Title: Hoist the Colours
Disclaimer: Pirates is Disney and Bruckheimer. Numb3rs is CBS and Falacci and Heuton.
Spoilers: “The Janus List” and "PotC3"
Summary: Singing, rum and maths. What better equation can you get?
Words Count: 835.
Notes: This one can be blamed on sparrowwritings and her purple sparkly plot bunnies of doom! :P
Notes2: Follows Family Secrets
and It Takes a Pirate
Colby sat in his dingy cell, contemplating his current state of affairs, such as they were. Even the visit from Jack had not proved to bring forth any answers, only rum.
He took a sip from the plastic bottle; he'd not been allowed to keep it in the bottle Jack had given it to him in - you never knew if he might suddenly decide enough was enough. Or at least that was the excuse he'd been given.
"Yo, ho, haul together,
hoist the Colors high.
thieves and beggars,
never shall we die.
"Are you sure you want to be singing that, young Turner?" came a voice from the shadows. Colby jumped and then glared as he realised his visitor,
"A few years too early, aren't you, Jack?"
Megan watched with the others, from behind the one-way glass in the wall of the cell, as Sparrow avoided the question,
"How about: The daye is gone, and yet I sawe no sonn: And nowe I live, and now my life is donn. A tad more fitting, don't you think?"
he said as he waved his arms wide and then rested his chin on fingertips.
Even Megan was surprised at this odd display and smiled softly at Charlie's,
"What? He's got an education."
She frowned as Jack turned from looking at Colby to face the glass that he shouldn't be able to hear through and answered,
"Three or four actually.
"How did he hear that?" Don asked, his voice rose, as it pretty much always was these days.
"I've given up on asking the why's and how's of Jack Sparrow," Charlie answered his brother, eyes firmly fixed on Colby.
"I thought you didn't like psychics."
"I never said he was a psychic, he-"
"Guys! We're here for Colby not another reply of the Don and Charlie argument," David butted in.
"Three or four actually." Jack said as he turned to the darkened glass.
"I guess you're not my only visitor then, huh, Jack?" Colby asked as he let his eyes drift to the glass and back to Jack.
"You can't see them," Jack answered, his eyes sparkling, "they are not there."
"Works for me," Jack furthered and then whispered, "and
if they're not there I can say stuff they can't hear."
Colby rolled his eyes,
"Thanks, Jack. I really needed that."
"No problem," Jack said, taking a bow. He moved to the window and leant against it, arms flung upwards in a stretch, "now to get to business."
He tuck a box from his suit jacket pocket and opened it, peering inside, he looked up at Colby,
"Ah," he walked over and took the rum, taking a sip, "let's try that again."
This time he seemed to find whatever answer he was looking for from inside the box as he turned back to the window,
"Charles my good man, do step a bit further into the window, I can barely see you through the wall."
He looked down at the box and back to the window and then up at Colby,
"Ah, I thought not. I have proved my point to your Captain. We need your charge to get you out of this."
Charlie lowered himself into the nearest empty chair of the war room and watched as his brother paced, waiting for Jack to return. At Jack's entrance he swung around and immediately began asking questions,
"What the hell was that about, Sparrow? You didn't prove anything! And his charge?"
"Ah," Jack turned a disappointed face on Charlie, "you didn't say anything, young Eppes?" He shook his head, "no matter. We shall persevere."
Taking a perch on the nearest table Jack continued,
"I proved, with the use of a very
top secret device, that you do indeed need your young brother to free the decidedly not
"D-" Don started.
"Ah!" Jack held up a hand, the other cradling the small box to his chest, "Top Secret
. Means you can't have it. It's mine."
"Well," Jack said, looking confused, "who else did you think was the young Eppes' handler? Surely not myself? No, far too maths
like for my tastes," he turned to Charlie, "not that there's anything wrong with that, I'm sure it works well for you, just not my thing."
Charlie hunched in his chair, waiting for Don's explosion,
"Colby was your NSA handler? Colby!"
"You never said-, is?"
"NSA, Don. I couldn't tell and you weren't allowed to-, ask. And yes, is. I've had nothing to tell me otherwise."
"Even though your handler is currently languishing in federal prison?"
"Wouldn’t be the first time."
"Ah!" Jack said from his position by the projector, "I think I've figured out how this works," he pressed a button and the machine came to life, "yes, now Charlie, come and do your magic."
"Math, Jack. Not magic."
"You say math, I say magic," Jack countered.