Pirates of the Caribbean Oneshots

Before The Brethren

"I can't do this."

The words came out before he was even conscious of what he was saying, startlingly loud in the silence of his chambers.

In the mirror over the washbasin, his reflection stared back at him, the light dancing on the trinkets that adorned his long dreadlocks. Lifting his hands out of the lukewarm water and reaching for a towel, he dried them and then scooped the three rings up from where he'd set them.

His bare feet were silent as he crossed to the kitchen table, sitting down and gently placing the rings on the wooden surface in front of him, looking over each in turn.

The first one, an antique gold band set with a large, blood-red ruby, had been part of his share from the first prize he'd taken as a captain. Now, forty-odd years later, the band scratched and worn, it served as a reminder of his responsibility to his own crew and everybody else who depended on him, the reason it was worn on the forefinger of his dominant hand, a reminder of what he fought for when he drew his weapons.

His gaze was drawn then to an equally worn silver band sporting a green stone. That one had been a gift, given at around the same time he'd acquired the first one.

He slipped them back into place and then just sat staring at the final one.
Trying to convince himself to view it simply as an item of jewellery like the other two, despite knowing it wasn't that straightforward.

The ring was solid silver, fashioned with great skill and care into the shape of a rather large skull. It was heavy on the finger, heavy with more than it's own weight. The distinctive piece served as both a symbol and reminder of his title, a title that had resulted in a reputation which followed him like a long shadow.

"Captain Teague, Keeper of the Code."
He said it aloud to the empty room, listening to his own voice in the silence.

The skulls empty eyes stared at him from the palm of his upturned hand. It seemed to taunt him, reminding him of the fate everyone eventually met. Everyone, from the King of England to the lowest beggar, would be reduced to the same thing eventually. It just seemed especially cruel that it had taken the woman he had loved most before it had taken him.

He looked down at the finger awaiting the ring, at the knuckles swollen and stiffened by age. His joints pained him more than he would willingly admit, and injuries sustained years ago had begun to return to haunt him.

By the standards of pirate lifespans, he was old. He was over twenty years older than his father had been when he'd died. He had outlived most of the men who had joined his crew in the beginning, only a handful around his own age remained.

He sighed and stepped into the bedroom, floorboards creaking beneath his bare feet. Amidst the rumpled bedcovers on the large bed lay Rua, his Irish terrier, her tail wagging as she stood on the bed and walked over the mattress to push her head into his hand.

"Mornin' you. Go on, out for a pee."
Once he'd put her out, Teague's attention turned to dressing and he momentarily left the ring on his nightstand.

A cleaner pair of drawers and breeches were acquired and slipped on, while yesterday's lacey-cuffed shirt was deemed suitable upon retrieval from the floor. A flowing sash tied around his hips, a wide leather belt buckled over it and an embossed dark brown waistcoat was worn open over the top. 

One pistol was under his pillow, already loaded. Taking it, he tucked it into the sash and loaded a second, which joined the first.

Rua had returned from outside, dancing excitedly around his feet as he put his boots on. Her antics made him smile slightly as he petted her.

His eyes drifted back to his hands, lingering on the one ring that never came off. A lump rose in his throat, chest tightening as a swell of grief threatened to overwhelm him. Sensing his change in mood, Rua pressed close, her previous excitement gone. She licked his fingers and watched him, letting out a soft whine.

"Good girl." Back in the bedroom, he sat down on the bed, petting her gently.

For several long moments, he sat quietly, fighting for composure. Lifting the ring, he walked back to the door once more, lifting his feathered hat and guitar as he passed.

From their hooks at the door, Teague took his sword and richly-embroidered frock coat. The weight of the coat on his shoulders was a familiar comfort, making up for the fact that the garment was long overdue a wash. He looked at the sword, placing a hand on the hilt briefly. The chance of him using it was highly unlikely, but he always brought it, liked having it as an option and knew it added to the intimidation of his appearance.

A knock on the door made Rua bark. He opened it to find his First Mate outside. "Mm hm?" he hummed inquiringly.

"It's time."

"Thank ye Cormac."

Placing the hat on his head, he picked up his guitar and a bottle of port. Exhaling slowly, he slipped the ring onto his finger.

After checking a particular item was in place on his belt, he whistled to Rua and left his quarters. It was something he had to do, part of moving on with life, no matter how inherently wrong it felt to be walking to the meeting hall without his wife at his side.

Sitting on the balcony, he played his guitar quietly, keeping his thoughts firmly on the meeting below. One phrase rose out of the argument that had broken out. "Hang the Code! Who care-"

Wordlessly, Teague shot the speaker, drawing the attention of all the Lords but one. "Code is the law," he stated before descending the stairs to the chamber below.

Jack had stiffened at the shot, his shoulders tense at the sound of Teague's footsteps approaching.

"You're in my way, boy."

The words were only spoken to keep up appearances with the other Lords.
A brief touch to the arm, disguised as a dismissive motion, served as a greeting until a conversation could be had away from prying eyes.

The Codex was brought forward, unlocked and consulted. It was clearly written: An act of war could only be declared by the Pirate King. And the King was to be elected by popular vote, though that article had been amended.

"I call for a vote!" Jack said immediately. Teague chuckled under his breath, retreating to a chair in the corner and snagging a guitar that was sitting atop a barrel, as his was on the balcony.

His fingers found the chords for Spanish Ladies automatically and he played until Jack's voice rose above the squabbling the Lords had started again. "Am I to understand that you lot will not be keeping to the Code, then?"

The string snapped, and he lifted his head, black eyes sweeping over the now-silent captains.

The newly-elected King, Elizabeth Swann, gave her order. To war at dawn. As the meeting broke up, Jack sauntered over to Teague's side.

"What?" he asked, evidently noticing the worry in his father's expression. "You've seen it all, done it all. You survived. That's the trick, innit? To survive?"

Teague sighed, set the guitar down and stood. "It's not just about living forever, Jackie. The trick is, living with yourself forever."

He crossed to stand beside his son. "Last I heard, you'd been eaten by the Kraken. Why are you here anyway?"

Jack grimaced. "The others needed my Piece of Eight. Got me out of the Locker." His gaze flickered to the table. "How's Mum?" he asked quietly.

The shrunken head was untied from it's place on his belt and presented to Jack.

He twirled the grisly artifact on the end of the string. "She looks great." he said eventually.

Well aware of what was happening in the morning, Teague embraced his son, a hand subconsciously cupping the back of Jack's head protectively.

"See you on the other side Astóirín."

Jack returned the hug tightly, briefly burying his head against the crook of Teague's neck. "Always," he murmured quietly. "Always."