A/N Well, it's been quite some time, hasn't it? I'm very, sincerely sorry! I would have gotten this chapter out sooner if my internet problems hadn't intervened…my connection kept getting cut off unexpectedly.

I may blink on and off again, so be prepared.

Chapter VIII

A Slight Case of Madness

Having missed the less-than-appetizing continental breakfast hosted in the hotel, Claire bought a simple turkey sandwich and settled down to eat on the edge of the fountain, chewing thoughtfully.

Claire never liked continental breakfasts. The cream cheese had an aftertaste, and the orange juice was thin and had no pulp. Never a big coffee drinker, Claire tended to avoid that as well, and the milk was never the kind she liked to drink.

Claire wasn't a picky eater.

She could eat spicy food – with three glasses of water, granted – and was always more than willing to sample exotic recipes. She didn't eat like a model (e.g. One grapefruit a day, if even that), and she ordered the occasional hamburger when dining with her family at Hamburger Hamlet for Mother's Day.

But she would not eat a continental breakfast at a three star hotel. The hotel was lovely, and the room they rented was very cozy. It had nothing to do the Holiday Inn itself, respectively.

I just so happened that a croissant, a large portion of cream cheese and too many muffins combined with a five year old Claire had…dissuaded her from such meals in the future.

It was a silly reason not to take advantage of the food.

It had been, after all, twenty years ago, but every time she got a whiff of those combinations, she felt nauseated and dashed to the bathroom.

She was fine with bagels the rest of the time. Indeed, she loved bagels.

But not bagels from hotels, where their origin was in question.

Although it was only a quarter after nine in the morning, Claire substituted the turkey sandwich for breakfast. It was, after all, the most important meal of the day.

And that was, after all, the meal she skipped the most.

Besides, it was very relaxing to just take the time to sit down and enjoy the fun-filled atmosphere of the pirate festival. Veronica was milling around somewhere, spending her time flirting and trying to play games to win prizes.

In time, Claire would jump in as well, but for now…she was happy that her turkey sandwich was keeping her company.

-x-

The three men -and the monkey- had moved to a more secluded location of the square, under cover of the colonnade, where they might be less easily overheard. They weren't particularly worried, for in the event that someone chanced to overhear them, most would dismiss it as friends all chatting in a very piratical manner.

What better time to get in touch with your inner pirate than on Talk Like A Pirate's Day itself?

"Is there any exact reason that the pirate festival is being hosted today?" Will asked, looking highly uncomfortable about the circumstances with which he found himself dragged into yet again.

"Oh, yes. Good fancy reason for that." Jack smirked, stooping down to inspect the remarkable cracks in the stone.

Barbossa frowned, cringing.

"Aye, there's a reason indeed. It so happens that once ev'ry year, on September 19th, an…unofficial holiday, you might call it, has sprung into existence. It's named Talk-"

"Talk Like A Pirate Day." Jack interrupted, as per usual.

Will disliked the cunning gleam in Jack's eyes, for whenever the old captain had a look like that, it was wise you tuck your tail between your legs and run for high ground.

"Well, what is its significance then?" Will pressed, hasty to piece together the logic of the tumultuous madness that surrounded him.

Having been at sea and distanced from the modern world for so long, all of the aspects that most would find commonplace, such as the smell of fresh hotdog stands, or the convenience of indoor plumbing was confusing and alien to Will.

His predicament was both tragic and comically funny all at once.

All at his expense.

Jack smirked, fixing Will with a sideways grin.

"You research the history about it, an' you'll find how two mates called Ol' Chumbucket and Cap'n Slappy made up a false private holiday, and so proclaimed that September 19th should be the day when everyone throws dirt in their mouths and starts talkin' like the old pirate curs. Savvy?"

Will nodded, so Jack continued.

"Now, by world standards, this holiday is a very young one, having been established in 1995. People these days have no bloody clue what we sounded like, so instead of sayin' a decent 'hello' today, they'll clap you heartily on the back with a loud, 'Arr, mate! How be ye?'"

