At World's Beginning

A Devilfish's Bargain, Part II

Ona rubbed her arm in a rather curious way after Franklin called her into his cabin. Before her arrival, he had been pouring over his maps, a useless venture at best. He sat back in his armchair and sighed morosely.

"We're running out of free ports where we can safely berth. Did Norrington say anything of interest?"

If his sudden about-face in subjects confused her, it didn't show. She did stop rubbing her arm, however, and looked vaguely annoyed. "Quite a lot, actually," she answered after a moment.

Franklin indicated she should sit in the seat across from his desk, and she did so, refusing to meet his eye and instead stared out of the port window.

"And?" he prompted her.

"The admiral was stationed aboard the Flying Dutchman to rein in Davy Jones after he gave the Company trouble. He then helped a band of pirates escape from its brig."

"Is that so?" Franklin said, his voice lifted in curiosity.

"That's not the most interesting part."

"No?"

Ona fidgeted, a movement that immediately struck Franklin as out of character.

"Though he didn't say it in so many words, I believe that was when the admiral met his death." She paused, rubbed her arm again, and added, "He seems hell-bent on finding these pirates."

"To recapture them and rectify his mistake," Franklin said with a nod. "I can't imagine the Company being too happy with this betrayal."

"No," Ona answered with a small tilt of her head, still looking out of his window. "I believe he means to protect them. One of them was previously his betrothed."

"Aye, that'll do it," Franklin said with a heavy sigh. "Did you discover anything more about his... curious condition? That condition being somehow returning from the land of the dead," he clarified with a dash of sarcasm.

"I did," she said, her eyes still distant, distracted by her own thoughts. "Before he was aware of my presence, I watched him examine the skin across his chest. The puncture wound is no longer there." Ona paused and her brows formed together in a troubled crease. "I do not believe he was only stationed on the Flying Dutchman. I think he was conscripted."

Franklin felt something like dread snake its way up his spine.

"And what makes you say that?" he asked, keeping his tone as even as possible.

Ona finally turned her eyes on him, the blue-grey of her eyes more stormy than usual. "Because instead of a puncture wound under his heart, James Norrington now bears scales. Like that of a fish."

"Black Dog's balls, you must be joking."

She wasn't. Her expression was the portrait of grim somberness.

"We must be rid of him immediately," Franklin proclaimed, sitting up as he pushed his papers aside. He got to his feet and rounded the table, planning to make way for the door, head down to the brig, and throw the man overboard himself.

Instead, he found his path blocked. Franklin was forced to look up since Ona had the advantage of height. Her expression was strange, but not nearly as strange as the words she spoke next.

"You will do no such thing."

So, his plan had worked. Ona had grown attached to the admiral. Unfortunately, that plan was looking to backfire on Franklin.

"If Jones comes looking for him, then we're all as good as dead," he pointed out, hoping to seek reason within her. "Not to mention what would happen if Jones caught wind of the secrets we carry. You are risking exposure from this, and we are both risking our necks."