Author's Note: Ack, I'm a terrible person for making it so long between updates. I will try try try not to let the next chapter take so long! Thanks for all your reviews :)
Tempus Fidgets, Chapter 5
Eeping in surprise, Dawn executed a move that was half-spin and jerk-upright all in one motion. "I'm not Elizabeth," she gasped, hand groping behind her for some sort of weapon at the sight of the strange man standing before her.
Just a little taller than her, his long dark hair was crazily tangled with beads, feathers, and coins and haphazardly tucked under a dirty bandanna. Thick lines of kohl rimmed his black eyes, and when he smiled at her (quite ingratiatingly) a bright gold tooth winked cheerily at her.
His clothes were like Will's—breeches and a waistcoat over a shirt, albeit in far less decent condition—but this guy's outfit boasted big slouchy bucket-boots instead of Will's stockings and shoes, and a long and colourful sash belted round his waist with a thick black belt.
"No," he agreed slowly, dark eyes raking over her in what appeared to be deep speculation. "I see that, now."
"Who are you?" Dawn demanded, her fingers curling round the heavy iron candlestick on the bedside table.
He quirked a sleek brow. "I think the question here, love, is who are you?" His voice was oddly slurred, and she realized (as a breeze flowed in the open window) that he smelled distinctly of rum.
Drunk, she thought in alarm, and scowled. "No, I live here, so the question is—oh, forget it." She whipped her hand around and swung the candlestick at his head. To her shock, in spite of his inebriation, his reflexes were amazingly fast.
Dodging the candlestick, he caught her wrist and spun her, pulling her up tightly against his chest with the awkward angle of her arm behind her back.
"I only let women hit me if they've actually met me before," he murmured into her ear, tossing the candlestick onto the bed. The touch of his warm breath on her skin made goosebumps trill down her arms and back, and she shivered against him involuntarily. He noticed, of course, and laughed, a low and intimate chuckle that she felt more than heard.
"Consider us met," Dawn said shakily. "Now can I hit you?"
He began to walk her toward the stairs, his grip on her wrist and shoulder firm but painless. "No, but you can make me lunch."
"What? Lunch?" Confused, she balked. "I don't think so."
But he exerted just enough pressure on her arm to turn discomfort to the beginning twinges of pain, and she grudgingly allowed him to prod her forward.
Downstairs, he cautiously released her, and she spun around to find him watching her, one hand resting casually on the pistol at his side. She didn't doubt that if she tried to run, he'd catch or shoot her before she reached the door, especially in all these skirts.
His face was impassive, his eyes flat, and thus she was quite surprised when he whined, "Give over, love, I'm a hungry man. And I know Will's due in for his lunch within a half-hour. What's it to you, feeding two men instead of one?"
Amazed, Dawn blinked. "Who are you?" she demanded. "How do you know Will and Elizabeth?"
He straightened marginally, and his left hand came to tug briefly at the cuff of his right sleeve. "Me name's John," he said, "John Smith, at your service." He went to doff his hat before realizing he didn't have one on and lowering his hand, settling for sketching a wobbly bow. "Will and Liz and I are old friends. And you are?"
"Dawn," she answered sullenly, not believing him a bit. "And I'm at their service, not yours."
"Well, Dawn, me lass," he said heartily, and gestured toward the hearth as if she hadn't spoken, "how about something filling? I haven't eaten since…" His gaze drifted away from her, deep in thought. "There was… no, that was just rum. And then the… no, that was rum, too."
Dawn made a sound of disgust deep in her throat and threw up her hands.
"Fine," she said, reaching into the stone jar of brine which held the fish she'd bought, "I'll make you lunch. But if Will gets back and you're just some mooch wanting a free meal, you can deal with him." She sniffed, banging the cover of the jar down on the counter. "And he's really good with a sword."
He sidled up behind her, close enough to her to feel the warmth of his body, but not touching her. She paused in the act of mincing the fish as every nerve ending in her body quivered at attention.
"Ah, love, but so am I."
The words were sibilant, a seductive rush of breath in her ear, and Dawn felt something clench within her.
"Stop it," she whispered, hands trembling. She hastily put down the fork, fingers gripping the edge of the counter so tightly her knuckles whitened.