Will choked as Jack gave him a strong slap on the back, reenacting the greeting to emphasize its lunacy. With a mischievous grin, he added, "And instead of agreeing in any manner of normal fashion, they'll think it dashing to shout, 'Aye, avast!' Only stupid whelps would say that when it isn't s'possed to be said.

His subtle jab served as a reminder of the days when Will first spent his time with Jack as his pirate accomplice and knew absolutely nothing on how to behave.

"It's a backwards time, and everyone acts like imbeciles." Barbossa grimaced.

Jack smiled warmly, "Ah, but mate, at least you get to wear your hat again."

The other captain nodded sullenly. "Aye, that's true."

"But, back to the subject at hand," Jack addressed Will again, "It's always celebrated on this day, September 19th supposedly on one of the birthday of one of the founder's ex-wife."

Will was about to question Jack what exactly an 'ex-wife' was, but supposed that he would only draw the man's attention away from a decidedly more important topic. So, he said nothing and listened.

"But that's just all popular rumor. You see, no one ever realized the importance of September 19th."

Jack paused, smiling lopsidedly.

"Well?" Will asked, too tired to do anything but give the man exactly what he wanted.

"It's all for me!" Jack pointed to his chest proudly.

"Beg pardon?" Will was having difficulty understand what he meant by that.

Barbossa wore a pained expression on his face. "Few know now, as they did back then, that September 19th is the date of the birth of Jack Sparrow."

"Aye," Jack agreed with enthusiasm, "The Immortal Captain Jack Sparrow popped out from 'tween mum's thighs during a raging typhoon in the Indian Ocean. Imagine that!" He poked Barbossa's chest triumphantly, face alight with insane joy.

"I bet your mum was nothin' more than a-"

Will stopped listening to the conversation from there, intent on mulling over this new information. Fragments of their insults wafted into his ears occasionally.

"I don't care to bicker with ye about your petty claims of having ancestry of any kind, Jack."

"Oh, touchy, are we? You know, you never told me who claimed paternity of your bloody monkey!"

"Are you suggesting something that ye shouldn't?"

"Shouldn't I?"

Recognizing the warning signs, Will left the two captains behind him and thought it wise to alert Maccus and his father what they should look out for.

Returning to the full-on bloom of sunlight, Will blinked and peered around for any of his wandering crew. He spotted a small cluster of his deckhands meandering around the southwest section of the square, looking relatively peaceful and increasingly calmer by the moment.

That was very good, but not what he was looking for.

With one last glance at Jack and Barbossa – who hadn't still noticed his disappearance –

he abandoned them and headed towards the central section of the courtyard, where he'd have a better view.

From behind him, he could still hear traces of Jack's whining.

"Well, that monkey has worse breath than me! What do you feed him? Human heads?"

Will chuckled and shook his head. That man never aged.

Physically or mentally.

-x-

Crumpling the plastic that the turkey sandwich was wrapped with in her hand, Claire was about to stand and throw it away, then search out Veronica. However, a hand fell lightly on her shoulder, arresting her movement and startling her half out of her wits.

She jumped and was about to throw herself at her attacker with the can of pepper spray she always kept somewhere on her personage after the incident with Martin.

Sensing her panic and clearly not intending to cause her any bodily harm, certainly not in the middle of a bright, crowded square, the hand withdrew, as did the wrist, arm and body it was attached to.

Not usually one to pounce on others, Claire was feeling offended and invaded by this intrusion, and she snapped irritably at the man, "What?"

He looked a little taken aback, and his hand still hovered a few inches above her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I just had a question for you, miss." He replied, his expression shocked but quickly reshaping itself to an apologetic and sheepish smile.

Claire relaxed, feeling suddenly incredibly mortified and abashed. She wanted to just melt into the ground, her cheeks turning bright red. Although, it was true, the man had absolutely no right to touch her – however lightly – she did over-react, and felt quite embarrassed about her outburst.

She was all for the whole 'first impressions' deal, but she just about ruined it now.

With an awkward and forced laugh, Claire admitted, "It's alright. I did jump on you a bit there too."

Now it was the man's turn to look bewildered.

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?"

Claire didn't understand his question. "What?" This was getting funny and absurd all at once. "What do you mean by 'what do you mean'?"

