CHAPTER 6 - Deals And Tales

You stare at Jack in silence in the wake of his surprising revelation. This pirate had managed to surprise you in one night more often than anyone else during your entire life. "You? The Captain of the Black Pearl, who was marooned?"

"Aye, that's me," Jack admits solemnly. "Not something I'm exactly pleased about, as you can probably understand…"

"But…" you stammer, your mind wrapping around the concept. "That was years ago!"

"Yes, I'm well aware of that," Jack mutters dourly.

You blink, opening your mouth to speak, but closing it just as quickly. Ten freaking years… Jack had been mutinied against ten years ago, and now he was… what? He was trying to get the coin from you, the coin that Barbossa wanted - no, needed - to get back in order to break the curse…

"So, you…" you start, but trail off, not really knowing where to start. Jack tilts his head to the side slightly, and unexpectedly grins in apparent amusement.

"What's this? Did I actually manage to render the infamous Sparks herself speechless?" he asks, mirth dancing in his dark eyes. "Never thought that would happen. Why, I have to mark this day on my calendar."

You narrow your eyes a fraction, speaking up in amused - even if wry - tone. "You don't have a calendar…"

The corners of Jack's mouth twitch slightly at your comment. "I could have."

"How old are you, anyway?" you ask the question that suddenly pops in your head.

Jack raises his brows, clearly not expecting such a random query. "Why?"

"Just for the sake of curiosity."

"Curiosity killed the cat, you know," Jack returns glibly.

You smirk smugly. "That may be so, but I'm not a cat, am I?"

"No? I'm not quite convinced about that. You certainly seem to have claws," Jack says, a faint smile playing upon his lips.

You shake your head, small smile of amused admiration tugging at your mouth. "You're a clever man, Sparrow, I'll give you that. I've never yet met anyone who can skirt around the delicate issues with such ease. Or answer questions with more questions."

Jack makes a show of buffing his nails against his chest and gazing down at them in exaggerated gesture of complacency. "An innate talent. Some have it, most don't."

"And modest to boot," you remark wryly.

Jack's wide grin again gives you a glimpse of his teeth, few of them capped with pricey metals. "Did you expect anything less?"

No, you had to admit; you weren't. In fact, you had looked forward to some sort of smug reply, and hadn't been disappointed. This Captain Sparrow was quite the narcissistic, but somehow it didn't irritate you the way the particular trait usually did in other men. There was something different in Jack. You suddenly realize it stemmed from his rare poise; he really believed in himself, so much he had the nerve to go around making such annotations. It wasn't the loud-mouthed bravado every ordinary dolt could manage, but true confidence in himself and his abilities. That and the small, barely detectable light-heartedness behind those statements that took the sharpest edge off of them, even if their meaning was without a doubt very truthful.

"I'm still waiting for the answer," you say with raised brow.

Jack takes on a truly puzzled frown. "You mean I do not look like a sixteen year old…?"

Amused smile tugs at your lips. "Sorry to break it to you, but no, not quite."

"Ah," Jack murmurs acceptingly, before raising his brows innocently. "Twenty?"

"Please," you say, rolling your eyes.

"Twenty-five?"

You cluck your tongue and sigh in defeat. "Fine. Be like that, then."

Jack just smirks in return, looking infuriatingly smug. The moment of levity was welcomed, but now you're all the more curious about this man and his hardships. If he indeed was mutinied, how did he manage to escape such ill fate?

"So what happened ten years ago, then?"

Jack remains silent as he ponders the correct answer to the question, but otherwise he keeps his face carefully impassive. Watching him, you realize you cannot read anything from his expression; you have absolutely no idea what goes on inside his head at the moment. A flare of appreciation lights inside you, and for a moment you marvel at the intricacy of his character. You have not known him for long, but already you could tell this man has more sides to him than the basement of the Faithful Bride has rats. Just when you think you've seen them all, a new one appears out of the blue.

"What happened was a string of wretched occurrences that cost me my ship, my pride, and nearly my life as well," Jack speaks up finally, his voice low and tinged with reproach. "Really bad luck, as an old friend of mine would say… Let us just say that I was stabbed in the back by my first mate - figuratively speaking," he hastens to add as he catches your stunned look. "And made to walk the plank of my own ship. So there I was, left standing by my onesies on the shore of that bloody patch of sand, accompanied only my pistol, one shot for it and my effects."

"That's terrible," you say quietly, wondering what you would do in a similar situation.

Jack turns his gaze from you to the window and makes a small noise of acquiescence from his throat, his eyes taking on a far-off look. "It's not one of my fondest memories, to be sure…" he murmurs, almost to himself.

You frown slightly, feeling sympathetic for the man. It must have been absolutely awful. First betrayed by your crew, marooned on a deserted island, losing your ship, and given only two options; quick death or slow death. Either put the shot through your temple and get it over with in moments, or spend days slowly starving to death with no food or water… a cold shiver runs down your spine at the mere thought.

Jack shakes his head marginally, as if ridding himself of the unpleasant memories. You get the feeling he's not quite as unshaken by the incident as he lets on, that there still are some old haunts that plague him. You don't blame him for that, though; you can only imagine how he must've felt.

"But, as it were," Jack speaks up while turning his head to look at you again, small smirk playing upon the corners of his mouth. "They made a mistake of underestimating me, luv. I got off the island unscathed after a few days of waiting, and I was ready to start my search." Jack's features darken slightly, cold resolve evident in his tone. "Hector Barbossa has something of mine, and I'm going to get her back, no matter if it takes another ten years. The shot which I was supposed to put in my own head all those years ago now has his name on it, and I intend to see to its proper use."

Somehow, you have no doubt this would not be the truth. There's a lot of willpower in Jack, anger at Barbossa's betrayal and fierce determination to get back what is rightfully his. Yes, you were certain Jack would yet succeed in his quest; damn, you were almost starting to feel sorry for Barbossa. Almost.

Figuring Jack was obviously not about to tell anything else about the happenings of ten years ago, your mind returns back to the part about the marooning. It kept on tickling your curiosity.

"So, how did you get of that island, then?" you ask, your brows raised suspiciously. "Did you… made a raft out of sea turtles or something alike?" you go on sarcastically, throwing out the first ridiculous thing that sprang to your mind.

Jack stares at you for a moment with unblinking eyes. "A raft out of sea turtles…" he finally repeats slowly, tasting the words. Suddenly a broad, triumphant grin spreads to his lips. "I like the sound of that, I really do."

You frown in confusion, again wondering what was going on inside his head. "What?"

"Never you mind, luv. You just gave me an idea, is all," Jack smirks, kohl-brimmed eyes sparkling. "As for how I escaped the island… let us say that there were sea turtles involved," he says with an impish grin.

You exhale through your nose and resist the urge to roll your eyes. Great, you just helped him to create an odd anecdote for the escape, one that probably goes better for the drunken crowds in taverns than the real story, whatever that might be. Knowing you'll probably never get the true story out of him, you decide not to even try.

"Alright then," you say, a bit wearily. You'd never known a person who could be more frustrating than this Captain Sparrow here was. Perhaps that's why he was mutinied, you think in vague amusement, but immediately scold yourself for such a notion.

