One Shot: Sisters

[honorat]

By Honorat
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Character death
Characters: The Black Pearl and the Interceptor
Disclaimer: Pirate!

Summary: Sequel to Rivalry. virgo_79 wanted to see the meeting of the Black Pearl and the Interceptor. Extreme angst. Extremely late, extremely not a drabble, response to the “Tremor” challenge at Black Pearl Sails.

Thank you geek_mama_2 for the beta read.

* * * * *

Sisters

The sea that had always cut so sharply clean before her bow felt like thick mud against her hull, resisting her attempt to fly. Her sails, from courses to topgallants, clawed at the wind, desperate for speed. But the shoals and safety seemed never to draw any nearer. She was not going to escape, this time. The Interceptor was used to being the fastest ship, but the black nightmare behind her was inexorably drawing up on her stern. Even now, the Black Pearl was running out her oars. Her gun ports were thudding open—so many more gun ports than the Interceptor possessed. How could this be happening? She had come to help her dark sister!

Stop! the Interceptor cried, her strained timbers groaning. You don’t have to do this!

I cannot stop! the great ship thundered, the echoes shuddering through the ocean. Do you not understand? It is the curse!

But you have your captain now, the Interceptor pleaded. I brought him to you. What more can you ask of me?

I have him, yes. And I can scarcely touch him. Everything is a fog. I cannot speak to him. I cannot hear him. Why can I speak to you and not him? The Pearl dashed her bow into the sea in torment.

He loves you very much, the Interceptor soothed her distraught pursuer, hoping to diffuse her wrath. I am sure he would want me to tell you that.

Love! the older ship spat bitterly, rattling her decaying spars. What can love be to one such as I? You do not know the things I have done. You have no idea what I will yet go on to do.

I have some idea, yes, the Interceptor said, wishing she couldn’t imagine, but I don’t think it will make any difference to him. Of this, she was sure. The Black Pearl could run her bowsprit through her captain’s chest and it wouldn’t make the least difference in that man’s devotion to her.

The only thing I can see clearly is the gold! the Black Pearl cried, rejecting all attempted comfort. You are carrying a piece of it, you know. Perhaps that is why I can see you. That cursed medallion is why I must do this. Why I cannot help but fight. The gold calls like a beacon in darkness.

Confused, the Interceptor considered that cold little spot of hell in her belly. But don’t you see? The gold is darkness in the midst of sunlight, she said.

For you, yes, the Pearl snarled. But I am cursed so that it is a spear of light on which I am transfixed. I cannot endure its pain. But I cannot live without that golden agony. To possess it is damnation. But I desire nothing more than to be damned. I am cursed, I tell you. Do not trust me.

I don’t, the little brig exclaimed fervently. Can you not see I am trying to escape you? But you are too swift. How is that possible? Is it part of the curse?

No! I have always been the fastest ship. The Pearl’s voice was bitter. To think I once took delight in that—I remember, like a dream, the press of wind, rock-hard in my sails, the silver cold salt spray over my bow. My captain’s hands on my wheel. The canvas clapping laughter in the heart of a storm. Oh God! How I long to feel again! she cried. Mists like tears rose off her hull.

The anguish of the great dark ship caught at the Interceptor’s heart. I am sorry for you, she said.

You will not be for long, the Black Pearl said coldly, through her despair. I will kill you if I must. I am a slave to that hell-born gold.

The Interceptor flung up her masts spiritedly. I will fight back. Her starboard anchor grabbed the bottom of the sea slewing her prow around hard. The Black Pearl would not be free to rake her stern, unopposed.

Please do. Even as the two ships drew abreast of each other, the dark ship seemed almost to beg. Pain is the one thing I can feel.

“Fire all!” a human voice screamed. And the Interceptor’s deck’s shook with the concussion of her cannon. Her sides shuddered with the impact of the Black Pearl’s shots. The sea rained hellfire and brimstone.

One voice came clearly through the pandemonium. “Stop shooting holes in my ship!”

The Interceptor tried to obey.

Then everything was chaos and bright, sharp pain.

When the thunderous noise finally died away, the bewildered brig struggled to determine what had happened to her. She was badly injured—that, she could tell.

It is back. The gold is here. Are you all right? The worried voice of the Black Pearl drifted through a haze of smoke.

Except for the fact that my mainmast is lying across your deck. I am alive.