The man shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "I didn't understand the phrase you used. What did you mean by you 'jumped on me'?" He had a small accent, a certain lilt that she associated somewhere in the UK.

He had to have been a foreigner to the United States, which would explain why he didn't understand the term. If they didn't use the term there…of course. But she didn't know.

Wait – what?

This was getting confusing.

"Oh, I see. That term isn't literal. It just means that I snapped irritably at you before you even had a chance to speak."

"Ah." The man replied, unsure of what to do now.

Shaking her head as if to clear away all the confusion, and started over, extending her hand.

"I think we should do this the right way. I'm Claire."

The man grinned and took the proffered hand, "John."

With a deep breath and small laugh, Claire asked, "So, what's your question?"

He nodded, "Ah yes, thank you. Well-" John was about to continue before he turned suddenly pale, and stiffened, his eyes focused on a point somewhere beyond Claire's shoulder.

"Mr. Hunter, please find Mr. Turner and then report back to me, if you would."

Smoothing down his moustache, as if trying to be presentable for the young man that entered the scene, John gave Claire a shrug and slipped away.

The posture and tone of voice which the young man had displayed showed clear evidence that he had some position of authority over John. He addressed him professionally and deliberately – not unlike a sea captain, in all actuality.

Approaching Claire with assuredness, the man gave a slight, apologetic nod.

"I apologize profusely for my crewman's behavior. I do hope he caused you no inconvenience."

Unsure of exactly how to react, Claire gave a half-joking curtsy and shrugged, "Oh no, it's fine. He was no problem at all." She cocked her head in the direction John hurried off to. "So you're all 'part of a crew', right?" She laughed. "Cool idea."

Smiling as if at a private joke, the young man only answered, "It wasn't my idea, especially not to be their Captain…but I seem to have done a well enough job of it."

He approached her and presented Claire with a refined bow. "My name is Captain Will Turner." He politely introduced himself.

He was completely in character…which was refreshing to finally find a man who wasn't afraid to wear poofy shirts and admit that "Yes, I do look good in these!"

It wasn't any fun at all to find a guy who you'd think was a courtly privateer, but really turned out to be a sun-drenched surfer dude from Laguna or Malibu.

…Not that she actually had any such encounters, nor biases against such surfer dudes – having dated one herself in her senior year of college – but Will seemed positively gallant. It was…nice.

With a little chuckle, she grinned, "Claire Peterson. Nice to meet you."

"Of course. It's been quite some time since I've been among the genteel folk." Will answered.

Claire took an immediate liking to him. After all, how great was it to meet an actual guy who uses words like 'genteel' and wasn't that man Frasier from the TV show.

Still with that smile splitting her face, Claire answered, "Well, I'm not at all pretentious in any way as you can see, and I'm not exactly a 'lady' either."

She swept her hands over her sailor's garb.

Will didn't seem bothered by that at all. In fact, he echoed the gesture, showing off his own piratical gear, smiling. "Then I suppose that neither of us are the exact figures of nobility."

"Guess not." Claire agreed.

…And then she ran out of things to say. She was never particularly talented in keeping up conversations with absolute strangers. Will seemed more practiced, however, and he politely changed the subject.

"I believe that Mr. Hunter had wanted to ask you a question?" He was still quite charming and formal, although a new tone had entered – it was somewhat guarded, and with that same tang of command and experience that he spoke to John with.

Claire assumed that Will was responsible for the older man's actions – therefore, it made sense he'd want to know…right? Still, the fact he asked about it was a little weird. Nonetheless, she'd give Will the benefit of the doubt.

"Yeah, that's what he said." She shrugged, hugging her arms.

"Do you have any idea what it might have been about?" Will pressed.

"No…" Claire said slowly. "Why?"

As if sensing her growing discomfort, he relinquished his questioning. "Forgive me for being intrusive. I just wished to know if he said anything offensive or…disturbing."

Claire was slightly perturbed now. John seemed quite gentlemanly, despite initially having invaded her personal space.

"Not in the least. Why, is that something he does normally…?" She trailed off, leaving the question hang.

"No no, nothing at all like that," Will hastily amended.

