Chapter 7:  Just Like Jack

André wanted to go talk to James.  James had indeed nursed him back to…well, not health, but he was improving, just as Jack had ordered.  But James generally refused to talk to him, as though afraid that his captain would not improve.

André watched Jack go into his cabin, and then turned his eyes back up to James at the helm.  James had opened a compass and was staring blankly at it.  André took an involuntary step toward him, wincing and leaning on the railing of the ship, remembering his wound.  He really would kill Jack.  He was beginning to see no alternative.  Even though James obviously had some feelings for André (though what these feelings were, André was not entirely sure), James would do nothing against Jack.

But it was not out of devotion to Jack that James obeyed every passing fancy of the captain.  At first, that is what André had feared—that he had lost James, and that he was now just Jamie.  However, André was firmly convinced that James now obeyed Jack out of some sense of fear or worthlessness.  James was still there—he was just buried, and André had to dig him out.

James was continuing to stare at the compass, his eyes suddenly widening slightly.  He closed the compass and shoved it into his pocket.  André swallowed hard and wondered if he dare to try and speak to him.  James looked up at him and André flushed slightly, surprised when James motioned to him.  He seemed to want him to come up to the helm.

André cursed under his breath as he hobbled up the stairs, sharp pains stabbing through his wounded leg each time he put his weight on it.  James rushed to meet him at the top and helped him up the last few stairs, quickly returning to the helm.  “James?” André asked quietly.

André studied James for a moment.  He was shirtless again, his tattoo revealed, as well as some crude cuts on his arm that appeared suspiciously like a sparrow.  André had seen them before, when James had been cleaning André’s wound, and André was almost certain that Jack had done that to him, marking James as his own; but he still did not ask.  André noted what appeared to be a bite mark on James’ neck as well, wincing slightly and silently cursing Jack for using James.

James bit his lip as he pulled out the compass.  He brushed his thumb tenderly over the wood as he thought.  “You said you came here to…to save me.”  James hesitantly raised his eyes to André, who nodded, completely entranced by James’ jade eyes.  James licked his lips nervously.  “What if I told you there’s only one way?”  James’ eyes flickered towards the front of the ship again as he adjusted the wheel slightly.  “Would you do it?”

“I would do anything, sir.”

Looking again at the compass, James said, “The chest of Davy Jones.”

“The—what?”

James took a deep breath.  “Find the chest of Davy Jones.  It’s what Jack needs.”

“So he gets this ‘chest’ and you’re free?” André said slowly.

“I’m not a prisoner, André,” James said quietly.

“Then let’s leave now.  Take a jollyboat and go.”

“I—no!”  André shook his head.  James sighed.  “André, be realistic.  We can’t just—.”

“Get off the ship like you told me to?” André said coldly.  James looked as though he had been slapped.

“André…I…that was for your safety.  You do need to—.”

“So do you!” André said, taking a rather pathetic step forward due to his injured leg.  “I’m not leaving without you!  Perhaps you haven’t noticed, sir, but I happen to be rather fond of you!” André exclaimed sarcastically.

James closed his eyes.  “André…”

“You said you had a way of rescuing you, James?” André interrupted.

James nodded.  “The chest.”  He held out the compass.  “To save me, you must find the chest of Davy Jones.  That’s what you want most, isn’t it?”

André glanced at the compass in confusion.  “How do I find it?”

James turned his eyes down to the compass.  “This compass…is unique.”

“That’s Jack’s compass,” André muttered as he recognized the instrument in James’ hand.  “It’s broken.  I remember.”

James shook his head.  “Not broken.  It just doesn’t point north.”

“Dare I ask where it points?” André asked, arching an eyebrow skeptically.

James licked his lips again as he held the compass closer to André.  “It points to what you want most.”  André opened his mouth to speak, but James continued, “And what you want most is to help me by finding the chest of Davy Jones.”

André’s mouth snapped shut as James wrapped his hands around the compass.  He stared at it for a moment before looking back up at James.  “You’re not serious?  I mean…this compass can’t really point to what I want?”

“What you want most,” James corrected quietly.  “And it does.”

“I—but—.”  His eyes narrowed slightly.  “You were staring at this earlier.  Where was it pointing?”

James looked determinedly ahead.  “Not where I wanted it to.”

André looked back down at the compass in wonder, not caring to believe that it could really point to what he wanted most.  He opened it and was not too surprised when it turned directly to James without hesitation.

“What you want most is to find the chest of Davy Jones.”

André looked up at the man he loved.  “To save you.”

“To save me.  The chest of Davy Jones,” James repeated quietly.  “Think about it, André.”

André sighed, staring down at the compass that was pointing to what he wanted most—James.  He was rather bewildered that the compass apparently worked, but was still not shocked at where it had decided to point when André held it.

“The chest of Davy Jones will save James…” André muttered under his breath, his brow furrowing.  “Find the chest of Davy Jones and James will be free.”  He glanced up at James, who was refusing to look at André as he talked to himself.  “The chest of Davy Jones…”  He sighed heavily.  “It’s not working.”

There was a brief pause before, “Then I die, André.”

André looked up at him in horror.  James continued to avoid looking at him and almost appeared guilty.  Anger flared in André’s chest as he looked down at the compass again.

And his mouth dropped.

The compass had finally moved away from James and had instead spun around to point to starboard.

“James…”

James finally turned to him and looked down at the compass in André’s hands.  He smiled softly.  “We have a heading.”

James felt bad for lying to André.  For that is what he had done—he had made up the part about his possible death, and even the idea that getting the chest of Davy Jones would save him.  But it would save André.  That was his goal—and it had worked.

He had lied to André, used him, and would likely ultimately hurt him once he realized that James had been making most of what he said up.  But they still had their heading, even though James had made it happen in a less-than-true way.  He would be completing his goal, even though André would believe he was completing his.

James winced as he turned the wheel to starboard.  I’m just like Jack…

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