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BRING ME THAT HORIZON Author: Kmshalias Disclaimer: If I owned any of it, I most certainly would not be sitting here writing this fan fic… I’d be making out with Johnny Depp! Muahahahaha. Summary: You are Will's sister who remained in England when he sailed to the Caribbean. He sends for you to come live in the Governor's mansion with him and Elizabeth, but you find your new cushy life rather boring. One day, while roaming the town alone, you come across a certain Captain Jack Sparrow and decide to get to know him better. When it comes time for him to leave Port Royal, you accompany him on The Pearl, without informing anyone of your decision. Much confusion and adventure ensues as you and Jack slowly start to charm your ways into eachother's hearts while on the run from the Royal Navy. Author's Note: Hi all, I know I haven’t finished “Helping Jack Sparrow” yet, but I came up with this idea and just had to run with it. we’re just gonna pretend that Barbossa and Jack and all didn’t know you existed during the movie, and Will didn’t mention you so that they wouldn’t go after you too. This is based on my assumptions (no assume jokes now people...) that Will was 14 when he came to the Caribbean, and he has been there for about 7 years. This, as you will find out, makes you roughly 28. Yeah, I’m not sure that this makes all that much difference in the story… just thought I’d let you know. So…I think I waxed a little angst-y in this first chappie, but the rest’ll be better cuz I hate that kind of stuff. I really just wanted to give the character a background. Anyway, review (pretty please with sugar on top) and enjoy! O yeah, and I decided to give “you” a name in this one. I just thought it would be interesting to try (by interesting, I mean easier for me to write…). * * * * * CHAPTER 1 Well, today’s finally the day, you think to yourself as you lean against the railing of the passenger ship you are on. It is just before sunrise, but you have already been up for several hours packing and arranging your belongings. You were so thoroughly filled with excitement at the prospect of finally arriving in Port Royal and getting off of this bloody ship that you hadn’t been able to get more than a couple of hours of sleep. As you watch the sun creep over the horizon, you think back over the past several years of your life. Seven years older than your brother Will, you had elected to remain in England when he set off to search for your father in the Caribbean. It had been a lonely seven years wondering if Will would ever find anything out about the man you barely knew as a child. The news of your father’s death had hardly surprised you. Nor did it elicit any real grief on your part. Had he been a major part of your life, maybe you would have mourned, but as it was, the man meant about as much to you as any man on the street. Especially when you found out what he had really been doing on the “business trips” he had spent most of his time on before his death. And the notion that your little brother Willy had taken part in the same kinds of activities as your father made your own actions seem downright holy. But that life was behind you. You were being plucked straight from the slums of London to live with your brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law in the Governor’s mansion in Port Royal. Yes, gone were the nights of agony spent silently praying for forgiveness and deliverance as you lay with a stranger in bed, aching to push the dirty drunk off of your body, but knowing full well that such action would mean the loss of your payment. Gone were the lonely nights spent desperately trying to fight off the pangs of hunger that tore at your stomach. Gone were the hours spent patching holes in your filthy dresses because you couldn’t afford new ones. Slowly, the ship makes its way toward your new life. Each inch it puts between you and England lightens your mood the way the rising sun lightens the sky. After several minutes, you hear the cry of, “Land ho,” and rush to the bow to see the approaching land mass. Satisfied that you will arrive within the hour, you decide to head below to beat the breakfast crowd that was surely woken by the cry. You hardly taste the food as you gulp it down. Some of the passengers stare at you as you rush through your meal, but you are past caring about their opinions of you. After all, what are the chances of meeting any of them again? Once you have finished your meal, you retreat to your room, an action that no doubt pleases many of your fellow diners. As you enter the room, a nervous energy comes upon you and you begin to bustle around desperately trying to find a task to occupy your restless hands. You repeatedly smooth the folds