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CHAPTER 6 - Blood And Rum
You sing along with Jack, the both of you more than off key. "-we extort and pilfer, we filch and sack- drink up me hearties yo ho! Maraud and embezzle and even highjack! Drink up me hearties yo ho! Yo ho yo ho a pirate’s life for me!" "Hee hee!" you shout out. You quickly snatch his rum from his hand to finish off the song, and he takes it back from you to do the same. Jack’s a lot more fun than you had previously thought. Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’re slightly inebriated, and getting more still. What exactly are the chances of you singing this song with a man you’ve only known for a few hours otherwise? "What do ye think of rum as of now, luv?" he asks with that lazy drawl of his. You frown. "I don’t know." You then plop down on the bed next to him and take his bottle out of his hand to find out how you feel about rum. You take a long drink, having lost yours somewhere on the floor of the cabin. Jack looks amused at your antics, and laughs, taking his bottle back out of your grasp. "Ye don’t have the stomach for it yet, luv, but ye’ll have one soon enough." "I’m not as think as you drunk I am, if that’s what you mean," you state resolutely. You try to get the bottle back from his grip, but he won’t let you have it. "Yer already half gone, luv. We’ll get some more rum in ye later, but if ye don’t stop now, ye’ll never be able to stomach it. Savvy?" "But Ja-ack!" You’re practically groping him to get the bottle back, and even though you realize you probably shouldn’t be, you don’t really care. He’s more than enjoying it, anyway. "As much as I’d like to give it to you," he smirks wickedly, "you haven’t e’en eaten yet, and ye can’t go around drinkin’ without some food in ye." "Puh-lease, Jack?" You wrap your arms around his neck in an attempt to get the rum back. You like it a lot more than you would’ve previously thought. He puts his arms around your waist and grapples you down on top of him, placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head, and then drains the contents of the bottle. "I’m goin’ to get ye something to eat, and then we’ll continue this." You see his gold teeth glinting at you before he disappears out of the cabin. "Hmph." You sit back on the bed suddenly bored, and feel the warming, comforting sensation of the rum currently flowing through your veins. It’s making you rather sleepy. "...take my rum..." you mutter as you lay down on the bed. You close your eyes for a moment, resting and contemplating where your bottle of rum could have gotten to. You exhale as you’re half asleep on Jack’s bed, and breathe in the odors Jack and the sea as you wrap yourself into a sort of cocoon. You’re so drowsy you barely realize that the door to the cabin has opened, and that someone not Jack has entered. "Cap’n?" A gruff voice bids. The man steps into the room, but you’re too far intoxicated to tell, or even care. He approaches the bed slowly and leans down close to you, unbeknownst to your languid form. He touches your face, and you open your eyes, seeing his dirty countenance whirl about before your eyes from the drink inside you. You aren’t sure if he’s a hallucination or not. "’ello, sweet’eart." He has an evil look upon his filthy face that sets off warning bells inside your drunken head to move your ass the hell off the bed. Definitely no hallucination. You sober up there and then and jump like a gazelle off and behind Jack’s desk. The man chases you, and you put the desk effectively between you and his depraved stare. You can tell by the look in his eyes exactly what he’s thinking, or wanting, to do to you. "Get out!" you demand, feeling you’ve got the power of the cabin under your command. Really, you’re scared to death. You could run out of the cabin and be pursued by this man, as well as other members of the crew, or you can stay here and fight your own. You have no idea where on the ship Jack is anyway. "Now why would I be wantin’ to do tha’, missy?" You look about the room for something that would make a suitable weapon, you condemn yourself for cleaning up all the empty bottles over Jack’s floor. They would have been excellent tools of destruction. "What wuz yer name ag’in? (___), was it?" "I told you to get out! Get the hell out of here!" He makes a lunge at you and you run around the desk, painfully knocking your foot on the side. "Jack!" you shriek out. The man lunges for you once more. You can feel the breeze of his hand by your arm, and see his many rings upon his fingers. "Jack!" you scream again. You look to the door for any sign of help, and in this moment of distraction, the man hits you square across the face, his rings cutting a gash in your cheek. He knocks you into a corner and knocks the wind clear out of you. You’re dazed and in shock that you’ve actually been hit, and you rub at your cheek that is currently throbbing. You find blood upon your hand and feel at the cut as you taste copper. You’re too shocked to do much else. Your eyes are tearing up from the pain, but you aren’t crying. No one’s ever dared strike you like that. "There, li’l harlot," he says out of breath and rather infuriated. You’ve given him quite a run for his money. "Ja...ack!" you try to yell, but it comes out as a squeak. You’re still partially doubled over trying to regain your breath. "The cap’n said there’d be a sup’rise fer us in a few days. Didn’t think it would come so soon." His voice is dripping in venom and perversion, and you can only guess what he’s thinking. "Best make ye feel at ‘ome then, eh?" Not able to form the words, you hold up a single finger to communicate what you’re feeling to this cretin. You would’ve preferred at least landing a knee to the groin, but this communicates your point just as well. You don’t care where or when you are, but you know that anywhere, giving the finger is giving the finger. You leer at him despite the current situation. "You li’l slut!" You’ve succeeded in infuriating him, as he’s not done the same. You can see the rage you’ve put into his eyes, and whether it’s from frustration, or crazy, angry lust, and despite what may happen, you’re satisfied with what you’ve done. He raises his hand back to hit you once more. "You need to be taught a lesson, ye li’l tramp!" Your head is spinning and you put up your arms to block the oncoming thrashing, yelling out feebly. You await the blow, but it never comes. You remove your arms just enough to see, and find that the devil of a crewman has a sword to his throat. "That’s not very nice," Jack says, hot fury in his drawling voice. The