Right now, you were more interested about your part in this little scheme Jack was obviously cooking up. You know he wants the coin, which is still safely hidden inside your bodice, but the real question was why? Was he truly going to use it as some kind of leverage against Barbossa? Could such seemingly straightforward ploy really work? You have your doubts about it, but you figure nothing was certain with Jack Sparrow. That man was not as simpleminded as he gave out the impression to be, not by a long shot - he just lulled people into believing he was, and then ingeniously used their unawareness to his advantage. He was more dangerous of an opponent than Barbossa obviously had given him credit for, which would in all probability come back to bite him in the ass one day yet to dawn. Hell, the man had spent ten years trying to get his ship back; he most certainly would not back down from it now. Such determination had all the possibilities of being positively lethal to those who stood in the way.

As if reading your thoughts, Jack's voice suddenly breaks the silence that has ensued. "So do you have it?"

You know very well that he's referring to. Meeting his gaze defiantly, you reply, "You've already asked that once, and I said I did."

"No," Jack disagrees with slightly sarcastic smirk. "I asked if you had it somewhere safe, and you said 'you could say that'. Those are two very different things."

"Aren't you finicky," you respond wryly.

Jack shrugs slightly in a way of response. "Or perhaps I just don't completely trust you."

You narrow your eyes a little. "Well, I can say that statement goes both ways."

Jack chuckles quietly. "Touché. You are absolutely correct," he adds with a bit more volume, sitting up straighter and eyeing you curiously. "So what could we possibly do to make you feel more… trusting?"

Oh Jack, you just left your defence wide open, you think victoriously. "I'm sure we can think of something," you say with an impish smirk, knowing you have the upper hand for a moment.

Grinning suavely, Jack raises his brows. "I'm sure we could," he murmurs in blatant "come hither" tone.

You smile, knowing that Jack is thinking something quite different than what you have in mind. "I'll make a deal with you, Sparrow."

Jack's grin vanishes and it's replaced by a cagey frown. "A deal…?"

"A deal," you confirm with a grin of your own. "You tell me how you really got off the island, and I'll show you the coin. And I mean it, the true story and nothing but. No story, no coin."

Leaning back in his seat, Jack remains silent for a moment. "I don't respond well to blackmailing... It makes me feel icky."

You smile at the disgruntlement in his tone, and say sweetly, "Ah, think of it as a business transaction, Captain Sparrow, not as blackmailing."

Jack is quiet again for a while, tilting his head to the side and gazing at you admiringly. "Well, well, what do you know? Apparently I have underestimated you," his admits at length. "I'll have to keep in mind not to do so again. Very well, a deal it is," he consents, even if quite unenthusiastically.

You nod your approval and gaze at him expectantly. Jack sighs softly in resignation and starts his story. "I was stuck on the damn island for three days. While I was examining the blasted spit of land for any means to get off of it, I quite literally stumbled upon a rum cache. Stuck my toe on the bloody trapdoor the cellar…"

You blink, unsure if you heard correctly. "Did you just say rum cache…?"

Jack nods, grinning. "Aye, a rum cache! I know, I was quite surprised myself as well. Mind you, very pleasantly surprised."

"I bet you were," you say slowly. "What did you do, then?"

Jack stares at you like you're seriously deranged, his eyes widening. "Drank rum, of course! What did you think I was going to do? Burn it?"

You roll your eyes. "I meant what happened in general after you found the cache! Surely that's not the end of this charming little story."

Jack is unfazed by your outburst, shrugging slightly. "Well, on the third day, the rumrunners who's cache it was stopped by, and I was able to negotiate a passage back to the mainland."

You're silent for a moment, staring at the pirate. "So, let me get this straight. You found a cache of rum, and spent three days just… doing your best to empty it?"

Jack darts his eyes upwards and thinks for a second, before looking at you again with a disarming grin. "Yeah, that's the gist of it."

You shake your head slowly. "Unbelievable," you mumble, not sure whether you should be more amused or incredulous. Although, the image of Jack sprawled out on a beach, gulping down rum like there's no tomorrow unquestionably holds some entertainment value…

"Alright, I held my end of the bargain. Now it's your turn," Jack says, motioning with his forefinger to get a move on.

"Fine, fine," you mutter, and push one hand down your bodice, fumbling for the coin. After a moment, you finally get it in your fingers and pull it out of your dress, holding it in your hand and looking at Jack.

Jack doesn't even notice the golden coin in your hand; he's too busy starting at you chest. His chin is tipped slightly upwards as he tries to look down at your dress. "Tell me, what else have you got hidden in there?" he asks curiously, even if there's a naughty undertone in his voice.

You frown, mumbling a quick "Nothing."

The grin on Jack's lips broadens and he chuckles. "Well, that's not exactly true, is it?" he drawls cheekily, glancing at you chest again meaningfully.

"Nothing much," you elaborate with a glare, feeling a bit uncomfortable by his unashamed scrutiny. Working at the Bride for as long as you have has taught you to ignore such looks without a doubt, but something about Jack's staring is making you feel slightly self-conscious.

Jack looks pensive, ignoring your glower. "Actually, I wouldn't necessarily say that…" he muses, staring at your bosom in inspective manner while tapping a finger against his chin contemplatively.

You clear your throat meaningfully. "Could we possibly talk about - and stare at - something else, if it's not too much of a bother to you?" you finish with sarcasm.

Jack finally shifts his gaze up north and meets your eyes, flashing you a simply disarming grin. "Probably yes, but I was just starting to enjoy myself."

"Somehow I have no doubts about that," you reply dryly, quickly banishing the amused smile threatening to form on your lips. Damn it to hell. How were you supposed to stay annoyed with him when he showed off that boyish grin of his? You're positive Jack knew the effect that particular look had on the females and had no qualms about using it to his advantage.

"Alright," Jack relents with a small, lazy flick of his wrist. "Let me see," he demands bluntly.

"What?" you cry out in stunned indignation. "I think not, bucko!"

Jack rolls his eyes, although a small smirk tugs at his lips. "I meant the coin, luv."

"…Oh," you reply flatly, mentally cursing your stupidity; you honestly thought he was still referring to your chest. You idiot. "I knew that." Yes, dig yourself deeper, why don’t you?

Jack chuckles blithely. "We'll talk more about your attributes later on," he grins broadly. "And just so you know, I'm not opposed to seeing them, either," he goes on conversationally, causing you to huff at the comment.

"Why, I will have to keep that in mind," you promise with your most insincere smile.

"You do that. The coin?"

You glance down at the golden coin resting on your hand, the metal now cool against your palm. After a second of thought whether you really should give it to Jack, you however flip the coin with your thumb across the air towards Jack. He catches it deftly with his free hand, seemingly with trouble at all, and you're almost jealous of the talent. You watch Jack closely as he lifts his hand a bit higher, the coin held between his thumb and forefinger. The flickering torchlight streaming inside through the windows hit the coin, dancing over its surface and making the gold flash brightly as Jack's fingers turn it around slightly.

