CHAPTER 6 - Back Again

“When I was a lad living in England, my mother raised me by herself. After she passed away, I came here, looking for my father.” Will tells while sharpening his sword. You listen intently, but Jack doesn’t seem to be interested in hearing anyone’s life stories now.

“Is that so?” He says distractedly as he gazes up at the sails, moving to tighten a few ropes.

“My father, Bill Turner. And in jail it was only after you learned my name that you agreed to help. Since that’s what I wanted, I didn’t press the matter,” Will goes on, confronting Jack. “I’m not a simpleton, Jack. You knew my father.”

Jack tugs on the rope he'd been tightening for one last time, before straightening. He sighs and keeps still for a moment, and then turns around. He regards Will for a while in silence. ”I knew ‘im. Probably one the few who knew him as William Turner. Everyone else just called him Bootstrap, or Bootstrap Bill,” Jack finishes, moving back behind the helm.

Bootstrap? Of course, that’s why Will seemed so familiar! He’s Bootstrap Bill’s son! You remember vaguely the man, you father met with him a few times. You were in your early teens then, and don’t remember much about it. You glance at Will, watching his reaction.

“Bootstrap?” Will repeats, tasting the word.

“Good man. Good pirate,” Jack muses, dropping off the ropes that held the rudder still while he was away and whirling around to look at Will, the beads on his hair jingling gently at the motion. “I swear you look just like him.”

“It’s not true! He was a merchant sailor. A good, respectable man who obeyed the law!” Will insists, and Jack rolls his eyes in exasperation before turning around momentarily again.

“He was a bloody pirate, a scallywag!” Jack says forcefully, holding onto the helm with one hand while glancing at Will behind him.

“My father was not a pirate!” Will says fiercely, unsheathing his sword. You tense, not expecting Will to get that angry.

Jack does nothing to draw out his own cutlass. Gazing ahead, the calmly tells Will, “Put it away, son. It’s not worth you getting beat again.”

“You didn’t beat me; you ignored the rules of engagement. In a fair fight, I’d killed you.” Will says, holding his sword up.

You shift your gaze from Will to Jack, who briefly meets you eyes. The small, reassuring smile on his lips calms you down slightly.

Jack turns around again. “And that’s no incentive for me to fight fair, is it?” he states more than asks, and in a quick move yanks the rudder to the starboard, shifting the sail so that one of the yards swings towards you fast. With a yelp, you drop down on the deck, just as the yard whooshes over your head. But Will doesn't react quite as fast, and the boom hits him across his chest. Will grabs it, and it leaves him dangling over the sea.

You glare at Jack; you almost got swooped in the ocean as well! Mouthing “Sorry, luv” to you, Jack turns his attention back to Will, grabbing Will's sword from the deck while keeping one hand on the rudder.

“Now as long as you’re hanging there, pay attention. The only rules that really matter are these; what a man can do… And what a man can’t do.” He says, waving the sword slightly to emphasize the point. “For instance, you can accept that your father was a pirate and a good man, or you can’t. But pirate is in your blood, boy, so you’ll have to square with that someday.”

Will glances briefly towards you, and you nod to him, agreeing with Jack.

Jack goes on. “And me, for example, I can let you drown," he pauses slightly, tapping the tip of the sword on the deck. "…But me and the lass can’t bring this ship into Tortuga all by our onesies, savvy? So…” Jack swings the rudder again, bringing the yard back to its place. Will drops himself on the deck, falling on his back while you dodge the bloody yard, again.

Jack points the tip Will's sword close to his neck, speaking. “Can you sail under the command of a pirate…” He flips the sword around, holding on to the blade and offering it to Will, “…or can you not?”

Will takes the handle tentatively. “Tortuga?” He questions. The poor lad has obviously never been there, but then again that’s no wonder.

Jack grins broadly. “Tortuga!”

You roll your eyes, moaning. “Tortuga…” You weren’t expecting to be returning there so soon.

“And what's wrong with Tortuga?” Jack asks you deviously, fixing his brown eyes on you.

“Nothing in general, a wonderful town! Just that there are some people that might be a tad angry at me…” You explain, not really wanting to get into this. You swear to yourself you won’t be getting into the part about what you were doing for living. For a pirate, it was embarrassing enough.

“What do you mean?” Will asks, clearly interested.

You exhale. “Well, I sort of borrowed some money from this one barkeeper, and I figure he didn’t fancy that very much. That was three days ago, ‘cause I came from there to Port Royal.”

“You mean you stole the money,” Will frowns, his voice accusing.

You glare at him. “Borrowed. Without intentions of returning them.”

“Good for you, luv,” Jack chuckles, and Will shoots a disapproving look at him. “We’ll stay away from that bar, it's that simple. It’s Tortuga, luv!” he exclaims, as if it were obvious solution.

You smile and nod. Indeed, Tortuga was quite big city after all and littered with bars to choose from. Besides, Otis’ bar was quite a distance away from the port. So, there shouldn’t be any problem. You hope.

“Why did you choose to become a pirate?” Will asks you with genuine interest as he too, sits on the railing.

“Will, I didn’t choose to become a pirate, it was never even a question. I was born on a ship, remember? My father was a pirate, so of course he raised me as one, too,” you explain, trying to get him too see the point.

“But don’t you ever wish you could be…” Will stops, searching for the word.

“What? Respectable?” you grin.

Will looks a bit sheepish. “Yes.”

You regard him for a while, thinking about it. “No, not really.” you finally answer. “It’s boring and suffocating.”

“It’s safe!” Will argues.

“Safety is over respected, in my opinion.” Jack throws in nonchalantly, and Will glances at him thoughtfully.

“Do you two honestly think like that? That being respectable is boring and wrong? Instead, you two steal from people who work hard for their living! Sail around the seas aimlessly without taking any responsibility?” Will rants passionately, and you stare at him with surprise and wonder.

“You really need to calm down, Will. Your blood pressure is rising and that's not good,” you tell him finally, earning a frown. You raise your hands in a placating gesture, shaking your head. “I’m just saying!”

“Will, Will, Will…” Jack starts, turning the rudder a few points. “First of all, aye, we rob and raid people, but most of those people deserve it. Most of those people have never worked hard a day in their entire life, unlike you claim. And second of all, we do not sail around aimlessly,” Jack tells Will, waving his finger. “Most of us are looking for something.”

“Looking for what?” Will asks.

“Freedom!” Jack says ardently. “Will, for a pirate… His –or her!“ He quickly adds after seeing your unfriendly frown, “…ship equals freedom. If responsibility means working all night through just to earn a few lousy pennies and acting all stiff-necked and being exactly like everybody else, I’ll happily be irresponsible for the rest of my life! When you’re standing aboard your own ship, with the wind of your face and the horizon ahead of you, and you’re free to go where ever you want… that’s freedom.”

You stare at Jack in awe. You know by now that Jack had a way with words, but you had no idea the man could be that verbal when he wants to. That was almost romantic. “That was beautiful. Very eloquent, Jack,” you smile.

“Why thank you, luv,” He grins and takes a bow.

Will is silent, obviously deep in thought.

“I think Will just needs a good, stiff drink,” You say, making Will glance at you.

“Oh, I don’t drink,” he dismisses the thought.

You glance at Jack meaningfully and he grins broadly in return, revealing some of his golden teeth. “Oh, he will after we reach Tortuga!”

Both you and Jack laugh, and Will looks at you like you’re escaped mental patients. Poor Will! You think. He has no idea what Tortuga’s like…

* * * *

The town of Tortuga is just like the way it was three days ago; noisy, messy, seedy. Perfect. It’s already rather dark when you docked the Interceptor, and now you, Jack and Will are slowly making your way ahead, Jack seems to be having some place in particular in mind. The torches are lit along the roads, lighting the city. Will stares in wonder at the various people on the streets, the whores and the scallywags.

Jack walks alongside Will, introducing him the fine town. You walk on the other side of Will, keeping a sharp eye on the folk. Otis’ bar is on the other side of the town, and you’re relieved about that. You still, you’re not going to lower your defences. Touching the hilt of your cutlass, you grab the cool metal and feel a bit calmer.

“…More importantly, it is indeed a sad life that has never breathed deep the sweet, proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga, savvy?" At this point, Jack grabs a walking cane with a round, golden end on it from a drunken man who runs by, "What do you think?” Jack asks Will while spreading his hand slightly in encompassive manner, stopping for a while.

Will again glances around. “It’ll linger,” he finally states, and you grin. He’s starting to learn.

“I’ll tell you mate," Jack starts, pointing his finger at Will, "If every town in the world were like this one, no man would ever feel unwanted.”

By now, he’s started to walk ahead, with you and Will following behind. One of the prostitutes a while away has started to walk towards Jack, and you recognize her. She’s the same one that you met three days ago, what was her name again… Crimson?