The door slammed open, and he sprang away from her, melting away into the shadows.
"Dawn, you should go join Eliz—" Will began, huffing from what appeared to be a frantic dash. He stopped suddenly when the intruder stepped from the murky corner. "Ah. Jack. I see I'm too late."
Dawn placed a hand over her heart, willing it to begin beating properly again after the man's proximity had done to her, followed so closely by Will's sudden and noisy arrival.
"Jack?" she demanded, whirling to face him. The weirdness of his appearance clicked into place in her mind. "Captain Jack Sparrow? The pirate? You said your name was John."
"Commodore Jack Sparrow, if you please," he replied easily. "And John is me real name. Jack's me nickname. Rakish, don't you think?" She only glared at him, so he gave a vague wave in the direction of the counter. "Shouldn't you be cooking, love?"
She ignored him and turned to Will. "Why should I join Elizabeth?" she asked him, forcing her voice to be calm and level. "Is something wrong?"
Will plunked himself down on the bench and rested his elbows on the table, then dropped his head in his hands.
"I had heard," he mumbled into them, "that the Pearl had been seen near the harbour last night and hoped to send you to the governor's house to keep you from meeting Jack."
The man in question looked insulted.
"To protect him," Will amended hastily. Slightly mollified, Jack's face softened.
"Well, too late for that now," he said cheerfully. "If she can't be trusted, we'll just have to kill her." At the twin expressions of horror on Will's and Dawn's faces, he rolled his eyes. "Joking."
"How did you get here, Jack?" Will asked, apparently unwilling to sidetracked.
Jack plopped himself into one of the padded chairs by the fire, propping his feet up on the other, and took up Elizabeth's knitting, the wool snagging on his calloused fingertips.
"Rowed ashore," he replied succinctly, toying with the wool. "It was windy. Lost me hat." He scowled at the memory. "Secreted meself in various dark and cozy places until me belly was gnawing at me backbone more than I could bear."
Here, another woe-filled glance was directed at Dawn. She stomped over and tried to take the knitting from him, but he'd tangled himself up in it so efficiently that she had to extricate him from it, finger by finger.
Huffing angrily, Dawn pried him free, unaware of how close their faces were and how he was able to look right down her bodice, the way she was bent over. When she was able to snatch the hapless sock away and glanced up at him, he was just a millisecond too late averting his gaze.
"Caught," he murmured with a twinkly grin, trying to brazen his way out of it. "Going to slap me now, love?"
"Hah," Dawn said, straightening. "I bet slapping is just foreplay to men like you."
Will sucked in his breath, but Jack grinned unrepentantly up at her.
"Just so," he agreed cheerily. "Just so."
She turned and went back to the cupboard, mincing the fish furiously, as if it had personally done her a grievous wrong. Jack shot her a speculative glance that melted away into an expression of saintly innocence at the look Will leveled upon him.
"Why are you here, Jack?" Will asked, each word carefully pronounced and ominously emphasized.
In response to Will's menace, Jack threw one leg over the arm of his chair and closed his eyes. "Wanted to see me goddaughters," he replied, and there was a weariness to his tone that even made Dawn stop abusing the fish.
Will shot an uneasy glance at her; hastily, she went back to preparing the food and pretending she wasn't listening. He stood and moved closer to his friend, squatting low beside his chair, and murmured, "Jack, what's wrong? What's happened?"
Behind Dawn, there was silence, and she strained her ears even more to make sure she wouldn't miss anything.
"Women," Jack groaned dramatically. "Will, you've no idea how I admire your ability to live with three of the pernicious things."
"Four," Dawn snapped before she remembered she wasn't supposed to be hearing this, even as she secretly marveled at his use—correct, no less-- of a fifty-cent word.
"There are far more disagreeable lots in life, Jack," Will replied, amusement in his voice.
"Still, for your own safety of mind, let's hope this next one's a boy, shall we?" His voice was muffled, and Dawn glanced over her shoulder to see him rubbing his face, smearing the kohl halfway to his hairline. "If having to deal with Anamaria as captain of the Erfzonde weren't enough, Giselle is determined to make an honest man of me."
