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YOU OWE ME A DRINK, BILL Author: Ebony Disclaimer: No, me still not own Jack. *bitter sobs* Summary: Short drabble about the hanging scene on PotC. Author's Note: Just something I wrote for the sake of writing. * * * * * It was a beautiful day. Then again, most days in the Caribbean tended to be so, but that was of no importance to Jack Sparrow. It was a good enough day to die, he supposed, bright and warm. The rhythmical pounding of the drums signalling the beginning of the declaration of his crimes sounded distant to Jack as his mind momentarily wondered elsewhere. His outer appearance gave out his typical disinterest on something as trivial as his own hanging, pads of his fingers resting against each other while his eyes were studying the cracks in the gallows’ timbers. Bored, that what he seemed to be on the outside, but his mind was keenly working on the recent events. You owe me a drink for seeing that boy of yours through all that trouble in one piece, Bill, Jack suddenly thought, and the idea of meeting his old friend somewhere if this to-do would go according to Norrington’s plans was strangely uplifting to the pirate. Yes, he had missed Bootstrap along the years. Perhaps this dying thing wasn’t entirely unpleasant, then. The Pearl was in safe hands, at least, even if the thought of never laying his hands on her wheel ever again pained Jack to no end. “Jack Sparrow…” the lazy drawl began to recite, breaking into Jack’s thoughts, and the missing title before his name instantly made him wearily frustrated. Didn’t these people ever learn? “Captain, Captain Jack Sparrow,” he corrected aloud. He had not spent years and years earning himself that rank only to be known as ‘just’ Jack Sparrow. “…for your willful commission of crimes against the crown. Said crimes being numerous in quantity and sinister in nature, the most egregious of these to be cited herewith – piracy, smuggling…” Small smirk played about the corner of Jack’s mouth as he listened, undeniable pride swelling within him with each word. “…impersonating an officer of the Spanish Royal Navy, impersonating a cleric of the Church of England…” Delighted chuckle escaped his lips as he recalled those times as clearly as they had only happened yesterday. Good times, good times. “Ah, yes…” he murmured with a wide, self-satisfied smile, looking over the burly executioner to his right. The hooded man didn’t appear to be as amused over Jack’s achievements, however, but gave him a nasty glower. Jack responded with a small shrug, his expression clearly indicating that there was no use throwing pearls to swine, anyway. So, the pirate fixed his gaze back ahead, not really seeing much anything as he kept on listening to the declaration. “…And for these crimes you have been sentenced to be, on this day, hung by the neck until dead…” Is there any other conclusion for a hanging, I wonder? Jack pondered to himself with strange levity for a man about to die in a moment. “…May God have mercy on your soul.” Jack snorted, muttering under his breath, “I very much doubt that, but how kind of you to say so.” His eyes caught a glimpse of maroon from the distance, making out the cloaked figure who’d stopped before the stairs, on which stood the Commodore, the Governor and Miss Swann, as she had insisted to be called. Jack had a good idea as to whom the person was, and briefly wondered where had the lad dug up that… interesting hat. He hoped Will wouldn’t do anything incredibly stupid. But then again, when had Will ever listened to his advice? Jack shook his head marginally. He’s a good lad, Bill, but you’d agree with me when I say he doesn’t bother to think at times. A bit of a stick in the mud, too. Not to mention a eunuch! But a good lad, still. Good for him that he’s yours, you know I wouldn’t let just anyone batter me with a bloody oar. But to compensate for the headache, we’ll make it two drinks, savvy? The drumming picked up the tempo, now flowing rapidly; the show was about to start. The hefty executioner lumbered closer and fitted the thick noose about Jack’s neck, receiving a rather indifferent glance from the pirate as he stretched his neck slightly, his dreadlocks hampered down uncomfortably by the heavy rope. The executioner curled a meaty fist about the wooden lever which would soon make the floor disappear under Jack’s very legs, and the pirate fixed his eyes on it. This was is. The realization suddenly bore down on him heavily, and for the briefest of moments Jack’s chest constricted tightly at the thought of being choked by the noose around his neck – this wasn’t the way it was supposed to end; this wasn’t the way Captain Jack Sparrow was supposed to die. He could no longer hear the drums or the people about the gallows, only his own blood rushing in his veins, pounding in his ears… but one word broke through the nearly illusory haze. “Move!!” It was vaguely familiar voice, and Jack snapped his head ahead to look just as the thick hand pulled at the lever. A bright flash of metal, before the feeling of weightlessness buoyed Jack’s spirit for a second, before the rope tightened about his neck and burned his skin… * * * "The Black Pearl is yours." Anamaria’s words echoed in Jack’s head even after he had dismissed the crew, curling his hands tightly about the handles of the Pearl’s wheel. The Black Pearl… his beautiful Pearl, after all those cursed years, was his again. Euphoria simmered within the pirate, and at that moment he understood what it meant to be happy. Ignoring the lingering burn around his neck, Jack cast his gaze to the wide, blue horizon and smiled genuinely for the first time in years. Never mind that it was your boy who helped me out a little, Bill, you still owe me those drinks. I think I’ve earned them. Jack’s smile stretched into a grin as the tune he’d only recently learned - from a Governor’s daughter, no less! – came back to his mind. Murmuring the ditty under his breath, Jack turned the wheel, feeling the vessel respond under his feet as she cut through the clear waters, black sails billowing proudly in the wind. It was indeed a beautiful day. THE END |