“Scarlett!” Jack exclaims. Ah, right. That was it.

Scarlett takes one glaring look at you, then Jack and promptly slaps him on his cheek hard, making Jack's head snap back, before leaving in a huff.

“Not sure I deserved that,” Jack says to you and Will, turning back ahead. Another woman approaches him, a blond this time.

“Giselle!” Jack greets her warmly.

“'Ho was she?” Giselle asks with her hands on her hips.

“Wha’?” Jack says rather dumbly and receives another stinging slap on the cheek, his beads jingling as his head snaps back again. Giselle is gone soon after that.

“I may have deserved that,” Jack admits sheepishly. You quirk your eyebrow, trying in vain to smother the smirk forming on your lips.

“Luv, promise me you wont slap me, no matter what I say or do,” Jack pleads you, giving you puppy dog eyes.

“That’s a hard one,” You smirk playfully. “Nah, I wouldn’t slap you.”

“No?” He grins slyly, eyeing you suggestively. “’Cause of my devilishly handsome looks?” Jack Sparrow seriously needs to be taught a little lesson. And you’re just the woman to teach him that.

“Oh, Jack, I would never slap you…” You smile flirtily, moving in front of him, blatantly checking him out. “I don’t do slaps,” you tell him, playing with one of his dreadlocks. You meet his heated gaze and whisper, “I’d just punch your lights out.” With a sweet smile, you step back while Jack roll his eyes.

“Good to know,” he says finally, ignoring Will’s smothered chuckles. “Alright, let’s go.”

You walk around the building, along a darkened alley. Finally you come next to a small well, and Jack proceeds to lift a bucket of water from it. He hands it to Will, who takes it with questioning expression. Then Jack takes another bucket lying on the ground and fills that as well. You follow curiously as Jack beckons you and Will to follow him. After a while, Jack stops in front of a pigsty. Will and you gaze incredulously at the man sleeping with the pigs, just as dirty and probably as smelly as the animals. You should know, after your experience.

With a grin, Jack throws his bucket of water on him. The man is awakened instantly, spewing curses as the hogs snort and squeal.

“Cursed ye for breathing, you slack-jawed idiot!” He shouts angrily, pushing himself into semi-sitting position. Now, he gazes at you all, focusing blearily on Jack, who has the empty bucket on his hands and a smirk on his face. “Mother’s love! Jack! You should know better than to wake a man when he’s sleeping. ‘S bad luck.”

“Ah, fortunately I know how to counter it,” Jack says lightly, kneeling and setting the bucket aside. “The man who did the waking buys, the man who was sleeping, a drink. The man who was sleeping drinks it while listening to a proposition from the man who did the waking,” Jack explains, narrowing his eyes quickly and slanting his head to the side expectantly.

The man thinks about what Jack said for a while, finally breaking into a smile. “Aye, that’ll about do it.”

Jack offers his hand to the man and helps him up, and then releases his hold and takes a step back. Will doesn’t waste any time, but throws his bucket of water on the man. “Blast! I’m already awake!!” he yells after he recovers from the surprise.

“That was for the smell,” Will says evenly, and Jack turns to look at him with a thoughtful frown, and then glancing back at the older man while you chuckle.

“You did everyone a favour, Will,” you grin pleasantly.

The man shakes his head. “Let’s continue this over the drink, aye?”

* * * * *

CHAPTER 7 - Curses of Rum

The tavern Jack and the man, who introduced himself as Joshamee Gibbs, lead you and Will into is noisy and full of more or less drunken patrons; like every other place in Tortuga. It’s also quite dim; the only light comes from the various candles and torches lit around the tavern. But still, you think its kind of cosy in some odd way.

Gibbs saunters off to reserve a table, Will follows soon after him, but Jack grabs your wrist before you get to leave as well. “Luv, keep an eye on the lad, aye? Might get a bit rough in here,” he says, looking you in the eyes. Damn the man has beautiful eyes.

“Sure,” you nod in agreement.

“Good. I’ll buy you a drink later,” he winks, intentionally dragging his fingers slowly over your skin as he releases your wrist, causing a pleasant shiver run through you. Pushing it aside, you smirk.

“And don’t you forget that,” you point a finger at him, and trail after Will and Gibbs while Jack heads to the bar. The majority of the crowd is male, and you get leering looks from quite a few of them. You just ignore them as you dodge the drunken customers on your way to the table. You know how to fend them off, so you’re not worried.

Gibbs has seated himself at a secluded table, half-hidden behind one of the supporting pillars of the tavern. Will is casually leaning his back against the said pillar, watching the drunken, fighting patrons with a frown. He seems to be doing that a lot. You stroll next to him on his right, shifting your weight on one leg and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Great place, eh? Unlike one you’ve ever seen, I figure,” you say to Will, who tears his gaze away from the brawl happening a short distance away to look at you.

“It’s indeed a one of a kind,” he admits with a small smile. You smile back reassuringly, sensing his edginess. On the way to Tortuga, you got to know Will a bit better, listening to his stories. You also found out that he isn't yet turned even twenty, which was a mild surprise to you; he looks older. Will still seems to possess a slight amount of naïveté, and firmly believes in justice and righteousness. But despite that all, you have to admit; he’s a good guy. Yes, a bit too righteous maybe, but you guess you can forgive him that trait. He’s been a surprisingly good sport this far, even after finding out about his father and all. You smile. If this lad is not head over heels in love with your fair cousin Elizabeth, you’re the Queen of Spain.

“Will, you have to remember we’re in Tortuga now. Nothing’s one of a kind here! Except the town itself,” you add as an afterthought.

“All the establishments are alike this, here?” Will asks in astonishment.

“Oh, yeah!” you grin. “Well, maybe not the whorehouses. There’s wide variety in them, if you get my drift…”

Will looks aghast. “You mean… brothels?”

“Aye, the brothels. Don’t have ones in Port Royal?”

“I, well, I wouldn’t really know,” Will stammers, and you purse your lips in amused manner. “I think there are a few… in the less-respected area,” he goes on after a while.

“There’s a less-respected area in Port Royal? Huh. You learn something new every day,” you say thoughtfully, as you watch Jack make his way over you with two tankards in his hands.

Dodging a flying glass, Jack stops in front of you, his eyes darting from the drunken customers to Will. “Keep a sharp eye,” he instructs Will, shifting his gaze to you. You nod almost imperceptibly, letting him know you’ve got it under control. Jack seems satisfied, and sits down at the table with Gibbs, leaving you two on your own.

Will seems to be keeping himself busy with observing the other patrons again, so you make an effort to hear to what’s being said between them. Hey, you have a right to know what’ll happen next.

“Now, what’s the nature o’ this venture yer’n?” You hear Gibbs ask, followed by a sound of a tankard scraping the table.

After a moment of silence, Jack says, “I’m going after the Black Pearl.” His comment is instantly followed by the sounds of Gibbs choking on his drink. You raise a dubious eyebrow over something you detected in Jack voice.

“Jack…! It’s a fool’s errand! Well, you know bette’ than me the tales of the Black Pearl,” Gibbs argues silently but forcibly, and again you frown. Why do you get this gut feeling there’s more than to it than what’s being said? You’re not certain, but your father always stressed that you should trust your initial opinion and go with the guts. And that’s exactly what you’re going to do.

“That’s why I know what Barbossa is up to.” Jack drawls in low voice. “All I need is a crew.”

“From what I hear tell of Cap’n Barbossa, he’s not a man to suffer fools, nor strike a bargain with one!” Gibbs says.

Jack’s answer is glib and smug. “Well, then I say it’s a very good thing I’m not a fool then, aye?” Again, you know he’s smirking. You’ve become very good in that, lately.

“Prove me wrong,” Gibbs challenges. “What makes ye think Barbossa will give up his ship to you?”

“Let’s just say that it’s a matter of leverage, aye...?” Jack says slowly, but very self-assuredly.

The rest is lost to you as you feel Will bump into you, and snap your head around to see what’s going on. Two drunks have obviously bumped into Will, two in turn bumped into you. A chubby elderly woman and a man with a toothless smile, both drunk out of their minds. Will has a forcedly polite smile on his face as the woman slurs something incomprehensible to him, the man is laughing next to her. You smile in spite of yourself, thinking about how she’d make a great couple with Otis. Will shots an uncertain look at you, and you shake your head dismissively. “Just ignore ‘em.”

You slant your head to the side again, straining to hear the rest of Jack’s and Gibb’s conversation.

“The lass?” Gibbs asks with doubt in his voice, and Jack let’s out a frustrated growl. You mentally file that in your mind, it sounded sexy.

“The kid?” Gibbs tries again.

“That is a child of Bootstrap Bill Turner. His only child… savvy?”