Jack's expression is serious as he stares at the coin. His gaze never wavers from it as he speaks in low, grave tone, almost speaking to himself. "Oh yes, this one is most definitely a real thing…"

The nearly ominous tinge in Jack's voice suddenly makes a shiver run down your back, like cold, ghostly fingertips sliding down your skin. The sensation in turn causes a larger wave of cold to sweep through your entire body, gooseflesh rising on your arms in its wake. Forcing down the unexplained uneasiness, you speak up.

"What exactly are you planning to do, now?"

Just as you think Jack didn't even hear your question, he darts his eyes from the coin to meet yours, but otherwise remains motionless. A slow, cunning smile appears to his lips, and you almost regret ever asking the question.

"I still have a few tricks left up at my sleeves."

You suddenly have a very bad feeling about this.

* * * *
A/N: Yes, someone's spent a few days watching Secret Window... Deal with it! ;D

* * * * *

CHAPTER 7 - Fire Before Frostbites

You suddenly realize you have just made a very foolish decision. You bloody stupid idiot.

The accusing word keeps repeating in your head as you watch Jack regard the coin between his fingers. Stupid, stupid, stupid…!

You had just quite willingly handed over the only bargaining chip you had left in this mad situation you’d somehow managed to land yourself into. Now that Jack had the coin he was after, he no longer had any use for you, correct? He was not going to give the bloody coin back to you anymore now that he had it in his hand. He could just ruthlessly leave you on your own advices like the pirate that he is, and sacrifice not another thought to you and your wellbeing. He could stop worrying about your survival and care less if Captain Barbossa’s pirates catch and gut you or not.

And one thing was for certain… you did not wish to be caught and gutted by the said pirates.

You come to another decision; you need to get the coin back somehow. It was the only thing you could think of to do in order to regain your supremacy in the situation. And besides, you figure you earn some sort of compensation for nearly getting beheaded or otherwise cruelly, painfully killed. There had to be some profit in this for you, as well… right?

Sweeping your gaze inconspicuously over Jack who was still concentrating on the coin with a small smirk on his lips, you wondered what would be the best way to proceed. Obviously, simply asking him would be nothing short but laughable, as would a physical confrontation as well; you already had your proof Jack was quicker and stronger than he appeared to be. The mere idea of you trying to attack him was utterly absurd and completely ludicrous!

But then again… another kind of physical confrontation might just do the trick. Smug grin tugs at the corners of your mouth at the thought, and you quickly wipe it off your lips before Jack catches it. Now, this Captain Sparrow here was an infamous ladies man, wasn't he? You had only recently started to connect the man sitting in front of you with the elusive, awe-inspiring charmer you have heard the whores and barmaids of the island gushing over. The man obviously held some kind of charm about him that worked on women like free ale on the drunkards of Tortuga; it took only a moment for them to get intoxicated over it and start swooning. Giving Sparrow another discreet once-over, you could not deny that there was… well, something about him, aside from his roguish looks that were not completely unappealing; even you, the un-wooable Sparks, had to admit that much.

It was not like you didn't appreciate handsome males that you saw every now and then in the tavern, but you have no desire or interest for any casual dalliances with the scallywags that stopped by the island. Hence, you'd acquired the indisputable reputation as "the angry barmaid of the Bride." Was it your fault you didn't appreciate lewd comments, pinches on your ass or lingering, leering looks from left, right and center? Hah! You think not! You'll gladly leave that part for the ever-bitchy Faye. Luckily you had Anamaria to back you up, as she was sort of like a kindred spirit on that aspect. She neither took those things from anybody.

Returning your attention to the matter at hand, you wondered if you could pull the little ruse off convincingly enough. Perhaps it was time to see if the times you've spent casually observing the whores milling around the Bride earning their keep have payed off or not. If not, well you wouldn't only be absolutely mortified, but also most likely in another mess trying to explain Sparrow what the hell you were trying to do. Well, not that he necessarily needs to know the truth; you could just feed him some story about suddenly being overcome by his roguish charm and good looks and unable to resist him…

Yeah, right. And surely he'd believe that, no matter how much faith he might have in his… abilities. You think.

You are obviously either struck by a temporary lapse in rationality, or just being plain stupid again, but you're willing to give it your best shot. It couldn't make things much worse than they already were, no? You hope.

"You know…" you speak up in soft tone and casting a look towards Jack. "If you are going to take the coin from me just like that, then that leaves me with nothing out of this little situation. I don't think that's entirely fair."

Jack lifts his eyes from the said trinket that started this whole debacle and looks at you, brows raised in surprise. Studying your guileless face for a moment, he obviously tries to figure out where you're trying to get at. His brows lower slightly as he finally replies calmly, "You get to keep on living. Isn't that fair enough for you?"

You sigh audibly, trying to appear bothered. "Certainly, but I was hoping for something… else, as well. A little something for my troubles, if you will…" you trail off enigmatically with a small smile in his direction.

A small smile tugs at Jack's lips as he looks at you, his dark eyes alight with playful curiosity. "I see… and what exactly would this 'little something' entail, I wonder?"

"Oh…" you allow a knowing grin to light your features as you ready yourself for the next blow, leaning your hands back on the mattress to bend your upper body slightly backwards in - what you certainly hope is - enticing manner. Smiling invitingly, you say, "I think such a handsome and experienced man as yourself would know, Captain Sparrow…"

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at Jack's stunned look. His eyes have widened slightly with surprise as he stares at you, his fingers that had been fiddling with the coin having gone absolutely still. However, he recovers quite quickly, blinking once and clearing his throat a bit. The familiar, victorious grin spreads to his lips as his dark gaze sweeps up and down your body, obviously feeling triumphant over the fact that his charms finally worked on you, as well. Men.

"Well, this is most certainly interesting," he murmurs, leaning forward in his chair a little and studying you pensively. "And how could we possibly spare you from such… unforgivable inequality?"

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you absently marvel how easy this was. You pay no attention to the involuntary shiver than ran down your back at his husky tone. "I'm sure we can think of something to do."

Jack gazes at you solemnly for a moment, as if appraising you and your motives. Suddenly a fleeting, smug smile tugs at the corners of his mouth and an almost predatory gleam lights up in his eyes. Slowly, meticulously, he gets up from the chair and smiles at you in decidedly wicked way.

"Of that I am absolutely positive, luv. However, I do believe the real question here is…" he stalks a few steps closer to you, slipping the coin behind his sash as he does so. You quickly pay attention to the location of the coin, but just as hastily look up at Jack again, tearing your eyes from the near hypnotic sway of his hips.

Jack stops in front of you, lifting one bent knee on the mattress and lowering himself gracefully down so that his palms are lying flat against the mattress next to your own ones, his face close to yours, the smile vanishing from his lips. "…Whether you really wish something to take place here," he says in low tone, his piercing dark eyes boring into yours, "Or are you perhaps just yanking my chain to pursue whatever agenda you've devised in that bonny head of yours."

There's an underlying edge of warning in his rough voice, a warning that cautions you not to trick him, and a stab of hesitation strikes you. You're reminded of the dangerousness that lies beneath in this man, and regardless of the rather intimate position you two are now in, you realize he is still, in the end, a stranger to you. True, he has already made his principle of not harming women physically very clear to you, but still you begin to question if this was such a grand idea after all.

