The Skeleton Key
Disclaimer: Fraser, Ray and Turnbull all belong to Alliance and the Pauls.  Jack, Norrington, and the Black Pearl belong to Disney.
Notes: Written for the Key Challenge on flashfiction.


The salt sea air pushed against the brim of his Stetson.  Ren glanced down at the bow slicing through the water.  He didn’t remember getting on a ship.  Perhaps he was back on the Bounty out to save Constable Fraser and Ray, but no, as he looked around he realized the ship was different.  Plus, he was the only Mountie on board.  A gentleman in a powdered wig stepped up next to him.

”I hope you’re right about this Constable.”

Ren opened his mouth to ask what was going on when a cry from the mast cut him off.

“Commander Norrington!  Ship off the stern, coming in fast!”

Norrington spun and ran for the wheel with Ren close behind.  The first mate stood ready with a telescope.  Norrington glanced for a few minutes before handing over the looking glass.  Renfield held it to his eye.  On the horizon was a dark ship with black sails.

“Pirates,” Ren whispered.

The first mate spoke quietly, “They’re already gaining on us, Sir.  We won’t be able to out run her.”

“Prepare the cannons!” Norrington yelled.  “They won’t be getting your prize, Constable.”

Ren glanced down at what the Commander had been motioning to.  He was surprised to see a key hanging from a leather thong around his neck next to his lanyard.  It was a frightening thing carved out of bone.  The butt of it was shaped like a skull and the functional part stretched out like some kind of deformed finger.  He stared at it while seamen rushed about him preparing for war.

The pirate ship was something to behold up close.  It was like a sailing shroud of death.  Ren jumped at the first crack of cannon fire.  The ships were exchanging thunder and Ren felt Norrington’s ship shudder beneath his feet with every hit.  Soon the pirates were upon them.  Hooks on twisted rope clanked against the railing, and dirty, sneering men swung from the dark rigging across from theirs.

Ren grabbed a fallen man’s sword as the sound and smell of flintlock burst around him.  He could see Norrington on the bow fighting off several men with the first mate at his side.  Ren was essentially trapped up next to the wheel.  Bodies of seamen and pirates alike blocked both stairs down to the main deck.  A flurry of movement towards the other ship made Renfield turn.

He swung through the air with the grace of a monkey and landed in front of Ren with the flourish of a stage actor.  Renfield had never seen anything like the strange man in front of him.  From his tri-cornered hat flowed long dark locks that were filled with beads, trinkets, and such.  His long coat spun open to reveal a large buckled belt with a flintlock pistol casually stuck into it.  With a flick of his wrist he drew his sword and pointed at Ren.

“Captain Jack Sparrow!” Renfield gasped, for this man could be no other.

The man gave a slightly off balance bow that managed to look intentional and said, “You’ve heard of me.  Good.  Maybe now you’ll hand over that key without all the fuss an’ bother of bleedin’ all over it.”

Renfield grasped the key with his free hand and raised his own sword.

“Come now, don’t be like that.  I have the chest to which that key belongs.  Perhaps we could come to some sort o’ arrangement?”

“I don’t make deals with pirates!” he said bravely.

“Oh, have it your way,” Sparrow sighed and lunged forward.

Ren barely managed to knock the blade away.  Fencing had never been his forte.  The steel crashed madly as they moved about the upper deck.  Ren was barely holding his own, and he guessed that Sparrow was just playing with him in his own way.  The blades flashed and glinted in the hot Caribbean sun.  Slowly Sparrow pushed him back towards the railing.  Ren was quickly running out of room.  Then, as if the angels themselves were watching over him, The Black Pearl’s cannons fired once more.  Norrington’s ship shuttered violently sending most of the men careening across the deck.  Ren and Jack both stumbled, but he was quicker.  Renfield knocked Sparrow’s blade aside and lunged forward screaming, “Die you scurvy dog!”

The bright pink duster slammed against Constable Fraser’s chest sending the feathers sprawling out against his uniform.  The Mountie glanced down at the feather duster before looking back up at Turnbull with one eyebrow quirked.  Ren quickly glanced around the Consulate lobby.  He looked down at his own chest to see the supply room key hanging from its shoe string around his neck, instead of its normal place on the peg behind his desk.

Turnbull quickly stood at attention and hid the duster behind his leg.  He could hear chuckling to his right and looked over to see Ray leaning against a doorframe with his hand over his mouth.  Fraser caught his attention again by clearing his throat.

“Die you scurvy dog?” the other Mountie asked.

Ray lost it completely and bent over laughing loudly.  It took him a few moments to catch his breath.

“So I’m guessing,” the blonde detective said, “that we won’t be taking Ren to see another adventure movie any time soon.”

“I think that would be wise,” Fraser said giving Ren a small frown.

Turnbull bowed his head in shame.  Ray stepped over and patted him on the back.

“Don’t worry about it, Turnbull.  We’ll try a romantic comedy next week or something.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Fraser agreed.

“After all,” Ray continued walking towards the door, “if I thought you stabbing him with a feather duster was funny, watching you dip him for a great big kiss ought to be hilarious!”

Ray scampered for the door laughing like a maniac.  Fraser turned on his heel with a red face yelling Ray’s name and chasing him out of the Consulate.  Ren sighed and continued with his dusting.  Duty always came first, but he stopped to stare at the pink feathers with narrowed eyes.  

Deep down, he knew that there would soon come a time when Captain Jack Sparrow would curse the day he ever heard of Constable Renfield Turnbull, RCMP!


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