crewman’s body is stiff against Jack’s sword edge, and you can see rivulets of crimson dripping down his neck. "This one’s not for touching, mate." "Aye, sir." You rub at your cheek as life blood throbs rhythmically out of your skin. "You’ve gone against the code," Jack says harshly, sliding the blade across his throat. "I believe you owe the lady an apology." The gruff man is silent for a moment, and Jack suddenly jerks the blade on him, drawing more than enough blood to match your gash. "My apologies... miss." Jack moves the man across and out of the cabin with the edge of his sword, kicking him out the door with a great bang, drawing the attention of several crewmen. "Gibbs," you hear Jack call. You can hear hurried footsteps approaching the door of the cabin. "Lock this wretch in the brig. He’s not to be let out ‘til we reach Tortuga, savvy?" "Aye, sir. I’ll about do it." You can hear a flourish of noises outside the door as the man is taken below the ship. You’re still in your corner as Jack slams the door and walks purposely towards you. You’re in utter shock of what just transpired, just staring motionless at Jack. You can see the fury still white-hot in his eyes as he stalks over. He reaches out his arms to you and picks you up off the floor, drawing you close. If there’s one thing Jack cannot stand, as a pirate and a man, it’s violence against an unarmed woman. "Are ye okay, (___)?" "Yeah..." you say softly. You really aren’t sure how you are. How does one deal with coming so close to being taken against one’s will? Jack hugs you close to him and he lifts your chin with one finger to inspect your throbbing red cheek. "I’ll bet this hurts." "Like hell...Remind me never to slap you in the face, Jack," you joke, still not accepting the gravity of the situation. You try to smile, but it comes out as a grimace and you wince in pain. He’d hit you pretty damn hard. Jack grabs you up and deposits you on the bed, making you lay down. You watch him in question, tasting the metallic tang of blood inside your cheek. He goes to his liquor cabinet and forages around in a desk drawer for something out of sight. When he comes back into view, you can see he’s got one of his many bottles of rum and a piece of relatively-clean cloth in his hands. He uncorks the bottle with his teeth and spits the cork onto the floor. You blink. "Jack, I don’t want any..." "This is for the cut," he says, dampening the cloth in the alcohol. He gently dabs it onto your cheek, and you hiss as it stings. "Sorry, luv." He holds the rum bottle up to your lips. "Ye should really ‘ave it, now." "I told you, Jack. I don’t-" "Drink it, luv. It’ll help with the pain." His eyes are sincere, and you can tell he only intends to help. Reluctantly, you drink a large gulp, causing yourself to cough and sputter as the taste of blood mingles with that of rum. "That’ll do it." Jack holds some dry cloth to your cheek as he looks upon you with his deep brown, worried eyes. "This shouldn’t ‘ave ‘appened to you, luv." You relish in the warmth of his hand and whimper when he pulls away to get rid of the blood and rum soaked items. He interprets your cry as one of pain. "Ye should try to sleep it off, luv. That be the best way to deal with the pain." Jack disposes of the cloth but hangs onto the bottle of rum, and then rejoins you on the bed, checking your gash and dabbing it gently. The rum is helping to stop the flow of blood, and he looks pleased with his medical abilities. He smirks at you with a look you know all too well. "Unless ye be wantin’ more rum?" In spite of his smile, you’re shaking. Actually trembling, as the magnitude of the situation finally hits you. You’re far away from home, with no friends or family, don’t know where or when you are, you’ve just been barely saved from a rape attempt, there’s a big bloody gash on your cheek, and you’re stuck on this godforsaken ship with nowhere to go. And to top it off, you can feel hot tears welling up in your eyes. "(___)?" Jack questions, his smirk quickly dying. He sees the tears in your eyes, which sends him into a sort of male panic. "No no no, don’t do that. Don’t do that. Ye be alright." He quickly envelops you into his arms. "It’s alright, luv." His sudden tenderness triggers your tears, and he pulls you closer to him still, gently stroking your hair while muttering soothing words. You bury your face into his chest, mindful of your wounded cheek, and you relish in the warmth of his tanned skin. "It’s alright, luv," he says, gently rocking you. "Ye be safe with me. Ol’ Jack won’t let anything happen to ye." * * * * * CHAPTER 7 - A Tight Squeeze
Jack rubs your back in time to his rocking, and gently issues you a kiss on top of your hair. He tucks your head beneath his chin as a sob escapes your throat. You keep thinking that at any moment, you’ll wake up crying in your own bed and discover that everything was just a horrible dream. But as the minutes pass, you’re sure you’re wrong, which, to your dismay, causes even more tears to flow freely. You need to get home. "Shh... shh. Ol’ Jack’ll take care of you... It be alright." "It’s not alright, Jack," you sob into his chest. You hate that you’re crying. Especially in front of him. "Don’t worry luv...Ye be safe," he states confidently. You certainly feel safe. Now, that is. "You be safe with me...Nothing’ll ‘appen to you while under my protection, luv." Your cheek starts to sting, either from the salt of your tears, or in grim reminder of how ‘protected’ you were only a little bit ago. You put a hand to it, and Jack takes anxious notice of this. "No, luv. Oh, no no no." You feel Jack’s chest muscles contract as he looks down upon your tear-stained face. He locks brown, troubled eyes with yours. His stare is harsh and vindictive. "That one, he’ll never lay a hand on you again." You can see in Jack’s eyes something dark. Murderous, even. You look down, not able to hold his penetrating stare. This is one side of Jack you haven’t seen yet...but then again, how long have you known him for? Hours maybe? Jack puts a hand to your chin and gently lifts your face for eye-contact. "I swear it, (___)." His stare makes you certain that he means it, and it makes you feel all the more safe, if not frightened of him. He means business, and you’re sure that the man who assaulted you will get what’s coming to him. "...Jack..." you whimper. He takes you back into his arms and murmurs gentle things to you, rubbing you softly. His drawling voice is incredibly soothing and warmingly relaxes you, making you slide sleepily closer to Jack. All that crying has worn you out, not to mention the running