Gods and Monsters

Chapter 1: The Game

Author: abernaith
Fandom: Pirates of the Carribean (post-AWE)
Pairing: (future) JackxJamesxWill
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: PotC belongs to its rightful owners. I am just a fan.

The story so far: Calypso has brought Jack Norrington back to life. What could she be up to?

Notes: Post-AWE. This story will be switching focus among four main characters: Jack, James, Will, and Elizabeth. The first few chapters are for setting up the plot, but eventually the narrative will focus on one character per chapter.

The smell of the sea was ripe ... with adventure.

Jack smiled at this thought. It was a very good thought. He had left the dinghy at the port. A very good thing. He had commandeered a small, well-supplied, proper sea-voyaging vessel. Another very, very good thing. He held the wheel in one hand, the compass in another, and one singular thought in his head. Definitely, possibly, almost ... but not quite, a good thing.

Not when the prow of his ship almost went nose-to-nose with the Flying Dutchman.

"Well, well. Where on Earth did you come from?"

Less than an hour later, but not after an embarrassingly hilarious incident on the part of one captain and an exaggerated sigh from the other captain, Jack found himself shaking hands with Davy Jones's successor.

Will Turner stared at the begrimed and sooty fingers of the most unbelievable scoundrel he had ever dared call friend. The cupid's bow of his lip was curved in a delicate scowl.

Make that almost shaking hands with Davy Jones's successor then, Jack corrected himself. He spent a fraction of a second convincing himself that before him stood the most unbelievable traitor, scoundrel and eunuch that he had ever dared call friend. Only then did he withdraw his hand.

"Well, my good Captain Turner," said Jack, patting himself absent-mindedly for his effects. "I didn't expect you to be nosing around my side of the ocean." He wanted to make sure that his effects were where he'd find them when he'd need them, later on.

That graceful arc of an eyebrow projected all the incredulity that the captain of the Flying Dutchman felt. Jack thought it too girly an affectation that would never grace a real pirate's noble facade. Definitely a eunuch, he mentally chalked it up.

"Your side? Since when did you own any side of this ocean? And, may I refresh your memory here, Captain Sparrow. James had spotted your little ship meandering about these waters and the Dutchman weighed anchor for more than half an hour with obvious intent of NOT plowing through your ship and your sorry excuse for a human self! My God, man, went you blind all that time?"

Jack had trouble following the Turner boy's words. They flew from his lips so fast, and danced on Jack's eardrums with a lightness that irritated him. His mind tried to catch one of those verbal pests and surprised himself by catching the bloodiest mosquito of them all.

"Whose James? You don't mean—"

"Captain Jack Sparrow." The voice, as crisp and obnoxious as ever. The well-bred gentleman who fell so low.

Well, now, thought Jack. Serving under a traitor, scoundrel, and eunuch. This is definitely the lowest a man could ever get!

"My dear Commodore. I'm not so sure that I'm ever glad to see you, but seeing as you're with someone I think I can never be glad to see, you're not such a sight for sore eyes after all."

What his current audience lacked in wit, they made up for in looks; the twin furious glares, doubtless a cover for their confusion (for they had trained themselves to treat the pirate's convoluted words with automatic detestation). Jack liked to think that, in a weird but endearing way, the Turner boy and the ex-Commodore were like his trained puppies. However, following the logical sequence of this thought, it would appear that he now had a responsibility to care for them.

It was a good thing that Will Turner and Jack Norrington were willing to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, even the most self-incriminating of bastards. That's why they let themselves believe that Jack Sparrow's frown meant that he had the slightest semblance of good graces left. An act of contrition—Jack Sparrow would recall later, and correctly so—that he had never performed.

"Why so serious, my lads? This is a fine time for a reunion as any. Regretfully, as fine times go, this one I'm afraid I have to cut dreadfully short." Without a second thought, Jack reached up to muss the Turner boy's hair. Will squawked indignantly, but was too shocked to do anything else. "Charmed to see you again, boy," Jack said, barking with laughter. He made to do the same to the ex-Commodore when his hand, fortunately, stopped short of touching a single hair on James' head.

"Good that you at least know your limits," James muttered under his breath.

Jack let the comment slide, for now. To make up for his error, he sketched a comical bow. "I bid you know yours as well, Commodore. I'm curious, for instance, that you're very much here when you should very much be elsewhere." Jack pointed downward, winking exaggeratedly. "I'd not expect you to be so dense, but here, I'm just a fellow fugitive of that abominable locker out to give a DEAD man a hint."

It was Will who spoke for James on the matter, to Jack's surprise. "You don't have to be vague about it, Jack. My father found him a few days ago, floating around in the middle of the ocean. Not a stitch of clothing, and not a single memory of his time in Davy Jones' Locker."

"Aye, that's mighty interesting," said Jack, tugging on the beads in his beard. "If the captain of the Flying Dutchman has no hold on this man's soul, then who does?"

The three men took a moment to mull the question over when, suddenly, Jack's eyes lit up. He looked at the still-clueless faces of Will and James. "You'll find out for yourselves in due time, I guess," he said, and shrugged.

The Dutchman and The Clapper (Jack swore someone else had the audacity to name his current ship so before he had the chance to use it himself) parted ways not long thereafter. The meeting proved interesting for all parties, if a little more annoying for Will Turner and James Norrington. However, both men were secretly grateful for Jack's clue.

"Do you think Calypso was responsible for your…return?" asked Will. He was about to say "resurrection," but that didn't sound right. He wasn't really a practicing Christian, but he was loathe to blaspheme all the same.

"If she was truly behind this," thought James aloud, "then what does she get out of it? What does she want?"

The two men exchanged confused looks, but no answer was forthcoming.

In his own cabin, Jack Sparrow sat on his bed thinking similar thoughts while nursing a bottle of rum. The witch—no, the goddess—was up to something. Jack knew that her return would change the seas, and he had been waiting for her move for some time now. Now that it was made clear to him that the game had started, he found himself very much eager to play.

"The winner takes all," Jack muttered and raised his bottle of rum in a clumsy toast.

Outside, an errant wind rocked the ship, carrying with it the faint laughter of a mischievous goddess.