A Tale of Two Captains, Chapter 7

By Khylaren and CinnamonGrrl

Norrington tensed then, his entire form going stiff with offense and anger. Jack just continued to smile. Janeway sat back and observed, not sure exactly what Jack had meant but quite sure he'd scored a direct hit against the other man. She made a mental note not to let Jack know much about the few skeletons in her closet. She had a feeling he'd stop at nothing to win an argument: it was obvious he approached verbal battles with the same deadly intent as his physical ones.

"Quite so, Captain Sparrow," the commodore said at last. Then his eyes dropped to Jack's hand still resting on the table. He appeared to be peering quite hard at it, and Jack frowned, dropping his hand casually on his knee, but not before Norrington's flinty gaze lifted. "Sine liberate est vita nihil," Norrington murmured. "Life without freedom is nothing." His head tilted to one side like a curious bird. "That sounds suspiciously like a family motto, such as one would find in the quality." His glance flicked over Jack again. "Another bit of plunder, Captain?"

Jack's black eyes were unwavering as he stared back, seeming to be making a decision about his answer. "No," he replied at last. "This ring is mine by birthright." Norrington opened his mouth, but Jack interrupted. "I shall say no more of that. Pirate I may be, but an uncommon one." He slouched back in his chair once more, the smirk returning to his lips. "Am I more suitable for our Miss Janeway now?"

"Scarcely," said the commodore slowly, but he turned to her. "You are amenable to this, then?"

Jack was silent so long, Janeway turned to face him, and was disconcerted to find his speculative gaze resting on her. "Scarcely," he said at last, and grinned at her.

Remember how you need to get the tricorder and phaser back, she reminded herself as anger flared up again, refusing to entertain the nasty mutterings of her mind about ingratitude and how she should just let him swing.

"Miss Janeway," he said slowly, "I remain unconvinced that marriage to you would be punitive to Captain Sparrow, despite your tasteless joke of before." He frowned. "Perhaps all the more because of it."

Janeway gave him a smile before turning to aim it at Jack. He shifted uneasily, correctly deducing that nothing good could come of such a baring of teeth. "I assure you, Commodore," she began, "that I will make Jack long for the noose like Anamaria never could." Jack grumbled, and she shot out her elbow to make contact with his ribs, smiling wider when he grunted in pain.

Norrington's face showed surprise, and then his mouth began to curl yet again. She wondered if he'd break out laughing once more. But no, his stiff upper lip was in control, and he merely smiled. "I see I have misunderstood the… rapport between you," he said at last, delight at the situation restored as he looked over her shoulder to Jack, and stood. "In that case, I will permit you to do this, but ask one last time for you to reconsider."

She rose as well, aware that Jack came to stand at her back. He was close, his chest almost touching her back, and she realized it was a protective stance. A claiming stance. He was showing Norrington without words that he already considered Janeway his own. She wasn't thrilled with the development. "I appreciate your concern, but I have made my decision, and will stand by it." She paused. "I would like a moment to discuss this with Captain Sparrow, if you please."

"I thank you for the refreshment." The commodore nodded to Jack, who nodded back in rather a more exaggerated fashion, and the door clicked shut behind him as he left.

Janeway's poise faltered as soon as they were alone, and she slumped back into her chair. What was she doing? Instead of working toward getting back to Voyager, it seemed she'd just dug herself deeper into this world. Creating a tie, no matter how tenuous and loveless, between her and this pirate would come to no good in any way, she was sure of it. The only benefit she could see to her actions were that at least she'd be able to remain closer to her stolen belongings. It was imperative that she get her tricorder and phaser back.

And, of course, there remained the issue of what her sacrifice would accomplish. Capital punishment had not existed on Earth for many centuries, and the very idea of executing a man in cold blood for his crimes, instead of incarcerating him, made her nearly nauseous. In light of this, there was no way she could refuse to do whatever she could to keep him alive.

The soft touch of Jack's fingertip up the side of her neck yanked her from her reverie, and she sprang from the chair to face him, startled.