of the brand new dress you bought with all of your savings just before you left London. Deciding that you wouldn’t be needing the few shillings you had to your name in Port Royal, you had splurged on the prettiest dress you could afford, in order to impress your new relatives. As the ship begins to slow, you grab your small bag of possessions and the little cage you keep your pet mouse, Sam, in and head up to the deck. You pace back and forth as you wait for the ship to dock. Anxious, you lean against the rail and strain your eyes, trying to pick your brother out amongst the crowd of people on the dock. When you are within sight of the dock, you instantly recognize your younger brother. He looks very much the same as he did when he sailed away from London so many years ago. He has the same wavy, dark brown hair and chocolate colored eyes as you. You mentally note that he’s quite a bit taller than he was the last time you saw him, but then again, that was to be expected. You wave your arms to catch his attention and he breaks into a grin when he recognizes you. He looks down and points you out to a girl who is standing next to him before putting his arm around her waist and waving back to you. You suddenly realize that that must be Elizabeth. A slight pang of jealousy stirs in your heart as you wonder what it must be like to be truly loved by someone. There is a slight jolt as the ship finally reaches the dock, and you grab your things and rush to be first in line to disembark. After the gangplank is laid, one of the crewmembers helps you carry your things down onto the dock, not without a look of disgust at Sam. As soon as your feet hit the solid wood, you drop the purse you’ve been holing and run to Will. “Bree!” he exclaims and clasps you in a strong hug. You smile as you realize just how much you have missed him. “God it’s good to see you, Will,” you say, smiling. You reach up and muss his hair like you used to do when he was little before letting him go. Will then grabs you by the arm and turns you to face the girl who was standing by him, looking somewhat awkward. “Elizabeth, meet my sister Brianna.” Elizabeth smiles and says, “Welcome to Port Royal, Brianna. How was your trip? I believe my crossing was quite memorable.” At this she and Will both chuckle and glance at each other. You wonder what the joke was, but decide to let it pass. Your happy meeting is interrupted when you hear someone clear his throat behind you. You turn around and see that the crewmember who had helped you is still standing behind you, now loaded down even more with the purse you had dropped. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” you exclaim. “I can get it now.” You reach to take your things from the man, but Will brushes your hands aside. “I’ve got it, Bree.” “That’s OK. You don’t have to-“ “What are little brothers for?” “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen mine in - what is it? - 7 years?” you shoot back. “Why don’t you two go on ahead to the carriage, and I’ll get this stuff,” Will suggests as the sailor begins to transfer your belongings into his arms. Elizabeth takes your arm and steers you toward the end of the pier. You’re slightly nervous to be alone with someone of such high status, and now that Will, your safety blanket in the new situations, was gone, you weren’t sure what to do. Elizabeth breaks the silence before you can think of something intelligent to say. “It’s really good to meet you. Will has talked about you so much the last few months. It’s feels like I’m getting a new best friend,” she almost gushes, surprising you somewhat. You had expected her to be stuck-up and refined like all of the other high-class ladies. “Uh, thanks. It’s really good to be here,” is all you can manage to choke out. Why am I so nervous? Where is the wit? The charm that I was known for back in London? ...Probably still there, along with everything I’ve ever known. Oh god, was it a mistake to come here. During your little inner monologue, you have managed to arrive at the carriage. A servant opens the door and helps Elizabeth in. As you start to climb in, he grabs your arm to help you up, but you don’t realize his intentions and yank it away from him and jump up into the carriage. By the time you realize what’s just happened, both he and Elizabeth are giving you funny looks, and you turn beet red with embarrassment. A heavy silence hangs over the coach until Will comes tottering up balancing your bags and cage. The driver helps him load them up on top of the carriage and he climbs inside and sits across from you. As the coach pulls away, he begins to make light chatter, pointing out different things outside the window and soon all three of you are drawn into a lively discussion. After several minutes of riding, you turn onto a long driveway. “Well, this is it,” Will says. “This is where we’re all going to live.” Your eyes widen as you take in the beautiful mansion in front of you. Your brother smiles knowingly at the wonder displayed on your face. As the carriage slows to a stop, Elizabeth says, “Come on, let’s get you changed out of your traveling clothes and into your dinner wear so you can meet father.” This statement causes you to freeze with your mouth slightly open and you turn a deep shade of crimson for the second time since you’ve entered the coach. The three of you return to silence for a moment until Elizabeth starts to apologize profusely. “Oh goodness. