OK, it has come to pass that I have ten days completely free. Being
somewhat at a loss as to what to do with them, I have decided to write a
nine-chapter story in nine days. Well, actually a seven-chapter story with
a prologue and an epilogue. Why, you ask? Good question.
Anyway, that is how I'm writing the story, now as to why I'm writing THIS story. There seems to be a lot of stories that explore the relationship between Jack and Anamaria, but if you ask me
Cast of thousands: Which nobody did.
Me: Quiet I'm on a roll. If you ask me, the dynamic between Jack and Gibbs in the film was far more interesting. I mean, come on he gets a bucket of water thrown over him, but as soon as he sees who it is, he isn't angry or upset anymore. That suggests quite a significant past to me. So this story is going to be exploring Gibbs' past and the relationship between him and Jack. I DON'T mean slash. I like slash fine, but some pairings really are too weird. Jack and Gibbs being one of them. Apologies to anyone who may write them, but uh, ugh. Um, that's all folks.
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Prologue
Joshamee Gibbs was worried. He had started off amused and had passed through stages of being concerned, annoyed and frustrated, and had even had a brief stretch of anger, but now he was most definitely worried.
The reason for his state of unrest stood swaying at the helm of the Black Pearl, plainly silhouetted in the light of the full moon. Jack Sparrow. His Captain. His friend. And, at times such as this, the biggest idiot he had ever known.
"It's been two days now." a woman's voice said beside him. Anamaria. It was unlucky to have a woman on board ship, that was true enough, but she had proved her worth time and time again. And it was worse luck to throw anyone off a ship who was worth being on it.
"Aye," he said, answering her.
"He shouldn't even be out of bed, and there he is at the helm for two days straight. No sleep, no food." She shook her head. "Fool."
He looked at her. True enough, but all the same; "He is the captain."
"You're not in the navy now."
No, and that was a good thing, although he hadn't thought so back then.
"Besides," she continued "I'm worried about him." She looked defensive. "He's a crazy fool, but he is a good captain. And he still owes me a boat."
Gibbs smiled slightly; the argument over the boat had been raging for months now. Jack claimed that it wasn't his fault that the boat he had been going to give her had been blown up - in fact he had berated her for her carelessness, with a rather disturbing grin on his face. Then he had ducked, not quite quickly enough.
"Alright, I'll talk to him."
"Will he listen though?" she muttered darkly and moved off, though not too far.
Gibbs took a deep breath and made his way aft to talk to his captain. It was impossible to miss the fact that something was wrong; Jack was leaning heavily on the wheel and as he got closer, he could see that the dark eyes were glazed over. On seeing him approach though, the other man made a perceptible effort to stand on his own two feet.
"Good afternoon mate." He said with a grin.
Ah. Was that designed to confuse him, or was Jack genuinely disorientated?
"It's night time Captain." He said, carefully, and then watched as Jack looked up at the sky, with a look of fascination.
"So it is. I hadn't noticed."
He carefully watched Jack's face, for any signs that he was being teased, but it was impossible to tell. Not that that was unusual. Actually, Jack behaving at all rationally or seriously probably would be cause for concern.
"Don't you think you should rest, Jack?"
The beads rattled together as the captain shook his head.
"I'm fine, totally fine."
"It's only been five days since you were shot." Have to be careful not to antagonise him; there was absolutely no chance that Jack Sparrow would do something if he thought someone was telling him to. Maybe another approach . . .?
"How about some rum?" He produced his treasured flask, and passed it over to his friend, who, as ever, accepted greedily and did his level best to empty it in one gulp. He passed it back, apparently rather reluctantly. Faced with little alternative, Gibbs did his best to match his captain's effort. The alcohol burned his throat; he liked drinking but he'd never been able to match Jack. Looking at the man, who was neither especially tall nor broad, he wondered where he put it. He passed the flask back. This time Jack had to tip the flask back all the way and only a few drops came out. The look of dismay on his face was comic.
"It's empty."
Now for the clever part of the plan. "There's more in your cabin Jack. Why don't we go there and keep a few bottles company."
His captain turned and looked at him, face entirely serious. "If it is that you're wanting me to go and lie down, why don't you simply say so?"
Damn. Oh well, "It would be a good idea, Jack. You haven't slept for two nights now, you've hardly eaten and you're still weak from that bullet I dug out your thigh." Weak. Shouldn't have said that. He wouldn't like that. Time to press on wildly. "So it would be a good idea, if you came with me and got a few hours sleep. Anamaria can look after the Pearl."
"No." That fairly wild, and at first glance inane, grin again.
He did his best to suppress a sigh. It was like telling a sleepy child that it was bedtime when it didn't want to go. "Jack, you need to rest or you'll collapse."
He watched with a mixture of resignation and concern (and, to be honest, a little awe too) as Jack pushed himself up off the wheel until he was standing entirely independently. He was definitely swaying more than usual. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and a look of immense pain flickered across his face.
"I am still captain . . . " he began and then, with a look of astonishment, fell down.