from your assailant. You’re slowly drifting off to sleep in Jack’s arms as you feel him lay you down upon the bed. He’ll keep you safe while you sleep. He won’t let anything happen to you. Or do anything to me, you muse drowsily. "...Jack?" "Aye, luv?" "Don’t leave me alone..." At this Jack wraps his arms about you and pulls you close to him. You can hear the rhythmic beat of his heart against his broad chest. "That I won’t." * * * * It’s dark when you finally wake up, and Jack is on his side, snoring lightly next to you. You cheek feels somewhat better than it did, and you suppose Jack’s rum remedy worked. You feel a fool for breaking down in front of him. And you hate showing weakness. In front of this sea captain makes it even worse. You’re trapped within his hold, and you squirm around in his arms so your body is parallel with his. You’re so close you can smell the unique scents of rum mingled with sea upon him, and study his features as he sleeps. His tanned face; his many dreds, his handsome mustache...he looks so content just laying there.... with you in his arms. You need some air to think things through. You aren’t sure what you think of Jack. You like him enough, and he seems to be a good enough man, but up until your recent assault, he’d been non-stop propositioning you. And you don’t really know Jack... How can you? You haven’t even known him for a full twenty-four hours yet. But he seems to be a good man...at least, he has so far. You aren’t sure what to think about him though. At the moment, you’re rather confused. Should you love him? Hate him? Fear him? What you saw in his eyes before...the darkness...But he promised he’d take care of you. But what did that mean to him anyway? He was a pirate, wasn’t he? How could you trust him? After today’s experience, you’re pretty sure he wasn’t kidding about the ship being a pirate ship at all. You need to distance yourself from Jack at the moment, and maybe get a bit of fresh air from on deck. But getting out of his arms is a problem. Number one, you aren’t sure if you really want him to let go of you, which is a completely different problem in itself. And number two, he’s got a deathgrip on your body. When he said he wouldn’t leave you, he meant it, and now you’re stuck. You don’t want to wake him, but you’ve got to get away from him for a moment to think. His proximity is clouding your mind, and you cannot think clearly while inhaling his pleasantly unique scent. Slowly, slowly you try to squirm downwards out of his arms, and it works for the most part, until he suddenly grabs onto you tightly. You try to wiggle out of it, but he murmurs something about rum and you don’t want to risk waking him up. For some inane reason, the thought of Jack saying ‘shiver me timbers’ in his sleep suddenly pops into your head and you start to giggle insanely. You must really be traumatized or something, because in your current situation, you shouldn’t be thinking such things, and you might wake up Jack. And what would happen if you had a piece of very confused pirate holding onto you? It’s not that funny, anyways. Maybe you’re suffering from a chemical imbalance of sorts? Shiver me timbers. You snort and start to shake with laughter. You’re really a rather weird person. But then again, this is a rather strange situation, so anything goes in your mind. Jack mutters something else and without warning turns on his back, taking you with him. Now you’re stuck on top of this pirate captain who for all you know may still be interested in plundering your booty. You try to get off of him carefully and without disturbance, your face turning red at the current state you’re in. You take one of Jack’s arms and pluck it off you, laying it gently at his side. You hope he won’t suddenly grab you back onto him. You’re so enthralled in your current task that you don’t notice Jack’s breathing isn’t as deep as would be someone’s who is asleep. You cautiously remove his other arm from your waist and place it at his side. But he’s suddenly moved again and you find his arms back around you. You sigh exasperatedly as you repeat the procedure with his right arm. Just as you get it into place, you can feel his other arm slowly slipping down to butt territory. You stiffen suddenly as you try not to move, else you wake him, or his hand slip even lower. You’d shriek if it did, and that would be terribly embarrassing. You’re rather ticklish, and the fabric of your pants, or Jack’s pants, isn’t as thick as you’d like it. You whip around to grab his hand off of you, and then the other one, seemingly possessed, wraps itself about you. He’s a groper even in his sleep. His hand suddenly gives your bum a squeeze, and you shriek out. "Ah!" you yell, incredibly shocked. Then you clamp a hand over your mouth, frightened you’ve waken him. You look to his sleeping face, and find him looking at you with a rather pleased expression, wide-awake. "Something wrong, luv?" he asks saucily. You furrow your brow. "What do you think you’re doing?" you demand from your perch atop his waist. "I could ask you the same question." He grins at you in the obscurity of the cabin, and you can feel his hands trailing up and down your sides. "Here I was, minding my own, when I suddenly find you atop me, accosting me in my sleep." He gives you a cheeky grin. "Excuse me, but I believe it was you ‘accosting’ me, Captain Sparrow." He looks mock insulted, and then gives you an impish grin. "You’re on top of me, luv, remember?" Your eyes widen. How can you forget that? Yes, you’re straddling him, and it would be a best idea for you to get off before he gets any ideas. "You trapped me here. I was trying to get off," you tell him firmly, yet you don’t get off. "I think I be the one trapped." He smirks wickedly as he gives your bum another squeeze. You jump and shriek from the contact and roll off him immediately. You’re not sure whether you want to smack him...or have him do it again... He quickly goes from trapped to trapper as he leans over you, an arm on either side of your head. "You be trapped once more, luv." His braided beard hangs down tauntingly and you can see his smirk in the dimness of the cabin. "You’ve been awake this whole time." He grins at you, confirming your statement. He knows all too well what he’s been doing. He leans closer to you so that you can feel his breath hot on your skin. "Aye," he says with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "And what are you going to do about it?" * * * * * CHAPTER 8 - Karma
