a

Unaccepted
A/U, set during At World's End...

by Virgo 79
Octobr 9, 2007

The Pearl creaked vigilantly, turning Jack and Will's heads towards the stairs from the bridge, where a pair of tall boots descended. Jack's eyes didn't close quickly enough to disguise their disgusted roll, and Will ran the heel of his hand over his sword hilt, shoulders taking a distinctly belligerent set as Hector Barbossa approached.

"I knew I smelled something," Will commented, and the scathing blue gaze deigned to flicker his way.

"Haven't you somewhere else to be, whelp?" Barbossa replied. "Swivin' yer lass, maybe? Or is someone else seein' to that? I ain't seen Ragetti for a spell."

Will's eyes actually managed to get darker, and he took an unhurried step towards the grey-bearded pirate. "It occurs to me that we don't really need you any longer, Barbossa," he said.

Barbossa smiled, unpleasantly. "By all means, Mr. Turner, if it's a pound of flesh yer wantin'…" he raised empty hands, and lifted an eyebrow. "I trust it won't trouble ye none if I decline to draw me own blade."

He hadn't even lost the smile when Will's fist, wrapped around the hilt of his weapon, connected with Barbossa's mouth and sent him to the deck in a burst of blood and cursing.

Will stood over him, and twirled his sword idly. "Won't trouble me in the least."

"Stop it." It was the first thing a perplexingly silent Jack had had to say since Barbossa's interruption, punctuated by his hand gripping Will's wrist fiercely. "Put it away." It was the strain in Jack's voice and the weariness in his eyes that put Will's sword back in its sheath, more than the hold on his arm.

"So," Barbossa hissed, regaining his feet and wiping at the blood on his chin. He turned his head and spit, eyeing Will all the while. "Ye've learned t'be a bit of a bastard, ain't ye, Turner?"

"What do you want, Barbossa?" Jack demanded, fatigue making him forthright. "I liked it when you were at the other end of the ship and I could pretend you were still dead. Might we be getting back to that any time soon?"

"I'd a like a word, Sparrow. In private."

"When Christ walks off the cross," Will spit.

"This doesn't concern you, Turner," Barbossa growled.

"As a point of fact it does, quite a bit, which is why it isn't going to happen."

"Will, it's all right."

"Like hell it is," Will retorted, catching Jack's arm lightly and stepping in close, speaking low. "You don't owe him anything, Jack. His bargain was with Tia Dalma. Just let it go. There's nothing he could possibly have to say that you need to hear."

Will's hand felt warm on his arm, and Jack found he was able to summon a smile. "You worry too much, William. You'll be grey and wrinkled before your time."

Lips pressed tight together, Will threw one more glare over his shoulder at Barbossa, then stepped away. "I'll just go take in the air at the stern, then, shall I?" he said pointedly, and Jack dipped his head in the sparest of bows, his earlier smile still a faint ghost on his lips.

It was a ghost that was gone the moment Jack turned back to Barbossa. "All right. We're all cozy now. Why am I being subjected to the sight of you yet again?"

"I'd prefer this conversation be had in your cabin…Captain."

"I'd prefer this conversation be some horrible figment of my imagination, but it looks as if neither one of us is going to get our wish. It's important to move on from disappointments, Hector." Something sharp and cold flashed through Jack's eyes. "I learned that from you."

A disturbing stillness came over Barbossa. "I know."

It was so profoundly not what Jack had been expecting that he had no response. There was a current here that was unfamiliar, disorienting, and Jack wanted out of it.

"Ordinarily it would give me a twitch to say so, but Will was right," Jack said flatly, turning and reaching for the cabin doors. "I'm done with this."

"And I'm tryin' to be."

Hands unmoving on the door latches, Jack's shoulders suddenly started to shake, and he curled over, leaning the crown of his head against the heavy wood. Brittle laughter spilled out from beneath the hair veiling his face, and a few of the nearer crewmen started to take notice of the scene.

"Don't bother," Jack said, his voice cracking, shaking his head. "Don't you dare."

Barbossa raised his chin, that strange, still expression that was no expression at all holding its position on his lined face. "Merely tryin' to make the waters fore a bit calmer than those aft."

"Brilliant," Jack said, abruptly pushing himself upright. He stared disbelieving at Barbossa, that shrapnel-shard laughter still finding its way out, and pressed his fingers to his temple. "Everything's fixed, then, is that it? That's supposed to make it all better?"

"Is you bein' reasonable for five bloody minutes too much to ask?"

Abruptly Barbossa found himself staring down the barrel of a damnably familiar pistol, and had reason to question the wisdom of his timing.

"I've a response prepared now," Jack said, the hand with the gun in it less steady than it had been the last time it was pointed in Barbossa's direction. "If you still feel the need to apologize."

Joshamee Gibbs was not an exceptionally stealthy man, so Barbossa marked up to distraction the fact that he hadn't noticed Jack's burly first mate approaching, but quite suddenly Jack's hand was being ushered firmly downwards. "Let's not have any of that, aye, Jack?" Gibbs suggested.

"What the hell have you done now?" Will Turner demanded, materializing seconds later. The whelp was bristling for a fight, and under other circumstances, Barbossa would have indulged him, but tonight, it wasn't worth the trip to the brig. Assuming, of course, that Sparrow didn't just up and shoot him. Gibbs hadn't taken the gun away yet.

Jack was staring Barbossa down fit to burn holes through him. "This conversation is over," he said flatly. "Savvy?"

Confident enough that he could move without earning himself a hole between his eyes, Barbossa retreated, giving the slightest of nods.

"As you like, Captain."

~.~

All our authors thrive on feedback. Email the Webmaster to have comments forwarded to the author.

Back to One-Shots Menu