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Bet You Anything	By : Fish Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > General Views: 3901 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
This chapter is a lot longer than the first � this is the
sort of length following chapters will be. The first chapter was an
introduction to the story. From here on in, the reading gets a little more
taxing, I think.

*�� *�� *

. .BET YOU
ANYTHING. .

[CHAPTER TWO]

Dawn's dim light seeped through a gap in the heavy drapes
framing the vast windows that lined the Eastern-facing side of the Captain's
quarters, softly illuminating the snoozing form of Barbossa, sprawled atop the rumpled
bedclothes. As though burned by the brightening rays, he awoke with a start.

"Wha-buh-guh-" he paused his incoherent outburst and studied the room
around him, still mostly shrouded shadow. He wiped the saliva from his mouth
with his forearm and stood, shaking off the remaining cobwebs of slumber from
his mind. Pausing to listen and feel for a moment he found himself
content that they still sailed upon calm waters and proceeded to find his
breeches, waistcoat and hat, haphazardly dressing himself before making his way
to the helm.

One of the many things Elizabeth discovered about Barbossa during her time at
sea with him was that he was most certainly not a morning person. She watched
in barely concealed amusement as the fearsome Captain Barbossa hauled himself
up the stairs and uncharacteristically swaggered across the deck, ignoring the
rest of the crew as he made his way to the helm. At the realisation that her
shift was over, Elizabeth gave a great yawn and relinquished the control of the
Black Pearl to the somewhat bedraggled and overly cantankerous Captain without
a word.

"Alright, ye scurvy dogs, we'll make port at Tortuga tomorrow if ye work
yerselves harder � put yer backs into it, gentlemen!" she heard him snap
at the crew when she reached the door of the Captain's quarters they shared. If
there was anything to make those pirates work harder, it was calling them
'gentlemen' for some reason.

Stepping inside, she tutted at the state he had left the bed in and proceeded
to straighten the pillows and tuck in the sheets on all sides but one. She
picked up his long coat from the floor and laid it over the back of one of the
high-backed dining chairs at the other side of the room.

Moving back towards the bed, she pulled a Chinese screen of silk decorated with
songbirds and delicate blossoms across the room, shutting the dining area off
from the bed. She knew from an embarrassing encounter that he occasionally came
to sit at the table, and he needed the map from time to time to change course,
ever since he had startled her from sleep and saw her barely-clothed state she
had been careful to use the screen she had brought with her from Sao Feng's
ship. Barbossa seemed to get the message � she had not been disturbed since.

Content that the room was as she wanted and that her privacy was ensured,
Elizabeth shrugged out of her heavy frockcoat and pulled off the thin shirt
underneath. As she stepped out of the breeches she had altered to fit her more
comfortably she rummaged in the drawer in the cabinet next to the bed and
retrieved an old pair of Barbossa's breeches that she had cut most of the legs
off � after he complained that they were ruined and bought a new pair before
consulting her about repairing them, she decided that they would be good enough
to sleep in.

Exhausted, she clambered on to the bed and burrowed underneath the sheets,
holding tightly on to a pillow, the weight in her arms a comfort as she quickly
drifted off to sleep whilst thinking of Will.

*�� *�� *

On deck, Barbossa casually leaned against the main mast and
waited until the crowd of men gathered around him fell silent and awaited his
words. Content that they were listening, he began to describe to them the bet
he and Elizabeth had agreed upon. He surprised his men by insisting that they
did not aid either of them � especially not him � for the entire duration of
their task; for once, it was a bet that would have to be won fair and square
which was not an alien concept for the feared Captain... just an inconvenience,
more often than not.

"Have ye anythin' to say?" he questioned his crew once he had
explained the bulk of the bet, careful not to mention the 'prizes' they had
agreed on.

Pintel stepped forward at this point, to offer his view whilst it was
'welcomed' by the Captain. "Being your final day, Cap'n," he began
carefully, ensuring his speech was clear, "wouldn't it be wise for the
both of you to rest?"