The position you’re in is indeed making you hot and flustered, but rather than be intimidated by his bravado, you devise a plan. Two can play at his game. "You want to know what I’m going to do?" you question, snaking your arms about his waist, saucily. Jack looks rather pleased, and he’s definitely up to playing -this- game. "Aye." "Come closer and I’ll show you," you whisper as you summon your most sultry look. He leans down next to you so that you’re mere inches apart as a smirk claims his face. You’re eliciting the exact reactions that you want. You’ve got your hands in position on his sides. "Show me." His breath is hot and lusty on your good cheek, and for a moment you almost forget what you were going to do. You shake your head slightly to clear it, but Jack interprets this as your refusal. "I dare you." You raise your eyebrows in amusement. If he knew your intentions, he probably wouldn’t have dared you. "You dare me?" "Aye," he says playfully. You start trailing your fingers up and down his sides, finding out where he’s ticklish. "Are you sure?" He smirks and you take that for a yes. Instantaneously, you stop trailing your fingers and dig them into his sides. He starts to thrash about with frantic laughter, trying to get you to stop as you attack, tickling him from every vantage point. He certainly didn’t expect this. You decide a little taunting is in order for the less-than-gentlemanly behavior he has bestowed upon you. "Oh come now. You aren’t putting up much of a fight, Captain Sparrow." He tries to go on the offensive and tickle you back, but you don’t allow it as you launch your second assault. You’re rather good at this. You’ve got him against the wall now and you’re relentless in your strike. But in your laughter, he’s suddenly got you by the wrists, and try as you might, you can’t free them to inflict more damage. You’re grinning from ear to ear as he tries to frown at you, catching his breath. "That’s not very sporting, (___)." You’re still grinning as you relax your hands in his, and then try to free them to launch another assault. "Very cheeky." You smirk at him. "And you’re not?" He pulls you close against his chest and gives you that look of his. You can feel his heart beating quickly from your onslaught, as well as your own for a very different reason. "I can be." He’s still got your wrists and you need them to be free. You grin and lean in closer, pressing yourself against him as a viable distraction. You’re workin’ what your mama gave you. "Show me..." you mock. Unexpectedly, he claims your lips with his own, and you practically melt into the sudden sensation, forgetting what you were planning. His sudden release of your wrists, however, brings you back to your plan, and it takes more than all of your willpower to attempt to stop the pleasing sensations currently coursing through you and go through with it. You wrap your arms about him once more as he deepens the kiss. You try to convince yourself of the reasons you shouldn’t be letting him kiss you (such as: you’re not easy, you don’t know him), and you launch your tickle-attack again. He jumps away from you, breaking the kiss, and gets entangled in the blankets of the bed as he tries to hop off it. He looks rather funny jumping about on one leg, the other trapped in sheets. You sit back and admire the chaos you’ve brought forth, giggling to yourself. Once he gets himself freed, however, he looks rather exasperated. "You’re a cheater," he states. "And aren’t you a pirate?" "You don’t go around tickling the Captain of the Black Pearl, luv." You grin, still fighting the wonderful sensations you were feeling only moments before, and how much you want them back. You didn’t want to think about it, but Jack was a wondrous kisser. "And where does it say that?" Jack looks pensive for a moment, and you doubt whatever it is he’s about to come up with. "There’s a code-" "May I see it?" He frowns and then grins. "I like a challenge." "Do you now?" You raise an eyebrow speculatively, cockily sitting cross-legged on the bed. Jack grins and goes over to his rum cupboard for his prized beverage while you’re contemplating what he might be thinking up. You can only guess what he’s thinking about now, after your little romp. You suddenly feel something cold trickling down your cheek. You furrow your brow as you put your hand to it, feeling a stinging sensation. You look to see crimson upon your palm. "Jack?" Jack peeks out from his rum cupboard with a cork in his grinning mouth and an open bottle in one hand, obviously planning a little more fun. He probably thinks you couldn’t wait to get him back over there... to which, in part, holds its’ own truth... He sees your crimson-smeared cheek and your bloody palm, and sighs while fetching some cloth. "I suppose I was a little too rough with you..." he murmurs. You can just barely comprehend what he’s said. "What?" you ask. He sits on the bed next to you, cautiously watching your hands in case this is another one of your clever tricks. "You’re still injured..." he says regretfully. "You won’t fully heal for a while yet..." He spills some of his rum onto the cloth and dabs at your cheek. You hiss from the stinging. You can see in his brown eyes that he still holds himself responsible for how you got said gash. "I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad." You’re lying a little bit, but what doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger, right? Or so you’ve heard... Jack is silent as he cleans you up and disposes of the cloths. You don’t really know what you should say, if anything. What does one say to comfort a pirate? Your stomach growls and your eyes widen. You realize you haven’t had anything to eat all day, and grappling with Jack probably made you even hungrier. "Hungry, luv?" Jack asks, amused. Great. He heard it. "I guess I am." "I’ll get something for you." He sees your eyes widen with well-reasoned terror, and sits back down next to you, wrapping an arm about your shoulders. "I won’t leave you, (___). I’ll have something brought up." You grin, trying to mask your feelings of uneasiness as Jack gets up and leans out the door of the cabin, hollering to someone. That man who assaulted you was still locked up, right? Right. No reason to panic. You wonder just how long you’ve been sleeping and how late it is. "Jack?" "Gibbs’ll bring us up something good. We’ve missed dinner, but that’s not to question." He grins and you lay down, hugging the pillow. Well, you know it’s past dinnertime. But when do pirates have dinner anyway? The thought of one of those proper English dinner parties filled with properly behaved pirates fully decked out in their pirate garb makes you giggle. Jack looks at you suspiciously as the thought of a