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-I just-I didn’t realize,” she stammers, waving her hands in front of her. If you weren’t so mortified, her actions would even be funny. Instead, your blush turns even deeper and you remain perfectly still, except for your jaw, which starts to tremble ever so slightly. The silence practically strangles you until the porter opens the carriage door and you nearly fly outside onto the cobblestone walk. Elizabeth and Will make their way out of the carriage and join you in front of the massive house. A maid comes out of the house and leads you and Elizabeth into the house. Elizabeth excuses herself to go greet her father and the maid, whose name turns out to be Maria, offers to show you to your room. She leads you down a long hallway and you finally arrive at a door at the end of the hall. She holds it open for you and you step into the most beautiful room you’ve ever seen. The walls are lavender with darker purple moldings and crowns. You move past the ornate bed with its soaring bedposts and take a seat on the stool in front of the vanity. Maria quietly shuts the door and leaves you alone with your thoughts. You groan and slump onto the dresser with your head in your hands. After a few minutes, there is a soft knock on your door and you get up to open it. Will is standing outside, loaded down with your belongings once again. You smile at the comical sight and step aside to let him in. He staggers over and dumps your things onto your bed. Sam’s cage bounces onto the mattress and you cry, “Hey, watch it!” He smiles sheepishly and sets the cage upright on the bed before pausing and clearing his throat to drown out Sam’s angry squeaks. “She didn’t mean to insult you, Bree. She just doesn’t always realize how oth-how people like us live. She’s really great, you know. Give her a chance. I know you’ll like her.” “I know, Will. I just-I don’t think I belong here. I really don’t.” You sigh loudly and plop down on your stool again. “I wish I would’ve stayed in London.” Will comes and crouches on the floor next to you. “I know you don’t mean that, Bree. You just haven’t given anyone a chance yet. Look at you, you’re more beautiful than you were when I left England. People here are going to love you…but not if you keep that frown on your face.” You give in and allow a small smile to bend your lips upward. Your brother, always the charmer. Will gets up and heads for the door. “Dinner’s at six. I’ll meet you in the foyer?” You nod your agreement and turn back to the mirror. You frown at your shabby appearance—you have no make-up, your hair is a mess, and your dress can’t possibly compare with anything Elizabeth will be wearing. Opening the bag on your bed, you pull out an old comb and run it through your long hair. You smooth out your skirt and brush some dirt off the hem in your attempt to make yourself presentable. You move from the dressing table to stand in front of the floor length mirror. There, you practice your best curtsey, bending low with a gracious smile on your face. After a few minutes of practice, you glance at the ornate clock hanging on the wall and realize that it’s two minutes past six. You rush out of the room and hurry to meet Will. He tsks with mock disapproval as you meet him at the top of the stairs. He takes your arm and leads you down the stairs and into the dining room. Elizabeth and the Governor, who are already seated, rise when the two of you enter. “Governor Swann—my sister, Brianna Turner.” You execute a well-practiced curtsey as the governor takes your hand and kisses the back of it. “It’s a pleasure to have you with us, Miss Turner,” he says and helps you to your seat. Dinner passes pleasantly, with the three others asking several questions about your life in London. To your credit, you only fib a little, leaving out some key details and exaggerating certain others. After stuffing yourself with the multi-course meal (you’ve never seen so much food in one place before!), you excuse yourself and return to your room. The candles have already been lit and the room glows warmly. You let