There’s moment of silence, then Gibbs speaks up, understanding evident in his voice. “Is he, now? Leverage, says you. I think I feel a change in the winds, says I. I’ll find us a crew. There’s bound to be some sailors on this rock crazy as you!”

You raise your brow in amusement. Highly unlikely, Gibbs!

“One can only hope,” Jack says, obviously thinking the same as you. “Take what you can…!”

“…Give nothing back!” Gibbs finished, and then there’s a sound of tankards being clinked together.

You’ve heard enough, and return your attention back to Will. He’s trying to listen to Jack and Gibbs as well, and you wonder how much he heard. You can’t help it, but you feel a bit worried. Jack clearly knows more than he lets you or Will know, and you’re questioning his motives. Promising yourself to confront him about it later, you tug on Will’s sleeve to get his attention.

“What say you if I buy you a drink? You can’t stand around in a bar in Tortuga and not have anything,” you say cheerily, and without letting him answer, start guiding him towards the bar.

“I don’t think I should-“ Will starts, but you cut him off.

“Nonsense. Just one small drink, okay? I’m thirsty! We can have a little chat while we’re at it,” you convince him, and you two sit down on the stools by the counter.

The man on the other side of the counter comes by. “Wha’ll it be?” he asks in a bored way.

“Two pints of grog, mate,” you say to the man, who leaves to fix your drinks. After a minute, he slams two tankards in front of you on the counter. You throw few coins on the counter, and the bartender wastes no time to collect them and hurrying off to serve others.

“Here ye go. This is one of the favourites among us pirates,” you tell Will and push his tankard in front of him. Warily, he grabs it and takes a careful sip. You watch his reaction, and are awarded with the sight of Will grimacing and squeezing his eyes shut momentarily as the liquid makes its way down.

“What is this?!” Will asks you, staring in the tankard. “It tastes horrid.”

“It’s grog. A mix of rum and lemon juice, with sugar and water for the weak,” you smile, taking a gulp from your own tankard. The bitter liquor warms your insides, and you sigh in appreciation. You haven’t had this in ages.

Will seems to be a bit uncertain whether he likes the drink or not, and you smile knowingly. “Trust me; it’ll get better after few sips.” Will nods and takes another sip.

Leaning your elbows on the counter, you look at Will. “So, what’s bothering you? Anyone can see something’s troubling you.”

Will sighs heavily while gazing sorrowfully in his tankard, reminding you of a lost puppy. “Many things are weighing on my mind,” he starts. “What do you think about our chances in finding the Black Pearl?” he asks, looking at you expectantly.

You think about this for a moment. “I think… Jack knows what he’s doing. After Gibbs gets us the crew to man the Interceptor, I think we’ll be alright.”

“That’s exactly my second worry,” Will reveals. “How do we know if we can even trust Jack? What if he’s just using us in what ever it is he has planned?”

“Now Will, I know you might think little of my opinion, being a pirate and all,” you start, taking a drink before going on. “But I do think we can trust him. Sure, he has his flaws, but doesn’t everybody?”

You’re not about to tell Will of your own worries involving Jack’s motives and purposes, he has enough to worry about as it is. Besides, you do think you can trust Jack not to get you killed, but the man is a pirate. And you’ve learned the hard lesson that pirates usually have their own agendas in everything they do. Heck, you have your own motives as well. But still… Jack needs Will for something, of that you’re certain.

Will nods absently, lost in his thoughts. You cock your head, voicing your question. “That’s not all, is it? C’mon. It might be good to talk about it.” Well you’re not that sure, but that’s what everyone always says to one another in situations like this, so you decide to give it a shot.

“It’s Elizabeth…” Will admits finally. “I’m worried about her. I’m truly afraid that Barbossa harms her.”

Aha, now we’re getting somewhere. Of course Will would be worried about his bonnie lass. “Will, I don’t think he would. I’ve never met Barbossa, but I’ve heard he’s smart. It would do him no good to harm Elizabeth. He’s a pirate; he doesn’t do anything if it doesn’t profit him in some way.”

“Much like certain somebody,” Will says bitterly, and you know he’s talking about Jack.

You shrug. “That’s just the way we are. But there are different kinds of pirates out there, Will; ones that are good men and ones that are not. I have a gut feeling Jack is a good man, just like your father was.”

Will looks at you. “It’s so odd. I’ve always thought my father was a merchant, but now it turns out he was a pirate…” he shakes his head tiredly.

“I saw your father once,” you tell him, and his gaze immediately seeks out yours.

“You did? When?”

“Oh, many years ago. I was just a kid, maybe thirteen or something. I don’t remember exactly where, but it was some town in the east. I don’t recall what father and I were doing there, but I remember Bootstrap was there too. He seemed to be a very nice man,” you tell him, memories flooding back to you.

Will seems satisfied to hear this, looking in his tankard again. You take the opportunity to glance back at the table where Jack and Gibbs are still sitting and talking. You notice the prostitutes in the bar have taken an interest of Jack, and some of them are eyeing Will as well. Will is however completely oblivious to this. You hope things stay under control. These girls can sometimes pull unbelieving stunts when chasing after a paying customer.

“Have you ever been in love?” Will’s sudden question brings your attention back to him.

Have you? No, you haven’t. Pirates can’t afford love. No, you’re no blushing little virgin, but love? Hasn’t even crossed your mind this far.

“No, can’t say I have,” you reply, taking another swig of your drink. You wonder if Will’s getting tipsy, asking questions like this.

Will nods, but doesn’t reply. Instead, he takes a good swallow of his liquor. You sense he doesn’t probably want to delve into it any further, so you still your tongue before you ask him the same question. You can almost guess the answer, anyway.

“Hi handsome… You want some company?” A flirty voice suddenly asks somewhere behind Will. Will turns to look at the newcomer, and you lean back to see who it is. You can guess that as well.

Indeed, it’s a blond prostitute dressed in eloquent reddish brown dress. She’s eyeing Will like a hungry tiger shark after spotting a sea lion. You swallow your sigh and roll your eyes.

“Ah, not really, miss,” Will says politely, but the skanky blond doesn’t seem to be put off by this. Instead, she sidles closer to him and goes on with her so-called seduction.

“C’mon… It’ll be fun, I promise you,” she coos, fiddling with the scarf Will has tied around his neck.

Before Will gets to say anything, you speak up. “He already said no, you daft strumpet! Trot off to bother someone else before I remodel that fancy hair-do of yours with my cutlass,” you tell the whore with a glare. Her initial fear changes into indignation, and she spins around, storming off.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Will tells you after she’s gone.

You roll your eyes. “She’d be sitting on your lap by now if I hadn’t said anything! Or do you want me to call her back so you can be ‘nice’ to her?”

Will shakes his head vigorously, and you smirk. “That’s what I thought, too. Finish your drink, I’ll get you another. Otis is buying!”

* * * *

After only a half an hour or so, you’re being thoroughly amused. You had no idea Will wasn’t much of a drinker! True, he said he didn’t drink, but you didn’t think he meant it so literally. He’s drunk already after the pint of grog and one tankard of rum, and you’re not even tipsy! Well, you’ve had more practice. You bite your lip to smother your laugh as you listen to Will’s slurred speech.

“An’ thatsh how I bechame a bla… blackshmith,” he slurs, finishing up his tale.

“Uh-huh,” you hum in acknowledgement, slanting your head to one side. “Will?”

“Wha’?”

“You’re a tad drunk there, mate,” you grin as he looks at you indignantly, even though in his drunken state it loses it’s effect quite a bit.

“Am noth! I don’th drink… I don’t…” He argues.

“Of course you don’t,” you laugh in merriment. Will is hilarious when drunk.

Encouraged by your reaction, Will starts laughing giddily himself, seemingly without any reason. This only amuses you more, and you slap your hand in front of your mouth in attempt to stop.

“What’s going on here?” A delicious voice that unmistakably belongs to Captain Jack Sparrow asks beside you and still-giggling Will.

You clear your throat and look him in the eyes. “Well. Will is drunk.”

“I can see that!” Jack exclaims, waving with his hands and looking at Will with incredulous expression. Then he shakes his head, and looks at you. “Weren’t you s’posed to keep an eye on him, luv?”

“I did! How was I supposed to know he’s never drunk before! He had a pint of grog and some rum, and now he’s like that,” you say, both staring at Will who’s still laughing to himself.

After a moment of silence, you speak up. “You have to admit it, this is hilarious.”

“Aye, that it is,” Jack grins. “Maybe we ought to take dear William here back to the table. Could be safer,” he goes on, eyeing the narrow stool Will is sitting on, swaying perilously in his drunken haze.

“You’re probably right,” you admit, sliding down your own stool. “You still owe me that drink, by the way.”

Jack smirks. “Aye, I do. But we’ll take care of Will first.”

You watch in amusement as Jack helps drunken Will down the stool. Will throws his arm around Jack’s shoulders and starts slurring again, telling Jack how grateful he’s for his help in finding Elizabeth.