Be that as it may, you were way past the point of backing down from this now.

“Why would I want to do a thing like that?” you ask guilelessly in return, hoping you’re convincing enough.

Amused smile breaks the serious look on Jack’s face, but you can still read the message from his eyes that are now so close to yours; he will not be tricked again by anyone, not even you. “Now, now, Sparks,” he admonishes. “You and I both know you’re no dim-witted woman. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past you to shamelessly use your feminine charms against me to play this situation right into your little hands.” Jack smirks at your arched brows. “I told you I wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating you twice.”

You quickly mask your surprise. You already knew Jack was no fool, but you really thought you could’ve managed to lead him on for a little while longer than this! Dammit. Apparently you were deluding yourself to think a simple barmaid could suddenly be turned into a sultry temptress... All the same, the omnipresent obstinacy in you refuses to admit defeat just yet and urges you to get on with the game. In fact, the slight snub towards your “feminine charms”, as Jack put it, only increases your drive to prove him wrong and show him just how charming you can be. If that bloody titterer Giselle could do this, so could you! …At least you think so.

“And well you shouldn’t,” you reply with a small smirk of your own. “See, I usually get what I want. In one way or another.”

Now it’s Jack’s turn to raise his brows, a small smile playing about his lips as he gazes at you. “Uh-huh,” he hums lowly. “Well then, what is it that you want now?”

You’re surprised to notice you don’t have to fake the mischievous smile that spreads to your lips. Actually, you are even enjoying this. But only to some small degree, of course! “Why don’t you come closer and I show you,” you whisper with a playful smile.

“Really, now…?” Jack murmurs slowly, an odd glint in his eyes you can’t quite decipher.

You nod slightly, never losing your smile. “Really.”

Jack regards you in silence for a moment, gazing straight into your eyes. You’re starting to get slight unnerved; his eyes, heavily brimmed with black kohl (the richest shade of brown I’ve ever seen, you note absently, not without appreciation) appear to see straight through your façade and read the myriad of thoughts swarming inside your head. That is why you feel relieved when Jack finally speaks up.

“The problem here lies with the fact that I haven’t completely figured you out yet, Sparks,” he says thoughtfully, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s actually quite refreshing to meet a woman such as you for a change. You’re all fire and embers, just like your nickname implies, but yet I feel a man could get frostbite or two from touching you.”

Again, you arch your brows at his words. “That’s quite an oxymoron, in my opinion,” you say in subdued manner, again feeling a bit snubbed.

Jack nods slightly in acquiescence, the bead strings in his hair swaying gently. “That it is…” he trails off, his eyes roving across your face reflectively. “Then again, that’s what makes you one of a kind. But to get back to the point,” he says, changing the subject. “Your motives are what, honestly, have me mystified. I freely admit that much. Granted, I know I tend to have a certain influence on most women,” he grins knowingly at this, “-but after rebelling against me nearly every step of the way and threatening me with my own blade, you’re a bit of a riddle, here.”

“Maybe this is my way of paying back to you for saving my life,” you respond after a short moment of thinking.

“Not probable,” Jack shakes his head slightly in disagreement. “No, I’d say you’re not that type of a woman, luv, and that effectively brings us back to square one again. I don’t suppose you have anything you’d possibly wish to add to this, now do you…?” he trails off, the stern inquiry clear in his voice.

Darn it. This wasn’t working out quite like you assumed it would. It was apparently time to up the stakes a bit further and wish for the best.

“Well, I am just a woman, at the end of the day. Is it so hard to believe I could have certain… needs, as well?” you say, raising your brow and smiling slightly. You inwardly curse your position; since your palms are still flat on the mattress slightly behind you, bracing your torso, you can’t move them without falling flat on your back.

Jack’s dark eyes flash with some emotion, but you can’t quite catch which one. “So…” he murmurs while sliding his hands slowly onward on the mattress so that his upper body lowers to press lightly against yours. “Am I to assume that if I were to kiss you now, you wouldn’t inflict any kind of physical pain upon me as a result? And that you would, dare I even say it – respond to it?” he asks with a small smirk, his tone low. His face is now so close to yours that his lips almost brush against your own as he speaks.

You swallow instinctively, nearly forgetting all about your quest to retrieve the coin from him as you stare in the drowning depths of his brown eyes. Get a grip, woman! It’s not like you haven’t been kissed before!

“Well, that,” you start, pausing to pick the correct words. “Wouldn’t be a completely incorrect assumption…”

Jack chuckles, leaning forward just a tiny bit. Now his lips do brush against yours, and the sensation is extraordinarily sensual to you. “Not completely incorrect, aye?” he repeats, sounding pleased. “Oh well,” he goes on in darker tone, narrowing his eyes slightly. “I’ve always loved to live dangerously.”

With that, Jack abruptly closes the minimal gap between you. His lips crash onto yours fiercely, causing your hands give away under you thanks to the unexpected shift in the balance. Your back hits the mattress fully and Jack’s body lands on top of you with a bit more force that you would’ve preferred, but right now you couldn’t care less. All you can concentrate on is the feel of his soft lips against yours, the fervent way he brushes them across yours. Jack’s right hand cups your cheek, the calluses on his fingers scraping your skin lightly and sending shivers down your spine. At the same time, his left hand snakes down to slide from your ribcage to your waist, kneading the skin through your dress.

Recovering from your small shock, you fling your arms around his neck, weaving the fingers of your left hand into his thick dreadlocks while the right one slips down to his chest, your fingertips skating over the warm skin left bare by his shirt. You try to hold onto the notion of kissing him just to get the darn coin back, but your reason is slipping further and further away from you each time Jack brushes his lips against yours. You don’t even think twice to part your lips for him as his hot tongue deftly flicks at your bottom lip, licking at the soft flesh. The fingers on your cheek slip southward to skate over your jaw line, trailing down to your neck and proceeding to trace small patterns on the sensitive skin while his tongue pushes past your lips, tasting your mouth with hungry fervour.

He tastes so good...! The lone thought floats through your hazy mind; you’re incapable of coming up with more fitting adjectives at the moment. His dexterous touch, unique scent and solid, firm weight on top of you are all invading your senses simultaneously, and your treacherous body starts to succumb to his ministrations, along with your mind. Reason flees from your head and your wits spiral completely out of your control… and you’re shocked to realize - somewhere in the back of your mind where some form of minor thought-process still takes place - that you actually embrace the sensation, welcoming the moment’s abandonment of logic and rationality.

Jack finally breaks the unbelievable kiss after what seems ages to you and gazes down at you. With your faces only an inch apart, his slightly laboured breathing mixes with your own as it blows gently against your lips and chin. Aside from the obvious want in his eyes, you also see a glimmer of self-satisfaction in the irises that have darkened so much that it’s almost impossible to make out the pupils in the middle.

“I was right about you. All fire so far,” he murmurs in deepened tone, small smirk quirking at his lips.