Dawn's puzzled rumination of that statement was interrupted by Will's burst of laughter. "She wants to marry you?" With a thump, Will sat back heavily on the floor, eyes dancing with merriment. "She? Wants to marry? You? I thought you said Giselle would be the last to want to marry, Jack?"
"I thought she was," Jack replied mournfully, and Dawn had to bite her lip to keep from laughing aloud as she placed the sandwiches on tin plates and cut them in half. "But she said that she might as well have me name to go along with the wifely duties she's undertaken since coming aboard the Pearl."
Will sighed gustily. "Well, I told you it was a mistake to take her on," he said, a tinge of reproach in his voice. "You know it never ends well, consorting with her type of woman."
"But, dear Will, I am that type of man," Jack replied lazily, tattered lace cuff falling back at his expansive gesture to reveal a lean brown hand with a gaudy ring on each finger. "Fine ladies like your Elizabeth might be content with a blacksmith, but who'll forebear a pirate?"
Dawn plunked the food onto the table. "Enough of the pity party," she said. "Grub's on."
Will eyed his sandwich with a somewhat jaundiced eye, requiring full disclosure of its contents before so much as touching it, but Jack fell to his meal like a starving creature and was licking his fingertip to dab up the last crumbs before Will and Dawn were halfway done with their own.
"Want another?" she asked mildly, too accustomed to watching Xander eat to be amazed or disgusted by his appetite.
"Yes, please," Jack replied, his smile rendered somewhat less angelic by the gold tooth's gleam. His second sandwich met the same fate as the first, and he sat back on the bench with a pleased expression as Dawn and Will finished their own.
"Why haven't you eaten in two days?" Dawn asked him, gathering the plates for the washbasin.
"Takes me a while to get here without being seen," he replied. "Can't rightly have the Pearl sail into Kingston harbour, savez, so I rowed ashore to the far side of the peninsula and come the rest of the way by foot."
Theo had shown Dawn a map of Jamaica so she was aware of how much of a distance it was. She was impressed in spite of herself. "You must have wanted to see your goddaughters a whole lot to walk for two days without food," she said, softening.
Jack beamed a smile at her, but Will rolled his eyes. "Don't go thinking kindly of him," he said severely. "It's his own fault for not bringing provisions with him."
Jack looked wounded, but rallied admirably. "I was that eager to visit you and yours," he protested.
Dawn's ear, keen from so many years of being Buffy's easily-kidnapped sister, discerned the sound of the governor's carriage pulling to a stop in front of the house.
"They're home," she said, and went to open the door.
"How'd she hear that?" Jack asked Will sotto-voce as the girls entered with their customary noise and motion.
"I don't know," Will replied. "She has uncanny hearing and sight. She's even," he leaned closer to Jack's ear, "rather good with a blade."
"Is that so?" Jack gazed at her with speculation. "That's… interesting."
"Uncle Jack!" cried Isabel upon entering the house, and flung herself at him. Standing, he caught her easily in his arms, swinging her round before plunking her down and turning to her sister.
"How's my bonny lass?" he asked, bending to her level and allowing her to circle his neck with her arms. Straightening quickly, arms akimbo, he lurched around and whooped as Margaret clung to him, giggling madly.
"He's the only one who can get her to laugh like that," Elizabeth said quietly, flashing a smile at Dawn. "What do you think of him?"
"He snuck into the house, strong-armed me down the stairs, implied he'd shoot me if I tried to leave, and begged me to cook him food," Dawn recounted. "Then he ruined your knitting, stared down my dress, and ate everything in sight."
"Ah, so nothing unusual, then," Elizabeth replied easily before fixing him with a mock glare. "Jack, you scoundrel."
"As always, madam," he returned, wrestling Margaret to the side so he could lean in and peck her on the cheek.
A knock on the door interrupted whatever Will had been about to say. The adults froze.
"Expecting company?" Jack asked softly.
"No," Will replied, apprehensive. Before Dawn could blink, Jack had slunk to the corner and slid between the space between the cupboard and the wall.
"Isabel, tiptoe to the window and see who it is," Dawn urged, and the little girl complied.