pirate asking another if he wanted one lump or two and sipping his tea with a pinky out fully makes you chuckle. "What?" Jack asks. You sigh as you get the rest of the giggles out. "Nothing." He comes and sits at your side, laying a hand upon your body. "Are you sure you’re feeling alright, (___)?" You take his hand in yours and give it a squeeze, feeling his many rings. You know he’s not talking about your current mental condition... which is questionable in the least. "I’m fine." He rubs his hand up and down your side, and grins mischievously. "Good." He then launches a counter-strike to your previous attack against him, tickling you yet keeping you in place. He won’t allow your cheek to get hurt again. "Ja-aa-ack!" You laugh out, trying to get him to cease his attack. This is what you get, afterall. "Not this time, luv. And that’s -Captain- Jack to you, missy." He grins as you’re laughing so hard that no noise is coming out. He stops for a moment waiting for you to catch your breath, just watching you with adoration. "Stop, Jack!" you huff out. You’re hoping he’ll take mercy on you as you’re starting to get a side-ache. You haven’t laughed this hard in a while. "Well..." he starts, seemingly contemplating. "I think that’s been enough." You sigh as you wait for him to let you go, and then he surprises you with another attack. He hadn’t meant enough -tickling-, but enough time to catch your breath. "No-ho-ho! Jack!" "I’ll tell ye what. I’ll stop now if you grant me a favor, savvy?" You frown as he’s momentarily stopped, and struggle to fight back. He’s rather strong, afterall. "And what kind of -favor- do you want?" you ask, stressing the word. You become aware of his hands warm on the sides of your body. He leans down close to you so you can smell the rum on his breath. You smirk up at him, daring him to request some brazen thing. "Just a simple kiss, fair lady. Count it as-" he waves his arms about passionately, "-a birthday present for Ol’ Jack!" Well, he may not be trying to bed you, and it is just a kiss, but you’re feeling rather cheeky yourself. "And why, Captain Sparrow, should I give a present to a pirate?" You realize that there are many things you should be grateful for from him, and really, hey, why not? But if he wants a kiss, you’re going to make him work for it... no matter how badly you may want it yourself... He gets even closer to you so that now your lips are only mere inches apart. "I could just take it, luv." "That a very pirate-y thing to do, Captain," you say, daring him. He locks eyes with you and inches even nearer, barely brushing your lips with his own, teasing you. He looks deeply into your eyes with a smug grin on his face. "And I do be a pirate..." It marks you as strange, the games he’s suddenly playing with you. Your breath is coming faster now, and it’s not from all the tickling he was doing. You muster your courage and utter cheekily, swimming in his eyes: "...a pirate’s life for me, Captain." * * * * * CHAPTER 9 - Interruptions
You feel Jack’s lips briefly brush your own in a hot, teasing way, promising you everything you could ever desire. He teases you as he lets his lips play across yours tantalizingly slowly, increasing the pressure only slightly with each round, prolonging his ‘gift’. He wants to make you want it, and he’s impressively good at what he does... He pulls away suddenly as violent shouting and running above deck flares up and then dies down. Jack cocks his head in the direction of the door, listening intently for his men, still barely hovering over you. You become aware of how heavily you’re panting from his enticement, and hold your breath, both to hear better and hide how much you want him... Jack is rigid above you as he tries to infer a meaning from the noises outside. His men aren’t usually this noisy, and he figures they must be drunk. "Best not have been with my rum..." he mutters to himself. You slowly snake your arm around Jack’s forearm, making sure he’ll keep you safe here and not abandon you to inspect outside. The noises, flaring up again, do not sound friendly, and Jack’s behavior makes you more than nervous. "Jack?" you whisper quietly, subconsciously pulling him towards you. "What is that?" He gets off the bed (read: you) and walks cautiously towards the door. He looks uneasy about what may be transpiring on deck of -his- ship, and he obviously wants to go and check it out. He’s staying because he doesn’t want to leave you, for safety reasons, as well as his own, more lusty plans. Another angry shout is heard and Jack is caught between you and the door, unsure of which to check out...in more ways than one... "Something isn’t right aboard me Pearl," Jack states with an edge to his voice that could cut glass. He looks at you with apprehension etched deep in his eyes. Doubt as well. "Gibbs should have alerted me if anything was amiss." You don’t know what to say, but he is most definitely freaking you out. He’s the captain and -he’s- unnerved! You get up off the bed and join him near the door, touching him to some extent of comfort. (Where you touched him, however, is a question left up to the fangirls) You try to rummage through your memories of pirate stuff and try to come up with some explanation for what’s happening outside. "Is it another ship, maybe?" you whisper. "Eh?" he says, listening to the door. "Like, I dunno, a ship to steal from. Aren’t you a thief?" "Pirate, (___)." "Same thing." "Perhaps they’ve all gotten drunk again..." WHAM! Something large thuds into the cabin door, causing you to shriek from surprise and fright. Like lightening, Jack has his sword out and at the ready and pulls open the door, stepping in front of you. His eyes go wide and he looks torn between anger and sadness. "Gibbs?" Slumped against the door, a great bleeding mess, is Jack’s first mate. He’s got a wound to his shoulder and across his blood-soaked chest. He’s grasping a pistol tightly in his hand, his knuckles white against the cherry wood. He’s in a bad shape. You can feel the color drain from your face. "Oh God..." Jack gets down to eye-level with Gibbs in the doorway of the cabin, feeling for the rhythmic beating of his pulse. "To the devil with ye, ye black-’earted demon!!" Gibbs suddenly shouts out, aiming his pistol at Jack. Jack smiles, half-relief, half-fury. "You live then. What the devil’s happened to you?!" Jack tries to sit Gibbs up straight, but the man just won’t budge. You can see past the obstructed doorway that several men are running about on deck frantically, like hounds after a fox. "Corprin’s dead, Jack," Gibbs struggles. "That devil Ju’luc’s killed ‘im, he