He would have hit the deck if Gibbs hadn't been anticipating this, and had quickly moved to catch him. He rolled his eyes, and hoisted the unconscious man up so that he was nestled in his arms.
"Come on then, you bloody lunatic" he muttered, but gently. Looking down on to the deck, he caught Anamaria's eye and she quickly rushed to take the place unexpectedly vacated by their captain.
He carried his burden forwards, to the captain's cabin. Cotton stepped forwards as he was crossing the deck, a questioning look on his face.
"He'll be fine." Gibbs told him.
"Horizon ahoy." the parrot squawked.
Gibbs snorted. "No doubt."
Cotton walked with him and opened the door to the cabin. Then he nodded and left. Gibbs carried Jack in and laid him down on the bed. Being very careful not to wake the sleeper, he checked on the injured leg. It was slightly inflamed, but seemed a lot better. About the only time it was possible to check on Jack's injuries was when he was unconscious.
Gibbs shook his head. This wasn't the first time he'd seen Jack push himself too far. Since he got the Pearl back he had been more inclined than ever to do so. It was as if he was afraid that someone would take her away, if he weren't there on deck, all the time. Gibbs couldn't help but worry that one of these days his friend would go too far and wouldn't be able to find his way back.
He shook his head again, and started rummaging through the junk that had accumulated since Jack moved back into the cabin. Funny that, he reflected. Jack kept the rest of the ship spotless, but his own living area was a shambles while, from what Gibbs had been able to see, Barbossa had kept the cabin beautiful but had let the rest of the ship go to hell. Literally, in some ways. Finally, he pulled out a blanket and used it to cover the sleeping man.
He was turning to leave, when he heard Jack moan slightly and turned back to see him shift uneasily. Concerned, he moved back to the bed and put a hand on the younger man's forehead. It was too warm for his liking. He frowned.
"You never do things simply, do you?" he asked, pointlessly. "Suppose I'd better stay here, make sure you're alright." Looking round he spied a chair and. After clearing a large pile of charts and a copy of Dante's Divine Comedy off it, he settled down for a long night.
He watched his unconscious friend and found his thoughts going back to a time over eight years ago, to a time before he knew Captain Jack Sparrow.
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There you go, that's the last you'll see of the 'present' for a while. By the way, I figure that 'present' is maybe a year after the movie.
Cast of thousands: And is written in inverted commas?
Me: Whatever. As to the Divine Comedy, before anyone asks, well that line about the deepest circle of hell reminded me of it so I wondered if Jack had actually read it. I dunno, maybe I'm just crazy. Yes that hypothesis works for me.
Please review. Just click on that little button, right there. Go on.
Anyway, that is how I'm writing the story, now as to why I'm writing THIS story. There seems to be a lot of stories that explore the relationship between Jack and Anamaria, but if you ask me
Cast of thousands: Which nobody did.
Me: Quiet I'm on a roll. If you ask me, the dynamic between Jack and Gibbs in the film was far more interesting. I mean, come on he gets a bucket of water thrown over him, but as soon as he sees who it is, he isn't angry or upset anymore. That suggests quite a significant past to me. So this story is going to be exploring Gibbs' past and the relationship between him and Jack. I DON'T mean slash. I like slash fine, but some pairings really are too weird. Jack and Gibbs being one of them. Apologies to anyone who may write them, but uh, ugh. Um, that's all folks.
*****************************************************************
Prologue
Joshamee Gibbs was worried. He had started off amused and had passed through stages of being concerned, annoyed and frustrated, and had even had a brief stretch of anger, but now he was most definitely worried.
The reason for his state of unrest stood swaying at the helm of the Black Pearl, plainly silhouetted in the light of the full moon. Jack Sparrow. His Captain. His friend. And, at times such as this, the biggest idiot he had ever known.
"It's been two days now." a woman's voice said beside him. Anamaria. It was unlucky to have a woman on board ship, that was true enough, but she had proved her worth time and time again. And it was worse luck to throw anyone off a ship who was worth being on it.
"Aye," he said, answering her.
"He shouldn't even be out of bed, and there he is at the helm for two days straight. No sleep, no food." She shook her head. "Fool."
He looked at her. True enough, but all the same; "He is the captain."
"You're not in the navy now."
No, and that was a good thing, although he hadn't thought so back then.
"Besides," she continued "I'm worried about him." She looked defensive. "He's a crazy fool, but he is a good captain. And he still owes me a boat."
Gibbs smiled slightly; the argument over the boat had been raging for months now. Jack claimed that it wasn't his fault that the boat he had been going to give her had been blown up - in fact he had berated her for her carelessness, with a rather disturbing grin on his face. Then he had ducked, not quite quickly enough.
"Alright, I'll talk to him."
"Will he listen though?" she muttered darkly and moved off, though not too far.
Gibbs took a deep breath and made his way aft to talk to his captain. It was impossible to miss the fact that something was wrong; Jack was leaning heavily on the wheel and as he got closer, he could see that the dark eyes were glazed over. On seeing him approach though, the other man made a perceptible effort to stand on his own two feet.