"It's Lieutenant Groves and some marines," she replied in a whisper. Both Elizabeth and Will looked to Dawn.
"I don't know!" she protested. "I didn't know he was coming today!"
The tension coiled more thickly around them. "They must be here for Jack, then," Will said grimly. "If I heard about the Pearl, then word will have spread to the fort by now."
Movement, a flash of red, out the back window caught Dawn's attention. She craned her neck to see Murtogg and Mullroy prowling around the Turners' back garden. Absently, she hoped they weren't treading on her painstakingly tended garden.
"They're in the back, too," she said. "No exit there."
Will's eyes flicked toward the brace of swords over the mantle. Elizabeth gasped, one hand coming to rest protectively on Margaret's head and the other on her belly.
"Will, no. Not with the girls here."
The door knocker sounded again, louder this time. "Mrs. Turner, Miss Summers?" called Theo's voice. "If I may have a word?"
Dawn glanced to the corner and met Jack's eye. He somehow looked both strained and languid at the same time, taut with apprehension and fluidly ready to bolt if necessary, and put her so strongly in mind of a trapped animal that she knew she had to do something.
"Leave it to me," Dawn said, gaze holding Jack's. "I'll get rid of him." His face eased a little, tight muscles around his eyes relaxing as he gave her a tiny nod and wiggled further back into the shadows.
Dawn straightened, smoothed her suddenly damp palms down the front of her skirt, and strode to the door.
"Hi!" she said brightly to Theo upon opening it. "What're you doing here in the middle of the day?"
"We have had word that a certain ship has been spotted in the vicinity of Kingston harbor, Miss Summers," Theo said, all proper and official. "There's a good chance Jack Sparrow has been or will be here. I'm afraid we'll have to search the premises."
Dawn forced a laugh; even to her ears, it didn't sound too fake. "You think Jack Sparrow's here?" she asked, feigning amazement. "If only. I've heard so much about him, I'm dying to meet him. You know, pirate, notorious rake and womanizer… he sounds like a real character. Hey, is it true that he once impersonated a priest?"
She continued to ramble on, calling upon all the scandalized whispers of the town's women when they gossiped about "that girl who lived with the Turners" and thought she couldn't hear.
"…and I've been so bored lately that I'd be glad to meet a real pirate." She aimed a sunny smile at him, and predictably, he softened.
"Even if he hasn't been here yet, he could come by later. Despite his… agreeable mien, Jack Sparrow is a dangerous man. I doubt he would scruple to use you to affect an escape."
"Scruple, schmoople," Dawn said, waving a negligent hand. "I can handle myself."
He grinned down at her. "That, I do not doubt," he said, "but I think I will station Mullroy and Murtogg here anyway." He raised his voice slightly. "Misters Mullroy and Murtogg, may I impose upon you to stand watch?"
The two hurried around from the rear garden and stood at alert. "Yes, sir," they hastened to say.
Dawn's heart sank, but she made herself chirp, "Oh, good! I've missed those guys. And I think my poker skills are getting rusty, Will and Elizabeth are no challenge at all."
He caught up her hand and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it. "Try not to sharp them out of too much of their wages, if you don't mind," he teased.
"Not promising anything," Dawn replied with a flirtatious glance. "Now, go on, go back to the fort. I've got things to do."
Theo released her hand and stepped back. "I will see you tonight, after supper, then."
Dawn paused in the act of shutting the door. "Oh, will you?" she blurted, then composed herself for another weak smile. "Great!"
He touched the brim of his hat, then turned and led the rest of the marines away as Murtogg took position by the door .
"Hi, guys," she said distractedly, watching Theo's progression in the direction of the fort. "I'm really busy today—laundry, you know how it is—but maybe later I'll have some time for a few hands, ok?"
Murtogg bobbed his head obligingly. "We'll be here, miss," he said, "me by the front, Mullroy by the back." He squared his shoulders determinedly. "That pirate won't be able to get by us."
She couldn't help but smile at his cheerful, homely face. With a nod at Mullroy, who went to resume his post at the rear entrance, she closed the door softly and sagged back against it.
The Turner family stood just where she'd left them, staring mutely at her, and she lifted bleak eyes to them and Jack as he emerged from the corner.