“What ever ye say, Will,” Jack says in agreeing tone, leading Will towards the table where Gibbs is still sitting.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 8 - Old Friend

Propping your right elbow on the wooden surface of the table, you lean your chin onto your fist, watching Will with mild amusement as he slurs gibberish in his drunken state.

“Here mate, have some more,” Jack, who’s sitting beside Will on the bench, says encouragingly and offers Will a new tankard of rum. He’s obviously enjoying this way too much.

“You think it’s wise to let him have any more?” you speak up, doubt colouring your voice as Will eagerly drinks.

“Pfft. The lad needs to learn how to drink properly!” Jack dismisses your worry, shooting a speculative look at you. “Besides, it was you who got him drunk in the first place.”

“Alright, alright! I just know who’s getting blamed for his headache in the morning,” you grumble, taking a sip of your rum that Jack got you after he sat Will down by the table Gibbs was still occupying.

“Aye, the boy won’t be feelin’ that bright tomorrow,” Gibbs laughs from his place beside you, taking a hearty swig from his tankard.

Both Jack and Gibbs are consuming a good amount of rum, and you far you’re soon the only one who’s at least slightly sober. You have nothing against drinking, on the contrary in fact, but you’re not suicidal enough to get piss-drunk in Tortuga right now. Otis would love to get his sweaty hands around your throat, and you know few other people who probably have scores to settle with you here. If Otis wants something badly enough, he’d have no qualms of paying someone to bring what ever he wants to him. And you’re not too fond of the idea of meeting the fat idiot right now.

“Oh, look!” Will’s voice breaks your concentration, and you shift your eyes to look at him. He’s pointing to something above the table, squinting. You, Jack and Gibbs all look up, but see nothing but the wooden ceiling and some cobwebs.

“Does either of ye really see somethin’?” Gibbs asks you and Jack. Both of you shake your heads.

“It’s an elephant…” Will slurs slowly, still gazing upwards. You laugh out loud with Gibbs and Jack grins broadly, golden teeth flashing in the candlelight.

“It has wings…” Will goes on, marvelling at the sight he’s obviously seeing.

“Does it, now?” Jack asks with a grin.

“It’s probably pink as well, huh, Will?” You ask with amused smile, taking a sip of your rum.

Will lowers his gaze to look at you, blinking owlishly. Then, his face lights up with beaming smile. “You see it, too!” He cries joyously. You can’t help it, but burst in laughter. Gibbs joins you, and Jack chuckles.

“Have I ever been that drunk?” Jack inquiries from Gibbs, who thinks about this.

“Well, you’ve been drunk plentiful times, remember that one time when—“ He starts, but Jack interrupts.

“Yes yes, but that isn't the issue here,” he says, waving with his hand for Gibbs to pass that part.

“No, no, I want to hear this!” You say, earning a scornful glance from Jack. You smirk back, and turn Gibbs. “You were saying?”

“That one time in Port Maria ye stole that harbourmaster’s boat, and sunk it after ye hit the shallow. Accidentally, says you. We ‘ad to fish ye out of the water before you drowned,” Gibbs says, and you can imagine the whole thing happening. You and Will laugh, but Jack doesn’t seem to be amused.

“Navigational error…” Jack mumbles in his tankard, shrugging slightly.

“An’ one time in Tortuga after we left the pub ye—“ Gibbs starts warming up to the subject, but Jack once again interrupts.

“I asked you a simple question, not a list of all my little mishaps, aye?” Jack asks, raising a brow.

Gibbs takes the hint, and clears his throat. “Aye. Naw, I think the lad bested ye there!”

“Well, good for you, Will. You’re now better than me in one thing. It's not much, mind you, but it’s a start,” Jack grins, slapping Will on his back.

Will nearly loses his balance at the force of the tap, and sways dangerously on his seat.

“Woo, Will. Take it easy,” Jack tells him, grabbing his arm and stilling him.

“Where are we staying for the night? Will’s gonna need some sleep to clear his head,” you ask, watching Will as his eyes start slipping shut. Stubbornly he keeps opening them, trying to stay awake.

“Haven’t thought about that yet,” Jack admits in his devil-may-care fashion, glancing at Gibbs.

“Aye, ye can bunk at my place for tonight. At dawn, I’ll start lookin’ fer the crew.” Gibbs says, nodding.

“Problem solved,” Jack grins to you, and you shake your head, small smile on you lips. Jack really doesn’t take too much pressure about anything.

Will’s eyes now close fully, and he slumps over the table, hands sprawled on both sides of his head. You, Jack and Gibbs snap your head to look at him at the sound, and Jack leans his face closer to Will’s.

“Will…?” He calls, poking him on his shoulder with his index finger. No answer. Will passed out.

“Ha, the lad’s done fer tonight!” Gibbs exclaims, taking a drink from his tankard.

“Aye, he’s out of it,” Jack confirms, looking at you with mischievous smile. “I’m sure he’ll thank you for that in the morning.”

“Oy! That was not my fault!” you yell, pointing your thumb towards sleeping Will. “Had you not made him drink all that rum, he’d be fine! Just slightly tipsy.”

Jack just grins at your fit, and drawls in a knowing way that really irritates you, “What ever you say, luv. What ever you say…”

You roll your eyes in exasperation, but before you get to say anything, Gibbs speaks up. “Maybe we'd best be on our way. The lad needs to sleep an’ it won’t do any bad fer you two either.”

“Best idea all night,” you say, and get up. Gibbs does the same.

“You stay here with Will while I go pay for the drinks,” Jack suggests, but you shake your head.

“No, you take Will with Gibbs and head back to his place. I’ll go pay and meet you there after.”

Jack studies you for a moment, and then nods. “Alright. Here,” he grabs your hand and slaps some money on it. “I promised,” he grins, then turns towards Gibbs. “Give me a hand here,” he says, nodding towards sleeping Will.

After Gibbs gives you the instructions of how to find his place, they hoist Will up. With Jack on his right and Gibbs on his left side, they start dragging Will towards the exit. You watch as they disappear through the doorway, and start making you way towards the counter with Jack’s money in your hand.

Resting your forearms on the wooden counter, you wait for the bartender to show up. He’s busy with the other at the moment, so you have no choice but to wait.

“Well, well… look who’s here again.” A sweet voice says next to you, and you feel a small, cold blade pressing against your side lightly.

You’re surprised as you recognize the voice. You thought she’d be dead by now. “Francesca Vega, Tortuga’s very own troublemaker,” you greet her, turning your head to look at the woman beside you.

Francesca is a woman maybe some years younger that you, or then maybe not. With copper brown curls, icy blue eyes and pretty much perfect visage, she had a way with getting men give her what ever she desired. Once, you called Francesca friend, but that was a long time ago. Before she showed you her true nature, that of a cold-blooded killer. You met her on Tortuga years ago, and became quick friends with her. After a while, she asked you if she could join you and your father on one of your “adventures” as she called them. You asked your father, who allowed her to come with you since she was your friend. Francesca was born and raised in Tortuga, and she was a known agitator and downright pest to some people. A scallywag like you, but by no means a pirate.

“Ah yes. I can see you’re surprised. And why wouldn’t you be? You’re the one who left me to die!” she sneers, digging the dagger in your side. You’re sure it has punctured the skin by now, you can feel you shirt sticking on your skin. No one else can see the dagger, since Francesca stands so close that her body hides it from view.

“You’re still angry about that?” you ask with humour, though knowing it’s probably not wise to upset her.

“Oh, no! No, old friend. I’m livid,” Francesca says with freezing voice.

You sigh soundlessly. You really have no time or desire to get into this now! Frannie deserved everything she got from you. After you had docked the Wraith to an island called Devil’s Horn in attempts to raid the small capital, something went very wrong. The raid was successful, but by the time your returned to the ship, the rest of the villagers you had no idea were there, attacked.

You barely managed to escape, even though your father’s crew fought fearlessly and slaughtered many of the attackers. Despite that, many of the crew members were lost. Later, you found out that Francesca had been to blame for this. It turned out that one of the crewmembers recruited from Tortuga recently before the raid was Frannie’s current shag then, and in cahoots with her. Francesca had only befriended you because your father had killed her father in some brawl a long time ago. Francesca was angry about this, and with her lousy man planned the failure that happened on Devil’s Horn. They intended to have all of you killed, but didn’t count on your fathers crew being so fierce in a battle.

Later aboard the Wraith, Francesca tried to kill you father herself after realizing her plan had failed. His first mate stopped her, but got killed by Francesca’s blade. Your father knocked her unconscious with the hilt of his sword before she got to do anything else. The rest of the journey towards Port Antonio, Fran spent gagged and tied onto the great mast. The mutineer in the crew, Fran’s fellow, was shot and unceremoniously thrown in the Davy Jones’ Locker.