Ragetti chose this moment to agree with his shorter shipmate. "Yeah,
you've both got a long ol' day ahead of ya tomorra � ya know we can sail the
Pearl to Tortuga." At Ragetti's addition, the rest of the crew murmured in
agreement. Barbossa contemplated his suggestion, thinking over how taxing the
task in Tortuga could be... he also considered just how competent his crew were.
In all honesty he felt as though he could use another few hours of sleep and
knew for a fact that Tortuga was not difficult to get to; deciding to trust the
crewmen, he conceded to their suggestion and turned away, striding across the
deck towards the Captain's quarters once more.

Once he had ensured that Barbossa was out of earshot, Pintel turned back to the
crew. "Gentlemen," he began, a rotten-toothed smile spreading across
his face, "place your bets."

*�� *�� *

Captain Barbossa made no attempt to be any quieter than
usual upon entering the Captain's quarters; boots making their signature dull,
heavy thud against the floorboards as he strode through the door, allowing it
to swing shut with a weighty bang. He spied the beautiful silken screen
dividing the quarters and snorted, reminding himself of just how deep a sleeper
the hot-headed Captain Turner could be. He mooched around for a few moments and
swept one of the velvet drapes away from the nearest window before deciding to
have a shuffle through several maps that had been haphazardly piled atop one of
the desks in the furthermost corner of the spacious cabin. As he studied the
past courses he had mapped out, inked lines faded by time, he began to hum a
soft sea chantey. Lowlands, lowlands, lowlands low...

Little did Barbossa realise that his humming the jaunty and haunting tune
caused Elizabeth to stir in her bed. A moment more and she sat bolt upright
from the mattress, her sleep-fogged mind attempting to pinpoint the sound �
upon realisation that Barbossa was on the other side of the Chinese screen, she
reached for her undershirt and pulled it on before swinging her legs over the
side of the bed and standing to stretch.

Lowlands, me boys, and up she goes- Barbossa ceased his humming as he
observed the silhouette behind the screen, languorously stretching and shaking
off the remaining fog of sleep. He watched as she edged around the screen and
made her way over to him; he was amused to note that she wore his � now
decidedly butchered � old breeches.

"What're you doing down here?" she questioned sleepily, eyes taking
in his relaxed form leaning against the old desk. "S'not my shift yet...
not while sun's up," she pointed out sleepily, gesturing to the uncovered
window through which the golden sunlight of the afternoon poured.

"It be the advice of me crew that the both of us be gettin' the rest we
need for tomorrow."

"Our crew," she corrected him.

"Indeed. Either way, we're in here until we've made port in Tortuga,"
he informed her calmly. She pouted. He loathed it when she did that.

"But... we are the Captains, are we not? Who would've thought, the feared
Captain Blackheart, ordered about and confined to his quarters until further
notice by his crew!" She barked a hollow laugh at the realisation of just
how absurd it all sounded.

"Our quarters," he retorted, his voice calm but an ice-blue
fire ignited in his eyes at the mention of his alias.

"Unfortunate as it is," she remarked breezily. "Nevertheless, I
think it silly and utterly pointless." She fell silent and sat heavily in
one of the dining chairs at the table. Crossing her arms over her chest, she
stared at the chair opposite her and pouted, sighing deeply on occasion.

A short while later, Barbossa found that he could no longer keep his attention
on the maps before him � the frequent nature of her sighs was beginning to
grate on his nerves, and though he could not see her as such, he knew she was
pouting still. "Would ye be so kind as to quit yer poutin' an' huffin',
woman! 'Tis but one day we're in here together!" he snapped suddenly, though
quickly regained his composure. Despite his irate outburst, she still heaved
one more sigh before quieting down. Just then, something else struck her.

"So who's sleeping first?" she queried flatly, having resigned
herself to the situation.

"I find meself too awake to so much as consider sleep; you go back to bed,
Missy," he replied, shifting his weight against the desk.

"But you should sleep, you've been up since dawn," Elizabeth
insisted.

"'Tis no different from any other day, Turner," he informed her,
hoping that she would see he was in no mood to argue.

"Barbossa," she ground his name out through half-clenched teeth,
quite fed up with him already. She enjoyed having the quarters to herself until
dusk � it was where she enjoyed what time she had to herself, the only
disturbances being for food or drink provided there were no emergencies to
attend to.