"Good afternoon mate." He said with a grin.
Ah. Was that designed to confuse him, or was Jack genuinely disorientated?
"It's night time Captain." He said, carefully, and then watched as Jack looked up at the sky, with a look of fascination.
"So it is. I hadn't noticed."
He carefully watched Jack's face, for any signs that he was being teased, but it was impossible to tell. Not that that was unusual. Actually, Jack behaving at all rationally or seriously probably would be cause for concern.
"Don't you think you should rest, Jack?"
The beads rattled together as the captain shook his head.
"I'm fine, totally fine."
"It's only been five days since you were shot." Have to be careful not to antagonise him; there was absolutely no chance that Jack Sparrow would do something if he thought someone was telling him to. Maybe another approach . . .?
"How about some rum?" He produced his treasured flask, and passed it over to his friend, who, as ever, accepted greedily and did his level best to empty it in one gulp. He passed it back, apparently rather reluctantly. Faced with little alternative, Gibbs did his best to match his captain's effort. The alcohol burned his throat; he liked drinking but he'd never been able to match Jack. Looking at the man, who was neither especially tall nor broad, he wondered where he put it. He passed the flask back. This time Jack had to tip the flask back all the way and only a few drops came out. The look of dismay on his face was comic.
"It's empty."
Now for the clever part of the plan. "There's more in your cabin Jack. Why don't we go there and keep a few bottles company."
His captain turned and looked at him, face entirely serious. "If it is that you're wanting me to go and lie down, why don't you simply say so?"
Damn. Oh well, "It would be a good idea, Jack. You haven't slept for two nights now, you've hardly eaten and you're still weak from that bullet I dug out your thigh." Weak. Shouldn't have said that. He wouldn't like that. Time to press on wildly. "So it would be a good idea, if you came with me and got a few hours sleep. Anamaria can look after the Pearl."
"No." That fairly wild, and at first glance inane, grin again.
He did his best to suppress a sigh. It was like telling a sleepy child that it was bedtime when it didn't want to go. "Jack, you need to rest or you'll collapse."
He watched with a mixture of resignation and concern (and, to be honest, a little awe too) as Jack pushed himself up off the wheel until he was standing entirely independently. He was definitely swaying more than usual. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and a look of immense pain flickered across his face.
"I am still captain . . . " he began and then, with a look of astonishment, fell down.
He would have hit the deck if Gibbs hadn't been anticipating this, and had quickly moved to catch him. He rolled his eyes, and hoisted the unconscious man up so that he was nestled in his arms.
"Come on then, you bloody lunatic" he muttered, but gently. Looking down on to the deck, he caught Anamaria's eye and she quickly rushed to take the place unexpectedly vacated by their captain.
He carried his burden forwards, to the captain's cabin. Cotton stepped forwards as he was crossing the deck, a questioning look on his face.
"He'll be fine." Gibbs told him.
"Horizon ahoy." the parrot squawked.
Gibbs snorted. "No doubt."
Cotton walked with him and opened the door to the cabin. Then he nodded and left. Gibbs carried Jack in and laid him down on the bed. Being very careful not to wake the sleeper, he checked on the injured leg. It was slightly inflamed, but seemed a lot better. About the only time it was possible to check on Jack's injuries was when he was unconscious.
Gibbs shook his head. This wasn't the first time he'd seen Jack push himself too far. Since he got the Pearl back he had been more inclined than ever to do so. It was as if he was afraid that someone would take her away, if he weren't there on deck, all the time. Gibbs couldn't help but worry that one of these days his friend would go too far and wouldn't be able to find his way back.
He shook his head again, and started rummaging through the junk that had accumulated since Jack moved back into the cabin. Funny that, he reflected. Jack kept the rest of the ship spotless, but his own living area was a shambles while, from what Gibbs had been able to see, Barbossa had kept the cabin beautiful but had let the rest of the ship go to hell. Literally, in some ways. Finally, he pulled out a blanket and used it to cover the sleeping man.
He was turning to leave, when he heard Jack moan slightly and turned back to see him shift uneasily. Concerned, he moved back to the bed and put a hand on the younger man's forehead. It was too warm for his liking. He frowned.
"You never do things simply, do you?" he asked, pointlessly. "Suppose I'd better stay here, make sure you're alright." Looking round he spied a chair and. After clearing a large pile of charts and a copy of Dante's Divine Comedy off it, he settled down for a long night.
He watched his unconscious friend and found his thoughts going back to a time over eight years ago, to a time before he knew Captain Jack Sparrow.
***************************************************************
There you go, that's the last you'll see of the 'present' for a while. By the way, I figure that 'present' is maybe a year after the movie.
Cast of thousands: And is written in inverted commas?
Me: Whatever. As to the Divine Comedy, before anyone asks, well that line about the deepest circle of hell reminded me of it so I wondered if Jack had actually read it. I dunno, maybe I'm just crazy. Yes that hypothesis works for me.
Please review. Just click on that little button, right there. Go on.