Port Antonio was know for their notorious slave auctions, and after arriving there, you had Francesca sold in one. To increase her humiliation, you rid her from her clothes and pushed onto the stage. You sold her for six bottles of rum and some fruits. Not a bad trade in your opinion. Being sold as a slave was little from trying to kill your father and whole crew, yourself included.

But now, it would seem, being nice and not killing her came back to bite you in the arse. Such is your luck, apparently.

“Yeah? I was actually pleased that I got as much as six rum bottles from your worthless hide,” You say lightly, as if there were not the blade pressing on your side rather nastily, not to mention painfully.

Francesca glares at you. “I spent five years in that rotten rat hole you sold me into! Five years of my life, wasted. You have no idea of the horrors I faced there!”

You look her straight in the eyes, and speak in low voice filled with contempt. “Five years wasn’t even nearly enough. Not after what you did.”

Francesca’s face contorts in a furious scowl. Before she gets to say anything, the bartender appears in front of you. “What’ll it be?” he says again.

You throw the money on the counter. “I’ll pay for the rums at the back table,” you say, and the man nods, collecting the money and leaving.

“Outside. Now,” Francesca hisses in your ear, pulling the dagger off your side. “And don’t you try anything or I swear I’ll slit your throat here and now.”

“Fine, fine,” you say unenthusiastically, and let Francesca drag you out of the bar. Leading you off the main streets to darkened alleys, she suddenly pushes you forward with force. You nearly trip, but regain your footing at the last minute, spinning around to face Francesca. There’s a small space between the two of you, easy to close up with few steps.

“So, what have you been up to while I’ve been rotting in that hellhole?” she chats conversationally, playing with the dagger. You see even in the darkness that its tip is stained with dark substance. It’s your blood.

You shrug. “Oh you know. This and that.” You could draw your sword and finish this, but you’re keeping the hope alive that you might get away with this without bloodshed.

“Washing dishes for old Otis? Desperately seeking a crew to join?” She smirks. “I’ve been following your actions for a few days already. I only escaped Port Antonio a week ago. Imagine my surprise when I saw you here… Oh, how’s your dear old man doing, by the way?”

You narrow your eyes, and Francesca laughs in delight. “Oh I’m sorry, I forgot! He’s dead, isn’t he? Someone finally nailed your dear daddy and blew him and his ship into billions of pieces!”

Your clenched fists tremble with fury. That bloody bitch is going to pay for that!

“You’re keeping some interesting company, by the way… Having rum with the good Captain Jack Sparrow himself, eh?” Francesca raised her eyebrow and smiles wickedly. “Are you fucking him? Oh, or that cute younger guy? Which one is it? Or both?” Francesca tosses her head back and laughs out loud.

That’s it, that’s the last straw! Nobody, especially this harlot, insults first your father and then you! In a flash, you draw out your cutlass, ignoring the stinging in your side. The stinging in your heart is worse. You charge, but Francesca has her own sword in her hand now as well. She parries your blow, and pushes your sword off hers. She shifts the position of her sword, lashing at your side.

You flick your cutlass in vertical position, and Francesca’s blade clangs against it and never comer near your side. Pushing her blade away, you take a step to left and counterattack, slashing at her unprotected shoulder. Francesca screams as your blade draws a long cut on her skin, crimson blood staining her shirt.

“That was for the dagger,” you smirk at her, and she lunges at you with a furious yell. You parry her hit, and take the defensive stance as she attacks again. Francesca tries to lash you to both sides, but you easily block both attempts. You go on like this for a while, thrusting and parrying her blocks. Blinded by her rage, she wields her sword up, bringing down in effort to split your head. Grabbing the handle of your sword with both hands, you quickly bring it in horizontal position over your head, and once again your blades clang together.

Pushing upwards with all your might, you thrust Francesca’s blade away and surprise her totally by punching her on her jaw with your free hand. She yelps, more in surprise than pain, but you feel extremely satisfied to see that you split her lip.

Soon, she attacks again. Francesca has weakened a bit, making her easy to defeat. Wielding your blade like your father taught you, you force Francesca into retreat. She parries your blows well enough, but makes a few sloppy mistakes from time to time.

“Guess what, Frannie?” you say in a middle of your fight, using the nickname you know she hates.

You lash at her feet, she blocks. “I…” You thrust again, “…am…” She takes a few steps back, but suddenly attacks with newly found ardor. “...Not!” You growl as you push her back, “…a whore like you!” you yell angrily, and she charges at you with a scream. Everything happens so fast, but the next thing you realize, your blade sinks in Francesca’s stomach, making her gasp in pain.

Her grip of her sword slackens, and it falls to the ground. You snap out of your stupor, and pull your blade out. Francesca falls on her knees, clutching the wound with her hands. Without a sound, she falls on the ground on her side, and doesn’t move anymore. A trickle of blood runs down the side of her mouth. You turn away, the pain on your side returning as the adrenaline rush wanes.

“Bloody hell…” you mumble, and spot a rug of some sort on the ground. Picking it up, you wipe your blade clean from Francesca’s blood and sheath it. You had no choice but to kill her. She was about to kill you if you hadn’t. But still, you truly wish you didn’t have to. Glancing at her still body for the last time, you sigh and start slowly walking towards Gibbs’s place. Jack and Gibbs must be wondering what the hell is taking you so long.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 9 - Patching Up

You make your way along the dim streets of Tortuga, hoping some idiot doesn’t try to rob you. You’re too tired to fight again, and the cut is throbbing with dull pain. Luckily it’s not too wide or deep, but it still bleeds nastily. You’ve tried to keep the blood from staining your breeches by pressing the wound with your hand, and your left palm is stained with your own blood by now.

You pass a row of shabby apartments, and notice someone’s laundries hanging on a cord in front of one of them. Snatching a small tablecloth from the cord, you mentally apologize to the owner. But you have better use for the piece of linen now, and after folding it into a neat square, you lift your shirt and swipe off the excess blood under the cut, placing it over the wound. You squeeze your eyes shut and hiss as the stinging pain radiates from it at the contact. Holding the cloth over the wound with your bloody hand, you regard the smudgy crimson stain on your shirt with distaste. You’ll have to wash it before it sticks permanently on it. But first things first, now you just need to get to the others.

You head back towards the place where you, Jack and Will met Gibbs for the first time. Gibbs told you his place was in the same building, on the other side. But if he had a place to sleep, why would the man snooze among the hogs? Shrugging, you decide to let it slide. We all have our weird quirks, right?

Quickening your pace, you round the corner and see the pig sty ahead of you. Coming closer, you see the pigs are still slumbering quite peacefully amidst the mud, lucky bastards.

“Let’s see how happy you mates look after the butcher comes after you with a knife!” You yell to the pigs as you pass them. One of the hogs lifts its head to look at you and grunts loudly.

“Yeah, well same to you,” you mumble sourly as you go on. You wonder is it ‘cause of the wound or your general tiredness that has gotten you so bitchy. Shaking your head, you finally get to the other end of the house, and there indeed is a small, wooden porch. No windows thought, but there’s only one door so you figure that has to be it.

Stepping up the two creaking steps, you stop in front of the door and rap your knuckles on its wooden surface. You draw your hand away soon after, inspecting it. Why did it hurt to knock? The knuckles of your left hand are slightly bruised and there’s a small, barely bleeding scrape in the middle of them. That’s when you remember you punched Frannie on the mouth; her teeth probably caused the scrape. Damned strumpet.

The door is suddenly yanked open, and Jack is standing in front of you with an impatient expression on his face. “Where have you been? Doesn’t take that long to pay for a few drinks!”

“Sorry, mom,” you say sarcastically, then add more tiredly, “Can I please come in?”

Jack opens his mouth, about to say something, but then his eyes fix on your hand hidden under the shirt and the visible blood stain on it. “What the bloody hell happened to you? You got in a brawl?”

“Something like that,” you say, shrugging a little as Jack grabs your other arm and pulls you inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

“C’mon,” Jack beckons, leading you in the next room. There’s a wooden bench and a table, and a wiry, dirty sofa on which Gibbs is reclining, half-asleep. The only light comes from the thick candles lit on the table. You can see a bit of the next room since the door is open, one candle lit on a small table there. You see Will sprawled on a bed, sound asleep. Gibbs springs up from the sofa at Jack’s urgent voice.

“Oy, Gibbs! Get me something to tie her wound. And water. And rum,” Jack lists, sitting you down on the bench as Gibbs starts rummaging the cupboards.

“Oh, rum, yes please!” you say eagerly. You were getting a bit thirsty.

“’S for the cut, luv,” Jack smirks as you scrunch your nose in distaste. Gibbs returns with a bowl of water and some bandages and pieces of clothes, placing them on the table. God knows where he pulled those! But right now, you couldn’t care less.