"You sleep afore I decide to kick ye outta bed," he said, eyes
widened in anticipation for her agreement.

"No." His shoulders dropped a tiny fraction at her insistence. She
disappeared behind the screen for a moment and he listened to the sound of
rustling clothes then the chinking sound of coins colliding � surely she was
not going to attempt to bribe him, she was not so dense as to miss the fact that
the ship's hold was partially filled with treasures money could not possibly
buy.� Upon her return, he noted she had
but one coin. "I propose a coin toss," she offered him the coin,
which he took and examined. It was genuine � there would be no cheating.

"Agreed," he said, and nodded. "Heads." Elizabeth flipped
the coin up � it landed with a slight slapping sound in her palm. Barbossa
craned his neck to see what the result was. "Heads it is," he stated,
bearing his half-rotted teeth in a victorious smile. "Back to bed with ye,
Missy." Elizabeth huffed once again before disappearing behind the screen,
and though he could not see her he knew she was pouting. Ignoring her
presence, he moved over to the table only to be stopped dead in his tracks by
the sound of her voice.

"If you're going to stay in here while I sleep, take your boots off."

"O'course." He sat sideways on one of the dining chairs and did as
she requested, stretching his feet once they were free from the confines of his
worn boots. He cleared his throat, mindful that he was not too loud, and
reached across the table to the fruit bowl, grabbing a healthy-looking green
apple. He bit into it, pleased to find it a pleasantly juicy apple, and stood
once more to make his way over to the book case, where he perused the titles on
the spines. Idly he wondered when the last time he had sat down to have a read
was. At least a year ago, he estimated somewhat sorrowfully. It was no
secret that Barbossa loved words, therefore it was no surprise to anyone in
particular that he read a great deal of literature... his books were his little
'guilty pleasure', not to mention where he got his impressive vocabulary from.

Holding the apple with his teeth, he used both of his weathered hands to ease
one of the notably large tomes from the bookcase. Setting it carefully and
quietly on the table, he removed the apple from his mouth and traced the
embossed copperplate title with his fingertips,� DIVINA COMMEDIA � truth be told, he had missed being able
to feel words more than anything when under the effects of Cortez's
Aztec curse; the contour of each letter added so much more to the titles in his
opinion, so much so that he could practically taste the words on his
tongue.

Barbossa put the half-eaten apple down on the table before removing his heavy
long-coat and draping it over the back of one of the high-backed chairs; he
seated himself then, and heaved the tome on to his lap, putting his feet up on
the table. Opening the leather-bound cover, he inhaled deeply and appreciated
the musty tang emanating from the pages beneath his palm � the unmistakeable
scent of time.

Once settled he began to read, losing himself in words written centuries before
his time that still held their original impact.

*�� *�� *

Elizabeth awoke to find the Captain's quarters illuminated
by the soft glow of the candles on the dining table. Through the screen she
could see Barbossa's unmistakeable silhouette, lounging with his feet up...
reading, apparently. She stretched lazily in the bed before kicking off the
covers and reaching for her clothes. As she dressed, she heard Barbossa softly
singing the same chantey he had been humming earlier:

"Our packet is the island lass,
Lowlands, lowlands, lowlands low.
There's a laddie howlin' at the main topmast,
Lowlands, lowlands, lowlands low.
The old man he's from Barbados,
Lowlands, lowlands, lowlands low.
He's got the name of Hammer Toes,
Lowlands, lowlands, lowlands low.
He gives us bread as hard as brass,
Lowlands, lowlands, lowlands low.
Our junk's as salt as a bailer's arse,
Lowlands lowlands lowla-" he stopped suddenly to
clear his throat. "Awake then, Cap'n Turner?" he questioned in a
voice rough from lack of its usual use for the past few hours.

Having dressed, she moved out from behind the screen and approached him,
leaning against the table. "Aye, Captain, that I am." She glanced at
the book on his lap. "What are you reading?"

"Divina Commedia," he stated bluntly, obviously determined to
finish the page.

"The Divine Comedy? Haven't heard that title in an age,"
Elizabeth commented.

"Not many a man can appreciate the words of Dante Alighieri
nowadays," he replied, tone almost sombre, without looking up from the
text.