has!" Jack’s eyes hold the same dark fire you had seen when you were earlier attacked. "Ju’luc?!" Jack gets up from his squatting position, looking intent on destruction. He grabs Gibbs by the shirt, getting crimson liquid all over his hands. "Where is he?!" "He got out...Ambushed me after...the men are looking for him..." he says with much effort. "That bastard...didn’t even get a shot at ‘im..." Gibbs raises his pistol and gives it to Jack. "He’s bent on revenge, Jack...the men...they’re half crazed at what he’s done..." "Is he well armed?" "Only one," Gibbs chuckles ironically. Jacks half-heartedly smiles, but you don’t understand his repartee. Jack gets up in a flourish and drags Gibbs into the cabin before walking out. "Jack!" "Stay here, (___). And lock the door." "But what’s-" "And take care of Gibbs, please. I’ve got some business to take care of." He shuts the door on you and you can hear him shouting to his men through the wood, barking out orders to search the ship. You quickly lock the door, very much frightened, and lean over the injured form of Gibbs." "Mr. Gibbs...I...Oh God!" you say as you try to inspect his wound. There’s blood everywhere, and you don’t know how deep his wounds are, but he doesn’t look good. Your nursing skills aren’t what you’d call below par, but you don’t think you have the proper training nor knowledge to mend such a wound. "Oh God," you repeat in horror. You scrounge around the cabin for pieces of cloth, sponge...anything really that you can work with as you’re desperate as hell for materials. "Oh, Mr. Gibbs...I’m so sorry..." you say as you try to mop up the blood. His breathing is ragged, and you aren’t sure how badly hurt he is. You can’t even see where the wound is, he’s such a mess. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes from frustration and the whole of the situation as you find the source of the greatest amount of blood. You press down hard upon it, applying pressure to the wound as Gibbs lets out a cry of pain. "Sorry!" "It’s alright, lass...You’re doing your best..." He eyes start to flutter and you start to panic. "Just-," you start, shaking your head to try to recall things you know about medicine. "Just stay awake, and keep breathing, and..." Pregnancy things started to pop up in your head, but what good was telling him to boil water and find cleans sheets? Please don’t die, you mentally plead. "Um...tell me-," you’ve got to keep him conscious; just talking. About something. Anything. "Who’s Ju’luc?" Gibbs eyes open to reveal fire beneath those lids. "...A bastard son of a bitch..." Well, at least you’ve got him talking. He tries to lift himself up off the floor, probably in want of seeing the man dead by his own hands. "...He killed Corprin..." "Corprin?" "...He was guarding the brig...close man to Jack..." "...The...brig?" From somewhere deep in the bowels of the ship, you hear an inhuman howl of pain and rage. The sheer sound of it fills you with terror and despair. "...Aye...the heartless devil killed ‘im..." You’re filled with a sense of deep dread and fright, but your morbid curiosity, as well as your intention to keep Gibbs awake, makes you inquire further. "Why?" Gibbs coughs and you rest his head on your knees, trying to keep him elevated and conscious. "The devil wants Jack to pay..." Your heart beats ever faster. "Jack?! But why?" "For...putting him down there...and taking his hand..." Your face is blanched of all color, the pallor of death setting in your cheeks. You’re pretty sure that Gibbs isn’t speaking in metaphors. He takes a deep breath and you press hard into his chest with your cloth. He cries out but you believe that the flow of blood is starting to ebb and that your...talking, is somewhat of a help. "...Why...did he take his hand?" "...Because...," Gibbs says with fire, "...he touched you..." * * * * * CHAPTER 10 - Fox and Rabbit
Whatever color that was left in your face is now gone. Gibbs coughs once and you rigidly press your compress into his chest as the gravity of the situation hits you like your earlier slap in the face. There was a dangerous psycho loose somewhere on the ship. That same psycho who had tried to rape you...the one who had sliced up Mr. Gibbs...the same whom Jack had imprisoned for your safety...and robbed of his hand...If he was keen on avenging himself, then wasn’t it probable that he might come after you? And just how safe were you in the cabin? Would Jack be alright out there? Just how crazy was he to attack his own crew mates? A million questions with a million answers flood your brain as you start to feel frantic and panicky. You were safe back home, and you’ve never been in the type of situation where someone who wants to rape and kill you might bust through your front door at any moment. That, and it’s not everyday you’ve got a severely injured man in your care. "M-Mr. Gibbs," you say flatly. He’s still losing blood, and he wants to close his eyes. "You need a doctor...Isn’t there a ship’s doctor?" You’re doing the best you can, but you’ve never performed much more than basic first-aid, and this man is going to need more than a few Band-Aids. "...aye..." "Where?! Who?" "Jack." "Jack?! He’s a doctor?!" "Closest thing to it...But yer doin’ fine, missy..." He tries to close his eyes once more, and you smack his face to keep him awake. His writhes in anger on the floor, flashing daggers at you. "Blast it! What’re ye doin’?!" "You have to stay awake!" "...Ye don’t need to hit, lassy..." "If you go to sleep, you might never wake up again." This statement makes him look straight at you with utmost seriousness in his eyes. It’s having the desired effect, as he’s resisting the urge to close his eyes. You lift your compress off his chest to inspect the wound. The blood isn’t flowing as freely now, but it starts up again due to your removal of it’s stopper. You take a cleaner, drier piece of cloth and press it in place of the current blood drenched one. To your satisfaction, the cloth doesn’t immediately get soaked, meaning that the wound isn’t as bad as it originally was. You dress it as best you can before moving on to the next one. Raging yells start up again outside the cabin, making you jump. You try to ignore them as you deal with your charge, and find that the other wound isn’t as deep as the previous one. "How do you feel, Mr. Gibbs?" "Dandy. And yourself?" You half smile at his joke as you fix him up as best you can. "Are you comfortable?" You instantly berate yourself for asking such a question. Of course he’s not comfortable. He’s got blood poring out of him from two different wounds. He feigns a smile and you get