could play mahjong. That's all." He kissed her again. "And now your pearl's back home, just like you will be."


Jack watched his parenys from the forecastle, then turned to stare back out to sea. Now that they'd found her, they could go home. By way if Spain, he hoped. Angelica was there, waiting.

The thought gave him mixed feelings, eagerness and worry in equal measure. Would she still be there? Had she reconsidered their marriage? How would his mother take the news, his marrying the daughter of a pirate? Marrying a woman who was to be a nun, for all that it hadn't been her idea? And... crap. Where would they live? How would he support them both? He'd not yet finished his apprenticeship, after all!

Drawing a deep breath, he gripped the rail and stared out to sea. One step at a time, Jack. One step at a time.


"I thought about keeping you here," Ching Shih whispered, biting Jenny's earlobe.

Hong Zhenni had been summoned to the Pirate Queen's cabin. Now she keaned against Jenny's back, both of them staring out the window as her hands roamed Jenny's body. Jenny's blouse was open fo the waist, pulled open by Ching Shih, her bare breasts flattened against the glass. "I thought about keeping your husband and son hostage against your return, and sending you to bring the rest of your family back."

One hand cupped Jenny's breast, warm skin shocking contrast to the cool glass. The other traced lazy circles in her stomach, trailing lower. "Jennifer Sparrow might have given in, but not my glorious Red Jenny. I suspect you would have washed the deck of my ship in blood, had I done thst."

Her hand slid between fabric and skin as it slid lower, cupping her mound. A slim finger stroked her slit and circled her clit, and the Pirate Queen sighed to find her slick to the touch. "So I will keep my word." She moved against Jenny, her body molding to hers as a second finger joined the first in expliring Jenny's depths. "Once you beg me, Hong Zhenni. Beg me for your release."


"Captain!" Gibbs called, wide-eyed, as the trio stepped onto the deck if the Esmerelda. "And... Jenny?" He stared at tge fierce, armed woman at John's side. "Jenny, it is you! I'd never have recognized you!"

Then he did a double-take as a second recognition sank in. "Wait... you were the captain of that fleet that attacked us?"

"It's a long story, Mister Gibbs," John laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Is the Esmerelda ship shape?"

"Aye, Cap'n." Gibbs scratched his head, staring at Jenny. "We'd wondered why the same pirates who shot us up helped fix us up, and now I know."

"Right, then," John said. "We're bound for Ireland, lads, here we'll dispose of the loot and divide it iut."

Gibbs frowned. "Loot? What loot?"

John gestured to the crates and bales the Chinese pirates were shifting over. Ching Shih had called it a parting gift for her favorite captain. "Silks, Mister Gibbs. And pearls and jade, and tea."

"How..?" Gibbs started

John clapped him on the shoulder. "Simple, Mister Gibbs..."

"You're Captain Jack Sparrow?"

He laughed. "No, Gibbs. She's Captain Jenny Sparrow."
 
Jenny shook her head at John's insistence that she would miss her ship. "I wasn't made for the sea, not like you," she returned softly. "I'll miss my crew, but I'd trade them for solid ground beneath my feet any day."

When John fixed her necklace around her throat she touched the pearl gently. "Oh John!" she breathed before throwing her arms around him to pull him into a tight hug. "I thought I'd lost it forever!" Her jewelry had been taken from her when she was first captured, but Ching Shih had ordered her wedding ring be returned out of respect. It hadn't mattered, apparently, that the necklace was the first gift her husband had ever given her, nor that he'd given it to her as a sort of engagement gift. She'd thought it had been traded or sold off long ago. "Thank you, my love."

~*~

When Ching Shih mentioned keeping her here Jenny shivered as fear and panic stabbed her heart. Stay here? She relaxed a little when the queen mentioned that she knew Jenny would have killed her if she'd done so. The Chinawoman's hand felt good around her bare breast.

"Even Jennifer Sparrow would have killed you on the spot and dyed the sails with your blood," she admitted. "My daughter--my eldest daughter--would never make the journey and for that I would have torn your heart out and fed it to you in front of your men." It wasn't something she would have admitted to six months ago, even though she would have done it. But given her relationship with the pirate queen she felt that bare honesty was best at this particular moment.