out a sigh, relieved that dinner has passed sans disaster. You kick off your shoes and flop down on one of the two puffy armchairs in the corner. Not a minute passes before there is a soft nock at your door and Elizabeth enters the room. She joins you on the other chair with a small smile. You’re not sure what to say to her, so you just wait for her to begin. “Brianna, I just wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just—” “It’s OK,” you cut her off. “Don’t worry about it.” She seems relieved that you don’t have any hard feelings. “Well, in that case, I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to the shopping district tomorrow? Murdoch’s Boutique just got the most beautiful dresses last week. You can get one to wear to the wedding!” she nearly squeals. As you start to mutter an excuse, she cuts you off. “Forget about it. It’ll be a present to you—my future sister-in-law. So what do you say?” “I say: that’d be wonderful!” you say with your first real smile of the night. * * * * * A/N: Once again, please review. I love reading all of them. Even the bad ones, cuz they make me laugh. I kid you not. I got a flame once, and I was cracking up for like a week. Of course, I’d much prefer nice reviews, but I’m rambling again, so I think it’s time for me to be off to start the next chapter. Or perhaps to actually do some homework for once. Or I could eat some food. Yeah, getting a life now… * * * * * CHAPTER 2 Six months later, Will and Elizabeth are happily married, you have gotten to know your long-lost little brother again, and you gotten used to your new life. You’ve also taken quite a liking to life in the governor’s mansion, enjoying the feeling of being waited on for the first time in your life, but at the same time wish that something exciting would happen every once in a while. Life in Port Royal was nothing like life in the slums of London, where there was never a dull moment or a cease in the hustle and bustle. The last week has been especially boring as Will and Elizabeth have been visiting her cousin on one of the other islands nearby. You’ve spent a good deal of time wandering around town this week. Each day you went and walked up and down the street and picked out a different person to follow. It was something to keep your mind occupied and it also taught you a great deal about the people and places of Port Royal. You decide to skip the afternoon tea and slip quietly out the front door, as you don’t want your uncle-in-law to insist that you take an escort and start down the road. You head into the town and breathe a sigh of relief. Instead of heading into the ritzy part that you had covered well on previous trips, you head down into the poorer sections. You enjoyed coming to town and shopping with Elizabeth, but she was always hesitant to leave the main street and explore the less-respectable parts of town. The six months that you have spent in Port Royal has not been enough to completely separate you from your past in London. The low-class area of Port Royal was actually downright luxurious compared to where you had lived in London and you felt quite natural walking around and looking into the small, inexpensive shops, invigorated by the faster pace of the people who actually had to work for a living. As you walk along and browse, you suddenly spot an unusual figure walking slightly ahead of you. He is wearing a long coat and has dreadlocks with beads woven into them. At first you think that he is drunk because of the way he is swaying, but you soon realize that he just has an unusual stride. Intrigued, you decide that he will be your mark for the day. You drop back a few more steps so that he doesn’t notice, and trail after him. He heads down toward the docks and the streets swell with the early-evening crowds. However, you manage to keep sight of his head over the crowd and weave your way behind him. He continues down a rather deserted street, but you follow him anyway, curious to see where he is headed. Ahead of you, the mysterious man turns down a small alley, but as you speed up to get around the corner before you lose him, a hand suddenly shoots out of the doorway you have just passed. The hand grabs onto your wrist and tries to yank you through the doorframe. You yell and yank your arm free and take a few running steps back toward the docks. You’re too slow in your heels and dress though, and the dark figure catches up to you in no time. He drags you into another dark alley and pins you up against the wall. You struggle against his grip, but he’s just too strong for you. You scream again, and he slaps you across the face, hissing for you to shut up. He then plunges his lips against your neck and begins to kiss all along your collarbone as he pushes you further against the