"Ah, don't be skittish, lass," he said quietly, the common tones back in his voice. "I'd just like to thank ye for doing me this service." His eyes were dark and soft as he approached, watching her all the while, until he stood directly before her.

Janeway lifted her chin a notch. "You can thank me," she said, "by returning the belongings you and your crew have taken from me."

Jack only smirked, the gold of his tooth winking dully in the dim light streaming through the cabin windows. "The day you decide to tell me the truth, I'll hand them over good and proper, love. Until then, I'll just keep them safe for you, savez?

A familiar leer appeared on his face as he stepped even closer, bringing the fronts of their bodies into contact, and looked down at her. "Of course, I'm more than willin' to let you try to persuade me," his voice dropped suggestively. "I'm not a fellow who can't be made to change 'is mind, if properly motivated."

He seemed to correctly interpret the teakettle-like noises she was making as a 'no', and stepped back, his hands held out in front of him as if to ward her ire off.

"This is a marriage of convenience, Jack," she informed him coldly. "I'm doing this to save your life, and get my things back. That's all. If you try to force yourself on me, I'll…" Her words trailed off as she groped for the right way to finish the threat. She never got the chance, however, because quicker than she could blink, Jack had somehow managed to grab her, spin her around, and squash her hard against the wall of the cabin with her arm twisted behind her.

"You'll what?" he breathed into her ear. "Do not make the mistake of thinking I shall be so beholden to you in gratitude that you will command me as you wish. I am still captain of this ship, and when we are wed, I shall be captain of you, as well."

Janeway swallowed the lump in her throat, steadfastly trying (and failing) to ignore the thrill of desire wriggling its way through her at the press of his lean body against her. She was not ignorant, either, of how his hips were pushed against hers. "It would be rape," she said in a low voice, holding very still.

He kissed her cheek heartily and noisily, then pulled away to slap her soundly on the backside. "Would it be, madam?" He smirked. "I remain unconvinced."

She turned and leveled a glare on him that should have set him on fire. He merely continued to grin in that maddening way of his. "Does this mean there won't be a cozy little honeymoon, Katey me lass?"

"No," she snapped. "There will be no honeymoon." She pushed past him to leave the cabin. "And don't call me Katey!" His only response was a low chuckle which made her hands itch to strangle him. Topside again, Janeway knew her eyes were snapping as she strode toward where Norrington stood conferring with his officers.

"Sparrow," the commodore drawled, "Can it be you've managed to anger your... fiancée already, in the two minutes since I left the cabin?"

"What can I say, Commodore?" Jack replied lazily, sauntering up. "There's something about me that just stirs women up." The Pearl's crew laughed at that, but Norrington and his men just frowned, as if puzzling over what Jack could possibly have meant, and Janeway was seized with a moment's sympathy for them. She was sure they were good men, but it was doubtful they'd ever engendered in a woman the sort of thoughts that she herself was harbouring-- entirely against her own will she might add— for the incorrigible Captain Sparrow.

She could still feel him all along the back of her body. It was not a good sign.

Norrington's confusion was soon replaced by apprehension once more. He directed his gaze to her. "It is not too late to reconsider, Miss Janeway. You would be welcome aboard the Dauntless until we reached Port Royal." His expression softened slightly as he regarded her. "Are you certain this is what you truly wish to do?"

No. "If it is the only way to save a man's life from execution, and from… a worse match, then yes. I am certain." She paused, liking him very much indeed. Stuffy he might be, but a decent man nonetheless, who'd tried hard to help her. "I very much appreciate your concern on my behalf, and won't forget it."

He nodded briskly, then. The decision was made. "Let us make ready, then." He turned to Gillette. "There is a wedding to be performed."

Jack cocked his head to one side, thinking. It was clear that Norrington planned on marrying them right then and there. Janeway's expression was of both fury and determination. He knew well what it was like to be forced by one's conscience to do something one did not actually wish to do, and he wondered if he should make some sort of effort to make this somewhat more pleasant for her.