She gasped when Ching Shih slipped her hand into her trousers to stroke her clit. Jenny's grip on the windowsill tightened and she bit her lip, trying not to moan. "Please, my queen," she whispered, leaning against the slight woman. "Mistress...give me my freedom. Give me my release. Please..."

~*~

The Esmerelda did not return to England by way of Spain. They stopped in Morocco before sailing straight for the British Isles then around to the western coast of Ireland. The Sparrows with their loot--all of the things Ching Shih had promised Jenny if she'd stayed--were able to find a taxi to take them to Lahinch, and from there they walked the few miles out to Hags Head and the cozy cottage Jenny had managed to buy with their life savings. Within a few yards of the house she dropped her pack and sprinted toward the door, bursting in to find a surprised Peter and Ion who had been standing together and talking in low voices. Night had fallen hours ago and the children were in bed. Jenny looked wildly at her brother and her friend.

"Anne?" she asked breathlessly.

"Sleeping," Peter said, knowing better than to tease her for not giving a better hello. "But Jen you gotta know, she's--"

Jenny didn't stay to hear what Anne was. She hurried to each door until she found Anne. It wasn't hard to tell: in the darkness her breathing was rattling and labored. Every few breaths the girl was wracked by a wet, hacking cough that made Jenny's lungs ache in sympathy. Quietly she closed the door and went to kneel by her bed and take her hand. A Shadow slipped under the gap in the door and knelt next to her, silent and unseen but shaking as though in laughter.

"Mumma?" Anne wheezed and stirred, shifting in bed.

"Yes, Mummy's here," Jenny murmured, squeezing her hand gently. Her skin was so cold! "And Daddy and Jack are close behind. Not to worry love."

"Mumma I--" She was interrupted by more hacking. The Shadow Thing knelt on her chest--insomuch as Shadow Things can kneel--and snickered as she struggled to breathe. "I'm...so tired..." Anne wheezed once her coughing was done.

"I know, baby," Jenny replied, trying to keep the tears out of her voice even if she couldn't keep them out of her eyes. "Just hang on Anne. Please. You're...you're such a fighter..."
 
John pushed past Peter and Ion, murmuring absent rote greetings and not bothering to hear their answers. He'd missed exactly what they'd said to Jenny, but he'd seen the tension in her as she'd headed back to the bedrooms. Heart in his mouth, he followed.

Anne was a sight to make hard men weep. Frail and gasping, her thin body wracked with coughing fits. "Daddy?" she asked, sounding uncertain as she tried to place him. It was the hair, he realized. Had she ever known him without his dreadlocks and goatee.

"It's me," John whispered, kneeling next to Jenny and taking his daughter's hand. "I'm..."

"You, you're home!" she cried, trying to hug him and diubling over in a spasm of coughing.

Aching for her, he wrapped his arms around her thin, shaking shoulders and held her close. "I'm home," he murmured, tears oricking his eyes. "And I'm not leaving you again."

she'll leave you, the Shadow Thing crooned. soon, jack sparrow. soon....

He glared at the patch of shadow, then dug into a pocket. "Here," he murmured, unstoppering a little bottle. "Some medicine."

"Don't... don't want any..." Anne protested. But she drank it anyway, making a face. "It's... salty, daddy."

"I have no power over life and death, Captain Jack Sparrow," Calypso said. "Not in the sense you mean."

"She's my daughter!" he shouted. "She's the reason I followed your call, went to sea!"

The goddess shook her head sadly. "All things pass, Jack. All things die. Even gods. Even worlds." She peered at him for a moment, then ladeled a ckear fluid from her cauldron into a small fkask. "But... give herthis."

"What is it?" he asked, taking it.

"Strength, Captain Jack. Strength enough to sustain her for a brief span."

Anne's coughing subsided slowly, and her breathing grew a little easier. "I feel better," she said, then coughed again. "But I'm not really better, am I daddy?"

"No, love," John whispered, holding her close. "I'm sorry... I couldn't..."