“Lift yer shirt up,” Jack commands. You roll your eyes, but obey, lifting the hem of your shirt with your left hand so they can see your other hand holding the cloth over the wound. You carefully peel off the cloth, gritting your teeth.

“Doesn’t look too bad, aye?” Gibbs asks Jack, who nods with grim frown.

“You’re in luck,” Jack comments to you.

“Yep, lucky me,” you say lightly, but you know it’s true. The cut is slightly above your lower ribs, and you can thank your lucky stars Frannie didn’t decide to push the dagger a little deeper and puncture your lung or something.

You watch as Jack takes a cloth on the table and wets it in the bowl, kneeling down beside the bench you’re sitting on. You notice for the first time he doesn’t have his coat or hat on, just the white shirt, sash and breeches.

“I’ll fetch the rum,” Gibbs says and Jack nods absently, his gaze fixed intently on your cut. Gibbs disappears in the small room on the other side of the room you’re currently in. You figure it’s probably a kitchenette or something like that, and you can hear him rummaging around. You take one cloth from the pile and wipe your bloodied palm in it, throwing it back on the table.

“Ouch!” You cry and shoot a disapproving look at Jack as he touches the wound with the damp cloth.

“Sorry, luv,” he murmurs, “I have to get this blood off.”

You sigh defeatedly, continuing to hold your shirt up. Jack wipes the blood off your skin around the wound carefully, surprising you. His warm fingers brush against your sensitive skin fleetingly, and you involuntarily hold your breath.

The moment is broken by Gibbs, who emerges from the other room with a bottle. “Ah, I knew I had some left!” He cries victoriously, placing the bottle on the table next to the bowl of water.

“Thanks mate,” Jack says to him, glancing quickly at the older man before returning his gaze to the task at hand. “You can go to sleep if you want. I’ll handle this.”

You don’t miss Gibbs’ quirked eyebrow or small smile, and you frown thoughtfully. “Aye, I could use some sleep. I’ll take the couch and be off at dawn,” Gibbs says, and heads back to lie on the sofa and shuts his eyes. It doesn’t take more than few minutes before his loud snoring is heard.

“I’ve never seen anyone fall asleep so fast. Ouch!” You hiss again.

“Sorry. Aye, one of Gibbs’ talents. The rum helped, too,” Jack smirks, placing the bloodied cloth on the table and grabbing another. Again, he wets it in the bowl and starts to clean the wound. You glance down at his work, and see that he’s gotten most of the blood off. Straightening up, you take the opportunity to discreetly observe the pirate kneeling at your side. His white shirt is relatively low-cut, revealing a good portion of his tanned skin and the dark hairs of his fine chest… You remember what it felt like to have him on top of you, in that cell in Port Royal when he pulled you away from the window right before the cannonball hit the cell. You swallow silently, you mouth suddenly dry. He shifts his pose a bit, and now you can see down his shirt, and take notice of his finely sculpted abs. You fail to stifle the gasp that escapes your mouth at the sight, and you’re sure your cheeks turned red.

“Did that hurt?” Jack asks you, mistaking your reaction for pain.

“Um, yeah,” You say, relieved. “A bit. But that’s okay.”

He nods slightly, but his intense brown eyes won’t leave yours, like he knows what you are really thinking. “So…” he finally says with deep voice, breaking the silence between you. “Tell me what happened?” He asks, carefully wiping the wound again, and you feel oddly relieved as he breaks his hypnotic gaze.

“I ran into someone… and old friend,” you say the last word with sarcasm. “I thought she’d died years ago. She was my friend for a while years ago, but then it turned out she was only after her revenge. She wanted to kill my father because he had killed her father at some point, so that’s why she befriended me, I guess.”

Jack looks you in the eyes for a moment before looking at the wound again, silently asking you to go on.

“It’s a long and sordid story, but to keep it short… She set us up on this small island somewhere. We raided the city, and when we tried to leave, we were attacked. Many of the crew members died,” you stop, shaking your head. The whole thing still seems so pointless. “Well, we did however manage to sail away, and Francesca, this so called friend, tried to kill father herself when she noticed her plan failed. Father’s first mate stopped her, but she killed him. Well, father knocked her lights out and we set course to Port Antonio. You can probably guess where I’m going with this.” You say to Jack, smirking.

“Aye,” Jack grins, placing the cloth on the table.

“I sold her in the slave auction for six bottles of rum. That was five years ago, and she wasn’t too pleased. She showed up in the bar when I was paying, we took it outside… and she’s dead now,” you go on, a bit sad it had to go there. You decide to keep the crude remark Francesca made about your involvement with Jack and Will to yourself.

“You wouldn’t mean Francesca Vega, would you?” Jack asks you, and you look at him sharply.

“You knew her?!”

“Nope, but I saw her old man around. A real pain he was, lowest of the low. I swear, Bloodshot did ev'ryone a favor by whacking him. Not surprised that his daughter’s from the same mold.”

You nod absently, feeling a bit better.

“Pass me the rum.” Jack tells you, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Bleh, I hate this part…” you mumble sourly, but grab the bottle with your free hand, pulling the cork off with your teeth. Dropping the cork on the bench, you take a swig, and then pass it on to Jack, who’s smirking knowingly.

“What? There’s plenty to go around,” you say in your defense.

“Sure, sure,” Jack says placatingly, and takes a hearty swig himself. Then he takes another cloth, and pours some rum on it. You watch as the golden liquid spreads over the white cloth, bracing yourself for what’s ahead. You know the wound has to be disinfected, who knows where Frannie’s dagger has been.

“Bite your teeth,” Jack warns, and places the cloth over the wound, holding it firmly in place.

You as told and grit your teeth together, a muffled wail escaping your throat as the unbearable stinging begins immediately. You grasp the edge of the bench with your free hand, and clutch the hem of your shirt in your fist. Jack removes the cloth, only to tap at the wound with it gently. Nevertheless, you squeeze your eyes shut as the liquor burns the cut.

“There. Wasn’t that bad, aye?” Jack asks with smug grin as he takes the cloth off your skin.

You take a deep breath and open your eyes, narrowing them. “You weren’t on the receiving end.”

Jack just chuckles, taking another clean cloth and some bandages. He places the cloth over the wound, and with your help, wraps the bandages around your waist to hold it in place.

“Thanks Jack,” You say sincerely when you’re done, smiling.

“You're very welcome,” He says, eyeing your bloodied shirt. “Y’know, you should wash that…” he trails off, but you catch the slight leer in his tone.

You roll your eyes. “You just want to see me with my shirt off.”

Jack gets up and puts on his best innocent-look, pointing at himself with his index finger. “Why would you think that?”

You smirk, but start unbuttoning your shirt. You do need to wash it anyway… You bite the inside of your cheek at Jack disappointed look as you take the shirt off. You have a small black top made from sturdy fabric under your white shirt that starts few inches below your collarbones and ends slightly over your bellybutton, thin straps going over your shoulders holding it in place. Everyone knows what happens to a white shirt once it gets wet, and that’s usually hard to avoid at sea.

You start rinsing the stain off in the water bowl, feeling Jack’s eyes on you. You glance at him, and see that he’s blatantly scrutinizing your body.

“What?” you ask amusedly. “Are you checking me out?”

Jack’s eyes shift from your body to meet yours. He grins broadly, golden teeth glinting in the candlelight. “'Course I am! I always take notice of beautiful women, luv.”

You purse your lips slightly in amusement. You’ve never really considered yourself as beautiful, compared to other women who are… well, not pirates. But your looks have never really been an issue to you.

You study the shirt you’re washing, managing to get most of the blood off. There’s still a barely visible pinkish spot on it, but that’s okay. Wringing the fabric semi-dry, you look at Jack as you put the shirt back on.

“Maybe we should hit the sack?”

Jack grins, swaying in his characteristic way next to you, draping his arm around your shoulders. “Ah, I knew you’d warm up to me, luv! But we have to keep it quiet since Will and Gibbs, unless you're on the kinky side and want them to watch…”

You whack Jack on the chest with your hand, wearing a sickened expression. Not that you’d mind hitting the sack with Jack, but that Will and Gibbs thing was disgusting. “Jack! I meant we should go to sleep.”

“My idea was a lot more interesting,” Jack says with a raised hand as you start walking towards the room where Will is still sleeping like a baby, having barely moved from his spot. You stop in your tracks as you look around the room. There’s only one bed.

Jack appears next to you, and you voice your revelation. “Only one bed.”

“Aye. We’ll have to share,” Jack grins, enjoying every second. Casually he sways over the bed and sits on it, taking off his boots. Then he lies down without a word, closing his eyes. “Ye coming or what?”

With a sigh, you make your way on the other side of the bed and sit down, taking off your boots as well. With the cut on your left side, you settle on your right with your back to Jack, closing your eyes. “No funny business, then.”