wall with his body. He starts to pull your skirt up as you flail wildly at him with your hands. Your light blows do nothing to deter him as he ignores your struggle and continues to hike your skirt up. Suddenly, you hear a lout “thwap” and the man crumples to the ground. You take a big gulp and look up to meet the deep chocolate-colored eyes of the man you had been following. “Oh…Uh…I um…,” you stammer not knowing what to say to this man as your breathing begins to return to normal. The stranger merely cocks his head and looks at you curiously as you mentally flounder for words. Finally, he gives you a crooked smile and says, “’Ello, luv.” “Thank you. Thank you s-so much. I-I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” you stutter. The man just shrugs. “Rum works,” he offers. “You just saved my life and all you want is for me to buy you a drink in return,” you ask incredulously. “Or two, if ye want,” he says as he tosses the wooden board that he’s been holding on top of the unconscious man lying in between you. As you begin to regain your composure, you reply, “Well if it’s a drink that you desire, a drink you shall have.” You step distastefully over the man’s body and head back out onto the street. “Right then, this way, luv,” the stranger says and starts down the road at a pace that’s difficult for you to keep up with in your heavy dress and heels. He has put nearly a hundred feet in between you because of his fast pace when he suddenly spins around and looks back at you quizzically. “What’re ye doin’ all the way back there, luv? We’ll never make it te the pub if ye walk like that.” “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t aware that I would have to sprint to the bar when I agreed to buy you a drink,” you call forward to him with a small smile. “Well I wouldn’t mind carrying you ta the pub if it would speed things up a bit,” he returns as you catch up to him finally. “Thank you for your generous offer, but I don’t believe that will be necessary,” you respond with a twinkle in your eye. “All the same, I think I’ll take it on meself te help ye along,” he says as he takes your arm and continues on toward the crowded street where all of the taverns are located. Reason tells you that you should probably remove your arm from his grasp and head back to the governor’s mansion, but there’s something about this stranger that makes you trust him. Not to mention the fact that his face is even more appealing than his backside that you’d had your eyes trained on for so long as you followed him through the city. Not to mention the fact that he had saved you from the man who was trying to rape you. You continue up the road that is now considerably quieter than it was earlier. The man pulls you along gently without saying anything. From the way his stride wavers, it almost seems as though his body has already absorbed the alcohol that you are about to buy him. Occasionally you hear him humming something that’s barely audible. A couple of minutes later, you reach a somewhat shady pub and the stranger holds open the door for you and says, “After you, luv.” You walk up to the bar and order two pints of rum, and toss some coins across the counter to the barkeep. You grab the two glasses and discover that the stranger has disappeared. You search through the crowd and spot him in a back corner studying his nails. His head jerks up as you set a mug in front of him on the table and take a seat across from him. At the sight of the two glasses of alcohol, his face breaks into a grin that also captures a bit of mischievousness. He lifts one glass to his lips and takes a long draught and you surprise him by following suit. “What?” you ask innocently as you raise an eyebrow at him. “Er nothing. You just don’t strike me as a rum ‘n liquor kind of girl,” he says with another smile that reveals his many gold teeth. “What can I say, it’s one of this place’s most charming aspects,” you reply as you mentally ponder which is more intoxicating: the rum you’re sipping, or this stranger’s smile. “Mmmm, that it is, luv, that it is,” he says as he smiles appreciatively and leans back in his chair. After a slight pause, he continues, “Ah, luv?” “Yes?” “I still don’t know your name.” “I don’t know yours either.” “Ah yes, well we shall have to remedy that, won’t we? I’m Captain Jack Sparrow,” he says as he spreads his arms and bows his head toward you. “Nnnno,” you say incredulously, as a small, amused smile begins to form behind your mug poised which was poised at your lips, ready to be sipped from. “Trust me luv, you’re lookin’ at the one ‘n only,” Jack boasts, his arms still spread wide. “Oh I believe you,” you chuckle, “I don’t doubt you for a minute.” “Hm,” is all he responds with, obviously puzzled by your strange reaction. Seeing