Struggling to calm your erratic breathing and to think straight again, you arch your brow. “No frostbites, then?” you ask, an undertone of sarcasm creeping in your voice.

Jack grins, obviously pleased you should ask. “None yet, but I can’t be completely certain after only one try. And everyone knows it’s better to be safe than sorry…”

Before you can manage a reply, Jack leans down and claims your lips for the second time; if possible, with even more passion than the first around. Small moan of pleasure emanates from the back of your throat as Jack kisses you ardently, the unconscious noise surprising you. Encouraged by your response, Jack bites gently on your lower lip before soothing the flesh with his tongue, his fingers gliding up from your neck to sink in your hair. The hand on your side never ceases its rubs and strokes, warming your skin even through the dress.

The feel of his tongue exploring and tasting your mouth is intoxicating, but the moment of clarity that suddenly strikes you reminds you of your task; retrieving the coin. As wonderful as this feels, you couldn’t afford to get distracted. But damn, you’re feeling so ecstatic. Focus! Focus, damn it! Oh, but you were focusing, alright… to kissing him back. The coin, the bloody coin! The one that Jack slipped somewhere behind his sash earlier. Determined to see this one through, you start to inch your hand from his chest to his side, slowly tracing his side with your palm, edging towards the said sash while still engaged in the heated kiss Jack’s bestowing upon your lips. Finally, your fingers meet the weathered fabric of the sash, about to delve between it and Jack’s body in search of the coin – that’s when Jack’s hand that had been caressing your side snakes down quicker than you thought it could, grabbing the wrist of your wayward hand. Forcefully he pulls it up, over your head and slams it against the mattress, holding it there firmly with his own as he breaks the kiss with an amused chuckle.

“And finally there are frostbites!” he exclaims victoriously, grinning down at you. “I knew it. You sneaky little thing wanted the coin, didn’t you?”

Your jaw drops as you’re about to say something indignant in return, but close your mouth in frown instead. “Get off me, you oaf!” you cry and try to push him off of you, the lingering cloudiness in your mind finally lifting away. Jack just smirks and pushes back with his body while grabbing your left hand with his free one and yanking it over your head as well without difficulties.

“Oaf?” he repeats, wearing a miserable expression that almost borders on pout. His face is still disturbingly close to yours and he has effectively trapped you between his body and the soft bed – the concept alone is suggestive enough, threatening to distract your thoughts again.

“Now, that’s not a very nice thing to say,” Jack goes on solemnly. “Especially since we were getting along so famously only a moment ago… I’m willing to bet you didn’t need to fake that moan, luv.”

No, you didn’t, but you’ll be damned if you’re about to let him know that. So you settle on just narrowing your eyes at him. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

Jack smirks again. “Indeed. You just kiss, kiss and insult. But that’s alright, I’m game for that.”

“I bet,” you mutter, gathering what strength you have and trying to break Jack’s grip of your wrists.

“No, no, no,” Jack singsongs, tightening his grip until you still. Only then does he loosen his hold slightly, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes. “None of that. We already played your game, and now we’re changing to my rules, savvy?”

Jack’s piercing gaze makes you nod almost against your own volition. “Savvy,” you reply grudgingly.

Small, pleased smile tugs at Jack’s lips, but it’s gone soon after. Shifting his weight, Jack deftly positions himself on his side next to you, fleetingly letting go of your right wrist, but only to gather your both wrists in his left hand which he still holds over your head. Now that his weight is off of you, you try to wriggle a little further away from him. Jack just smirks in that maddeningly knowing way of his and promptly throws his left leg over yours to pin you down, his thigh coming to rest just above your knees.

“Don’t go squirming away from me now luv,” he says amusedly before leaning down slightly to whisper in your ear, “You know, it’s not very polite to start what you don’t intend to finish…”

You glance at him, ignoring the pleasant huskiness of his tone and speaking up wryly, “Well, I was never especially polite person.”

Jack arches his brow. “So you mean there is no chance of finishing what we already started, eh?” he asks, starting to trail his left forefinger over your stomach, drawing random patterns on the fabric.

“Not likely,” you respond. At least not now.

“Hmm,” Jack hums shortly while keeping his gaze on his finger. You’re not quite sure whether it was to express thoughtfulness or disappointment. “Some other time, then,” he says rather confidently, glancing at you with a small smile.

“Sure,” you say with a very insincere smile.

“Now that that’s been sorted, we have more important questions to answer, don’t you think?” Jack says, anticipation apparent in his dark eyes. “The most significant one, I presume, would be…” he pauses, grinning broadly down at you and tapping his finger against your stomach in sync with his words. “What exactly am I to do with you now, luv?”

You’re not quite sure that peculiar glint in his eyes or the mischievous tone of his voice is exactly a good thing…

* * * * *

* * * * *

CHAPTER 8 - Hasty Departures

Well. When you woke up this morning in your dingy little apartment, you were blissfully unaware of the situation you’d yet end up in. You figure it's safe to say this one has got to be the strangest, this far. You idly wonder if this was one of those things of which people say, ‘You’ll laugh at it later on.’ Perhaps it was, because that would certainly explain why you are not feeling particularly amused at the moment. Flustered? Yes. Slightly annoyed, a bit uneasy? Definitely. But amused? Uh… no.

You tell the little part of your brain to shut the hell up: that part that hints towards the possibility that the weight and warmth of the man currently lying halfway atop of you actually feels quite nice. Perchance your head suffered some damage in the scuffle with the two pirates wanting you dead earlier? For a moment, you struggle to recall their names just for the sake of remembering, but give up as the information stubbornly keeps eluding your mind.

You glance up at your eccentric warden under your brows, your expression almost resembling a glower. The pirate is looking down at his grimy finger, tapping staccato beats against your stomach as if in time with some tune heard only by him, wearing the most self-satisfied smirk that you’ve ever seen. He’s not trying to push you into answering, but he’s quite obviously waiting for you to somehow acknowledge the situation and your place in it. But you have no idea what to say. What could you possibly say? Your pride will not allow you to ask - or worse yet, beg - to be released, and Jack would not give you the coin back no matter how nicely you'd ask; it's his ticket to getting his ship back, or at least so he thinks. Hence, all you will do is to wait for Jack to make his move.

Your mind is churning with bitter repugnance and a stinging sense of defeat. You recognize all too well that you’ve been backed into a corner. You are utterly at Jack’s mercy, painfully exposed to whatever whims his peculiar mind would ever choose to come up with. This round in the battle of wills you two have been engaging in ever since you met is to be chalked up to his account, and admitting it stings you more than you thought possible. You’ve ever exactly been a gracious loser, and being beaten in your supposedly own game by the pirate smarts you endlessly.

Be that as it may, the painful truth is that you are quite frankly feeling at loss on what to do next. You’re unused to meeting such equally strong willed people as yourself, one that Jack clearly is. He has more wits to him than the ordinary men you usually meet in Tortuga, but he hides it under some sort of pretence. He gives as good as he gets; something you recall no other man having ever done with you before - not quite like Jack manages to do, in any case. It seems like you've met your match, and the thought puzzles you more than you care to admit.