“You sure you don’t want to cuddle up… again?” Jack’s smug voice answers behind you, reminding you about the last time in the cell.

“Positive.”

“We’ll see.”

With that, the tiredness takes over you, and you succumb to the sleep.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 10 - To Have And To Hold

A strangled groan infiltrates your dreams, breaking through and pulling you little by little back to reality. Slowly, you came to the realization that the sound came from your own mouth. Sleep eludes you, and you blink vigorously to clear your mind. Your wound is throbbing with pain, and you lift your head from the pillow to glance down and see the cause of your pain.

Objectionably, you narrow your eyes and purse your lips. Certain someone has his arm around your waist, again, only this time the feeling is a bit unpleasant. Jack’s hand rests against your stomach, with his arm over your waist. The hand on your tummy is warm and you don’t deny how nice it feels; but his arm is pressing on your wound, inflicting rather unwanted pain. Letting your head fall back on the pillow with a sigh, you carefully grab his wrist and lift his limp hand off you, dropping it somewhere behind you. The pain lessens considerably, and you feel grateful.

Looking out of the grimy window in the room, probably the only one in the whole apartment (if you can call it that), you see that’s its still early. The candle on the small table near the window has burned out, nothing left of it but a pile of molten wax on a clay platter. Placing your both hands under your head, you stay still and listen. It’s quiet, save from the occasional soft snore coming from the direction of Will’s bed, and Jack’s even breathing right behind your back. But Gibbs had obviously left already, for you don’t hear his snoring of anything else for that matter coming from the next room. Jack shifts slightly in his sleep, and you tense just a bit, half-expect him to wake up. He doesn’t, and you relax. Memories from the cell in Port Royal once again rush back to you; the feel of his strong body on top of yours, waking in the morn with his arm around you…

You blink and frown, cursing your hormones to the deepest circle of hell. This man has really started to distract your thoughts, reminding you of the fact that in the end, you are a woman, and that he is one hundred percent pure male. One that you’ve grown to appreciate more and more with each passing day. How can one man affect you like this, after all you’ve only known him for a few days! Nobody has yet made such an impression on you, but apparently there’s a first time for everything.

Angry at yourself for feeling like a weak, swoony school girl, you banish all thoughts of the dashing pirate captain laying only inches away from you. Inhaling deeply, you close your eyes again, trying to get some more sleep you know you’re going to need. After a while, you can feel your mind starting to surrender to the slumber once again. Suddenly, you’re jolted wide awake as Jack again shifts in his sleep, edging closer and throwing his arm again around you. This time, you manage to put your own arm over your wound so that Jack’s arm is resting on top of yours and not pressing on the cut. Rolling your eyes, you push Jack’s arm off yours, and it settles firmly over your hips, his palm now over your abdomen.

You smile in spite of everything. So, the fierce Captain Sparrow likes to cuddle, eh? You bite your lower lip to stop yourself from chuckling out loud at your thoughts. Your train of thought is interrupted by the said captain again, as his grasp on you tightens and pulls you closer, again. Your back is now resting against his chest. That was, however, way too conscious move on his part and you frown. Ignoring the very nice feeling of his body pressed against yours, you lean back slightly and turn your head to look behind you. Your eyes meet the dark brown orbs and that smug grin, and you’re suddenly come very aware of your close proximity.

“Morning, luv,” Jack whispers pleasantly while gazing in your eyes, never losing that grin.

You quirk your eyebrow, while trying your hardest not to get drowned in his beautiful brown eyes. “You seem to be making this a habit…” You say silently, not wishing to wake up Will.

His brows rise to his bandanna, picture of pure innocence. “Me? I’d never.”

You snort. “Right.” You try to ignore the fact that Jack’s hand resting on your stomach is drawing small circles on it with his fingers. You thank God your shirt is between you skin and his touch, otherwise resisting the urge to jump his bones might be a bit harder.

“Ah well, maybe a little…” he allows. “But it’s such a pleasant habit, no?”

You raise your brows again, pursing your lips in amusement. Oh, it’s pleasant, alright! However, this action draws Jack’s attention to your lips, and you swallow dryly under his intense gaze.

“Uh,” you start verbally, distracted by the way Jack’s staring at your lips, a small smile curling his own ones. Clearing your throat, you go on. “Well… it certainly beats any cell...” you whisper huskily, wincing inwardly. You didn’t mean to sound so suggestive, but you just couldn’t help it.

Slowly, a sly grin forms on Jack’s lips. His chocolate brown eyes linger on your mouth, and then languidly travel up to meet your own gaze. You’re excruciatingly aware of the fact there’s only inches of space between your faces, one that’s very easily closed. All you’d have to do is to lift your head a bit, and your lips would be touching… Your breath hitches ever so slightly at the thought of kissing Jack, and you finally admit it to yourself; your “independent woman”-image is slipping through your fingers, and right now there’s nothing else you’d rather do than to lose yourself in his kiss.

Jack gazes deeply in your eyes, as if searching for something you won’t say aloud. You feel lightheaded and dizzy even though you’re lying down, and his warm hand rubbing your abdomen lightly isn’t helping matters any.

“I’m sure it does, luv…” Jack trails off, his voice low and somewhat gruff. His eyes dart back to your lips, and you know he wants the same thing as you do. So why not indulge? You’re both grown-ups, here…

“You’re awfully certain of yourself, Captain,” You tell him in hushed whisper, both because you don’t want to wake Will up and because your vocal cords seem to be unable to form any louder voice.

“Of course. I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, luv,” Jack grins at your eye-rolling, knowing that comment would get a rise out of you. He grows serious however, frowning thoughtfully as his dark eyes travel over your face, as if memorizing your features. As he does this, you keep looking at his eyes; you can’t help it. They’re the most captivating ones you’ve ever seen. Jack’s hand suddenly leaves your stomach, and you miss the contact instantly. He draws his arm off your hips, bringing it upwards. Placing his forefinger on your lower lip, he gently drags it over the soft flesh, making you swallow. You never thought he’d even know of such a tender gesture, but once again he’s proven you very wrong.

“You’re the prettiest pirate I’ve ever seen, y’know,” Jack tells you quietly in a matter-a-fact-way, his eyes intently focused on you lips.

Your heartbeat speeds up, at his heartfelt words or because of the finger tenderly tracing your lip, you’re not quite sure which. Nobody has ever said anything even remotely so nice to you, and you struggle to answer, refusing to give in just yet. Managing an earnest smile, you speak up silently. “Ah, but you’re a pirate. Pirates are dishonest.”

Jack’s lips twitch in amusement, mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Aye, but there’s no profit in lying to you. Just saying what I see…”

You smile, Jack’s finger still lingering over you lip. “Oh, yeah?” You challenge in a whisper.

Jack nods slightly, the small braids on his goatee swaying faintly. Sliding his finger from your lip down to your chin, he locks gazes with you, and you see the passion burning in the dark depths of his eyes. “Yeah,” he says quietly but firmly, slowly lowering his face closer to yours. Your heart flutters, and you wait for the inevitable, both scared and eagerly anticipating the touch of his lips over yours… You keep your gaze locked with his, until there’s barely an inch of space between you. You can feel the heat radiating from him, and you eyes slip shut…

A pitiful, albeit loud, groan coming for the other side of the room jolts both you and Jack back to reality, and both of you pull away from each other. You clear your throat slightly and sit up, wincing at the small jolt of pain on your side. You feel embarrassed to notice you were so caught up in the moment you forgot all about Will being in the same room. You glance at Jack, who’s still lying on his side on the bed, shaking his head. Looking at you, he winks and grins broadly before sitting up as well, wordlessly pulling his boots on. You decide to follow the example, and do the same. You had forgotten all about the wound as well, but now the dull throbbing has returned. You think about what almost happened, and decide maybe it’s for the best it did not happen. You can’t afford to be distracted now, never mind how pleasant it might have been...

Jack, who has his boots on now, strolls pleasantly over to Will’s bunk. “Impeccable timing you have there, mate,” he tells Will, who’s lying on his back, holding his head with one hand.

“What?” Will asks Jack in confused tone, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

You roll your eyes while standing up and walking next to his bed as well. “Never mind. How’re ya feeling?”

“Like my head is about to explode,” Will grumbles, sitting up gingerly.

“Ah, some fresh air and you’ll be fine!” Jack waves his hands dismissively. “Soon as Gibbs gets here, we’ll be off. We still have to get your bonnie lass, remember?”

“Elizabeth,” Will whispers, as if only just remembering why he’s stuck here in the first place.

The outdoor slams open, and you can hear somebody trudging in. Speaking of Gibbs… As if on cue, Gibbs appears in the bedroom. “Good, yer all up! I found us a crew, Jack.”