"Then what?" Claire was getting uneasy and restless.

Will grew quiet and thoughtful, his eyes sweeping over the ground before arcing back up to meet her own gaze steadily.

"You see, he's quite fond of the drink, so..."

"Ah." Claire nodded briskly. "So he's the kind of shady guy you aren't always sure about?"

Well, that had been frank.

Claire immediately regretted her harsh choice of wording, but she couldn't help but feel anything but rising resentment and anger towards John. He had seemed so charming…if only a little flustered.

Nothing to indicate he had been a pervert, which she found highly unnerving. It also made herself feel like a completely idiot.

He blanched. The expression on Will's face was so intense that Claire was so concerned that she had said absolutely the wrong thing.

And then he cracked a small smile, as if relieved.

"I assure you, his intentions are purely harmless. He's only a little unpredictable…like a child with wild fantasies, perhaps. You don't have anything to fear from him."

And that, of course, advice was from a stranger.

But Claire only shrugged and moved on, ignoring the unusual simile.

"Sure, okay."

She didn't bother asking what kind of 'fantasies' John was actually having. The poor guy was probably an addict. Or something. Not that she ran into them all the time, or anything.

Okay, what was even with her thoughts today, really? She berated herself internally, annoyed.

"Well, I'm sorry to have caused you any inconvenience." Will said civilly, drawing the conversation to a close.

"Hey, it's okay. Thanks for letting me…um…know about him." Claire wasn't exactly sure how to put it, but she supposed the point got across.

"Of course." Will was about to politely excuse himself and withdraw, when a loud, rambunctious man swaggered up behind him, dropping an arm lazily over Will's shoulder.

"Another friend of yours?" Claire smirked. "There definitely seems to be a lot of them wanderin' around."

Will grimaced, as if in discomfort.

"More an associate than anything else."

The man looked mildly offended. "Now Will, is that what you think of me, after all we've been through together?" He winked at Claire sleazily, erasing all chances of her holding any sort of respect for him.

Still looking pained, Will breathed, "It's myself I'd be worried about if I thought of you as anything else than that, Jack."

"True enough," Jack admitted, slipping away from Will and sidling over towards Claire, appraising her thoughtfully, as if considering something very important.

Claire cautiously took an automatic step back, hand straying towards her coat pocket where the can of pepper spray was hidden.

Was she paranoid? Quite certainly. She was wary about certain strangers, particularly male strangers that grinned at her horribly or caught her somewhat by surprise.

Like this delightful fellow.

Jack was an oozy, oily kind of man you'd expect to find it a horrendous yellow zoot suit at a used cars lot, and those people always smelled like bad cologne and something else you'd rather not identify.

He also creeped her out.

Will sensed her discomfort and took a long stride forward, gripping Jack's shoulder firmly and arresting his movement.

"…We've a lot to cover, Jack. It's been some time since I've seen you last." He began to turn the man away from Claire, for which she felt great thanks. Will definitely seemed like a genuinely nice guy…if a little serious and reserved.

She herself figured it was time she grouped up with Veronica again, and gave Will a quick, thankful wave before turning back.

But Jack broke away, waving his arms before Will's face in pointed exaggeration.

"Shoo," he hissed impatiently at him. "I'm bloody working here!"

Before giving him a chance to retort anything, Jack stomped after Claire, loudly shouting dirty advances and terrifying her half out of her wits. She spun around finally, facing him and preparing to scream at her loudest.

But the strange thing was that many people were watching the drama unfold, although Jack didn't seem bothered by the attention. Will was getting jostled back by the growing throng of people, and Claire felt he was her only security in this.

"C'mon wench! Give 'ol Cap'n Jack a bit of love, would you darling?" He took an intimidating step forward, his dark eyes unreadable.

This time, her hand flew towards to can of pepper spray, although she was never given the chance to use it.

Will pushed through the cluster of witnesses, and started forward with a sharp look in his eyes. His gaze was locked on Jack's back, and he looked just about ready to run him through with that sword of his. Nevermind that it was probably fake.

It still could be just as deadly, and Will was Claire's only hope in this.