this, you elaborate, “It’s just that you’re not exactly what I expected.” Not exactly what I expected? Hell, he’s the bloody opposite of what I expected. From what your brother and Elizabeth had told you, you had expected Jack Sparrow to be a stereotypical cutlass-wielding, woman-groping, ‘arrrgh’-saying pirate with an insane streak to boot. Not in a million years would you have guessed that the man with the intelligent and intriguing chocolate eyes staring at you from across the table as you lost yourself in your thoughts to be Jack Sparrow. “Ah, ye’ve heard of me, then ‘av ye?” he says proudly. You smile at his cocky attitude before taking another gulp of rum, “I suppose you could say that.” * * * * * A/N: This one’s a bit shorter than the last one, but I needed somewhere to stop, n this seemed like a good place. Anyway, reviews are always loved. Seriously, they literally make my day. Till next time, km. * * * * * A/N: Yeah, it hasn’t been almost 6 months since I updated this. That’s just your imagination. Anyway, I was hit with inspiration finally while staring at the wall of my dorm room when I should’ve been out chillaxing on a Saturday night. Hope you enjoy… CHAPTER 3 “So, do ye mind telling me what it is that ye’ve heard about me then?” he asks, clearly wanting you to recount some glorious and dramatic legend that you’ve heard about his adventures as he slouches back in his chair and waits for you to speak. Instead, you smile wickedly and begin, “Well, for starters, I heard that you were nearly hung at the fort last year and only escaped with the help of a blacksmith’s apprentice and the goodwill of Commodore Norrington.” This erases the cocky grin from his face and his moustache seems to bristle as he frowns at your less-than-flattering tale, obviously heavily disappointed. Ignoring his half-pouting expression, you continue on, “I also heard that you were marooned not once, but two times on the same island, and that the second time, you were rescued by the Royal Navy, only because the governor’s daughter burned all of your rum to create a smoke signal.” By now Jack looks positively grouchy, and his deflated expression only adds to your amusement. You pause for a moment to wonder why you are torturing him like this, especially since your heart has been fluttering ever since he looked you in the eyes. But then again, you had always had a bit of a mischievous streak. “And where, pray tell, did you hear these stories?” he asks, waving his left hand to accentuate his words. “Oh from the most reliable sources, I assure you,” you say as the chuckle that you’ve been fighting to hold in finally escapes. “My brother,” you hint as you remember that you still haven’t introduced yourself. Jack only looks imploringly at you as he gestures for you to say more. “Will Turner,” you clarify as a knowing smile spreads across his face. “Ah, so that would make you the long-lost Brianna Turner, then wouldn’t it?” he asks as he takes a drink of rum. Now it is your turn to frown, not liking the fact that the tables have now turned and he seems to have the dominant position in the conversation. Seeing your frown, he clarifies, “Luv, I sailed with yer father for 10 years. Don’t ye think that at some point during that decade, he might ‘ave mentioned his little girl back in England? Besides, I really should’ve known anyways, ye look just like ‘im, and dearest William too. Except that they are men, and in fact,” he pauses as he glances over the portion of your body that is visible across the table, “you are a woman.” “How insightful,” you shoot back wryly. “Well they don’t call me Captain Jack Sparrow for nothing, luv,” he says as his cocky air returns. After a short pause, he adds, “Although I do wonder about the Whelp sometimes.” The mention of your brother’s manly new nickname causes you to snicker, which in turn causes you to inhale some of your rum. The presence of the burning liquid in your lungs sends you into a prolonged coughing fit that is only made worse by your laughter. When you finally finish coughing, you clear your throat and giggle once more for good measure. After a moment, Jack clears his throat from across the table as if to remind you that he was indeed still sitting there. “Sorry,” you mutter, your voice still gravelly from your coughing fit. “Pity to waste tha’ perfectly good rum by inhaling it, luv,” Jack drawls. “Thanks for your concern,” you reply. Jack dismisses your comment with a wave of his hand as if to say, “no problem.” You merely roll your eyes and take another swig of your rum, this time making sure that it all goes down properly. The two of you pass a couple of minutes in silence, each nursing your own drink. Suddenly, a man comes flying out of nowhere and lands flat on his face in the middle