"Commodore," he drawled, "I wonder if my fair bride would prefer to be attired somewhat more suitably for her wedding."

Norrington's brows snapped together, and he turned to look at Janeway, seeming to realize for the first time that she was wearing threadbare trousers and a grimy, obviously borrowed shirt. "Sparrow," he said on a heavy exhale, "might I remind you that this is not a joyful union of twin souls, but a desperate gesture of gratitude meant to saving you from swinging?"

"Suit yourself," Jack replied, shrugging indolently. "It's not every day a lass plights her troth. Just thought she might like to do it in a frock, with her hair combed."

Janeway's hand came up unconsciously to touch her hair, and she shuddered to realize it was straggling out of her braid. "I must look hideous," she muttered to herself.

Jack had to laugh at that. "No, Katey. Just like the disheveled pirate wench you are."

She glared at him. "I'm not a pirate wench, you idiot," she growled. "And don't call me Katey." She turned to find Norrington grinning widely at their sparring. "Jack's right, Commodore. I would appreciate some time to… tidy myself."

"By all means, Miss Janeway," he replied, lips twitching as he fought to sober himself. "I shall return to the Dauntless, and be back in an hour."

"Ah, so we're all agreed! Excellent!" Jack exclaimed. "Let's celebrate! Where's the rum?"

"No drinking," Janeway told him repressively. "Wait until this is over, and then you can drink yourself into oblivion. But I'm not marrying someone who barely stand."

Jack pouted; Janeway was immovable. "Fine," he conceded at last. "But Anamaria'll be helping you primp." Then he smiled when she went a little pale at the prospect of being alone with the other woman, who'd been glaring daggers at her ever since she'd pushed her way into the situation.

"Follow me," Anamaria commanded, and led the way belowdecks to where there might be something else for Janeway to wear. Jack heaved a sigh, and wandered back to his cabin.

And Norrington returned to the Dauntless, grinning shamelessly the entire way.

Anamaria stomped to the aft hold and began digging in a large crate. "Here's a fine gown," she said, pulling one of crimson taffeta out and holding it up against Janeway, who stood mute at the weirdness and incongruity at being dressed for her marriage—to a pirate—by the woman who'd been competing for the same thing not a half-hour earlier.

The other woman tilted her head consideringly, then tossed the dress over her shoulder. "No, the colour makes you look peaked." She rummaged some more, and found a tawny yellow gown laden with plenty of gold braid trim. "No," she declared after squinting at it a moment. "You'd look like you were in a Mardi Gras parade, to be sure."

"I'd rather avoid that," Janeway said dryly, still trying to deal with the surreality of it all.

When Anamaria came up with a third gown, Janeway stopped her with a hand on her forearm. "Anamaria," she said, "Why are you helping me? I know you can't be happy about this. I know you want the Pearl."

"Aye, I do," Anamaria replied frankly. "But it looks as if I won't be getting' it, so where's the sense in belabouring the point?" She grinned. "Besides, even the Pearl wouldn't be enough to make me put up with Jack Sparrow for any length of time, I'm thinking." Then she eyed Janeway craftily. "Of course, that's just me. Others might find the experience more… pleasant."

Janeway flushed, knowing Anamaria was referring to the almost-clinch she'd had with Jack at the helm, which apparently the entire crew had been privy to. "I—" she began, but Anamaria just shook her head.

"No use protesting," she told Janeway. "Ye might be able to lie to yourself, but there's not a soul alive as can fool me. Ye want him, and that's a fact."

Janeway frowned and grabbed the dress from Anamaria. "This one's fine," she muttered, not even looking at it, and strode from the hold toward Anamaria's cabin. Once there, she ignored the other woman's knowing smirk and sat on the chair, attacking her hair with a wooden comb missing several teeth.