"We've got an honour guard," she said flatly, "and Theo's coming back in a few hours." She turned to Jack. "We've go to get you out of here before then, because while I know I can fool those two, I'm not sure I can keep Theo blissfully ignorant."
"Theo, is it?" Jack speculated aloud, coming forward. "Someone's got herself a beau."
"Stuff it," Dawn growled. "We're going through this for you, you could at least not act like a jerk."
Jack put on an appropriately contrite mien, hands in prayer position below his chin, and bowed slightly. "My apologies." Somehow, she didn't quite believe he meant it.
.
After hurriedly cobbling together a rough plan, they went forward with their day. Will reluctantly returned to the smithy, and Jack snuck upstairs with Isabel and Margaret when Mullroy stepped into the outhouse for a moment.
When she was sure that Jack was securely hidden, Dawn poked her head out the door. "Want to play some poker?" She grinned engagingly at Murtogg.
"Oh, we couldn't!" he protested. "We have to stand watch!" He straightened his spine a smidgen more, proud of his job and determined to do it well, and Dawn felt her spirits slip even lower. She considered him a friend, and she was purposefully going to trick him to help Jack escape.
"Well," she reasoned, "you're here to protect us, right?" At his nod, she continued. "If you're inside the house with us, how much more protected can we get?"
"That's fine," Mullroy said, coming round the corner of the house while mopping his face with a handkerchief. His broad face was florid from the day's heat and sun, and he looked tired. "I could murder a pint right now."
Murtogg didn't look entirely convinced, but when Dawn swung the door wide, revealing the cool and dark interior of the house, he caved. "I wouldn't say no to getting off my feet," he allowed at last.
Elizabeth smiled at them from her chair, welcoming them while apologizing for not getting up. "This time of day, my ankles decide they want to be twice their normal size," she said ruefully as they sat where Dawn indicated, which just happened to be facing away from where Jack was to make his escape.
Both men blushed at the racy mention of such things and gratefully hid their faces by bowing them over the mugs of ale Dawn poured for them. She fetched the playing cards and, seating herself, began to shuffle.
"Normal rules, boys?" she queried, dealing. "5-Card Draw, deuces are wild?"
They mumbled agreement, already focused on the cards the were receiving. To lull them into a sense of complacency, Dawn was careful to let them win a few hands each. Thank God for Spike, she thought, and not for the first time. His teaching her much of what he knew of poker and cheating had been invaluable on multiple occasions, but never more so than now.
Being able to deftly control exactly how the games progressed calmed the butterflies in her stomach, and thus when there was a flash of white outside the back window, signaling Jack's descent via rope-made-from-bed sheets, her face betrayed no secret.
Dawn's eyes flicked to Elizabeth; the other woman had seen it, too. Dawn couldn't watch, but had to give a convincing performance as she played and chatted with the men, and it wasn't until a good five minutes later that she was able to glance Elizabeth's way once more.
Elizabeth gave the tiniest of nods, signaling that Jack was safely away, and Dawn played out that hand with distinct relief. When it was over—she felt safe in allowing herself the win, at last—she stretched a little and stood.
"Time for me to make dinner," she said. They stood right away, knowing that was their cue to depart for their stations fore and aft of the house.
Dawn fetched the girls from upstairs and was bemused to find that a goodly portion of their hair had been woven with trinkets she recognized as having most recently been worn by a certain pirate captain—commodore—whatever.
"Can't trust him not to corrupt them for five minutes," Elizabeth said, laughing at the sight of her children, their formerly neatly-brushed and curled hair now matted into dreadlocks bearing beads, coins from distant lands, and brightly coloured feathers.
Dawn said nothing, but started dinner and went about her usual chores in an effort to take her mind off of what she'd done. The duplicity of her actions was pulling at her, tearing in several directions at once, and rather than helping, having the time to brood over helping Jack was making her feel absolutely terrible.
She owed James Norrington respect and loyalty, for all he'd done for her after she was stranded here in the 17th century as well as the fact that he was almost-sort of-not quite her brother-in-law. She was aware that Jack Sparrow was his particular nemesis, and helping the pirate to escape was a direct betrayal of James' friendship.