of your table, emptying the entire contents of the two mugs of alcohol in his hands all over everything in sight—including you and Jack. The stranger simply lies there without moving, and you briefly ponder whether the alcohol or the blow to his head is to blame for his lack of consciousness. As you reach the conclusion that it is, in fact, the alcohol that is responsible, you see Jack give the man a rather hesitant poke with a single outstretched finger. Just as suddenly as the man arrived, another set of hands shoots out, grabs him roughly by the back of his shirt, and yanks him off of the table. You and Jack stare in bemused silence as the two men, one being dragged by the other, disappear into the crowd of drinkers. As the men fade out of sight, you both turn your heads back and meet each other’s equally amused gaze. As soon as your eyes lock, you both bust into fits of uncontrollable laughter. It is only after your laughter dies away that you realize that you are soaked with liquor. This realization dampens your spirits considerably, and your thoughts immediately turn to how you will explain your rather unusual perfume to the governor. “What’s the matter, luv?” Jack inquires. “I can’t go home like this,” you point out, gesturing to your dripping hair and dress. “Like what?” “Soaked with alcohol,” you respond, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “That would be a problem?” he asks innocently. “The governor probably wouldn’t find it very lady-like,” you point out. “Ah yes, well don’t fear, milady, for I know just how to remedy the situation,” he replies with a smug grin. “Oh do you?” you ask suspiciously. Jack merely responds with a sage nod. “And will this “remedy” of yours be something that I’ll approve of?” you ask, still wary of his motives. “I should certainly think so,” he drawls with the smirk again. You think for a moment and decide to trust him once again, perhaps despite your better judgment. “Right then, let’s go,” you say as you start to stand to leave. “Wait!” he blurts out as his hand shoots across the table to grab your wrist. “We have to finish the rum,” he says, his voice almost a reverent whisper. You pause, half-seated and half-standing, to stare at him incredulously. When you realize that he’s being serious, you sigh and plop back down into your seat. “You weren’t seriously gonna waste that perfectly good rum, were ye?” he asks in an almost horrified voice. You stare at him for another second before responding, “I wouldn’t dream of it,” accompanied by a sugary sweet and very fake smile. “Good,” Jack replies, ignoring your sarcasm as he takes 2 huge gulps of his drink. What the hell, you think, and you chug the last 2 or 3 sips of rum left in your glass. You set your empty mug back on the table a second before Jack slams his own empty mug down on the table in front of him. “Beat you,” you say with a satisfied smirk that turns into a wide smile as the self-satisfied look on Jack’s face melts away. You arch an eyebrow at him and start to head toward the door. You’re three steps away from the table when Jack reappears at your side. “Now that’s not fair, luv,” he protests. “In what way, shape or form?” “Well…ye see, due to the, er, prepository nature of the, uh, competition, there is no…substantiated, er, evidence that any contest, hence the…victory in question ever occurred,” he says with a grand sweep of his arms. “Do you even know what those words mean, Jack?” “’Course I do, luv. I’m Captain Jack Sparrow.” You turn to stare him down with your best skeptical look. “…No,” he admits, looking slightly defeated. “Stick to pirating, Jack,” you tease as you continue on your way out of the tavern. “Oh, and are you the Queen of Grammar, missy?” he says sarcastically as you exit out onto the street. “What, you haven’t noticed the crown yet?” you ask with your best regal nod. “It must’ve fallen off when ye were taking yer rum bath,” he says with a chuckle. “Well excuse me, but you’re just as soaked as I am,” you point out. “Ah, yes, but I didn’t lose my fancy tiara, now did I?” You reach out and swipe the hat he’s wearing from his head and give it a short examination. “This is hardly a tiara, mate, but I do think it could be improved with a few flowers and some pretty little bows,” you say as you place it on your own head. Jack’s head is evidently bigger than yours, since the hat sinks down to cover half of your head. You can barely see out from underneath the brim, which rests on the tip of your nose. Or maybe it’s all of his unruly hair that gets in the way. “Pink perhaps. Or maybe pale yellow. Very springy, y’know. I’ve been told that those colors are all the rage back in London.” Jack merely grunts and replaces the hat on his head. It’s now quite dark out, and the crowds on the