However, the question of ‘what now?’ is not one for you to solve, and the recognition causes you to feel unexpectedly relieved. The ball is in Jack’s court now, and the next move would be his. This entire circumstance is like one big game of chess; both are moving their pieces on the board after first carefully interpreting the others’ previous move. Similarly, both of you are out to win, but like in every match imaginable, there could only be one winner. And at the moment, Jack was dangerously close to achieving the checkmate that would result to your defeat.

"So, luv, any thoughts on what we should do next?" Jack breaks the silence, glancing up from your tummy to look into your eyes, smirking smugly. "I'm open to suggestions."

Giving him the driest look you can muster, you speak up. "Well, you could start by letting me up."

Jack narrows his eyes slightly, lost in thought. "Actually, I think I’d rather not," he replies finally.

"And exactly why not?" you enquire with praiseworthy calmness.

Jack smiles widely, triumphantly. "Perhaps I just like having you right there," he says, before grinning impishly and leaning down to murmur lowly in your ear, "You feel very nice."

You gasp in indignation, narrowing your eyes and struggling against Jack's grip of your wrists rebelliously. "Pesky…! Let go of me this instant, you scabby scallywag!"

Jack's hold of you is firm and the leg thrown over your thighs doesn't so much as budge. To make matters even worse, he has the gall to chuckle amusedly at your efforts - cur, you think testily - before sighing despondently in imitation of misery.

"I have feelings, too, you know. You're simply breaking my heart, darling."

You huff at his words. "I'm surprised you claim to have one."

"'Course I have one! A bit blackened about the edges, but most assuredly in place," he smirks, his words conveying the obvious pride he takes in his line of work. "Oh, and for your information, I currently have not a single scab on my body. Fancy verifying this with your own two eyes?"

"I think I'll pass the kind offer this time, thank you so very much," you mutter sarcastically in response.

Jack shrugs slightly. "Your loss..." he trails off, his tone clearly indicating that you have no idea what you're missing.

“Yes, well. I think I'll live,” you reply dryly.

"Perhaps," Jack agrees after a contemplative moment of silence, small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Might help you unwind a little, though."

“Would it be a completely impossible idea for you to quit it with all those remarks overflowing with double entendre?” you enquire with a tired sigh.

Jack’s eyes roll up, looking somewhere toward the ceiling as he obviously ponders on your question. After a moment, he shifts his gaze back to you and smirks. “Yeah.”

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath.

“Double entendre,” Jack repeats contemplatively, his eyes narrowed ponderingly as he stares at you.

You raise your brows in puzzlement. “What? Don’t you know what it means?”

Small smile tugs at Jack’s lips. “I am well aware of its meaning, luv. Just a little taken aback that you know it, that’s all. That habit of slipping fancy words in your speech is rather unexpected from a Tortugan barmaid. Not many of the other girls would use words like ‘finicky’ or ‘double entendre’, let alone ‘oxymoron’. Makes me wonder if there’s more to you than what you let be known…”

Not really, you had just always liked words and tried to read as much as you could. You hadn’t been educated in any special way, but just had a good memory for finer adjectives you came across on the pages of books. And indeed, they had started to slip into your speech almost unnoticed, making you something of a target for the other girls’ taunts and barbs – they thought you were trying to be better than they with your lofty words. Well, your fiery spirit hadn’t suffered such calumny for long, and the needling remarks had stopped fairly quickly.

“Well, I could say the same about you. I’ve seen my fair share of pirates around the Bride, but none have ever been as eloquent as you.” That was as close as you’d ever gotten to a compliment, you realize belatedly.

“Peas in a pod then, you and I,” Jack smiles – if that slight upturn of the corners of his mouth can be called a proper smile. What ever it is, it looks incredibly good. “Linguistic oddities among our peers.”

Despite your best efforts, you can’t help but to chuckle at his rather apt description. “Normality is somewhat overly valued anyway, I think.”

Jack raises his brows while looking at you. “My thoughts exactly.”

A small, slightly amused smile curls at your lips, but you say nothing. A silence descends over you and the eccentric pirate lying almost on top of you, the quietness broken only by the muffled sounds coming from the lively streets of the town; Tortuga was rarely entirely quiet, if ever. Jack’s russet eyes scrutinize your features silently the entire time, and you’re starting to feel slightly unsettled by his intense examination. You’re not quite sure what to make of it, or whether to make anything out of it at all. Nevertheless, such unashamed staring is something you just can’t handle very well.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” you finally ask bluntly, unable to take it any more.

Jack’s eyes are alight with playful mirth. “There’s hardly anything else in here that captivates my interest. At least,” he pauses and grins. “Nothing quite as lovely as you are.”

You let out a disbelieving snort, quirking a wry brow at him. The man was good in this wooing business, no doubt about that! If you were not aware of the plainness of your features, you would’ve almost even believed that. You were not utterly unattractive, you knew that, but it would be a stretch to call you ‘lovely’, in your own opinion.

All the same, you wonder what it is that Sparrow is up to with these tactics of his. He had the coin in his possession, so why was he still bothering with you? He could just up and leave, but it seems like he’s in no hurry to go anywhere, despite his earlier urgency to claim the coin for himself. Perhaps he’d already estimated you as one not likely to launch into another offensive, deemed you harmless and predictable. Perhaps he truly believes you have given up the game already before his superior male might. The thought causes a spark of rebellious ire to light inside you, but you forcefully beat it down – it would not do to lose your head now when you needed to keep it cool more than ever.

Or perhaps he just believes he could get lucky with you if he tries persistently enough. You wouldn’t put that idea past him, of all the people in Tortuga. Or in the entire Caribbean, more like. This one seems to be rather confident about his… talents in that aspect.

“I’m afraid flattery and silvery speech gets you nowhere with me, Sparrow,” you reply with calm resolve.

“Aye, I’m well aware you’ve got wits as sharp as your tongue,” Jack responds smoothly without missing a beat, raising his brows slightly. “Far be it from me to try and prove otherwise. I only stated a fact as seen from my point of view, one that you can choose to believe or not.”

You find it impossible to deny the logicality of that answer, and even harder to find a suitable response for it. There was not a trace of that gently teasing mirth to be found in his tone, just the unwavering frankness one uses when expressing a concrete fact. And that makes you feel very uncomfortable. He has to be lying, you think. There’s an ulterior motive to all this, you’re certain there is. Why did he had to say such utter nonsense in such a convincing tone, and God damn it all, why did he have to be so bloody close!

Your heart skips a frantic, painful beat as you realize that his face is indeed closer to yours as it was a moment ago. What just happened? How come you didn’t even understand he’d moved nearer? This slip in attention was definitely not a good thing. Curses, this man is unwittingly toying with your mind! Sudden dread washes through you as the thought of losing control crosses your mind. No, you would not allow that to happen, not ever for as long as you drew breath. Gaining quick control of your racing emotions, you refocus on Jack’s eyes, seeing the slight frown furrowing his brow.

“Why does it bother you so that I think of you as an attractive woman?” He finally asks slowly, his low tone tinged with curiosity.

“I- I didn’t say it bothers me,” you respond in subdued tone, cursing inwardly as you realize you actually stammered and how transparent that line made your attempt of playing time seem.