"I can't say I've ever attempted to, I'm just familiar with the title.
I've heard it's not the sort of literature for a lady."

He snorted a laugh. "Yer a lady now?"

"Perish the thought!" she responded with mock alarm. She noted his
tired eyes. "You should rest." At this, he yawned and shut the book.
Moving it from his legs caused him to hiss as the circulation began to return
to his feet � the sensation worsened when he removed his legs from the table
and allowed them to thump unceremoniously to the coarse floor. Elizabeth did
not bother to ask whether or not he was alright as it would earn her one of his
looks that practically screamed "I do not need your help nor your
pity."

Eventually he stood and stretched his arms out to alleviate some of the tension
that had built from his decidedly uncomfortable sitting position; not that he
would have dared to tear his attention from the book in order to right his
posture. He shuffled over to the other side of the room where he removed his
hat and left it perched atop an ornate coat-stand. He then proceeded to disrobe
down to his breeches and hang his clothes on the stand, walking slowly back to
the chair next to Elizabeth to retrieve his long-coat and put it with the rest
of his garments.

As he walked away, Elizabeth noted a tattoo on his right shoulder � Libre
Esp�ritu. She remained leaning against the table in silent contemplation,
considering what the tattoo meant.

"Free spirit," he commented as if having read her thoughts.

"What?"

"It means 'free spirit'."

"What does?"

"Me tattoo, Libre Esp�ritu, ye asked what it meant!" he
replied, setting his pistol on to one of the desks with a little more force
than he meant. It made a heavy clunking sound which brought Elizabeth further
out of her tattoo-related reverie.

"Did I? Oh..." Embarrassed that she had wondered it all aloud, she
turned away from him once more.

"Women," he said, shaking his head.

"Do you have any more tattoos?" She faced him once more.

He shrugged. "A couple."

"What are they of?"

"I'll only be showin' ye one tonight. Ye'll see the second later, I've no
doubt." He winked at her.

She caught the meaning in his words and glared. "You will not be winning
this bet, Captain," she insisted.

"O'course not." He removed the sash around his waist and set to work
on his belts. "Now... back to the tattoo?"

"Indeed." With his belts removed, he turned to face her completely,
and she saw another couple of words inked over his heart, Caos Eterno.
"What does that one mean?" she inquired, resisting the urge to go and
touch it � she knew he would derive far too much amusement from that sort of
behaviour, especially coming from her.

"'Eternal chaos'," he replied bluntly.

She chuckled briefly. "Fitting."

"Which one?" he asked.

"Both," she responded, staring into space as she considered the
tattoos, their meanings and how they related to Barbossa. Without a word he
disappeared behind the screen, and she listened as he settled down for the
evening, mattress creaking under his weight as he fidgeted until he was
comfortable.

Elizabeth sat then, in the chair he had recently vacated, only to be scared out
of her wits by his voice coming from the bed.

"Mmm, still warm," he commented jokingly.

"Shut up," she responded coldly, although a smile slowly spread
across her face after his words had sunk in a little more. In a way she
appreciated the joke, though she did not appreciate half of the memories the
words brought with them.

As a blanket of silence fell upon the Captain's quarters, Elizabeth pulled Divina
Commedia across the table to her and began to read the ancient text, still
in its original Italian. Eventually she gave up on attempting to decipher the
language and settled for studying the illustrations which were, to her mind,
frankly grotesque.

Again she let thoughts of her husband circulate around her mind, but due to the
disturbing imagery she had just exposed herself to, she found her mind's eye
incorporating him into various versions � Will being attacked by various winged
creatures; Will attempting to fend off hundreds of snakes surrounding him; Will
stuck in ice, within easy reach of Lucifer. Wiping a stray tear from her cheek,
Elizabeth closed the book and decided that Divina Commedia was most
definitely not a book for any sort of lady.

With Barbossa asleep on the other side of the Chinese screen, she allowed
herself time to cry for both herself and for Will. In the morning, they would
make port in Tortuga and the challenge would be on � she had to vent everything
now in order to be prepared for her task, for Hector Barbossa was not a man
easily defeated in anything.
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