"It's all right," she said, kissing his cheek. "You tried, and mommy says that you just have to try your best." She hugged him, then hugged Jenny. "I'm tired," she whisperec, laying back down. "Can you stay with me? Until I fall asleep? I might have bad dreams."

John glared at the Shadow Thing, which had retreated into the corner but was slinking forward once more. "Of course," he told her, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "Like I said: I'm not leaving, ever again."

"Good, daddy," she smiled. "Love yiu daddy. Love you, mommy."
 
John brought out a stoppered bottle and gave it to Anne. "Please..." Jenny croaked, though even she herself was unsure whether she were begging her husband not to drag this out any longer or her daughter to drink it and give them just a little more time together.

Jenny fell asleep kneeling on the floor, holding her daughter's hand, but awoke in her own bed. Doubtless she'd been carried there by her brother or husband. The smell of breakfast came wafting in and when she'd dressed she found Ion making porridge. From the way he moved familiarly about the kitchen it seemed he'd been helping out for quite some time. Both parents and the children's eldest brother had been gone for eight months, Peter had work and Sarah had her own three children to care for in addition to her nieces and nephews. Jenny supposed help was in order. There was an emotional reunion wherein the twins and baby Stephen--almost two now--gathered around their parents and big brother. The joy didn't last long, however.

Anne had made it through the night and Jenny spent all day at her side. She made it through the next day, too, and the next. For three days Jenny refused to leave her daughter's bedside as her condition grew worse and worse. Her knees ached from kneeling on the hard floor and her throat hurt from singing songs and lullabies, from telling stories and from praying. The Shadow Thing went unseen, prowling around the little girl's bed. On the third day Anne's breathing turned from a wheeze to a rattle and Jenny felt a cold dread pour over her. Anne had been pale for days but now there was a faint yellowish tint to her skin. Without asking because he knew his sister would say no, deny that it was time, Peter sent for Father Simms, the village priest.

"They cut me down and I lept up high," Jenny sang, trying to comfort her daughter and push away her own fears, "for I am the Life that will never, ever die. I'll live in you if you'll live in Me. I am the Lord of the dance, said He."

"Heaven is a beautiful place," Anne said after a few long minutes of silence, trying to take a deep breath then coughing. It took a full three minutes for her to stop: whenever she coughed she would run out of breath and choke, causing her to cough even more. "Daddy...you've done bad things, haven't you?" She turned her head with great effort. "But that's...okay. When I'm in Heaven...I'll ask...Saint Peter to let...to let you in...anyway...coz there's no sin...so big that...that God...can't...forgive..."

It took all Jenny had not to burst out sobbing then and there. "That's right, baby," she croaked, voice cracking from use and tears. "There's no sin too big for God." She stroked Anne's hand almost obsessively and even so it seemed to grow colder.

"I love you Mumma," Anne wheezed, voice no louder than a whisper. "Love you Daddy."

"No..." Jenny croaked. "Anne Mary Sparrow don't you say your goodbyes. Not now."

"I just...I wanna go...to sleep," she whispered. "I'll see you...when I wake..." She managed to push her mouth into a small, weary smile that was more a grimace. "Don't worry...Mommy...I'll always be...safe."

"Okay," Jenny acquiesced, swallowing tears and nodding as though if she did it would be true. "Alright baby. I'll see you when you wake."

A few minutes after Anne fell asleep Father Simms came in to anoint her and perform last rites. Jenny didn't listen, couldn't bring herself to, because if she didn't listen then it wasn't happening. She only said "Amen" after a long look from the priest. Once he'd left she vigilantly watched the rise and fall of her daughter's chest. Fwee was held in the crook of her arm and the twins had relinquished custody of Scraps the sea turtle for their sister's comfort. Rise and fall...and rise and fall...her breaths were getting shallower. Rise....and fall...and...rise...and...fall...Even in her sleep she rattled and coughed weakly. Rise...and...fall...and...

And...

And...

Jenny collapsed off of her aching knees to the floor. Her sobs were all but silent since her voice had finally gone, but sob she did into her arms. Finally her voice came back to produce a long, loud wail of anguish. "My baby!" were the only words she could form, over and over. She wanted to die. Right then and there Jenny wanted to just lay down and close her eyes and never open them again. She had never had her heart broken quite like this and hadn't believed that she would actually be able to feel the pain of her heart shattering into a million tiny pieces. If she could rip it out maybe she wouldn't have to feel it anymore...