“Indeed, you hardly said a single word,” Jack agrees with a tiny smirk. “Tell me why you think I’m lying to you.”

Your lips part a fraction in sheer surprise; is the man reading your mind? Blinking your eyes, you try to come up with a quick comeback, but your mind seemingly does not to want to collaborate with you for the time being. What in all the circles of hell was happening to you?

Jack’s small smirk grows into a shameless grin of delight at your silence. “You know, this is the second time I’ve reduced you speechless in a rather short span of time…”

“Why, you must be very proud of yourself now,” you return with sarcasm.

“You wouldn’t believe just how much.”

You just harrumph in annoyance at the sight of his smirk and his playful tone. His cheekiness is really starting to rub you in the wrong way. He is just taking too much enjoyment out of your predicament, which in turn vexes you more than a little. And when vexed, you usually start throwing biting comments left and right, typically ones so fiery they just about left a whiff of brimstone lingering in the air in their wake. Your eyes narrow in that dangerous way that is well known to anyone frequenting the Bride, one that warns people to back away from you before it’s too late.

However, just as you’re about to open your mouth to tell him off, a horribly shrill scream of terror sounds from downstairs of the inn with such volume you’re certain the entire building quivers down to its very foundation. Gunshots, more screams from males and females alike, shattering glass, shouts and other various crashes meld in the discord of noises that echo through the entire building, slightly muffled by floor in between.

“Things certainly livened up down there,” you find yourself mumbling aloud. Jack, however, says nothing, his head tilted to the side as he listens intently. Abruptly, he releases your wrists and springs up from the bed, already striding over to the room’s door before you realize he even got up in the first place.

Finally freed and able to move as you like, you push yourself upright on the bed and look over at Jack, seeing that he’s unbolted the door and pushed it open a fraction, peering out of the small crack. He listens for the sounds of chaos for a moment, his upper lip curling briefly into a surly sneer that bares his teeth. A second later, he pulls away and slams the door shut again, locking it anew.

“Get up, we’re leaving,” he tells you tersely over his shoulder, sparing only a brief glance in your direction before grabbing the wooden chest of drawers by the door with both hands, bodily pushing it in front of the door to prevent access inside.

“Did you just say ‘leaving’?” you question incredulously, your narrowed eyes demanding Jack to explain himself.

“Aye, leaving.” There’s a note of finality in the pirate’s low voice as he pulls on his worn overcoat before reaching for his cutlass, throwing the belt over his shoulder. “And hastily, too. They’re here.”

You gulp, the sudden wave of dread that washes through you drowning your ire. “They…?” you echo weakly while clambering down from the bed, “The pirates who want the coin?”

“Yes,” Jack affirms curtly, his entire demeanour having changed from the smug, playfully flirtatious man to a no-nonsense pirate who obviously knows what he’s doing and how to stay on top of the situation. You have no time to dwell on the abrupt change in Jack as he unexpectedly grabs you by the arm as he steps past you, effortlessly dragging your slighter frame along with him.

“Hey, where do you think–” you begin, but stop short as you realize Jack is pulling you towards the grimy windows, the horrible comprehension hitting you with numbing force. “Oh no. No, no, no, NO!” you ground out with angry determination while digging in your heels, trying unsuccessfully to stop the pirate’s advance. “You cannot be thinking what I think you’re thinking!”

“Have you a better idea, then? Because if so, now would be a perfect time to share,” Jack says sarcastically as you come to halt before the windows, the pirate running deft fingers along the edge of the pane to find a latch. “There are only so many ways out of a room, luv, and the front door is presently not an option for us.”

Your fisted hands find their way on your hips almost unconsciously as you stare at Jack defiantly, ignoring the fact that he’s ignoring you. “I’m not getting out of here through the damn window! We’re too high up!”

A growl of frustration rumbles from the pirate’s throat, either because he fails in his search of a latch to open the pane or because of your pigheadedness – or both. Unceremoniously, he slants his palm flat against your chest, some inches below your throat, and before you get the chance to tell him to keep his hands to himself, he gives a sharp push, forcing you to stumble a few steps backwards. Without a word of explanation, Jack turns away from you and grabs the simple, stool-like chair sitting nearby with one hand and promptly picks it up, hurling it towards the window. The chair makes impact with the window and flies straight through the pane, loud shattering of glass filling the air; involuntarily, you flinch at the noise, slightly taken aback by Jack’s impulsive action. You vaguely realize your lips have parted in surprise as you stare at the broken window, nothing left of the glass but few pointed shards bordering the sides like sharp teeth of some beasts’ maw. And out of the blue, the most absurd thought flits through your mind: I’m definitely not paying for that.

“Movement is the key, here,” Jack says impatiently, grabbing your arm again and start to tug you along, pulling you right over to the gaping hole in the wall that was a window only a moment ago, and abruptly you become aware of the tumultuous cacophony of sounds that pains at your ears; screams and shouts, gunshots, more shatter of broken glass, the metallic clang of blades… and the smell, the smell of gunpowder and blood and sweat and terror. Your eyes glimpse briefly down to the dark streets of Tortuga, seeing people run about madly here and there and fighting each other, firing their weapons, throwing things and lifting their bottles: the entire town has gone insane! Well, more insane than it already was…

The feel of Jack’s fingers curling tighter about your arm snap you out of your haze, you gain a hold of your wits once more. “Wait! This is insane!” you protest, “We can’t go down that way! No, I won’t go down that way! You do whatever you bloody want!”

“Listen!” Jack suddenly barks with such ferocity it makes you jump again, your jaw tightening at the intensity and impatience in his dark eyes as he stares down at you, brow furrowed in irritation. “You’ll have infinitely better chances of surviving if you’ll just close your mouth and climb down from that blasted window. Or, I can go all by me onesies while you stay here and very likely kiss your goodbyes to your existence. Which will it be? I advice you to decide quickly.”

“You already have the coin,” you counter with narrowed eyes, “Why would you care any longer if I go or not?”

Jack raises his brows as he regards you. “So you truly think I’d leave a woman behind to be killed, no matter how vexing she may be?”

Now it’s your turn to furrow your brows. “But that contradicts nearly everything you just said!” you exclaim. “It implies that even if I chose to stay, you still wouldn’t let me. And vexing?!” you all but shout in indignation. “You’re the one to talk about vexing!”

Jack’s expression is rather aggravated now, and he grunts in frustration and impatience. “We’ll leave this quarrel over semantics for later!”

With that, he suddenly bends down and wraps one arm about your waist, a muffled yelp of surprise leaving your lips as he picks you up and slings your diminutive self easily across his shoulder, his arm shifting from your waist to curl around your thighs in the process.

“Better,” Jack establishes, and although you can’t see his face, you can hear it from his smug voice; he’s smirking in that way of his that causes your blood pressure to soar.

Sputtering in fiery rage, your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to grasp for words from your anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you damned cad?!” you practically shriek as Jack starts walking, digging your elbows against his back to elevate yourself a little and stop all the blood from going to your head.