"I'll bring ye some water to wash up," Anamaria said, and disappeared. Once alone, Janeway dropped the comb onto the bed and buried her face in her hands, letting out a slow, weary breath. She felt… exhausted. The past few days had been hard on her physically, but she was used to physical hardship. No, it was the emotional upheaval she'd experienced since meeting one Jack Sparrow that had been draining her. That, and worrying about damage to the Prime Directive: what were the repercussions of her actions on the future of this place? Was she interrupting an important timeline by saving Jack, instead of allowing him to hang?

There was no way to tell. All she knew was that, for whatever reasons, she couldn't allow Norrington to execute Jack. She just… couldn't. The fervour of her determination to keep him alive worried her. She didn't love him; she scarcely even liked him. Ok, that wasn't entirely true, she admitted to herself, and took up the comb again, trying to unsnarl her hair. She liked Jack. He was imminently likeable, in spite of the leering and swaggering and intermittent bouts of violence. She wondered what it said about her that she could like him in spite of all of that.

Then she turned her attention to the dress she'd dragged from the hold, and all thought of worrying disappeared.

The dress was silk, of the most luscious colour Janeway had ever seen. Not blue, not green, but somehow both at the same time, deep and vivid without being dark or gaudy. It flowed like water over her hands as she held it, and though Janeway had never been a woman to obsess about attire, she found herself hoping fervently that it would fit.

The bodice was sewn with tiny crystal beads and pearls, and the deep décolletage was framed by a narrower version of the creamy lace cuffs that frilled from the elbow-length sleeves. The skirt fell in liquid folds to the floor, shimmering almost indecently even in the murky light struggling through the tiny cabin's single dingy window.

She was still gaping at it when Anamaria returned. "Found you some underthings," the woman announced, then stopped to see Janeway mesmerized by the gown. "I see you're pleased with your choice," she commented dryly. "Well, shuck those things of yours, let's see if you can actually get into the damned thing."

Janeway was out of the trousers and shirt in less than fifteen seconds, to Anamaria's amusement. "All of it," she prodded, and Janeway reluctantly slipped out of her bra and panties as well, pretending not to notice Anamaria's curiousity over those strange garments as she tucked them under her discarded clothes.

She washed quickly, hoping the hard brown soap wouldn't scour her skin too harshly, then reached for the dress. It didn't fit at first, but then Anamaria suggested they try it again with the corset she'd brung. Janeway was not entirely pleased at that prospect, and indeed felt like she was being squeezed in a vice when Anamaria put her foot against Janeway's backside and pulled on the corset strings to tighten it, but once the gown was on and she could see how tiny her waist was, and how plump her breasts—always rather modestly-sized--  were as they pushed over the neckline of the gown, she had to admit it was worth it.

If only to see the expression on Jacks'  face when he laid eyes on her.

She took one look at Anamaria's face, shining just as mischievously as she knew her own to be, and burst out laughing. "Ow," she gasped after a moment. "Laughing in a corset hurts."

"Aye," Anamaria said, "which is why I don't wear 'em." She pushed Janeway into the chair and took up the comb after sticking a handful of hairpins in her mouth. "Let's get you finished, Norrington will be back soon."

Janeway submitted to being adjusted. There was no mirror, so she'd just have to trust Anamaria to not make her look terrible. But the woman's hands were deft and confident, and Janeway had to ask about her life before piracy.

"I was a lady's maid in Barbados," she said, and slid another hairpin into her creation to secure it before grinning. "Not bloody enough for me, that, so I left as soon's I could."

Janeway wondered if she were joking about the "bloody enough" part. "Were you a…" Janeway began haltingly, not sure how to ask if a person had been a slave.

"Aye," Anamaria repeated. "But no longer. There's little difference between slave and freeman in piracy, little difference between black and white. And Jack's never treated me different, either. It's why I haven't killed him, even though he stole my boat." Satisfied with her work, she stood back and surveyed it critically. "He's a good man, he is. I was only joking about him dying, before, you know." At Janeway's skeptical expression, she relented. "All right, mostly joking."

The sound of shouts and the clunking of military boots on the deck above startled them. Anamaria grabbed Janeway's hands and pulled her to her feet. "Now, let's go. You've a pirate to wed."