For hours she was inconsolable. Even after the sun had gone down and the other children sent to bed crying Jenny refused to leave Anne's room even after the body was taken. It fell to Peter to pray with the young ones and put them to bed. Finally, exhausted and unable to protest her brother carried her to bed. And there she stayed. For days she refused to eat or to leave her bed. It wasn't until the funeral that Jenny finally rose, washed, ate enough to keep her upright, and began to distract herself by caring again for her other children. She tried not to be angry at God and in so doing turned her anger on the weather, which was far too sunny and warm for an October's day, far too cheerful for burying her eleven-year-old daughter.
 
John sat numbly on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees, watching his daughter. His daughter's... the word wouldn't come. Couldn't come. He was no stranger to death, not after years of piracy, but... this was his daughter. His daughter. She couldn't be... wasn't... she... He couldn't say it. Couldn't think it. If he didn't, as long as he didn't, then he could pretend she was just asleep. Could pretend that Jenny had just panicked, and that she'd sobbed herself asleep at the side of their daughter's bed because of a mistake, and that... that everything... everything would be...

He scrubbed at his eyes, resenting having to move his gaze for a moment. Jenny was asleep, finally, and Peter had carried her to bed. John had wanted to, but Peter had gently pointed out that someone needed to sit vigil. "Because you weren't there for her in life, you need to be there for her now." Peter hadn't actually said that - John would have killed him, if he had. But both men had thought it.

Damnit. He wanted rum. He wanted rum, and run. Run, and never look back. He'd fled his family, fearing this very moment. And he'd returned, just in time to face it. "Damnit," he growled softly, fighting back tears. "Why? She had her whole life. Why... why not me? Why let me come back, and not her?" It wasn't a prayer, exactly. More like cursing god, as he beat his fist on the floor. "Why?"

jaaaaack....

John rolled to his feet, reaching for a rapier that currently rested on pegs above the mantle. Not that it would have done any good, not against the Shadow Thing. "Fuck you," he growled, looking around. He'd end it, he would. He'd learned a handfull of tricks, sailing the seas of this world and the next. It would...

you never asked... the Shadow Thing hissed.

"Asked what?"

"What the shadow was, father."

He spun at the sound. A young woman sat on Anne's bed, gowned in white, smiling gently at him. A young woman who looked strikingly like Jenny, but with a cocky tilt of the head that he found familiar. Painfully familiar. "Who..?"

"You know who I am, father," the woman said softly.

"...Anne?"

She nodded. "You never asked the... the Shadow Thing, as you called it. You never asked it what it was, father."

I'm going crazy, John decided. Anne's death drove me mad.

"You're not crazy, father." Anne rose, clasping his hand. "All the things you've seen, and you think the sight of a spirit made you mad? But, with all that, you never asked the Shadow Thing what it was." She held out her free hand and the Shadow Thing flowed up her side and gathered in her hand. John stared at it, and it seemed to stare back.

"What... what are you?" he finally asked.

what you fear, jack, the Shadow Thing answered. the thing you cheated, the thing you escaped, the thing you fled.

"Death," John answered softly.

"It's not frightening, father," Anne said, stroking it gently before releasing it. "Only the mystery is frightening." Darting forward, she kissed him on the cheek, then turned to leave. "Goodbye for now, father."

"Don't... don't go," John called, reaching for her as she seemed to recede. "Don't go!"

"You held me longer than anyone else could have, father," Anne laughed. "But I cannot stay longer. We'll see each other again, eventually." She seemed to be far distant now, even though he couldn't have said she'd move. "And I will tell Saint Peter, daddy. I love you!"

She was gone. Had she ever been there? It didn't matter. John collapsed to the floor, sobbing.


The funeral was over.