She felt her color rise at the indignity of the situation. Being humiliated in such a way before an entire audience…they were just going to sit back and watch as Jack planned to do God-knows-what with her.

To her.

With a sinking feeling, Claire recalled to mind the video of an old woman getting mugged on a street corner, with a full five people walking by without stopping to help.

She shuddered.

Suddenly, a bearded pirate burst through the crowd, brandishing a menacing-looking sword with a viciously chattering monkey perched on his shoulder. Claire was too distracted to find it odd that an exotic animal was allowed to come to this public event…let alone as someone's pet.

The bearded man leapt forward and shouted, "Jack, ye've gone too far this time!" He continued to wave his sword with fervor. "Ye've broken the pirate code!"

At this, Will halted in his tracks and awaited further development. Claire shot him a frightened glance, to which he tried to match with a calm smile…although she could tell he was trying to deduce which of those two men he could…or should trust.

Jack seemed to have temporarily lost interest in Claire, for he swung his full attention to the bearded man. "Ah, to blazes with the code, says I! It were only a band of superstitious old fools that writ it down!"

Claire began to use the opportunity presented to her to back slowly away, hoping to merge into the crowd and escaping Jack's notice.

But of course, his statement having been said, he turned around and grabbed her arm, roughly pulling her into him.

Claire gasped with shock and started kicking wildly, fight or flight behavior flashing across her brain waves. She was giving only one option now…so she shouted as loud as she could, hoping Veronica at least would recognize her voice.

Jack grunted at her well aimed kick to his shins, but didn't double over like she'd hoped. In fact, he seemed annoyed more than anything, and put a dirty hand over her mouth, making very sure to keep his fingers locked tightly together.

Damn Jack, she couldn't bite him.

The bearded man seemed displeased. "Let her go! Our pirate law demands that you harm no wenches on these grounds!" He gestured around himself. "'Tis neutral territory. You know that!"

Jack winced at another of Claire's kicks, but still struggled to answer the bearded man.

"Oh, I bloody well do! But for whom, aye? You need to be a pirate to adhere to the pirate code, which I'm not. Sound familiar?"

Will inched slowly towards Jack, still judging him to be the biggest threat in this bizarre scenario. The fact that he seemed to distrust the man who had a firm grip on her versus the man far away from her personage made Claire go very still, following Will with her eyes.

Jack's hold around her was suffocating and tight, and her fingers just brushed the tip of her pocket with the can of pepper spray.

Claire despised being so helpless.

The bearded man narrowed his eyes. "I more than remember. Much more. But deny it or not Jack, you're a pirate, and a pirate by blood. Know that."

Jack shook his head, as if humoring a little kid. "Barbossa, I'm not a pirate! Not anymore!" He tossed up his head proudly, dreadlocks swinging. "I'm a god!"

Claire kicked him again, and this time, caught off-guard, he finally stumbled a few paces away from her. She fled into the ever-growing crowd, running away until she finally fell into Veronica, panting.

-x-

It was a huge relief to Will that Claire had the fortitude to pull herself away from Jack. He could now focus completely on them.

Staring off in the direction Claire escaped, Jack commented loudly, "Looks like the wench got a whiff of your odor, mate," he mimed waving foul-smelling air away before his nose. Members of the crowd laughed, as if at a joke.

Narrowing his eyes but otherwise ignoring Jack's remark, Barbossa continued, "That behavior is why we banished you from the pirate court, Jack. I'll prove to ye that you're only a mortal! Who agrees with me?"

He glanced around the group surrounding him. Many of them looked bemused and unsure, although a few groups jokingly raised their arms and chorused, "Aye!"

Barbossa scowled. "Is that all?"

This time, more onlookers were sure that they were being addressed and heartily showed their support.

Will didn't understand what was passing between Barbossa and Jack, but he knew he'd have to intervene if a fight escalated.

Now Jack turned to the crowd to rally followers.

"Ah, to blazes with Barbossa and his precious code! Who thinks that piracy should be what it was meant to be? Freedom!"

More enthusiastic shouts greeted him.

Barbossa fixed Jack with a hard look. "Then I suppose we'll have to settle this as it was meant to be settled!"

He raised his sword and charged.