street are beginning to thin out, and the remaining pedestrians seem to get seedier as you walk farther. After walking in silence for a couple of minutes, you decide that it might be a good idea to find out where you and Jack are headed and so inquire. “To the docks, luv,” Jack replies, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. A few minutes later, you arrive at the end of a long pier that stretches out into the bay. At the end, there is a small row boat tied up, which you assume will carry you out to Jack’s ship to get cleaned up. You head out onto the dock in front of Jack, walking slowly and enjoying the ocean breeze. When you are about two thirds of the way out, Jack clears his throat and announces, “Aright luv, we’re here.” Before you can turn around to ask what he means, you feel his hands on the small of your back and the next thing you know, you’re tumbling into the water below. You hit the water with a loud splash, and bob back up to the surface spluttering and swearing at Jack. “What the bloody hell was that for?!” you shout. “I could’ve drowned!” “Ah yes, but you didn’t, did you?” he calls from above as you see his silhouette in the moonlight removing his hat. “I would’ve if I couldn’t swim,” you shout back as you struggle to tread water in your heavy dress. “I wouldn’t’ve let you drown,” he yells down to you, and the next thing you know, his shadowy form is hurtling toward you in a perfect swan dive. He hits the water three feet away from you, and the resulting splash leaves you spitting out sea water and coughing. When Jack resurfaces next to you a moment later, you are waiting, and hit him in the face with a huge splash of water. He happens to be taking a deep breath at the moment, so his mouth fills with the water, which he promptly spits right back at you. The stream of water hits you right in the forehead and proceeds to drip down your face. You’re so shocked and grossed out by this that you can’t even speak, and instead just bob in the water with your mouth hanging open in disbelief. “Something wrong, luv?” Jack asks with a smirk as he treads water next to you. You finally regain your speech and exclaim, “I can’t believe you did that!” before dunking your head under the water to rinse it off. “You threw water in my face.” “You threw me in the ocean!” “Yes, but I did it to solve your problem.” “This was a great solution, Jack. Instead of being half-soaked before, now I’m completely soaked.” “But as you yerself said, before you were covered in alcohol.” “So?” “What, were ye gonna tell the dear gov’ner that you fell into a mug of rum?” “What would you suggest I tell him now?” “That ye fell in the ocean o’course.” “Yes, that’s a perfectly normal occurrence,” you say sarcastically, still slightly annoyed at having been dumped unceremoniously into the water. “Well, ye did fall in, whether ye like it or not. Might as well make the best of it,” he says as he begins to use his arms to turn circles in the water. “I did NOT fall in! You pushed me!” “Eh, semantics,” he drawls lazily, still rotating in place. Instead of responding, you reach over, thread your fingers through the matted dreadlocks at the crown of his head, and push him down underneath the water. However, thirty seconds later, he still hasn’t resurfaced, and you start to feel a little uneasy. Suddenly, something strong latches onto your ankle and gives you a sharp tug downward. You let out a short shriek before you go under the water and flail your arms and legs wildly to propel you back to the surface. As you thrash about under the water, your foot comes into contact with something soft. You jerk your eyes open just in time to see a large cloud of bubbles rushing toward the surface. You finally make it back up to the fresh air, and not a second later, Jack resurfaces in front of you wearing a pained expression. “Was it really necessary to kick me, luv?” “I didn’t do it on purpose,” you inform him, although some voice in the back of your mind points out that he probably deserved it. “Oy, me poor stomach,” he says in a fake whine. “Oy, be glad it wasn’t lower,” you say before beginning to swim toward the shore, “or you’d be the local eunuch instead of my brother.” “Watch it, luv. That’s not remotely humorous,” he calls forward, and you begin to hear small rhythmic splashes that tell you Jack is following you in toward shore. * * * * * A/N: Whew, that was fun to write. I decided to stop here mostly because I’m lazy and my fingers are slightly sore from having a bike run them over this morning. Yeah, don’t ask why my fingers were in a place where they could be run over, but they were. Leave me some reviews to make the pain go away. Ok, so they don’t hurt that much, I just like being a drama queen sometimes. Till next time, km. TBC... |