“Splendid!” Jack exclaims merrily, his hands waving around. Turning to Will, he helps him get up. “C’mon Will, we’re off to save yer fair Lizzie!”

“How’re ye doing, lass?” Gibbs asks you with concern in his voice, one that quickly turns into mirth as he goes on, “Did Jack take good care of ye?”

You cross your arms and smirk amusedly at his question that could be interpreted in many ways. “Oh yes, very,” You state airily while remembering your almost-kiss, glancing amusedly at Jack who just grins cheekily in return. Will looks confused and bit worried, obviously about to ask you what Gibbs was talking about. Before he gets the chance to do so, Jack steers him out of the room towards the outdoor with Gibbs and you in tow. Inhaling deeply, you wonder about the crew that Gibbs has dug up somewhere. Oh well, guess you’ll see that in a minute.

* * * *

Gibbs leads your little group along the crowded streets of Tortuga towards the port. Jack, who now has his jacket and hat on, is swaying beside him, asking questions about the crew. You settle to follow behind them with Will, who looks… well, frankly he looks like he’s been to hell and back. You take a sideways glance at the young man beside you, feeling sympathetic. Hangover can be a real pain, but he’s still being a pretty good sport about it. Guess love does that to a person.

The sun is shining brightly, but it’s a tad windy. You look up at the sky, but see no dark clouds, only white ones. The weather could however change in an instant, and wind usually stood for rain. You’re closing in on the port, and you can see the Interceptor floating over the waves, docked right where you left it last night. After a while, you’re walking along the wooden dock, and you notice how Jack lifts a banana from a vendor as he passes by the booth, twirling the fruit idly in his hands. You smirk, the vendor never noticed a thing, but you did. Takes one to know one.

The dock is littered with all kinds of sacks, crates and barrels. You see a row of men standing on the dock, them apparently being the mighty crew Gibbs was talking about. Gibbs and Jack pass them by, Jack scrutinizing them closely. You and Will follow, and you take notice of the one person between two bald men, who seems entirely too slim and scrawny to be a man. You narrow your eyes suspiciously at the big hat covering the person’s face, but decide to let it be for now. Gibbs stops at the end of the row, Jack coming to abrupt halt beside him, hands waving. Will comes to stand behind Jack, looking at the men with unbelieving expression. You stand a bit further away, making your own conclusions about the crew.

“Feast your eyes, Captain! All of them faithful hands before the mast. Every man worth his salt. And crazy to boot,” Gibbs tells Jack with certainty as Jack and Will inspect the dirty, mostly bearded men. You notice Jack still has the banana in his right hand, holding it in front of him almost comically.

“So this is your able-bodied crew,” Will leans closer to Jack and speaks up his opinion, the headache obviously making him a bit cranky.

Jack has his eyes narrowed, looking down at the very short man in front of him. You raise your brow; how can someone so small be a pirate?

Jack takes a few steps ahead, his expression somewhat doubtful. Will follows behind him, and they stop in front of a man with a large parrot sitting on his shoulder. Jack slants his head to one side, narrowing his eyes. “You, sailor!” He addresses the man.

“Cotton, sir,” Gibbs states from his place beside Jack.

“Mister Cotton,” Jack starts, taking a step closer to the man, “Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay truth in a face of danger and almost certain death?” Cotton glances briefly towards Gibbs, but stays silent. “Mister Cotton! Answer me,” Jack growls roughly, and you see a glimpse of the Captain Sparrow who’s no doubt well-respected, perhaps even slightly feared among his crew.

“He’s a mute, sir,” Gibbs takes a step ahead and speaks up, and Jack glances at him, and then back to Cotton. “Poor devil had his tongue cut out. So he trained the parrot to talk for him,” Gibbs says, and Cotton opens his mouth, showing his stunted tongue. You scrunch your nose in disgust; Jack sticks his own tongue out, shaking his head and looking nauseous while Will looks like he’s about to throw up. “No one has yet figured out how…” Gibbs goes on, indicating to the parrot.

Jack turns and takes a half a step ahead, but then stops. “Mister Cotton’s… parrot.” He says, turning to face Cotton and his pet again. “Same question.”

“Arck! Wind in the sails! Wind in the sails!” The parrot croaks and nods its head in a bird-like fashion.

Both Jack and Will look quite uncertain, and you bite your tongue. Despite your efforts, a chuckle escapes your mouth, and Jack shoots you a look that tells you to pipe down. You shrug semi-apolitically, and Jack turns back towards Cotton.

“Mostly we figure that means ‘yes’.” Gibbs says thoughtfully.

“’Course it does!” Jack says, agreeing, and turning around to look at Will. “Satisfied?”

Will shakes his head a bit, glancing around. “Well you’ve proven they’re mad,” He says in low voice.

“And what’s the benefit for us?” Comes a clear, undeniably feminine voice. You straighten your spine, following behind Jack and Will. It was the mysterious person you scrutinized earlier, and you’re very interested to find out who she is. You were certain it was a she.

Jack has a suffering look on his face as he cautiously approaches the figure. Teeth grit together in grimace, he reaches for the hat covering the person’s face and pulls it off. Dark hair tumbles down the woman’s shoulders, and Jack straightens slightly.

“Anamaria,” he states, a smile on his face. The olive-skinned woman wastes no time, but promptly slaps Jack on his cheek. Jack’s head snaps back and the beads in his hair jingle. You just can’t smother the grin that creeps on your face, this is too funny. Crossing your arms, you watch the scene in amusement beside Will. Jack must be breaking some sort of record when it comes to getting slapped.

“I suppose you didn’t deserve that one either,” Will says pointedly, and you let out a small laugh.

Jack glances from Will to you, then back at Will. “No, that one I did deserve,” he admits sheepishly, while Anamaria nods with unfriendly smile. Jack straightens up to face her again.

“You - stole - my - boat!!” Anamaria accuses Jack, each word spilling out of her mouth with what sounds like forced patience.

“Ach'ally-“ Jack stats, but is interrupted by Anamaria’s hand connecting with his cheek again with brute force. You wince at the sound, supporting him with your hands as his head again snaps back. With a small nod of thanks to you, Jack faces Anamaria again, unshaken by the slap.

“Borrowed!” Jack exclaims, “Borrowed without permission. But, with every intention of…” Jack motions with his hands to emphasize the point, “…bringing it back to you.”

“But you didn’t!!” Anamaria insists fiercely.

“You'll get another one!” Jack says after a second of thought, and Anamaria points her forefinger at him warningly. Jack lifts his hands in front of him protectively and pulls his head back at the sudden gesture, wary of another slap.

“I will.”

Now Will speaks up with a small smile paying on his lips. “A better one.”

Jack glances at Will briefly in gratitude before returning her attention to the mulatto woman, grinning reassuringly as his hands wave around. “A better one!”

“That one,” you say, pointing towards the Interceptor with a grin. Watching Jack squirm is just too much fun.

“What one?” Jack asks with a slight note of panic in his voice, whirling around to face you, then following your finger. His eyes widen as he comes to realization of which one you mean. “That one?!” He barks through his teeth, whirling to face you again. You just smile sweetly. Plastering a forced smile on his face he turns to Anamaria. “Aye. That one!” he says, pointing towards the Interceptor. “What say you?”

Anamaria takes her hand off her chin, making up her mind. “Aye!”

"Aye!!" The rest of the crew echoes, and start making their way towards the boats to row to the Interceptor.

“No, no, no, no, no! It’s frightful bad luck to bring a woman aboard, sir! Much less two!” Gibbs cries out, and winces physically under your icy glare.

You put your hands on your hips and look at Jack expectantly. You’ll deck him if he agrees with that crap. He’s however looking up on the sky, as if searching for something. Fingering the banana, he speaks up distractedly, “It’d be far worse not to have ‘em.”

Satisfied with his answer, you shrug and lower your hands. You notice the sky has darkened a bit and the wind is increasing. You bite your lip worriedly, hoping it doesn’t turn into a storm. That’s the last thing you need right now.

* * * *

Elizabeth Swann had never been more scared in her entire life. Outside, she seemed cool and collected, but in the inside she was a nervous wreck. Inhaling a deep breath, she collected the hems of her dress more firmly around her to fend off the chill that seemed to be ever present on the cursed ship. She’d been sitting on the same spot for the entire night, hunched on the floor in the captain’s quarters where she’d slid bonelessly after finding out the real form of Captain Barbossa and his damned crew. Sleep had been the last thing on her mind, thus she’d sat there, wide awake all night. She was surprised nobody had come in to retrieve her, not even Barbossa himself. It was already day now, small amounts of light penetrating the smudged glass of the windows. Her mind wandered back to the night she was taken from Port Royal, and recalled Will. He had seen her, had witnessed the brute pirates dragging her towards the port. He would save her, Elizabeth was certain her would come for her. Please, Will, she thought, please come quickly.

CHAPTERS 11-15

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