“Quiet,” Jack commands, having the nerve to lift his hand from the back of your thigh for long enough to smack your arse with it, causing you to jerk and howl in outrage.

“So help me god, you’ll pay dearly for all this, Sparrow!”

“Promises, promises, is all I ever get,” Jack mutters as he bends down a little to stick his head through the broken window. “And quit your squirming, woman! You’ll only make this that much trickier if you don’t.”

Your body tenses further, now more with trepidation rather than anger as you realize the pirate really is going to through with this. This could not end up well, not at all. “Please tell me you’re not serious,” you cry out, a hint of pleading slipping into your tone as a last resort. Heights were something of a problem to you, but damned if you would tell Jack that. “It’s gotta be at least twenty-five feet drop to the ground from here!”

“Don’t be silly,” Jack chides, before correcting gleefully, “Twenty-two is more like it.”

“Oh shit,” you squeak quietly so that Jack can’t hear you, followed by a few stronger expletives a young woman such as yourself doubtless should not be aware of – anywhere else but in Tortuga, that is. Heights are something you hate from the bottom of your heart, and if you were ever forced to name your biggest weakness, it would be your inability to handle heights.

“Might want to hold on, luv,” Jack suggests shamelessly, and grudgingly you give up. Sighing heavily in defeat, you weave your arms around his torso, slipping your hands past the lapels of his coat and curl your fingers around the belt on his waist, wedging them between the leather than the worn fabric of the sash. You don’t even want to begin imagining how ridiculous the two of you must be looking at the moment.

“Quickly then, if you please,” you grumble sarcastically, even if fairly half-heartedly. “I really hate this with all the blood running down to my head.”

Jack chuckles in blatant amusement, his torso vibrating beneath your arms. He’s enjoying this all too much, you think, briefly contemplating on giving his dreadlocks a sharp yank just because you could.

“Your wish is my command, naturally,” Jack replies glibly whilst moving forward a little.

You snort and roll your eyes, not bothering to smother the heavy sarcasm in your voice, “Yes, naturally.”

“Trust me,” Jack says, self-confidence radiating from his tone. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, after all!”

Try as you might, you can’t stop yourself from snorting again: that was exactly the reason why you were so worried! You open your mouth to tell him so, but before you manage that, Jack stoops suddenly and ducks through the broken window, coming to stand with on foot on the windowsill (that is not much wider than the sole of his foot, you notice to your terror) and one inside the room, angling his body forward as he obviously inspects the surroundings – you smother a shriek of terror as his position leaves you dangling over thin air, having the most wonderful view all the way down to the street below.

“Please tell me you’re holding onto something!” You blurt out, your grip about Jack’s belt tightening convulsively as you stare down at the ground that seems to be so far away with eyes widened by fear. Your vision jolts and swings as Jack moves again, and your heart skips a frantic beat: your eyes squeeze shut on their own volition, you simply cannot handle the horrible sight of all that emptiness between you and the street below. Millions of thoughts flit through your mind about your untimely demise: this was not good, god, you would die, you would fall down and break your neck, oh god, oh god…

Jack chuckles again at your exclamation: he actually has the nerve to chuckle, with apparent amusement over your discomfort! You grind your teeth together in annoyance but keep your eyes firmly shut: if you survived this, you’d box him about his ears just as soon as your feet touched the ground!

“What’s all this, then?” You hear Jack drawl smugly, your concentration faltering as you feel him move again, causing your body to jolt and jar about unpleasantly; your sense of direction is completely confused and you have no idea where Jack has taken you now or what he’s doing, but still you refuse to open your eyes. Jack’s next words register to you, however, loud and clear.

“Don’t tell me the infamous Sparks, the shrew of the Faithful Bride who instils dread even in grown men, is actually daunted by something as commonplace as heights? Ah, you just wait until the word gets around!” he adds gleefully.

“Shrew? Shrew?!” you repeat, irritation and incredulity making your tone rise a few pitches, forgetting all about your predicament entirely as fiery indignation takes over. “Is that what they call me?! I’m no bloody shrew! I’ll have you know that I’m very much misunderstood! Just because I don’t simper and bat my bloody lashes at every male passing my way like most of the maids do and because I may have punched a few chaps in self-defence, damn it, does not justify my label of harridan and the questionable reputation I seem to have acquired against my own will!”

Your loud rant is abruptly cut short by a sharp, short jerk of an impact, and Jack’s hands that are both suddenly around your waist, pulling you off his shoulder and dropping you down – a flash of panic runs through you as you expect to find nothing under your feet, your eyes snapping open…

…And in the same second, your feet land solidly on the sandy ground and you come to stand before Jack, who’s looking down at you with a very self-satisfied smirk.

“Excellent tirade, luv, very passionate. Won over my sympathies right in the beginning,” he comments pleasantly, the golden teeth flashing in the faint torchlight of the street as he gives a grin.

Your mouth opens and closes, your head snapping up to stare at the broken window a good twenty feet above you. Jack had truly gotten you both down in one piece, probably having used the drainpipe running down along the wall and the balustrades of the small balconies on each floor to descend. A momentary feeling of awe fills you, but the returning indignation quickly banishes it. Propping your fists on your hips, you fix Jack with an accusing glare.

“You baited me on purpose,” you voice your realization sternly.

Jack’s brows rise slightly and a slow smirk pulls at his lips. “Took your mind off the fear of heights, didn’t it?”

You narrow your eyes, unable to deny this. Getting you riled up and ranting had indeed made you forget all about the dreadful descend and your fear of getting killed in the process. Curse that man!

“I wasn’t afraid,” you insist stubbornly, fleetingly wondering why was it so difficult to admit that Jack was right and perhaps thank him for saving your life – again. Because that’s what he had just done. “I was just slightly concerned.”

“Oh, I see.” Jack murmurs with a nod, scrutinizing you closely with his dark eyes. “Well, it’s late already, suppose you were trembling then just because of the chill.”

You’re struck speechless as you stare at the man before you in astonishment, all your irritated thoughts instantly dying a quick death. You were expecting more needling and taunting from the pirate, not a sentiment of understanding – as transparent and implausible as it was. An odd feeling that you cannot identify churns in the pit of your stomach, making it feel hollow; but before you get to dwell on it any further, Jack frowns, seeming to snap himself back into business and grabs your wrist once more in a was that is by now familiar to you.

“We can’t stay here in the open,” is all he says before dragging you into the shadows once more.

You’re feeling so befuddled you don’t even think of digging in your heels or demanding where he was taking you. Only one thought echoes in your mind as you scramble behind Jack, trying to keep up with his longer strides: Why does he still bother with me when he already has the coin he was after?

Trying to answer that only makes you feel all the more bewildered as you follow Jack in the inky shadows of the night. Moreover, you still do not know what Jack’s true endgame is, and whether you have a further part to play in it. Yes, he has undoubtedly saved your life twice now, but was that enough reassurance? Glancing at Jack’s face, barely making out his features in the darkness, you draw in a steadying breath and hold it as you take in his expression that’s carefully impassive, but still at the same time so indomitable and ominous, even.

Could one ever trust a pirate, especially one after something so dearly beloved?

TBC...

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