up, removing his head from your knees, and deposit a pillow beneath it. You find that his blood is all over your pants and a good portion of your shirt, and the amount of it is rather alarming. But you can’t allow it to bother you as you’ve got more important problems on your mind. You search for a bottle of Jack’s rum in his cupboard, and find a proper one rather easily. You bring it with you as you sit down by Gibbs. "I’d like some o’ that right now, missy." "It’s not for you. Well, it is, but not for drinking." You recall the rum’s pain-relieving qualities. "Not yet, anyway. Your wounds need to be disinfected. You don’t want to get gangrene." Gibbs visibly stiffens as you say this, either at the mention of gangrene, or rum as a disinfectant. Apparently, he’s familiar with the stinging sensation coupled with it’s usage. "Do it, lass." You take another shred of cloth, bunching it up and drenching it with rum. You’d prefer something else to work with, but this will have to do. You start first to clean up the excess blood around both wounds, careful not to get much in the deeper one. You’re no fool, and you know that even though you have it, disinfectant, or really anything else, should never be poured into so deep, or large, an open wound. Gibbs hisses a few times when you come close to the wounds, but other than that, your nursing seems to be going alright. Most of the blood is cleaned up and he looks better than he did originally. "How’re you doin’, Mr. Gibbs?" "I’d be doin’ great if ye’d give me some o’ that rum now." You smile and give it to him gladly, lifting his head and putting the bottle to his lips so he has minimal movement. He drains a good half of it, and you wonder just what kind of booze-hounds are aboard this ship. "That be good." "How do you feel?" "I think I may see tomorrow yet." The confidence in his voice gives you some semblance of relief as you make sure your make-shift bandages won’t be coming off. You jump quickly as you hear another shout from right outside the cabin door, and you hear Gibbs lightly chuckle, despite his current situation. "You’ve had a full-first day, haven’t you?" "What? Oh, yes. I suppose I have." That was about the biggest understatement of the century. "Where did ye come from anyway, missy? How did you get on the Pearl without any of us seein’ ye?" You look at him hard for a moment, but decide that if he wants to talk, then by all means, you’ll keep him talking. "I don’t know how I got here. I woke up here," you say, waving your arms in reference to the cabin. "Hm..," Gibbs mutters knowingly. "That sounds like Jack." You furrow your brow, and then his understanding hits you. "Oh God! Not like that! I just, well, honestly, I don’t know how I’ve gotten here, and I need to get home." "So you just fell outta existence and landed here, did ye?" "I don’t know. I guess Lady Luck is out to get me." He smiles at your reference to The Lady, and gives your hand a squeeze. "It be no matter of luck, you comin’ here." "Oh yeah?" you say sarcastically. You must’ve pissed off some higher being to have deserved all this. At this rate, you’d be lucky to see your next birthday. "There’s something about you, girl. I can’t quite pin it, but I don’t think yer unlucky." Now you’re sure he’s talking gibberish. He has this whole deal this morning about you being unlucky, and now all this stuff has happened, and suddenly you’re not unlucky? "I think the rum is taking it’s effect on you, Mr. Gibbs." He laughs at this, further confirming your suggestion, and you lightly dab at his face with a cloth where beads of sweat are forming. He’s either disoriented, or full on drunk. Anyways, he doesn’t seem to be in much pain. It’s gotten eerily quiet on deck, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going on, and where Jack is. Did they catch Ju’luc already? Despite your fear of him, and the others on the ship, you’ve got to know what’s going on, and you’d much rather risk it than wait in here. The anxiety is killing you, and Gibbs needs Jack, considering he knows more about medicine than you. The only way to get him is for you to go outside. "What do you think is happening out there?" you ask, only to get light snoring as a response. You immediately panic as he’s fallen asleep so quickly, and you aren’t sure if it’s alcohol induced, or due to loss of blood. "Mr. Gibbs?" You shake him lightly, and he curses at you with fluttering eyelids. He must just be sleepy, and if you were able to wake him up so easily, then it was probably okay to leave him to get Jack. You put your head to the door of the cabin and listen intently for any noises of the sort. You can’t hear much, and you figure they either must have caught him or are still searching below the ship. You take one of Jack’s empty rum bottles as a weapon and slowly open the door. The deck of the ship is lit only by the sliver of moon, and you cannot see anyone on deck. You shiver as the cold of the sea seeps through your clothes and as you see the eerie black sails of the Pearl billowing in the wind. You creep forward and lightly shut the door of the Captain’s Cabin. What frightens you most is the silence on board this great ship. You cannot see anyone, nor hear anyone, and what is most appalling is that there is no one even at the helm. You sneak about the ship, looking for signs of life while avoiding having to go below deck. You want to call out to Jack, but then again anyone hostile about would be able to hear you, and you don’t want to risk that. You turn your bottle over in your hand, making sure not to let it fall as Gibbs’ blood upon them make it slippery to hold. You don’t want to break your only weapon on anything less than human flesh. Wiping your hands on your pants is no good either, as they proceed to get even messier. Your anxiety is getting the better of you, and you call for Jack, just barely above a whisper. You jump as you see the shadows of the ship every now and again, mistaking them for people, and you feel rather foolish. You look overboard in some wild thought that they had all fallen over, but you dismiss it as soon as the cold spray of the night hits your face, and the salt of the sea stings the cut on your cheek. You suddenly stand bolt upright as you get the feeling you’re being watched, and you scan the ship quickly, but not spotting anyone. "Jack!" you call out a little louder than before. The only answer you get is the crashing of the waves against the bow of the ship and the whisper of the breeze as it flows through the sails. "Screw this!" you say to yourself as you walk backing up to the cabin. You’re not going to give whoever