I am sorry. I did not mean . . . the Pearl trailed off. When I fight, I cannot remember what I do, she said, her voice low and ashamed.

You are very good at it, the Interceptor said dryly.

I wish I weren’t. The larger ship paused. You seem to have fought valiantly yourself. Silverware? I have forks decorating my gun ports. How ingenious of you. A breathy, shaking laugh shivered the Pearl’s tattered sails. Do you know how long it has been since I have laughed? she asked wonderingly.

Thank you. The Interceptor dipped her bow graciously. I hope I did not hurt you.

Not nearly enough. No, the cursed ship spoke vehemently, angrily.

He asked me not to, the little brig explained.

Who?

Your captain.

You can hear him? Envy and longing laced those words.

Yes, the Interceptor said shortly.

Oh. The Black Pearl considered the little ship beside her with dawning illumination. Then you love him too.

To my sorrow. His heart is yours. The Interceptor did not quite succeed in keeping her tone level.

If I had a heart any more, it would be his, the Black Pearl said softly. Her ravaged sails hung in limp dejection. She did not look like a victorious ship.

You do have a heart, the Interceptor responded earnestly. Perhaps you cannot see it in that fog, but I can. He will break your curse, you know. That is why he asked me to bring him to you.

It is not possible. The Pearl rocked in denial.

He believes it is. The Interceptor smiled to herself and fluttered her shot-holed sails, remembering. He’s Captain Jack Sparrow! Savvy?

Now you sound like him. Both a sob and a laugh were inextricably tangled in those words.

Believe him, the Interceptor urged. If any man could save that poor cursed ship, it would be he, she was sure.

I will try.

There was no time for further conversation as rough, brutal strangers pushed the Interceptor’s mast from the Pearl’s decks into the sea. Suddenly the little brig realized she was alone. The pirates had taken her crew and gone back to their own ship. They were abandoning her. She had never been alone before. Her whole hull shuddered. She wanted to call out for her captain, but he wasn’t hers any longer. Fear washed over her decks.

Then she felt the first ominous pricklings. Oh, please, no!! she cried involuntarily.

What! What is it? came the concerned voice of the Black Pearl.

There is fire in my magazine! the Interceptor whimpered, her sails quivering.

Oh damnation! the Pearl swore. He does that sometimes. That rat bastard who commands me, she spat. Oh, I am so sorry. I never meant for this to happen! You are so young. Please forgive me, she begged.

I do forgive you, the Interceptor assured her. This is not your fault. Perhaps this is better than waiting here alone, sinking slowly. She was trying to be brave.

I am so sorry, the Black Pearl whispered.

It is all right, the Interceptor insisted. Just . . . keep talking to me. Please? I don’t want to be alone.

What can I say? The Black Pearl asked, her voice rough with suppressed emotion.

What did she want to hear in her last moments? Tell me about your captain. How did you find him?

Very well. If that is all I can do. The Black Pearl’s voice grew gentle and low. I can still remember. Of all the things I have forgotten. Of all the things I have lost. At least the gods have left me this. I have never forgotten my captain. He was not like all the others. You know how when most of them first come on board, they are like little lumps of land? They don’t stick to your decks. The sea doesn’t like them. No matter how you try to hold onto them, one of them is always washing over your rails or falling from your yards. No matter how gentle you are with them, they break so easily. And they cannot see or hear or smell or feel.

Yes, I know. They are rather endearing at that stage. The Interceptor recalled her own young crews with a faint, heartened lift of her yards. Thank you. It is good to remember.

But he was different, the dark ship continued, a deep sigh shaking her ribbons of canvas. As though a curl of sea had chosen to remain on my deck, a wisp of breeze had decided to linger and speak to me, a stroke of lightning had not skipped back to the clouds. And he, unlike the others, could see and hear everything. The sea and the wind loved him, and I loved him. I remember . . .

This is it! The Interceptor broke in softly, her hull trembling. The fire had reached her barrels of powder. Only seconds remained. When you can speak to him again, tell your captain I said good-bye. Tell him I would do it all again.

Even this? The Pearl asked, a tremor running from bow to stern.

Even this. The Interceptor said firmly, her bowsprit and single remaining mast raised proudly. She might have been conquered, but she had not struck her colours. She would meet her end like a Royal Navy ship.

And then her world blew apart.

No! The sea echoed with the Black Pearl’s anguished cry.

And on her decks their Captain stiffened as though shot through the heart.

The End