John stood at the side of the grave, staring down at the coffin. Perhaps... perhaps he was mad, but... he no longer grieved her death. Just her absence. He'd seen her, the night she died, and she'd been right. After everything else he'd seen, he'd be a fool to deny the existence of spirits, of life after death. His Anne was... gone. Not ended, just... gone. It didn't make her absence easier, but it soothed the aching pain in his heart.

He eased his arms around his wife, holding her close as she stared at the grave and held their youngest. Jack stood nearby, holding the hands of the twins - both of whom sniffled and clung to him, not fully understanding why their sister was in a box. As John stood, he heard his son murmuring something. Something... familiar. "Yo ho, haul together, hoist the colors high," Jack sang slowly. "Heave ho, sisters and brothers, never shall we die."

That was true, wasn't it? He'd seen it for himself, last night. Death was nothing to fear, only the dying. If only he'd learned that years ago, maybe he would have known his daughter.

"The bell has been raised, from it's water grave," he sang softly, joining in. "Hear it's sepulchral tone? A call to all, pay heed the squall, and turn yourself toward home."

Anne had made port already, in Heaven or Valhalla or Fiddler's Green or wherever it was you went next. And maybe, just maybe, he had begun to turn towards home himself.

"Yo ho, haul together," the twins were singing along now as well, "Hoist the colors high. Heave ho, Sparrows together, never shall we die."

"Yo ho, haul together
"Hoist the colors high
"Heave ho, Sparrows together
"Never shall we die."
 
Hag's Head Ireland
September 12, 1757

Two figures ran hand-in-hand toward the edge of the Cliffs of Moher, glancing behind them every few yards. Men in red were close behind them. No one had ever thought of the apothecary as a particularly dangerous man, but that just went to show you can't trust a stranger. Even after more than forty years the Sparrows hadn't been "from here," and the oldest who could still remember the general suspicion of the newcomers finally felt vindicated. Later they would speculate as to what crime harmless old John Sparrow had committed to bring the English King's men here, though piracy was the leading theory. They'd have even believed he was the Captain Jack Sparrow, if there weren't still a Captain Jack Sparrow terrorizing the Spanish Main. Why his wife had run with him instead of being properly horrified as a good Christian should was beyond any of them. No accounting for love, they supposed.

Jenny's hair flew out behind her, still wildly curly though now with only a few dim streaks of faded copper among the mass of gray. A black pearl bounced as it hung around her throat and she squeezed her husband's hand tightly. They'd had sixty good years together. Well...fifty good years and a rocky ten. It was only a matter of time before John's past caught up with him and all she could do was be grateful that it had been later rather than sooner. Now all they could hope was that the kids and grandkids and great-grandkids would understand, and try to avoid the rocks at the bottom. The cliffs loomed nearer and she glanced behind her. Had they really sent twelve soldiers just for one man?

"I love you John," she panted, glancing over to her husband as they ran. "I'm in this with you. We belong together body and soul. Forever." Jenny managed to pull him close and kiss him as together they ran out of ground.

It was more hitting the water than the coldness of it that took her breath away. In the murk Jenny was only barely able to find John's fingertips, but she was more concerned with that than with finding which way was up. Her heart pounded in her ears and she struggled for breath, but instead of fretting all she could do was detachedly notice a sea turtle watching them with some interest. Her chest ached and the water was warmer now, quite comfortable. It reminded her a bit of China...

~*~

The North Atlantic
April 14, 1912
11:37 PM

A young couple walked the deck, alternately people watching and looking out at the ice floating by. It was a romantic if rather chilly evening. The man must have been drunk, with the way he swaggered about the deck, but his copper-haired companion didn't seem to mind. In fact she hummed a tune long-forgotten and looked up at the stars on the clear night. The man checked his pocket watch and showed her the time. Solemnly she nodded and began to steer them to the starboard rail to look out at the dark ocean. Silently they slid past a much older wooden vessel nobody but them seemed to notice. A black pearl adorned the ring finger of the hand which gripped the railing, but that hand moved to his when she heard a bell rung from the lookout three times.

"Iceberg, right a head!" came the cry. She sighed.

"I hate it when there's a tragedy like this. It's so draining once we've got 'em all over where they belong."

~Fin~

[video=youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27mB8verLK8[/video]​
 
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