may be watching you a chance to sneak up behind you. "Jack!" you full on call out this time. Hey, what the hell. If he doesn’t come, I’m just going to barricade myself back in his cabin, you think. "...up here..." you barely just hear, and look above you, but see no one. "Where?" you ask frantically. "...the helm..." it comes again, just barely above a whisper. The helm? But you saw no one steering the ship. But, what if he was injured?! And so bad that he couldn’t stand?! And he sounded so weak... You wouldn’t have been able to see him then! "Oh God Jack!" You run from the cabin with both fright and apprehension as you skip steps leading to the helm. "Are you alri-" You stop as you see not Jack, but the man who Jack was looking for; the one who had given you your cut; the same who had sliced up Gibbs. "Better ‘n ye’re about to be, ye little trollop." He’s sitting on the back edge of the railing on the deck, playing with the business end of a short sword. You notice the murderous, hungry gleam in his eyes, and the sight of one bloody, bandage-covered stump in the place of a hand. You’re scared, but you’re not about to allow him to intimidate you. Things are different right now. You’ve got a bottle for a weapon and a veritable rabbit hole to hide in where the fox cannot get to you. "Is that supposed to scare me, because if it is, you’re doing a rueful job of it." You don’t know where this is coming from, as you’re scared shitless and there’s no one in sight. You’re surprised by your sudden bravery, but make a point to put the helm between you and this man. "Ye’ve got quite the li’l mouth on ye-" "And I notice you’re missing a hand. Must make ‘things’ a little difficult for you, eh?" you say, making an obscene gesture which works to infuriate him. He moves to get off the railing. "Move one more inch and I’ll scream my head off." "Ye won’t have the chords to do it, slattern." He jumps off the railing and wastes no time in coming after you, and you start screaming at the top of your lungs. "Won’t do ye no good," he sneers confidently. Where in the hell is the crew? The helm is still between you and he, offering some protection as he comes near, and you hold your bottle up, ready to inflict some damage. He comes right parallel to you and leans over the helm with a sadistic grin on his face. "Are ye serious?" he laughs, mocking you. His head is held back in a deep shriek of laughter as you take this opportunity to bring the bottle crashing down on his head. Shards of glass embed themselves into his scalp, and already he has a gash running across his forehead to rival the one on your cheek. He screams crazy shrieks of pain, and you scream for Jack, and well, anybody to come and get him. As he’s shrieking about, you take the opportunity to find something, anything else that would serve as another sort of suitable weapon. There isn’t much up here that you can see, and rather than stay without anything to defend yourself, you run down the stairs looking for something suitable to use. "I’ll kill ye!" you can hear him coming from the front of the ship. "JACK!! WHERE ARE YOU?!?!?!" you scream out. "(___)!!" "Jack?!" "(___)!!" "Jack! Where the hell are you?!" You suddenly notice fingers sticking out of a grating from whence the voice is coming from, and hear the voices of several irate crewmen. You run to it as you hear Ju’luc stumbling down the steps behind you. He can’t see good with all the blood in his eyes, not to mention the glass in his head. "Jack!" you tug and pull at the grating, but it won’t budge. You can’t even see him, and to hear his voice is torture. "(___)! Get me outta here!" "How?! I can’t!" You can see Ju’luc stumbling over to you in a rage, and if you don’t either get a weapon, or get Jack out, you’re going to be shish-kabobed. "He’s fixed the latch! Undo it!" "This?" Suddenly a sword comes down just missing your hands by inches, and Ju’luc is standing over you in a bloody rage. Lucky for you the hand Jack took was his sword hand. You get up and run, hearing Jack yell un-repeatable profanities at Ju’luc, who pays him no mind. You scramble up the bow of the ship, looking for anything that might suffice as a weapon. Like a godsend, you spot a huge coil of rope, and better than nothing, you pick it up and rush over to where Ju’luc is standing. He sees you and laughs bitterly as he starts telling you all the nasty things he’s going to do to you before he’s killed you. "Bring it on!" you shout, urging him up the bow. If you can just get him close enough to the railing, then maybe you can throw him overboard with the momentum of the heavy rope. "Ye’re gonna be fun ta break," he sneers at you as he peeks his head over the top. With a sudden primal impulse, you rush screaming over to him and kick him hard with all the might of a swimmer’s legs behind you. You hear a sickening crunch as you’ve broken his nose, and he swings his sword at you violently as he falls back. He still hasn’t gotten used to using only one hand, and misses you; something you’re rather grateful for. You’re just out of reach as he falls flat on his back with a thud, and you throw the rope down ontop of him. He makes a few noises, but other than that, he seems to be a big, bloody, unconscious mess, and you feel somewhat proud of yourself for being the cause of such destruction. And wait until Jack gets ahold of him. You leap over the spot where he is laying and quickly rush back over to the grating where Jack and his two men are trapped. "Jack! Jack!" "(___)! Are you alright, luv? I can’t even see your face..." "Yes, but Gibbs needs you! Where’s the rest of the crew? How do I get you out of here?" "He’s trapped the poor wretches in other parts of the ship. There’s a latch over there...Get me out!...Damn Ju’luc! He’ll pay for this!" You try to get the latch off and set Jack and the two men with him free, but it’s really tight and doesn’t want to budge. "I can’t move it!" you start to feel frustrated, frightened tears in your eyes as you struggle with the latch. "Isn’t there another way out?!" "There was, but that bastard blocked it, too." Rather than try your luck in the bowels of the ship, you fumble more with the latch. It moves a bit more, to your surprise, and you feel that soon you’ll be safe. "Just a little more! Almost there!" You hear a hurray! and you can feel the latch almost freeing them, only an immeasurable sliver to go. "Here we go!" you shout, nervous glee in your voice. You suddenly bristle as you get that same feeling from before, and a dark shadow in the moonlight covers you. You slowly turn, opening your mouth to scream... "Here we go indeed." |