Then there was Lieutenant Groves. Theo had been a faithful and reliable suitor, if not exactly ardent. He'd trusted her, and she'd used her power over him to lie and deceive. Same with Mullroy and Murtogg; she knew how to manipulate them, and she'd deliberately used that knowledge so Jack could escape without notice.
Dawn's stomach twisted with disgust for herself, and she wondered how she'd be able to look at any of them in the face again. In the middle of putting away the last of the laundry in the armoire, she paused, sitting heavily on the edge of Will's and Elizabeth's bed.
The problem was that she didn't only see James' and Theo's point of view—she'd met the man, and seen his interaction with the Turners first-hand. Yes, Jack Sparrow was a wanted fugitive, a dangerous criminal, a pirate who survived by preying on lawful merchants. He was also a dear friend of the family that had taken her in when she had nowhere else to go, and a charming rogue who played dress-up with his goddaughters, for whom he seemed to hold great affection.
If he were caught, he'd probably be executed as soon as the scaffold could be set up (or maybe James would just fling a rope over the nearest tree branch). And Dawn didn't think she could bear to see the Turner family's grief if that were to happen.
Then she remembered the thrill she'd felt skittering up her spine each time he'd touched her, and the lazy appreciation in those black eyes of his when he'd looked at her, and knew that she'd feel a certain amount of remorse for an entirely different reason.
"I suck," Dawn moaned, flopping backward on the bed and pulling a pillow to cover her face. It was all Spike's fault; he'd taught her how to look for and appreciate the well-hidden positive traits in morally ambiguous people. If he weren't already dead and gone, she'd have found a way to kill him for complicating her life.
"Um," came Will's muffled voice. "Are you unwell?" He pulled up one corner of the pillow and peered at her, his face grave and concerned, but trying to remain cheerful for everyone else's sake. Typical Will, in other words. "There are far more efficient ways to do yourself mischief, you know."
She flung off the pillow and stared at the painted beams at the ceiling. "I know."
He watched her a moment, then shut the door and leaned against it. "You're feeling conflicted because of helping Jack at the expense of Norrington and the others."
Dawn hated how canny he was sometimes. "Yeah," she admitted. "Very conflicted."
He was silent a moment. Then, "Jack once told me that there were only two rules worth concerning yourself over: what a man can do, and what a man can't do."
She propped herself up on her elbows so she could look him in the face as he spoke. "And?"
"And," Will continued, "it seems to me that you had a choice to make. You could have done nothing to help Jack, and let justice run its course. But I doubt you are able to see a man taken away to his death, now that you know what measure of grief will result."
There was a pensiveness to his face that had Dawn sitting up and peering more closely. "Sounds like you're speaking from experience."
He flashed her his quick smile. "That I do," he admitted. "Jack was but two minutes from swinging. I knew that my actions might well bring me to share in his fate, and like you, I could have said nothing… done nothing… but also like you, I could not stand by and watch him die. Not without at least trying to stop it, no matter the cost."
Will seemed almost lost in the memory. "Do you know," he continued, "the moment I knew for sure that my love for Elizabeth was true and right?"
Dawn shook her head, not speaking for fear of interrupting his unprecedented chattiness.
"When she took my hand and placed herself beside me, between Jack and Norrington and her father. Oh," he laughed, waving his hand at her expression of surprise, "I knew I loved her, but some will always say it was because of her breeding and wealth and beauty.
"No, I knew my love for her was fitting and deserved because she had a sense of duty, of fairness, of conviction that far outshone those outward trappings. She sacrificed all that she was, all she had hoped to be, to save the life of one dirty, lecherous, drunken pirate."
"And die by the side of a poor, common, penniless blacksmith if it came to that," Dawn added quietly.
His eyes lit up. "And that," he agreed. "That she would see, as clearly as I myself, how much we owed him… that, guilty or not, deserving or not, 'twould be a pity to see that irrepressible flame doused… 'twas clear as day to me that we were suited to each other."
"That's so romantic," Dawn said, sighing.
"Romantic, yes," Elizabeth said from the doorway, and they turned to see her leaning heavily against it, hand affixed to the small of her back. "Not immensely practical, but romantic—oh, my, yes."